Planet Slatmurt - Neo-Sapient/Near Sapient Space Border

14 Days after Case Omaha

Day Three of Red Dot

Three Months after Initial Red Dots in Hesstla System

A'armo'o felt the vibration of the engines die as the tank made a whining noise that slowed down to a stop. He stood up from command seat, the back swivelling out of the way, the rear of the seat sliding under the forward part, the arm rests lowering. Once it had shifted largely out of the way he carefully turned around and trotted out the back ramp.

The air was smokey, full of carbonized metal, prop charge vapors, and smoke from the burning city that lay ahead.

Trucker had already climbed out of the tank, shifting his body armor to get it more comfortable. A'armo'o could see a female Terran waiting for both Trucker and A'armo'o, standing in the ankle deep mud and staring at the city. A short set of power armor, designed for someone smaller than a Terran with a muzzled helmet, was standing next to her with a larger suit of the skull faced power armor next to the shorter one.

A'armo'o reached her the same time as Trucker.

"Colonel Maxine Sok," the female Terran said. "19th Air Cavalry Regiment."

"Most High A'armo'o, 326th Armored Great Herd," A'armo'o said.

"Trucker. Third Armor," the big burly Terran said, packing his lip with cud.

The skull-like faceplate opened up to reveal a Terran female with dark hair, dark eyes, freckles, who was sweating. "Colonel Paola O'Malley, 1st Telkan Marines, this is First Lieutenant Vuxten, same," the woman said.

The short power armor troop nodded.

Another human rushed up, one of the big black Terran cyborgs wearing additional armor and carrying one of the Terran magnetic accelerator rifles. The cyborg stopped.

"Colonel Wolfram Mwanajuma, Ninety-third Assault Infantry Regiment, 14th Infantry Division," the cyborg said once the introductions were completed.

Trucker turned and looked at the burning city. "Urban combat. Not the best fit for A'armo'o and my boys."

"No, sir," Colonel O'Malley said, chewing on something. A'armo'o wondered what it was. "This promises to be ugly."

"One shot from one of Trucker's big boys will blow a hole fifty feet wide in one of those sky-rakers," Mwanajuma mused, staring at the city. "It'll be light weapons only, which means we've got our hands tied and the clankers don't."

"If I reduce my weaponry to basic strength, I can operate in a city," A'armo'o said. "My weapons are designed to not be dangerous in an urban area."

The fact all of the predatory primates turned their burning gaze on him made A'armo'o uncomfortable but he continued on.

"All Unified Military Council weaponry is designed to do the minimum damage to structures," A'armo'o said. "It's one of the reasons we've stayed with plasma weapons and lasers."

"My boys brush the corner of one of those buildings and its coming down," Trucker said, spitting into the brown grass.

"What's the plan?" O'Malley asked.

"Break into smaller elements. Three tanks, 2 from Three Aye-Dee one from Great Herd, per platoon of infantry, two squads of you warborgs, and 19th hangs back according to Generak Kro'Daka," Mwanajuma said. "First Telkan provides tank cover, and 38th Infantry Division will man 19th's strikers for rapid deployment."

Trucker nodded. "I'd rather be slambanging out by The Graveyard, but," he shrugged and spit. "Recon confirm it?"

Colonel Sok nodded. "Flyby, drones, and recon from orbit shows the clankers are keeping about a quarter million of the locals alive. Mil-Int thinks its a trap to lure us in."

"Or something worse," Vuxten said. "With the Precursors it's always worse."

"You can hear the screaming from here," O'Malley said. "Soon as I opened my faceplate I could hear it."

"Been hearing it the last thirty miles," Trucker said, spitting into the grass. "I ordered my men to button up."

"Should we address the elephant in the room?" Sok asked.

A'armo'o's implant tossed him up an image of a large four legged creature in the middle of a room with everyone trying to talk around it. He had limited access to the Terran network. A few of his men had tried fully linking into it and had been almost lost in the deluge of information so A'armo'o kept the recommended filters engaged.

