Chapter 474: First Telkan (1/2)
”General, may I offer you the auxilary flag bridge for your use?” Admiral Shtuklar said to General NoDra'ak, moving toward the main holotank.
Thirty harvesters and one hundred eighty-three auxiliary machines had appeared in the outer reaches of the system and were heading in-system at max speed. The Harvesters and the larger of the secondary vessels were already spawning additional vessels.
”I am about to have my hands full,” the Admiral said.
General NoDra'ak nodded.
”General NoDra'ak, I hereby release command of the ground forces theater to you,” the Admiral said. ”At this time my task force does not contain an additional flag officer to coordinate what is about to be a dangerous and deadly battle.”
He tapped a few icons in the holotank. ”I have to keep these space assets from assisting the ground forces as well as keep them from destroying the Stop Hitting Yourself before it can continue its orbital fire support,” Admiral Shtuklar said.
”I accept command,” NoDra'ak said. His side hurt, but he was feeling better, the quikheal compounds and the nanite medical bots still working hard. He'd had a bad case of the giggles twice as his brain had misconstrued the healing damage to his skull as breeding and flooded him with euphorics.
”If you'll come with me,” one of the Space Force Navy ratings said, motioning at NoDra'ak to follow.
General NoDra'ak slowly tapped his way over to elevator, making room for Commodore Shretsherk, Ensign Rawglishin, and a handful of Space Force Naval officers. As the door to the lift closed General NoDra'ak could hear Admiral Shtuklar snapping out orders, could feel the slight vibration in his ichor marrow from the massive engines of the flagship slowly bringing up power.
As the lift headed toward the auxiliary flag bridge Commodore Shretsherk leaned over.
”Are you sure we should be switching to the aux-com?” they asked.
General NoDra'ak nodded. ”The Admiral is about to be engaged in an outer-system space battle, something that I would only be in the way of and he is a consummate professional in that regard. I believe I can run the ground-side operations from the aux-com when the majority of my forces are under some kind of temporal lockdown and can't even hear me right now, much less respond to my orders.”
The big Treana'ad sighed. ”It's up to the commanders on the ground, Digital Omnimessiah guide them.”
Commodore Shretsherk just nodded as the lift continued down.
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The Atrekna were nothing if not ancient and powerful. They did not feel dismay, they did not feel despair, as the temporal resonance cannon killed half them outright and wounded a third of the remainder. They set about crafting shielding and barriers against another such blast and prioritized which section to bring slavespawn in.
The ones pinning down the rampaging primate managed to lock him down again, keep him from breaking free. The massive temporal explosion appeared to have stunned the primate for a moment, allowing the slavespawn to get much closer to the primate than they had been able to previously.
The Atrekna conferred, came to conclusions, and kept pressing their assault upon the planet.
It was in a key position. Its path crossed the path of thousands of cattle worlds, more than a half dozen spawning rings, and more. The temporal tides here were still rippling with the Atrekna manipulations from the First Great Harvest over a hundred million years ago.
They could not allow another impact like they had just suffered to damage the fading temporal constructs built into the gravity/temporal latticework of the planet's 4D structure.
They turned their attention back to their work.
There had yet to be an opponent who could defeat them. They no longer had need of the hyperatomic plane, having perfected their abilities to move through this universe's energetic time stream.
This time there was nowhere to force them back to. No hyperatomic plane to burn. No wormhole to close.
The Atrekna was here.
In this universe.
And it belonged to them.
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”All units report success in restaging to fallback areas,” a Corporal said.
Vuxten watched through the external cameras as the wind howled through the duststorm outside. He could feel the pressure building, feel the twisted strange thing he identified as anger.
For the sixth time he heard himself repeat what he was saying to Casey.
”T-Shift,” he warned, feeling the pressure grow.
The others in the ad-hoc command center passed the word.
The dust cleared away to reveal forest. Again, explosions sounded out as the new reality intersected with the dug in positions of the First Telkan Marines.
