Chapter 486 (1/2)
Vuxten followed Casey as the Terran went over to the waiting suit of armor. Casey put the weapon back in the compartment and sealed it shut, then turned around. When he saw Vuxten waiting he raised one eyebrow.
”Yes, sir?” Casey asked, his voice empty and expressionless, but his eyes still red.
”Can you still follow orders? My orders?” Vuxten asked. He waved around himself. ”There's still an entire planet to save here.”
”Of course, sir,” he looked at the armor. ”I'll follow orders, sir, that's one of the things I'm good at.”
”And Trucker? Do I have to have him guarded?” Vuxten asked.
Casey stepped forward and put his hand on the thick armor of the power armor suit. He sighed. ”I'll follow orders, sir.”
Vuxten nodded, looking at the armor. It seemed like it was waiting eagerly for Casey to step back into it.
”Do you know what the kid wanted on his twelfth birthday, sir?” Casey said softly. Vuxten stayed silent. ”A pink golfball. That's all, just a pink golfball.”
Vuxten stayed silent and watched as Casey stepped into the armor. He shuddered slightly as the human picked up the datacable and pushed the three inch long needle back into his eye socket. The armor suddenly closed, sealing up, and the eyes went red. The armor stood up to its full height.
”Awaiting orders,” Casey's voice was synthesized.
”Stick with HHC right now. I need a sitrep update,” Vuxten said. He turned and walked through the mud to the flitter, climbing in the back, the Marine who's hand he grabbed practically snatching his arm off to pull him into the vehicle.
A quick check via the radio, double checking against the holo-projection from his palm, and he had the Division moving again. He gave the orders, making sure to shift everything.
Trucker sat on the bed of the flitter, watching Vuxten work, his eyes red rimmed and sunken into dark rings. Despite the fact the cybereyes were clear and bright, they gave off the feeling of being bloodshot and red.
Finally Vuxten was done. He took a couple deep drinks of the flat and tepid water, tabbed up a piece of stimgum, and looked at the Terran General.
”I've managed to make contact with Fleet. They're sending a dropship for you, sir,” Vuxten said.
Trucker nodded. ”Of course they are.”
Vuxten waited a moment, expecting more to be said. When nothing more was forthcoming, he turned his attention back to the hologram being projected above his hand, watching the flow of his Division and the battle.
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Smokey 'No looked up as the doors opened to the Ground Combat Command Center, seeing Trucker standing in the doorway for a long moment, looking around, before coming in.
A hush descended on the CC, and Smokey 'No noted that everyone looked away from Trucker as he slowly moved over next to General NoDra'ak and looked at the holotank.
”We broke their back,” Trucker said, his voice tired.
”Indeed. It's mopup right now. We've got it under control unless someone manages to sneak more reinforcements through, but I'm pretty sure if there's any Atrekna left, we've got them on the run,” NoDra'ak replied. He turned slowly from the tank, the robotic legs of the harness he was in clacking. He had regrowth casts on his right side that burbled and bubbled. ”How are you?”
”Tired,” Trucker admitted. ”Doc's say I'm gonna live. My inability to accept regen or cloned or bioware implants or replacements probably saved my life.”
NoDra'ak nodded. He turned back and glanced at the tank. He lit a cigarette, slowly exhaling.
”I heard you were threatened,” he said carefully.
”You heard wrong,” Trucker said, shrugging. ”It was confusing at the end.”
”I heard one Sergeant First Class Casey threatened to kill you the next time he saw you,” NoDra'ak said. ”Threatening a superior officer is a serious offense.”
”You heard wrong,” Trucker said. He pulled out his can of chew and packed it, thumping one finger against the tin lid. ”You shouldn't listen to rumors, sir.”
NoDra'ak nodded slowly, still staring at the map. Trucker put in his chew, wiping his mouth on his sleeve before tucking the can back into his pocket.
”Black Cauldron is shut down. 834th Treana'ad Engineer Horde is destroying the vehicles and bodies in place,” NoDra'ak said. ”Can't have it just laying around.”
”No, sir,” Trucker said. He reached out and touched the holotank. ”Have Ekret shift two degrees East, there's Dwellerspawn trying to slip by him through that corridor right there.”
NoDra'ak nodded and gave the orders.
Since the space assets had been destroyed, communication with the planet had been reestablished. It was staticy and full of squealing and pops, but it worked again.
”I'm approving Casey's transfer when he puts it in,” NoDra'ak said. He glanced over. ”If I don't, it's a violation of his religious rights and a court martial could make a case for inhumane treatment.”
Trucker nodded slowly. ”Yeah.”
