Mukstet glanced at his control board as a light went from amber to red and started flashing. He turned his head as if it would matter, and called out 'behind' him to his commo officer. "You reading that?"
"I see it. Popping beacon query," Technician Third Class Kuplo said. The light went from amber to green on his board. "It's 9th Recon, 33rd Mantid Rangers, coming in with eight."
"Send one forward to be recognized," Mukstet stated.
There was silence for a moment.
"Captain Frees Your Soul, Terran Army," a soft whispering voice said, relayed from one of the Marine Dismount Strikers in the back to Mukstet. "Seven to come forward."
"Do you have any blueberry juice?" the Striker, Private Jekib, asked.
"No, we traded it for a handful of sandcastle pictures," the Mantid answered.
The day's query word, blueberry, had been answered with the day's password, sandcastle, and Mukstet felt himself relax.
"Count them in," Jekib said.
--recovering drones now-- 973 stated. --ninety seconds to recovery--
"Boss, their Captain is coming up to the cockpit," Jekib warned him. "His Team Daddy's aboard."
"Thanks," Mukstet opened his faceshield, his whiskers twitching at the sudden cold that flooded in. The striker, Orbit Pear in reference to Mukstet having to pull a PARE flat-spin recovery during an unpowered reentry, was silent, cold, nothing more than a chunk of dead metal to anyone passing by.
He could see the snow drifting down outside. It was only late summer, early autumn, on the planet, but there was so much dust and debris in the atmosphere that what the humans called 'nuclear winter' had set in.
It had started snowing the night before.
The black mantid, almost three feet tall, moved in silently, a mag-ac rifle in his hands and a weapon's harness on his thorax. The black chitin was covered in a light drift of snow and it took a second for Mukstet to realize that it was actually some kind of spray on white stuff to camouflage the black Mantid. He had on a black beret and looked dangerously competent to Mukstet.
"I didn't think they were letting you off of Firebase Boop," the Mantid said.
Mukstet snorted. "I"m not an officer, despite everyone's attempts to make me one," he said.
The black Mantid pulled out a pack of Treana'ad cigarettes, tapping it against one bladearm. "Want one?"
"Sure, what's it gonna do, kill me faster?" Mukstet snorted.
"Eight aboard," Jekib said as the Mantid lit two and passed Mukstet one.
"How's it look out there?" Mukstet asked.
They were eighty miles into 'enemy' territory. The lines were starting to shake up. The fighting in orbit and in the system was still going on, obviously intense, since explosions could still be seen in the night sky, but it was planet-side that Mukstet was worried about, and his own little section just outside a major population center to be specific.
"Shitty," the black Mantid, Frees, said, shivering slightly. "Us mantids, we aren't fans of frozen oxidation."
"Welp, fuck ya if ya can't take a joke," Mukstet said, exhaling smoke at the viewscreen.
"We aren't taking off yet?" Frees asked, looking out the smartglass armaglass windshield.
"Nope. Making sure of something," Mukstet said. He put his hand to the side of his helmet out of habit. "Jekib, our two surprises ready?"
"On the doorguns, sir," Jekib said.
"Surprises?" the mantid asked.
"Two humans, helmets with maxed out psychic shielding, the kind they used around Lanaktallan civilians, keeping an eye out," Mukstet said.
"That explains the weird looking door guns," the mantid said. "Telkan design?"
Mukstet shook his head. "Terran Ordnance Corps design. Up-amperaged neural rifles. The Ordnance Tech started going on about sine waves and phased auto-shifting amplitude and my eyes crossed."
"Terrans sometimes seem to have the soul of a greenie," Frees snorted.
--heard that-- 973 signaled back.
"Got movement," Jekib said, his voice a whisper.
"Engage when able," Mukstet whispered back.
The tension slowly ramped up inside the striker, a living thing that reached out with tentacles and seemed to touch everyone. Mukstet felt it, a slight tightness between the shoulder-blades, a tension in the whiskers, an urge to flatten his ears. He noticed that Frees was stroking his bladearms together slowly, as if he was sharpening them.
