A'armo'o tried to remember when he had ever, in his long life as a tank commander, been in the situation he was now.
It was an uncomfortable situation. A new one. He did not like new and uncomfortable.
It was, he decided after a long period of reflection, an unusual situation.
He stood on the tarmac, staring at the lines of armored vehicles.
Just over a thousand tons of armor, engine, guns, tracks, defenses. All black, except for the yellow warning stencils. It practically oozed malevolence. From where he was standing he could hear a faint growling and knew it was the 2.75 inch rocket pods snarling at the 80mm mortar tubes, which were growling back. It was massive, implacable, a mobile cliff of armor and weapons.
He also didn't trust it.
A'armo'o looked at the datapad in his hand, going over the specs again.
Eight percent faster than his last tank. Eleven percent more range. Six percent more point defense. Nine point two percent thicker battlescreens. Five percent better heat dissipation. Five tons lighter than his old tank, which was five hundred tons heavier than the one before that. The same armor thickness, but thirty percent upgrade in protection from standard threats and a seventy-two percent upgrade in protection from phasic energy. An additional nutriforge. Lanaktallan ergonomics and crew comfort additions.
He narrowed his eyes, glaring at the tank.
The software was faster, better. The screens designed for Lanaktallan visual acuity. All of the external guns could be run from inside, each with a dedicated munitions nanoforge.
According to the datapad, it was a marvel of engineering.
But he didn't trust it.
How could he?
Look at it!
Its armor was unmarred. The end of the barrel was shiny and unblemished. The paint was in perfect condition. The stencils were all sharply defined and clear, easily able to be read. The back deck was clean and almost sparkling. The treads were all in perfect condition, not even scratched.
No. He didn't trust it.
No wise commander would fully trust it.
He peered at the dataslate again suspiciously. It was full of praise for the tank in front of him. Even infographics and animated edu-memes about how great the tank was. How amazing its new armor was. How accurate its guns were. How mighty its power plants were.
A'armo'o glared at the tank, then at the dataslate again.
How could he trust it?
The dataslate showed him that it had performed perfectly, more than perfectly, it had even exceeded the planner's expectations! Even the manufacturer had been amazed by the tank! It was new! Amazing! Great! Any commander would give two fingers to drive that tank! The enemy would run away from it just upon seeing its majesty!
Main gun made in MechaKrautland, ten years ago. A tried and true gun. Crew compartment design by Bongistanian Queen's Armored Corps Design. Power train developed by the Ozland Anti-Eatmu Defense Force contractors. Warsteel Mark V developed and tested by Smokey Cone. Phasic control systems by Hivehome Green Mantid Engineering Services. New fire and forget missile and indirect fire control system by Rigellian War Singer Incorporated. Self-repair systems developed in Pubvia 8,000 years/three years ago. Armor laminate system designed by the Vodkatrogs of the Endless Tundra. Communications systems developed by the MapleLeaf of the North. Computer systems by Animeland. Nanoforge programmed by the Code Weavers of the Great Glass Sea. Hamburger Kingdom battlescreens and secondary guns and munition design. Hate Anvils of Mars designed superstructure. Wrath Forges of Mercury testing.
Why the tank was perfect! No tank would ever be better than this one! A'armo'o should be grateful, no, he should be awed and humbled that the Terran Confederacy Military Procurement Board had acquired this tank just for him!
A'armo'o glared at the dataslate and back at the tank.
He didn't trust it.
Two green mantid engineers climbed out of one of the engineering spaces. One started banging the hull with a wrench, flashing an angry icon over its antenna. The other started kicking an antenna, more angry emojis over its head.
A'armo'o nodded sagely.
See, they obviously understood.
A shadow of a big bird passed over and both mantids hid underneath the forward port 2.75" rocket pod. One of the mantids shook their fist at the bird's shadow.
A'amo'o nodded again. Several green mantid engineers had been attacked by the avians, resulting in several severe injuries.
The shadow veered off as the bird got to close the ultra-sonic deterrent system, giving out a loud cry of irritation.
The two green mantids moved out from under the rocket pod, moved over to one of the other engineering space hatches, and vanished inside.
A'armo'o went back to looking over the tank.
It was in perfect condition. Even though it was matte black, it seemed to gleam and glisten. It seemed almost...
almost...