"Is this about your rebirthing system?" A'armo'o asked.

The Terrans all made motions of assent.

"General Kro'Daka said to do it with a voluntary leave or stay," O'Malley said.

Trucker shrugged. "Didn't have a single of my boys and girls dismount the tank."

"Yeah, but you're Third Fucking Armor - Old Metal," Sok laughed.

"I do not understand," A'armo'o said, frowning.

Sok turned to A'armo'o. "Just to be in Third Armor you have to have at least fifty years and ten combat drops in a tank. If you get killed, even if you're brought back, you leave Third Armor and are listed as one of Third Armor's dead. Once you're in Third Armor, you stay until you 'die' or retire."

A'armo'o considered it for a moment while the others waited. Finally, he nodded. "It is a prestige assignment, sought after by those who are more martial in your culture."

O'Malley nodded. "Same with 11th Air Cav. I'm hoping after this deployment I can transfer over there to whatever slot is open even if I have to take a reduction in rank. As it is, I'm just glad I made VII Army."

"Anyone have anyone who dropped?" Mwanajuma asked.

"One," O'Malley said. She shrugged. "His wife gave birth to triplets the week before we left. He's been having serious mortality thoughts ever since. Says he saw a black dog lurking around the firebase."

Trucker made a sound like someone had struck him in the stomach. "Man deploys with a new wife and new babies, he's dead. Law of the Universe, right up there with gravity and hatred."

A'armo'o was surprised that everyone nodded sagely. He had expected the martial lemurs to scoff at the other Terran's weakness.

"Time for the elephant's second foot," Trucker said. "Anyone noticed anything... odd?"

A'armo'o noticed that the Terrans looked uncomfortable.

Vuxten raised one armored hand. When everyone turned and looked at him he tapped the heavy autocannon on the smart harness. "I've seen some of the Terran troops with electrical arcs on their weaponry. It seems to be tied into how thick into the battle they are."

O'Malley nodded. "I've seen that too."

Mwanajuma shrugged. "Not so much. Tempers are up, combat chemicals are kicking in easier."

"Tempers are definitely up," Sok said. "There's been some fights."

Trucker spit again. "Have your officers and senior NCO's keep an eye out for anything odd."

"Like what?" A'armo'o asked.

"Any apparent psychic activity," Sok said.

Trucker nodded, his expression grave. "I overheard some of the Intel boys talking. They think a psychic attack on a sufficently large enough Terran population might have caused the SUDS disruption, which means we might react to it even though we aren't being attacked," he said. He stared at the city. "We're going in against Type III's with heavy Type I and Type II backup, as well as some hybrids."

"I can't believe we gave them almost an entire year to refit," Sok said. She sighed. "I get it, we couldn't find any of their bases in the Long Dark, and it's a big place, but we should still be looking."

"Woulda, shoulda, coulda, didn't," Vuxten shrugged.

"All right, let's give the orders, let this shake up, and get to the deployment points," O'Malley said. Her faceplate snapped closed and it was obvious to A'armo'o that her power armor went live. She nodded and walked away, Lieutenant Vuxten following.

"See you on the other side," Trucker said, turning away. He stopped, staring at the city. "They know we're here, know we're coming."

Mwanajuma shrugged. "Not like we've kept it a secret. Moving this much men and metal is kind of obvious."

Trucker nodded. "Get your drones up. They think they've got something nasty up their sleeves."

Mwanajuma nodded in return. "Ten-Four, General."

Trucker turned to A'armo'o. "Our orders are to do as little damage to the city as possible. You're a tanker, you know the chances of that."

"The same chances a Normadian shellback lizard has when it's sucked into a hoverfan," A'armo'o snorted.

"Pretty much. I'll see ya on the other side," Trucker said. He turned and headed for his tank.

A'armo'o stood out in the drizzling rain for a long moment before he turned and headed for his tank.