"CONTACT!" the human roared out. "ENGAGING!"
The rapid fire heavy neural rifle thudded a quick five round burst, the paralyzing packets slapping out, blue in the dimness. All five hit the target. The first two exploding into sparks in mid-air, about a foot above the snow, the third and forth hitting bluish-purple energy crackling out in a halo above the object, the fifth slamming into the object and sending it tumbling.
"DISMOUNTING!" Jekib called out. Mukstet saw the Telkan Marine jump out and run through the snow toward the twitching creature.
Mukstet slapped the button, bringing the shielded reactor to life, letting the graviton engines warm up and threading power to the afterburner's fuel pumps. The striker was a stealth striker, designed to be invisible to as many detection systems as possible.
The green boys had strapped on additional physic stealth shielding for this mission.
The creature was waving its mechanical crab legs in mid-air, starting to rock side to side, trying to get up as Jekib threw down a box then kicked it into the box before slapping the lid shut. He grabbed a handle and ran for the striker.
"CONTACT! MULTIPLE CONTACTS! ENGAGING!" the Terran roared out.
Mukstet lifted off, the graviton engines humming, his instruments going live. There was a little static on his smartscreen, from the heavy metal in the snow flakes, but his brain easily compensated for it. He shifted the half-finished cigarette in his mouth to hold onto the butt with his teeth.
The Terran was running the heavy neural gun, firing it on full auto, strafing the bushes around where the striker had been sitting. The energy packets blew pockets into the snow, shattered branches, cratered the bark of trees.
It also sparkled off of shielding, revealing more crab creatures, some of them waving blurred circular saw blades, others spitting neural bolts that shattered on the striker's shields.
Jekib jumped in with his cargo and grabbed the handle.
"All onboard," Corporal Dleket snapped.
Mukstet slammed the power, kicking in the afterburners with one foot, the sudden acceleration slamming him into his seat. Jekib felt his feet lift off the deck plating of the striker's troop compartment but held onto the ring with one power armor clad hand, the other holding onto the box. The telltales for the mounted anesthetic screen were burning a bright green.
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Mukstet leveled off just above the tree line, punching the throttles to max. The screens were turned off and he used his neural jack to activate the interior psychic suppression fields as the treetops smacked against the bottom of the striker.
The striker's IFF was queried by a handful of MANPADs down in the woods, then by the emplaced positions as they shot toward the slowly stabilized front line. A BOLO tapped the IFF then went back to guarding the refugee site. A handful of tank systems queried his beacon and he lit off so it was squawking as he slowed the craft down, confident he was in the Confederate Air Defense Net.
The black mantid, Frees, turned to Mukstet and stared. "We were bait," he accused.
"Potential bait," Mukstet answered, relaxing as he turned the striker toward Strike Base Boop.
"For what?" the mantid asked.
"You seen anything weird out there? Something that didn't add up?" Mukstet asked.
The mantid hummed a moment. "Actually we did. A platoon of Terran infantry, broadcasting they were surrounded and cut off. We moved up, popped a few recon drones, and it looked like they were panicking. They were dug in hard, shooting all around them, even using their mortars and hellbores on nothing, just wreckage and empty air. They were completely panicked"
"You ever seen a Terran Confederate troop panic enmasse?" Mukstet asked. The smoke was good, he had to admit that. He didn't have the afterburner shakes, which was a plus.
The mantid hummed again. "No. We withdrew, carried on our mission."
"They weren't panicking," Mukstet said. "That's why all the Ranger patrols are being withdrawn."
The mantid tapped his bladearms together in agitation. "If they weren't panicking, then..."
Mukstet banked to approach the striker base from the south. It was just another layer of protection. Any craft that tried to come in would either be cleared prior, on fire, or was compromised.
"They were shooting at something only they could see," Frees said. His antennas tapped his beret, a nervous thoughtful habit. "You had the humans on board to spot the things."
"And caught one," Mukstet said. The green guidance pegs were in his vision now and he lightened his touch on the throttle. "It's in the box. We're going to deliver it to our specialists."
