Chapter 485 (2/2)
Even as their feet touched the ground and they gathered close, shoulder to shoulder, back to back.
hungry i'm so hungry i'm so cold and you're so warm i saw the black dog pink golfball smokey no cheats at cards i can taste nipplegloss and blood i miss hearing the ducklings sing the most wonderful thing i ever heard was a broodcarrier song when i was in icu we're space force we don't die we burn up on reentry for lost terrasol my mother died when i was fifty
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Cry Little Sister gave it up with an explosion that threw Trucker against his gun and bounced the front of his helmet off the butterfly trigger of the quad-barrel. Black smoke billowed from the jagged tooth hole in the back deck as the engine started to burn.
He climbed out, drawing his pistol, and moved to the front deck.
The barrel of the main gun gave a groan as it sagged like warm taffy.
Trucker looked around. There was no other tank nearby. His datalink was full of hash, but as near as he can tell, Cry Little Sister had driven four more miles than any other tank.
He dug out a pill bottle and took two more. A combination of anti-biotics, immunosuppresents, and nanites. He dry swallowed them as he tucked the bottle back into the pocket of his Legacy Uniform.
”Old Blood,” he said, his voice a dry rasp. He leaned against the cupola, undid his canteen cover, and took a long drink.
The bite of lemon juice helped clear the sticky gross feeling from his mouth.
He pulled out his can of chew and repacked his lip, feeling the fever burn through his body. His datalink told him that his fever had dropped to 102.87F, that he was on the mend, his body having fought through the cyberware and bioware rejection.
He struggled to his feet, moving over to the pennant snapping in the wind, blinking as rain water ran into his eyes, the cyber eye lenses clicking. He pulled down the pennant that signified that he was the 3AD CO. He folded it carefully and put it in his pocket before moving over and sitting down.
He sighed, closing his eyes for a long moment.
He knew it had been close. Knew that they almost hadn't made it. But he could tell now, through that feeling he had, that ”In the Zone” feeling he got, that he'd done it.
V Corps had done their part to break the back of the enemy.
He tapped his comlink and activated his emergency beacon, signalling that he needed a pickup.
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The Atrekna fell one by one, exhaustion, weapons fire, or psychic backlash dropping them one after another.
The last one, ankle deep in the mud, shrieked as it fought.
It knew it was over, that there was no escape. Dead hands clawed at his protective shields, magac rounds sparked off his protections, the pounding cold waves kept his abilities pinned.
He was alone against a thousand.
But he refused to go down easily.
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”Got a beacon, sir,” Vuxten heard.
”Who?” Vuxten asked, straightening up from where he'd been staring at the surrounding scenery.
”Third Armor Division Commander.”
”How far?” Vuxten asked.
”Fifteen miles,” the Lance Corporal said.
”Divert course. Let's see if Trucker's still alive,” Vuxten said.
He saw Casey swerve to keep pace with them.
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Trucker reached up and touched his implant.
”All units, all units,” he gasped, feeling the fever twist his guts. ”Gurgi is,” he coughed and spit juice over the side. ”Gurgi is brave and bold.”
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The Atrekna was beset on all sides. Moaning, gnashing jaws, clawing hands pressing against the psychic shields that should have torn apart any who got too close. It had retreated into a building, its back against the wall, as more and more pressed in, moaning and gnashing, trying to reach the Atrekna.
There was a cold wind that the Atrekna felt in its bones. It tasted rotting blood and bad meat.
With a sigh, the primitives all collapsed. Not one at a time, but all at once.
It stood there for a long moment.
It felt cold satisfaction as it managed to lift itself a few inches up and glide from the house.
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Trucker saw the blinking warning on his implant.
DECOMMISSION FAILURE - ONE (1) UNIT
He tried again. ”Gurgi is brave and bold.”
The warning kept flashing.
He sighed. One out of tens of thousands wasn't bad. He struggled to his feet and moved over to sit on the edge of the tank. He could see one of the Telkan Marine fast grav-lifter strikers heading toward him, see the markings of First Telkan Marine Division on it.
He squinted and frowned. There was what had to be a Novastar power armor jogging alongside.
Which was strange, since it was a court martial offense to even have the templates in a database.
The ground effect grav lifter slid to a stop and Trucker's implant ID'd the highest ranking and the Novastar pilot.
”Lieutenant Vuxten, Sergeant Casey,” Trucker said, standing up.
”General,” Vuxten said. He shifted to the side. ”Looks like we're your ride.”
”I'm gonna need a medical clinic,” Trucker said, accepting the assistance of getting down from the tank and into the lifter. It bobbled a bit as he got his feet out from under him. ”First, though, I have to take care of something.”
”What, sir?” Vuxten asked.