It took A'armo'o a moment to figure out what exactly the tank seemed to be. He consulted his datapad, which was showing him an info-meme about how great the autoloader system was, and found a perfect word.
Smug.
The tank seemed almost smug.
A'armo'o nodded in agreement.
It never crossed his mind that less than five years before he would have never attributed an emotion to an inanimate block of technology.
But there was no other word for it.
A'armo'o glared at the datapad, which was now showing him grotesquely drawn flattened cartoon Lanaktallan all smiling inside the crew compartment. The art style was hideous and made A'armo'o want to throw the datapad at, hmmm, he wasn't sure. A bird. Perhaps throw the dataslate a bird.
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There was a ping on the Divisional social media board and A'armo'o checked it real quick.
It showed a Lanaktallan tank crew in a smoking, battered, half wrecked tank with the words "YOUR OLD TANK" above it. The picture below was of the same Lanaktallan all sitting in a dumpster full of garbage with the caption "YOUR NEW SUPERTANK" at the bottom.
A'armo'o snickered and added a heart and a laughing emoji to it.
Another meme popped up and A'armo'o snickered again. It was of himself, staring at the new tank, with the thought bubble "But the tank is so new that the fissionable material hasn't degraded into granite yet. Perhaps this newfangled tank is not what it appears. How can I trust a tank that is younger than some continents? Why, this tank is so new that the people who were bribed to approve the drive train are still alive to spend the money instead of their descendants."
The wordiness let him know it was a 'homegrown' meme.
Another one popped up of a green mantid slapping the top of the tank saying "This baby can fit so many manufacturing errors in it!" Another popped up showing A'armo'o himself staring at the tank with a bunch of equations over his head. He had to look up the equations and burst out laughing. They were stock investment projection equations over chaos theory and particle decay theorems.
Someone made a lot of money for something that's going to break down outside of the motorpool he reasoned out it.
A'armo'o shook his head, still chuckling, and trotted out of the motorpool.
What would be is what would be.
Combat would prove effectiveness or not.
-----------------
Ge'ermo'o watched as Smokey 'No looked over the holotank.
Every unit but parts of First Armored Recon were marked to indicate refit and reconstitution. As he watched, Smokey-No made a few adjustments to the order of refit, then leaned back to light a cigarette. Once the big Treana'ad was puffing out smoke he wiped away the data and opened up a window to check the Corps Social Media feed.
Memes were streaming by. There was a two point five million post thread arguing about whether or not the new Turkey Surprise MRE was made of turkey buttholes or artificial turkey buttholes. A bunch of pictures of dicks drawn on various surfaces streamed by. A picture of a sleeping (well, passed out) Telkan with a dick shaved into his fur over his eyebrows popped up. Another flame war over whether or not the new eVR entertainment starlette was the 'best girl' or the one from an older production.
Ge'ermo'o was surprised at just how popular Terran Confederacy entertainment media really was. He had been raised that anything beyond educational or informative was a waste of resources, yet the Confederate entertainment media seemed to generate massive wealth, improve morale, and lead to bonding.
As he watched the MP's had a break up a fight between two factions fighting over Skub or Anti-Skub that had devolved to fists and randomly grabbed items, the MP's wading in between a good two dozen Rigellian females all throwing fists.
Ge'ermo'o trotted up next to Smokey No as someone posted a video of a green mantid in a glider swooping down on an unsuspecting bird from above and shooting micro-magacs at it with "DEATH FROM ABOVE" written at the top of the video.
"There seems to be a lot of chaos," Ge'ermo'o observed.
Smokey 'No shook his head. "Not really. This is typical for post-combat garrison," he said. He gave a sigh and pointed at where the MP's were examining one of the new tanks that was sunk in a lake with a sign on it that read "IT WAS LIKE THAT WHEN WE GOT HERE" barely above the waterline. "We've got to get these guys off planet before the wreck the place up."
Another window opened up to show a street where a bunch of heavily armored and armed Treana'ad infantry doing the "electric slide" to the amusement of a bunch of Welkret children, who were all laughing and clapping. Another one was of Welkret females staring with huge wide eyes at where a bunch of Rigellian females were lifting weights and posing in such a way as to flex all their muscles.
"Well, these guy's culture has a huge hole blown through it," Smokey 'No sighed, pointing at another window.