Long minutes passed by. The lake was (again) hit with enhanced FOOF rounds, turning the water into a huge gout of flame as even steam was torn apart into hydrogen and oxygen that was then burned by the hellish chemical mixture.
Spawning pools identified in the previous rotations took rocket hits and thick biomatter pools vanished in the white-blue glare of antimatter.
”684 is reporting in. No status change to shelter or soil. No temporal dislocation eruptions,” someone said.
Vuxten just nodded, drumming his fingers on his helmet, his left hand on the hilt of his cutting bar. The chain wrapped around and sunk into the metal of his gauntlet was glowing a deep red and sparks kept popping from beneath his fingertips, but that was the only hint of the stress he felt.
684 had volunteered to be buried in a warsteel sphere four feet wide, padded and cushioned, while wearing full armor with internal atmosphere at a depth of ten feet, same as the drill-moles ran the fiber-optic lines between shelters.
Vuxten was watching eight different target points. There was nothing to mark them, just old growth trees, moss, the local version of ferns, and dirt.
”Third Field Artillery Regiment is firing for effect on allocated targets,” someone said.
Vuxten just watched. The shells came in on a flat arc, bursting apart, dropping seismic sensors onto the ground in a carefully designed pattern.
The greenies behind him, including 471, were all watching instruments.
Heavy rounds impacted, the big 11 inch rockets. The warheads detonating with a low krump of low explosive going off.
Vuxten glanced at the window showing the data.
”Borers in position, awaiting coordinates,” someone said.
Vuxten clenched his hand slightly, his fingertips scraping on his helmet, purple sparks popping from beneath his armored fingertips.
The greenies cheered, math formula and theories flowing through the air above their heads with rapid flashing emojis.
”Coordinates recieved. Loading. Loading. Locked!” the tech cried out.
Vuxten watched two dozen red lines beginning to converge on each point.
Long minutes slid by.
The lines converged in the right places.
”Deploying munitions,” a tech said. ”Alpha Series in place.”
Arcs of electricity, hair thin, moved silently between Vuxten's fingers as his hand went still. A fat purple spark squirted out from between his palm and the hilt of his chainsword.
”Alpha Series munitions ready, sir,” a tech said.
”Bravo Series in place,” another said.
The teeth of the chainsword blade embedded on his guantlet began to glow a dark red.
”Fire the Alpha charges, Marine,” Vuxten said, his voice ice cold.
”Aye-aye, sir. Firing Alpha Series,” the Corporal answered. He pressed the button which would arm the charges and open the 'all units' comlink. ”FIRE IN THE HOLE FIRE IN THE HOLE FIRE IN THE HOLE!” his voice was a whipcrack.
He let up off the button.
The Hellfracking charges went off. Rock shattered, crumbled, melted. Thermal expansion was held back a moment by meters of solid rock that was already starting to crack and break from the sudden flexing of the bedrock.
With a roar eight points exploded, nearly a hundred meters wide. Fire roared out, the air, the forest, even the dirt and rock burning.
The Atrekna combat machines, shifted in from the past and hidden below ground, melted in one split second as flame hotter than the surface of a star eagerly devoured their hyperalloys.
Vuxten could feel the pressure.
”T-Shift,” he said softly.
Someone passed it on.
He was too focused to really recognize who.
He was entirely focused on the holotank.
The forest shimmered and vanished.
”Bravo Series has made translation. Munitions armed,” a tech called out.
”17th Field Artillery is firing,” someone else said.
Vuxten watched the lines representing the artillery barrage arc up.
They suddenly terminated only five hundred feet above the artillery unit.
I knew you'd do that, Vuxten thought to himself.
”Fire Bravo Charges, Marine,” Vuxten ordered.
Purple lighting crawled up his right arm, from the teeth of the chainsword blade, up his arm, to the eagle on his shoulder, where it danced in the heavy ornate gold plated warsteel.
The Corporal repeated the action.
Vuxten watched the holotank.