He settled the striker down with hardly a bump. The engines slowly unwound as he disconnected and got up. The mantid Ranger left while Mukstet was shutting the craft down.
--creepy creepy night mantid-- 973 said.
Mukstet just chuckled.
When it was shut down he went back to the crew compartment, jumping down in the slushy mud. He followed Jekib, who was carrying the box as they walked toward the tent where military intelligence was bunkered down. He dropped the dead cigarette butt into an empty can as he followed his striker.
One of the Terran infantry suddenly whirled around on Jekib, his hand dropping to his pistol. "What did you just call my baby sister, fuzzy?" he growled. His eyes were burning red and the other four Terrans that were standing with him slowly turned to look at the Telkan, their eyes bright red.
Jekib stopped, his mouth working silently.
Mukstet stepped foward, pointing at the box. "Psionic prisoner, soldier, don't fight its fight for it."
The Terran growled low and suddenly moved, that preternatural snatching speed that was just so damned fast. He snatched the box away from Jekib and shook it.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY? WHAT? THINK IT'S FUCKING FUNNY NOW?" he trooper yelled shaking the box. "NOT SUCH A FUCKING BIG MOUTH NOW, ARE YOU?"
"Yeah, fuck it up, Lieutenant!" one of the others cheered.
"AT EASE THAT SHIT!" Mukstet bellowed, using his suit's built in speaker to overwhelm the Terran's enraged bellow. He stared up at the red eyed Terran lieutenant. "Hand my man back the box with the prisoner, soldier."
He wanted to run, the last thing he wanted was to face off against an enraged Terran, but the thing in the box was important.
The lieutenant dropped the box on the ground, splashing slush, then spit on it before turning away. "It ain't worth it," he snarled.
Mukstet picked up the box and carried it into the armored tent. There were nearly thirty Treana'ad, Mantid, Rigellians, and Blevan military intelligence specialists inside.
There had been nearly a dozen human ones, but Mukstet had seen that they were outside, cleaning weapons, glaring over the wall, or pacing back and forth mumbling to themselves.
"Did it work?" a Treana'ad asked, moving up.
"Yes, sir. Frees isn't happy about being used as bait," Mukstet said.
"The Captain can remind himself that this is more important than his pride," the Treana'ad said, exhaling blue smoke.
"Spot me one?" Mukstet asked, his nerves still raw and jangled from facing down an angry Terran. The Treana'ad nodded, handing Mukstet a self-lighting one from the Treana'ad ration packs.
The box was put against a clear armaglass box with a spray-on smart-coating. The opened the box and the thing inside rushed and bounced off the far armaglass as the side was slid shut and the armored box pulled away.
Mukstet could finally get a good look it.
About three feet long, two foot wide oval, with six robotic spider legs. Clumpy and crude looking wires and glass tubes. It had a glass globe that was glowing softly blue, a pair of laser-wands on each side of the glass globe, and what looked like a micro-missile launcher on the back.
Inside the glass globe was a brain connected to wires, thin metal probes, glass tubes with fluid in them.
"It's a Hesstlan brain," one of the technicians said.
The creature wavered and vanished.
"And there it is," a Treana'ad said. "Our Terran friends are right."
The reptillian Blevan pressed a button and microwave current sliced through the box.
The thing inside gave a squeal as it appeared, jumping around for a moment, clattering its legs.
"And it's driving them feral," a Rigellian said, leaning forward to get a better look at it. "I think it's safe to say it uses psychic energy. Look at those readings."
"Do you still need me, that thing gives me the creeps," Mukstet said honestly, watching as the cybernetic horror tried its weaponry against the armaglass before throwing itself against it several times. It unfolded bladearms surrounded by a flowing nimbus of psychic energy and attacked the armaglass with that, not even scratching it.
"Sure. Thank your men for us, this is a vital clue," a Rigellian said without turning away from the box. "See those fluid filled tubes in the back, they're pumping that liquid into the cerebral tissue now that its using psychic energy on the bladearms," she said to her compatriots as Mukstet left the tent, exhaling smoke into the snowy air.
Outside he found Jekib being lifted up into a hug by the Terran lieutenant who'd confronted him.