The whole meeting felt weird to him. No holograms, no discussion panels, no tons of staff all putting in their opinions, just a half dozen beings meeting in a field.

He clattered aboard his tank, straddling the bench seat. It extended and he settled down on it, the back swinging into place to lean against, the armrests coming up. He belted himself in and looked at his crew.

"We'll be fighting in the city," A'armo'o said. His crew all looked at him. "Set the weapons and battle screens for urban combat. Make sure the Terran modifications do not put the weapons outside of urban warfare parameters."

His crew nodded and set to work on their various systems.

"I have a lot of data on urban warfare from an armored perspective," T'Caw stated.

"I too can assist you," Torgath said through the datalink, his icon blinking on one of A'armo'o's command displays. "I have extensive experience at urban combat."

"Excellent. I will take all the advice you can give," A'armo'o stated.

------------------------

Vuxten had to admit, he felt totally exposed in a very weird way. During First and Second Telkan he had spent plenty of time out in the open, at least until the jungle had overgrown everything. During First Telkan he had spent almost the entire time in a city.

This felt different.

The city ahead on one hand seemed abandoned, on the other hand it was as if it was holding its breath, almost as if there were a ton of enemies just out of sight, watching his every move.

--hate city fighting-- 471 said from inside his armored housing.

"I spent most of the first war in a city," Vuxten said, looking around him. The suburb was largely Lanaktallan, with sloping lawns, two and three story domiciles, all with the rounded corners of Lanaktallan architecture. A lot of houses had broken windows, broken doors, holes in the walls, all of which was silent evidence that the Precursor Autonomous War Machines had been through the suburb.

He was one of six Telkan troops, six human troops, two of Trucker's big tanks, and a Lanaktallan tank. He was used to riding on the back deck so that the tank's speed and manueverability could be used, but now he was walking about fifteen feet away.

"Keep your intervals. Five meters," Sergeant Nazari said, her voice tight. "Let's not have half of us taken out by a mine or grenade."

Icons blinked in assent.

"Element halt," the tank commander suddenly said, holding up his hand in a closed fist.

Vuxten braced himself, putting pressure on the firing grip, and bringing around the heavy cannon to point at the houses. The rest of the Telkan and the humans went down on one knee, holding their weapons ready and scanning their assigned zones.

"Anyone else hear screaming from that house?" he asked, highlighting the house on everyone's retinal links.

"I do," the other tank commander said, racking back the charging handle on the quad-barrel gun and avoiding looking at the house.

Everyone else flashed negative.

"Sergeant Nazari, can you hear it?" Vuxten asked, bringing the house into focus and magnifying it.

"Negative, sir," the human NCO said.

"Open your face shield," Vuxten ordered.

"Yes, sir," The human's skull-like faceplate split down the middle and opened. "By the Digital Omnimessiah's glittering ballsack," she said softly. "It sounds like the wailing of the damned from the city."

"The house, Sergeant," Vuxten said.

"Yes, sir," she said. "I can hear it now. There has to be a dozen people screaming at the top of their lungs in there."

"Seal back up," Vuxten said. He turned and looked. All of the Terrans were in full power armor, the warborgs were, well, warborgs. The only Terrans outside armor were the two tank commanders, who were outside the hatch from the mid-chest up.

"Tankers, seal up. Tell me if you can hear the screaming," Vuxten said.

Something was nagging at him.

The two tankers didn't argue, just dropped inside and closed the hatches.

"Do you still hear it?" Vuxten asked.

"Negative, sir," Captain Geerson said, her voice sounding annoyed.

"No, sir," Captain Ulmamana said. "But I've got almost a thousand tons of armor between me and the screams now."

Vuxten opened his faceplate and listened.

Some explosions in the distance. The wind moaning. Rain pattering.

He couldn't hear any screaming.

"Psychic shields, now," Vuxten snapped. "Cover your teeth in glitter."

--don't see psy attack-- 471 said.

