Chapter 472: First Telkan (2/2)
”This is First Lieutenant Vuxten,” he said. The Major nodded. ”I've got multiple severe psych-trauma injuries with possible suicide indexes,” he flicked the video and the location. ”Get people there as soon as possible, from whatever unit you can.”
The Major watched the ninety seconds. ”Oh, my Digital Omnimessiah. I'll get right on it.”
The window went black then winked out.
Vuxten opened a channel to all commanders and snapped the video into it. He thought for a second then snapped the video into the General Push channel and opened it.
”All units, all units. This is First Lieutenant Vuxten,” he put the video in the corner. ”I get it. I understand. You want to save those people in the city. You want to rescue them and not consign them to death,” he played the video and stared out of the screen.
The broodcarriers and the podlings dissolved. He stopped the video.
”You can't save them. You can't. The best thing we can do is kill them so they don't end up inside an Atrekna dwellerspawn or combat machine, screaming, watching everything happening, helpless. That's the only thing we can do,” Vuxten said. He smoothed the hair on the top of his head. ”I wish, by the Digital Omnimessiah and Enraged Phillip, I wish we could save them.”
He leaned forward.
”We can't. We can't save them. We can only stop them from being tormented. I know I'm asking a lot, I know this hurts to do, I know it goes against everything we Telkan, and the Confederacy, stand for, but it must be done. It's mercy to these people,” Vuxten said.
He took a deep breath.
”The engineers and your commanders are working on a way to break this loop. We'll get out of it. We'll figure out a way to take the war to the Atrekna,” Vuxten said. ”Don't give in to despair. Take your pain, your despair, and squeeze it tight, let it turn to anger, and once we figure out how, you can share that anger with the Atrekna as we see how many of them we can make die.”
Vuxten stepped back. ”I'll figure it out, the engineers will figure it out, someone will figure it out. We can save these people if we can break this loop so they are no longer brought forward. That is how we're going to save them.”
”Commanders, do head count and psych checks. HHC, out,” Vuxten cut the link.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the holotank.
The video played on repeat in the corner.
His fists clenched.
The cutting bar chain wrapped around his right fist, half melted into the heavy plate armor, began to glow a soft red. A spark popped out from his clenched fist, bouncing across the floor for a second.
884 and 740 saw it. They nudged 471, nodding at the Telkan as he opened his hands and squeezed them tight again.
Sparks popped from inside his fists.
**watch your telkan, brother** 884 said, leaning close, putting up psychological formula and stress management formula.
**he stood with enraged phillip the redeemer the liberator** 740 said. **don't let him do anything stupid**
**i will not** 471 said. He looked at the group gathered together and sighed. **he needs me. holy mathematics bless you**
**and you** 884 answered.
**and your telkan** 740 said.
471 made a running jump off the holotank, fluttering his vestigial wings, landing next to Vuxten's boot. He grabbed on and quickly climbed up, opening the clamshell of the protective housing and climbing in.
--you all right big guy-- 471 asked, the words appearing on Vuxten's retinal link.
Vuxten jerked like he'd been shocked. He shook his head, combing his whiskers and ears. ”Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, buddy.”
--metrics look bad-- 471 said. --yummy yummy stim gum--
Vuxten put on his helmet, waiting for it to synch up. Once it did he tabbed up a piece of stimgum and started chewing it.
--can't help them-- 471 said. --first casualty of war: innocence--
”I know,” Vuxten said. He turned from the holotank, which was showing the jungle burning. He stared at the wall of the fabricated TOC for a long moment. He could feel the cold rage building.
”T-shift incoming,” he said, still staring at the wall.
In his mind's eye he could still see the big round eyes of the podling as, for a split second, it believed it was safe.
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The dropship came in screaming, the armor smoking and the battlescreens snarling. The door rolled open and out jumped heavily armored troops. The first five ranks were all dressed in heavy plated armor, carrying heavy magac weapons. The next rank was helmetless, torches of Lossflame burning on their shoulders and flamethrowers in their hands.
The last to drop from the dropship was Joan Anath, Joan of the Sisters of Mercury's Blessing. She was helmetless, her brown skin flawed only by a small scar running from the left corner of her mouth to where her left earlobe was missing. Her hair clicked as the plaits, woven with microbeads, moved as she looked around.