"I always liked you fuzzy guys," The Terran said, setting Jekib down and patting him on the head hard enough to make the Telkan's knees buckle slightly. "Good job snatching one of the goonygoogoos."
"Thank you, sir," Jekib said. "Um, my striker leader is coming."
"Carry on then, private," the Terran officer said, turning back to his men. "All right, let's coordinate and do this sweep."
Jekib moved over by Mukstet. "He was apologizing for thinking the voice in the box was me."
"They can hear them," Mukstet said softly. "They can see them and hear them, but nobody else can. That has to be making them crazy."
The Terrans that he could see all had red eyes.
He moved over and climbed up on a stack of empty ammo boxes, watching the mechanics go over his striker. After a few minutes he noticed that there were three groups of humans moving on the perimeter of the striker base, moving slowly, weapons held ready. There were three other groups moving in a circle counter to the perimeter group, a third group moving counter to the inner group, and a fourth group that was sitting around watching the interior.
"What are they doing?" Mukstet asked Jekib.
"I don't know," the Marine answered honestly. "There's Ralvex."
"Ralvex," Mukstet nodded as the one-armed Marine climbed up next to them. "Know what the humans are doing?"
Ralvex nodded. "They've been seeing things all morning. Claiming that there's something lurking around inside Striker Base Boop. Looks like a standard sweep pattern."
"You think there's something in the base with us?" Jekib asked softly, looking around.
Ralvex shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it has to do with them going crazy?"
Mukstet shook his head. "No. I think..."
"BANG OUT!" one of the Terrans roared, throwing a grenade over by a gap between cargo containers.
The grenade went off in mid-air and Mukstet knew the Terran had 'cooked it' by pulling the pin, loosening his grip on the lever so the striker hit the fuse, then throwing it after the fuse had burned a second or two.
The screaming was loud, echoing, and piercing. Mukstet, Ralvex, and Jekib all clamped their hands to their heads at the scream.
A tall figure, clad in an iridescent robe and hovering on a disk of bluish energy, reeled away from where it had been partially hidden by the cargo containers. It lost its footing on the disk, covering its large white eyes with its two hands, screaming.
Before it could recover there was a pair of Terrans on it, grabbing it.
THFWOOP! howled out and the Terrans roared in rage even as the air rippled around them with some unseen force. Three Terrans were knocked down, crates went flying, and a Terran wearing a power-loader frame turned and grabbed a crate of anti-armor missiles.
They had been trying to hold onto it, trying to pin it, but the second THFWOOP and they bellowed, wordless, meaningless audio aggression, and shifted their grips even as two more Terrans grabbed it. The second ripple made the Terran's flesh ripple even as their armor shattered and flew away. Blood flowed from the Terran's noses, out of grinning mouths, as they held onto the parts they had in their hands and tensed. One Terran grabbed the creature's facial tentacles, another sunk his hands into the top of its head from behind.
The third THFWOOP! sounded out just as all of the Terrans, grinning at each other, pulled in opposite directions. The arms and legs came off in a spray of purple gore, the tentacles tore off in the Terran's hand, revealing a cavernous mouth full of rings of sharp teeth, the one holding onto the top of the head tore the flesh from the skull.
It collapsed on the ground and Mukstet jumped up from where he'd fallen in the slush, running toward the Terrans as they roared in anger and began stomping on the corpse. The ones with the limbs throwing them on the body.
"STOP! STOP! WE NEED IT FOR INTEL!" Mukstet yelled out as two of them pulled out their pistols and started firing into the corpse, yelling that that was what the corpse got for being a sneak.
They stopped, turning to stare at him, and it felt like heat from a roaring fire rushed over him.
"We need to get intel from the body," he said, pointing at the medical tent. "Take it in there, two of you stand guard."
Mukstet watched as the Terrans, still growling, picked up and carried the body into the medical tent.
Ralvex moved up beside him, cradling his cyberarm and rubbing the forearm.
"Looks like they were right," Ralvex said. "Guess someone was sneaking around."
For a second Mukstet had an overwhelming urge to smack the Marine.