Trucker pointed in the direction Cry Little Sister was pointing. ”There's a Black Cauldron failure that way. About two miles. I need to fix it.”
”Oh,” Vuxten said. ”Follow the General's direcctions.”
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The Atrekna glided out of the house, through the doorway, satisfaction filling him. He could tell he'd be able to take to the sky again, be camouflaged again. The oppressive pressure was gone. He could feel more enemy approaching, but they'd take almost a full minute to reach him and by that time his psychic powers would have moved him beyond their reach.
The Atrekna gathered its power.
From the shadows of the doorway one of the primitives lunged out. Bluish face, eyes covered with a white film, black teeth clacking as the jaws gnawed on empty air.
The Atrekna screamed as those cold hands grabbed him, pulled him down. He struggled, and only succeeded in landing in the mud with the primitive on top of him.
The pink enamel on the nails flashed as it tore away the Atrekna's feeding tentacles. The teeth sunk deep into flesh and ripped away mouthfuls that the primitive chewed and swallowed.
The Atrekna screamed again as the pink painted nails sunk into his flesh and pulled out a double handful of things the Atrekna would have preferred to remain inside.
hungry so hungry i just want a pink golfball i'm so cold and you're so warm i'm so hungry
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”Only one decommisioning failure,” Trucker said, leaning against the side of the lifter. The big General was sitting on the bed of the vehicle, being checked over by one of the medics. ”Not bad, but by Chromium Saint Peter, I wish I hadn't had to do it.”
Vuxten just nodded, his mind reeling at what Trucker had explained.
”I'm going to have to resign my field command,” Trucker said, his voice exhausted. ”I'll never command men in combat again.”
”Why?” Vuxten asked.
”Because of what I've done. My men will never trust me again,” Trucker said. ”Not ever. They'll all know just how far I'll go to attain victory.”
Vuxten wasn't sure he understood, but stayed silent as Trucker kept talking, the fever loosening his tongue.
”They've always wondered. Just how far I'd go if I was pushed to the wall,” Trucker said. ”It wasn't for me. It wasn't for some stupid medal or commendation or a ribbon to attach to the guidon, it was always about one thing.”
Vuxten just nodded.
”Save the civilians, stop the war as fast as possible, apply firepower with precision,” Trucker half raved. ”But my men will never trust me to lead them into combat again after what I've done.”
”I'm sure they will, sir,” Vuxten said. seeing a cluster of ruins drawing closer. There was a single building that the grav-lifter angled toward.
”Not after this, kid. Not after this,” Trucker said.
The grav-lifter slowed and came to a stop.
Vuxten could see an OD green clad figure, the cloth almost black in the rain and the fluids that soaked it, crouched down next to a torn apart purple form.
”I'll handle it,” Casey broke his silence.
”I'll come with you,” Vuxten said.
”If you insist, sir,” Casey's voice was cold.
”I would not advise this course of action, Casey,” Lozen said, appearing in a window.
”I need to be the one to do it,” Casey said slowly. ”I can see who it is from here.”
--you get sudden pucker feeling-- 471 asked,
”Yeah, real bad,” Vuxten said softly on the private channel.
Still, he vaulted over the side, landing with a splash in the water of a puddle.
The heavy Novastar power armor suddenly unfolded and Vuxten stared. Casey was wearing a body suit that was soaked with sweat. As Vuxten watched Casey reached up, grabbed the memory metal cable embedded in his eye socket, and slowly withdrew a three inch long needle. He turned and opened a small panel, removing a pistol.
”Let's go, sir,” Casey said.
Vuxten was quiet as they walked up to the crouched figure.
When they got close the dead face raised and the figure hissed, an inhuman sound made all the more horrible by the white filmed eyes, the blackened purple tongue, the black teeth, and the cold bluish skin.
But Vuxten recognized her.
Casey stepped forward and put the barrel of the pistol to her head.
”Goodbye, Peel,” Casey said. ”Mors est in gloria.”
The sound was muffled, a small thing after just over four days of constant fighting.
The back of her head exploded, a blackish fan of blood, brains, and tissue.
The woman dropped on top of the dead Atrekna as Casey stood there.
He fired twice more into the back of her head.
--ooooh boy-- 471 said.
Vuxten followed Casey silently as they walked back.
Casey paused, turning and looking into the back of the lifter.
”Trucker,” he said.
The General looked up.
”I'm applying for a transfer out,” Casey said, his voice empty, dead, leeched of all emotion. ”Out of V Corps.”
Trucker just nodded, his eyes shielded.
”I see you again, Trucker,” Casey said softly, but perfectly audible even over the low rumble of thunder, the hiss of rain, the pinging of cooling and heating metal.
”I'll kill you.”
Trucker just nodded as the lightning in the sky was reflected by the lenses of his cybereyes.
Vuxten suddenly understood.