Chapter 561: 4th & 10 (2/2)
The screen exploded, driving macroplast through the thorax and face of the Speaker. It fell to the floor shrieking and convulsing, but the Overqueen was paying no attention.
She barely got her bladearms up in front of her face as her own monitor exploded. The shrapnel bounced from her armored body.
**engines are down, oh queen!** a High Speaker transmitted, panic flavoring his thoughts.
”FIX THEM!” the Overqueen shrieked audibly as well as over the Overmind.
**primary engineering is not responding** another High Speaker stated.
She looked out, through a million million eyes, and found eight large blank spots in the Overmind. Found that hated armored vehicle crushing dozens of armored vehicles under its huge treads as its guns pounded and blotted away miles of nCv cannons with hobnailed boots of nuclear fire.
For a second she touched something inside the armored vehicle.
It was a giggling, dancing, flitting butterfly of purple, red, yellow, and white, that burned with an inner light and sparkled with joy.
A butterfly entirely made of hatred and malice that exuded fierce joy as another volley of fire from the massive guns of the armored vehicle destroyed two miles of point defense weaponry even as the massive spiked treads crushed more vehicles beneath the armored vehicle's weight.
For a second she tasted a single thought, a single thought that slammed into her like the impact from the Hated Ship's powerful gun.
NYAAA! echoed through the Overqueen's mind, throwing her back against her crash couch as pure innocent malevolence and giggling dancing fury slammed into her mind, disrupting her thought process, shattering the Overmind with echoes of gleeful and joyful rage that emanated from that single sound.
The Overqueen flailed around her, shattering computer consoles, convulsing from having touched that insane alien mind.
Across from her, where she could have seen it if she wasn't trying to keep from gouging her own eyes out, four small circles of the battlesteel wall slowly turned red, then yellow, then white. They began expanding, moving toward each other, as if to form a square.
On the surface, the guns pounded, the shield rippled and snarled, and missiles howled out to try to intercept the incoming torpedoes and missiles.
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”Here they come,” The Treana'ad, who went by the name of T'Rook said, around the thick piece of plastic in his mouth.
”Let them come,” Nemta said around his own piece of plastic. He held the Terran Mark 2 Cutting Bar in both hands. His armor was pockmarked and a few of the pocks were cratered. His rifle was somewhere, he wasn't sure where. He'd dropped it when the missile had hit his fighting position and stunned him. T'Rook had dragged him out.
The Mantids had pushed hard, the lines had collapsed, and, as T'Rook has said, the time had come.
They were back to back. T'Rook had a magac pistol in each hand, his bladearms were sharp and ready, his armor battered but serviceable.
They both had wads plastic explosive wired to their chests, under their armor.
The triggers were inside the hard plastic in their mouth. A hard bite would collapse the plastic. Two more chews, and the plastique would detonate.
There was an explosion from each side, smoke billowing into the room as the doors collapsed. The Mantid rushed in, black ones scuttling forward waving their bladearms, bigger ones behind them.
”FOR ICE CREAM AND MOO MOOS!” T'Rook yelled, firing his pistols.
”FOR THE MAD ARCH-ANGEL TERRASOL!” Nemta screamed out as they got close, thumbing the trigger of the cutting bar. The engine roared and the barbed chain screamed as it rotated around the blade.
He began chop at the Mantid as they got close.
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Pikark watched as the engines suddenly cut off on the massive ship in front of him.
”Signal from Yar-38173,” Uhura said calmly. ”Mission successful. Fortifying position. Expect counter-assault. Over and out.”
”Signal we hear them,” Pikark said, not taking his eyes from the holotank at the front of the bridge. It wasn't in canon, but Jeff had quit worrying about canon over a year before. He could see everyone maneuvering to keep the Hive Ship under their guns, pounding at it. ”Signal to the fleet that boarding action has met with success.”
”Aye-aye, sir,” the brown skin woman said, touching her helmet over her ear. She was afraid, it was only common sense when weapons were being used that could crack a continent, but professional detachment made it a small thing that she could ignore.
She had a standard to live up to.
And she'd be damned if she failed.
”Cyclon, Defiant One, and Imperial forces are making planetfall. Resistance is light,” She said, parsing the dataflow from the other ships. ”Phasic disruptors are going online.”
She jerked slightly, opening her eyes and looking at Pikark.
”Sir, Mantid troops in any phasic disruptor zone are throwing down their weapons and surrendering,” she reported.
”Transmit it to planetary defense, tell them to get those disruptors up,” Pikark snapped.
Uhura nodded, closing her eyes again.
Wars were won or lost on communication.
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Yar watched as two of her men grabbed the handles they'd stuck on the battlesteel war, nodding at her. She glanced around, noting everyone was ready. She got nods back, tight, tense nods.
”Three...” she said.
We're coming, she thought.
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The Overqueen managed to pull herself upright, lashing out across the Overmind with pain and agony to bring everyone back in line.
How dare they! How dare that filthy disgusting mind touch her own! How dare it lash out at her! Did it not know who she was? Did it not know she was the universe's ultimate life form?
How...
A large section of the wall was suddenly yanked away and bipeds threw themselves into her chamber. Powered armor let them take huge leaps, while the second rush knelt down and began shooting at her servitors.
With the speed of thought she got an inertia dampening field in front of her, barely in time to stave off a handful of projectiles that stuck in the field, small rockets at the rear of the projectile burning with white hot hate.
One of the big bipeds landed next to her and she turned to look at it.
It was a hairless primate, maybe a lemur of some type. It had two eyes that were wide, wild, and a large mouth bearing meat tearing teeth. It looked crazed, insane, and she flinched back from it even as it took a single step forward, slamming against the inertia barrier.
She felt both of her subordinate Queens die in a flaring spark that battered at her like an explosion.
It pushed through, leveling the strange rifle at her, the end of the barrel almost touching her eye.
She was frozen. Trying to hold together the Overmind, trying to recover from the death of the last two Queens.
There was a flash from the bottom barrel of the weapon.
And she knew nothing at all.
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YKR-3381 led the mixed squad of bulky chrome Cyclons and Imperial troops at a run across the tarmac of the airfield. The Mantids were fleeing, most throwing away their weapons, streaming away from the rubble strewn airfield.
Twice warrior caste attacked larger ones that YKR-3381 only knew were High Speakers due to his history classes.
They burst through the door of the entrance of the main control tower and stopped. The room was splattered, coated, strewn with ichor and body parts. The second story floor/first story ceiling was missing, light streaming in from shattered windows on the second floor.
Mantid bodies were strewn everywhere, the middle of the room was huge pile of them.
”CONFEDERATES!” YKR shouted.
The fuzzy creature standing back to back with a worker caste Treana'ad slumped slightly, letting its thumb off the engine trigger for the Mark 2 Cutting Bar in his hand. In his other hand he held a crude knife made of battlesteel and engraved with runes. He was soaked in Mantid ichor. The Treana'ad slumped slightly, relaxing his bladearm.
YKR noted that their armor was pitted, cracked, pockmarked, and gashed, but they were still on their feet.
”About time,” Nemta said, exhaling long and slow. He looked at the knife in his hand. ”Praise the Mad Arch-Angel TerraSol.”
YKR wondered why the furry one kissed the blade lovingly.
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”Cease fire,” Pikark ordered. He slumped slightly in his chair. ”Signal the fleet to prepare boarding parties.”
The release of tension among his bridge crew was almost palpable.
”Signal the Yars 'well done',” he said.
”Aye-aye, Admiral,” Uhura said.