It was a social media posting thread arguing who was 'best girl' that the local Welkret had gotten involved in, as they put forward the the fur covered Pubvian female of the show was the 'best girl' that everyone else was just 'anti-fuzzy bigots' and the whole thing, as Ge'ermo'o watched, was rapidly devolving into what could only be called a 'complete shit show.'
"Is there any news of how long it will be until we are redeployed? I was under the impression we were heading for the Telkan system for refit," Ge'ermo'o said.
Smokey 'No shook his head. "No. Apparently something big is going down and MilCom is having everyone lock down and do a crash replacement of gear and weapons."
"I wonder what has caused such a dislocation in battle plans?" Ge'ermo'o said. "Whatever it is, it must be important indeed."
Smokey 'No puffed smoke rings out from around his footpads as another video popped up, this one of Welkret children all clapping along as a trio of muscular Rigellian females were singing and playing instruments.
"Better be really important to screw up deployment," he mused.
-----------------
Dreams of Something More sighed as she explained it one last time.
"All of you have seventy-two hours to confer with your superiors and sector governments. After that, there will be seventy-two hours to sign. Those who do not sign will have seventy-two hours before conflict is re-engaged with the intent of crushing all resistence in your sector," She said.
A hand went up and the light flashed indicating that the Lanaktallan wished to be recognized.
"Yes?" Dreams asked, trying not to glare at 117 as the little green mantid flashed a laughing emoji at her.
"My sector no longer has any planets under my control or control of the Unified Council. If I refuse to sign, does that mean that after the time limit expires the Confederacy will immediately move to enact a military occupation of Terran Confederate Military Forces in those systems?" the Lanaktallan asked.
Dreams sighed. "Again, as I explained to you already, you are in a different situation. If you sign, the Confederacy will immediately move to liberate those planets and systems."
"And return them to my control? If so, will I have the time limits to decide if I want to sign after they are liberated?" the Lanaktallan asked.
117 sent more mocking emojis.
"No. Once they are liberated they are turned over the to local population and a temporary military pro-tem government takes over," Dreams said.
Again.
"But, those systems are under my control," The Lanaktallan said.
"They aren't right now," Dreams said.
"Correct. But they should be once they are liberated," the Lanaktallan said.
Again.
Dreams sighed again. "Mister Representative, I will meet with you after this," she looked over the gathered assembly. "Any other questions?" she asked automatically, and immediately flinched as a score of lights lit up.
"Any new questions?" she asked.
They all went out but one.
Dreams pointed at the one. The Lanaktallan cleared his throat. "Madame Diplomat," he began. "What of the neo and near sapient species that have withdrawn from the Unified Civilized Council? Will they be presented with the same ultimatum?"
Dreams nodded. "Yes."
The Lanaktallan nodded to itself and for a moment Dreams was worried it was going to ask another question. Instead, it sat down and the light went out.
"All right, I will do a roll call. When your name and/or representated system is called, you will be given a copy of your version of the surrender document, which, I remind you, is an unconditional surrender. You will then return and transmit this document to the relevent authorities you represent. Upon your receipt of the document, your seventy two hours will begin," Dreams told them.
As she began calling roll call she had to resist slapping 117.
------------
MANTID FREE WORLDS
You think they'll really surrender?
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
Right up until they think they can stick a knife in our backs.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
PUBVIAN DOMINION
Which would not be wise.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
AKLTAK SOARING WORLDS
So, we're not surrendering? Just them?
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
MANTID FREE WORLDS
No, you're already a probationary member.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
FREE HERD SPEAKING SPACE
What about us?
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
MANTID FREE WORLDS
Probationary, and a special case.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
TNVARU GRIPPING HANDS
Oooh, boy.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
MANTID FREE WORLDS
What?
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
TNVARU GRIPPING HANDS
Things are going to get exciting. The government just released the report on their commission to study the events of Captain Nakteti's encounter with the PAWM, and they're ugly.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
How ugly?
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
TNVARU GRIPPING HANDS
The social media boards are lit up with calls to lynch the current government.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
MANTID FREE WORLDS
You better get a handle on that. It can spiral into violence real quick.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
PUBVIAN DOMINION
Pfft, let them fight it out. Someone will prove their dominance.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
How the hell did you guys come up with the Pubvian Diplomatic Model?
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---