The torches on her shoulders erupted in burning green and white flame.
”Be on guard, sisters!” she bellowed out. ”The defiling ones are here!”
She sniffed the air.
”I can taste their foul intentions,” she said. ”Get the drones up, I want to know what we are facing,” she turned and looked up. ”I have no intention of being shamed before the gaze of General NoDra'ak the Annihilator.”
Her sisters nodded, fanning out. Three of them launched drones in the air.
Those with flamethrowers began burning away the greasy and venomous looking foliage.
The Sisters of Mercury's Blessing had arrived.
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Bioplasma thudded against the battlescreens as the graviton and jet thrusters howled. The doors were open on the dropship, the door gunners laying down suppression fire on the creatures swooping through the air.
”REMEMBER YOUR TRAINING!” Lord Preceptor Adalrich roared out, despite the fact that he knew that everyone one of his men could hear him even if he whispered.
Bioplasma erupted on the battlescreen as the dropship suddenly tilted nose up, the thrusters and the graviton engines howling.
”LET'S GO, MEN! FOR HATEFUL MARS!” he yelled. The two door gunners popped the release on their guns and jumped out. Adalrich followed, his legs barely flexing as he absorbed the shock of the twenty meter drop. He took one look around and started moving forward, his heavy rifle in his hands. The Imperial eagle burned brightly on the side, burning red, the rage infused rounds leaving red streaks as he moved forward.
His men of Alpha Company jumped from the dropship behind him, legs flexing as they took the shock. They quickly maneuvered, forming a skirmish line in a circle that began to spread out.
The Sons of Hateful Mars had made planetfall.
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Admiral Shtuklar glanced over at General NoDra'ak. The Treana'ad officer was hanging in his robotic frame, head tilted forward, eyes closed, breathing slowly and laborously. Medical technicians were attaching medical support equipment to the robotic harness.
Swallowing, Shtuklar turned back to the holotank.
The BOLO were making atmospheric entry, spreading out so they could interlock their firepower. Two thirds of the BOLO were remaining in orbit, prepared to take over for any BOLO that ended up temporal phase shifted out.
3rd and 4th Armor, mostly non-Terrans, were making landfall. There were six Treana'ad Mobile Infantry Hordes landing.
His practiced eye noted how they were all carefully shifting and nodded.
This he understood.
There had been four shifts of terrain around First Telkan.
That he didn't understand.
He stood there, staring at the holotank right as the terrain shifted from urban to jungle.
That shimmer. It reminded him of something.
Something from the Mithril Nebula Conflict.
Frowning, he moved to another tank. He brought up an old record, looking at the unit he served with as a midshipman. Specifically, a fire control officer.
He went through the ships, glancing at the specks.
There.
When he saw it, he almost groaned out loud.
The Suckerpunch Yet Thrown was a super-heavy battleship class, since decommissioned, but the Admiral remembered what its main guns were.
He checked the fleet. He had brought along all the ships, even if they weren't manned, rather than scuttle them. They were on robotic and eVI control, just staying back from the fight.
He had several.
He messaged the commander of the remaining Marines.
”Suh?” the Rigellian female asked, answering the call.
”How many Marines do you have?” the Admiral asked.
”Two hundred eleven,” the Sergeant Major said.
”Gather them. Go to Berth Nine. I'll have a pilot and crewmembers meet you,” Shtuklar said.
There were eight sailors who had the correct experience and knowledge still alive. He pinged them, ordering them to the dropship berth. He contacted their CO's, all of whom were busy with other duties.
”May I ask why, Admiral?” the Sergeant Major asked.
Admiral Shtuklar explained quickly.
The Sergeant Major's face looked exactly like Shtuklar believed his had when he had made the realization.
”Get the ship's reactors up and running, you might only have to make one shot, you might have to make a dozen,” the Admiral said.
”We'll get it done, suh,” she said. She shut off the communications link.
Admiral Shtuklar turned back to the holotank. There the DCC wireframe of the frigate Stop Hitting Yourself was suspended in all its glory.
Highlighted, in yellow, was it's main gun.
A temporal resonance cannon.