”While we had a choice, none of them were good,” NoDra'ak said. ”As you so eloquently put it, V Corps is the World Enders, the World Breakers. Victory or Death, Either is Fine.”
Trucker nodded, still staring at the tank as he lifted up a plas bottle and spit in it.
”Your request for transfer is denied,” Smokey No said, moving icons on the tank to order 419th Artillery to support Ekret. ”I'm relieving you of command of 3rd Armor, but you will stay in the V Corps command structure.”
”The men will never trust me again. Hell, you shouldn't trust me ever again,” Trucker said.
NoDra'ak shrugged. ”I'm Treana'ad, we look at things differently. You're too valuable of an asset to throw away because of human superstition and primal beliefs. You don't airlock a matron for eating a male's head, you don't punish a commander for achieving victory within doctrine.”
”So where will you be putting me?” Trucker asked.
”With the largest armored asset that V Corps presently has,” Smokey No said. He exhaled smoke from around his footpads. ”Get some rest, get checked out by the medics, report to your new duty station as soon as possible.”
”Which is?” Trucker asked, frowning.
”The Atomic Hooves,” NoDra'ak said. ”I hope you know how to fight in a Lanaktallan tank.”
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The First Telkan Marine Division was stopped again, heat and slush running hot, the men exhausted and needing sleep.
Vuxten had to remind the officers and senior NCO's that they needed to ensure the men ate. Exhaustion would prevent hunger pangs, the act of eating too much effort compared to curling up and just laying there.
The last fourteen hours had been tough. Orbital command had been identifying Atrekna spawn zones with increased accuracy and prediction speed and everyone on the planet had been slamming against them as soon as they were identified.
The Treana'ad Combat Hordes had taken the cities and most of the larger towns. Eight hours ago Vuxten had been forced to start peeling off companies and battalions to guard infrastructure points, to dig in and hold it against the enemy. First Recon Division had split up into hunter/killer units of company size and were scattered all over the continent. The Atomic Hooves were going toe to toe with the last of the major Type-IV PAWM areas, advancing steadily into the territory held by the machines.
Vuxten sighed and leaned back against the ammo crate behind him, shifting slightly to get more comfortable on the box he was sitting on. It had held nanoforge refill nanite clusters, now it was completely empty.
His armor was in the hands of the Battalion armorers, the unique suit undergoing preventive maintenance checks and services, the same with all of his weapons but his pistol.
He'd thought about what he was going to do for over an hour, and there was no more putting it off.
”Sergeant Tarmont,” he said, opening up a channel on his datalink.
”Sergeant Tarmont here, sir,” the NCO said.
”Do you see Casey around?” Vuxten asked.
”He's standing over by one of the light armored fighting vehicles, breathing heavy,” Tarmont said.
”Tell him I want to see him. Outside of his armor, sergeant,” Vuxten said.
”Roger that, sir,” Tarmont said.
The datalink gave a metallic clink as the link shut down.
Vuxten scrubbed his face with his paws for a moment, then dug in his pocket for a piece of stimgum. He got his canteen and a cravat and waited.
It took nearly five minutes for Casey to duck into the tent. Vuxten noticed the human was still wearing the strange looking pilot suit, still had blood on his face below his missing eye.
Vuxten tossed the damp cravat to the human. ”Wash your face, soldier.”
”Yes, sir,” Casey caught the rag, sat down on a box that had nutripaste refills, and started wiping the blood off his face.
Vuxten waited until the human was done, gathering his thoughts.
When Casey set the rag on the makeshift table Vuxten cleared his throat. When Casey looked at him he nodded.
”You want out of V Corps,” Vuxten said. Casey nodded. ”I've talked to General NoDra'ak, Commander of V Corps, well, actually, Commander of 7th Army right now, but until we link back up with VII Corps, he's only directly in charge of V Corps.”
Casey just nodded.
”I thought about it. Your religion states that coming back via SUDS means the old person is gone, that they're missing what you called 'God's Grace', that they aren't who they were,” Vuxten said.
Casey nodded, the red in his eyes cooling to amber.
”Which means that V Corps will be full of meat puppets, that look and sound like your friends, even have their memories, but aren't actually them,” Vuxten said. ”Your religion states that those people you knew are gone.”
Casey nodded again, tensing slightly.
”I respect that,” Vuxten said. He set his canteen cup on the table and unscrewed his canteen while he was talking. ”You aren't abandoning your religion or your principles when it would be easy to,” he poured the water in his canteen cup and resealed it. ”You could just throw your religious beliefs away and reunite with someone you have dated and cared for since before my parents were born.”