"Trust me, there's something going on," Vuxten replied.

--ride or die-- 471 answered, letting Vuxten know that the little green mantid has his back.

"Warborg Sanchez, pop a stealth drone, slave the feed to the heavies and me," Vuxten said.

"Roger, sir," the heavy assault cyborg's voice was electronic, giving no hint as to the brain's sex.

A panel opened on the big cyborg's leg and a drone popped out, rolled in mid-air to deploy the thin membrane-like wings. It oriented and began floating to the house.

Vuxten watched in a window on his visor, tabbing up a piece of gum to chew as the little drone hovered around the house then went in through a broken window.

The house was a shell. Inside was a massive Precursor vehicle surrounded by a horde of smaller ones. Clankers the size of Vuxten were hanging on the bigger one, ones the size of a ground car were clustered around the heavy treads of the biggest one, which was the size of sixteen freight train cars stacked two high, two wide, four long.

"It's an ambush," Vuxten said. "Pop drones, check the houses."

"Where's the screaming coming from?" Geerson asked.

"The clanker," Vuxten said softly, as if it could hear him. "Somehow, it's coming from the Clanker."

"Prisoners?" Sergeant Nazari suggested.

"If there is, they're inside. We can't help them if that's the case," Captain Ulmamana said.

The front of the house exploded as the Precursor AWM's roared out toward Vuxten and the others, their guns already firing.

Geerson's tank fired its main gun, the size of the big clanker authorizing weapon's free. The tank, named 'Shout it All Out' roared, rocking back on its treads, as the massive gun fired.

The smaller Lanaktallan tank opened fire, raking the smaller ones.

Ulmamana's tank, 'Last Word', opened up on the big one.

Vuxten, the cyborgs, and the other armored infantry opened up with their weapons. The four warbois had already deployed their heavy 20mm chainguns and opened up with rapid fire.

The AWM's had intended on ambushing Vuxten and the others, but an ambush relies on a split second hesitation from the ambushees.

Shout it All Out fired again and the bigger one's battlescreen went down in a shower of sparks. Last Word fired and the entire side of the big clanker caved in, fire gouting out. Two rockets sped in through the shattered armor and gutted the heavy AWM.

Vuxten had glanced up at Geerson in time to see it. The Terran female tanker was firing her quad-barrel, thumbs on the triggers, when the rotating barrels suddenly were wreathed in blue and white crackling electricity. The heavy APDS rounds slammed into the smaller clankers and Vuxten could see an eye-watering flash where the rounds connected.

It was over in less than ten seconds.

"Drones out, keep moving," Captain Geerson ordered.

Vuxten waved the barrel of the autocannon back and forth to cool it as he had his armor record what he had seen and squirt it to MilInt.

--you see that too-- 471 asked.

"Yeah," Vuxten said.

--ungood--

"Yeah."

-------------------------

TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

I'm getting reports of Terrans shooting lightning from their hands.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

AKLTAK FREE FLIGHT

Since when do Terrans shoot lightning?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TNVARU GRIPPING HANDS

From what I've seen of historical documentaries, not since the end of the Dark Crusade of Burning Light. Apparently there are no more Terran psychers.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

Yeah, well, looks like there are.

I'm getting some weird twinges out of Hesstla. I've had to isolate the Second Telkan Marine Division's feed.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

AKLTAK FREE FLIGHT

Define 'weird'.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

Repeating time-date stamps with wildly different data.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

AKLTAK FREE FLIGHT

I've got a few of my people in with their naval forces. I'm getting the same thing.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TNVARU GRIPPING HANDS

Anything I can help with?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

Not unless you can figure out what's going on with the time date stamps. What's even weirder is I've gotten three times the data from those people who are with Second Telkan Marines than anyone else.

It's like they're resending three days worth the data in a single day.

I started to get a headache and had to put them on their own channel.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TNVARU GRIPPING HANDS

That's weird.

Let us know what else happens.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---