"Major! Major, Captain Hotexak needs you," the PFC said, running up. He sounded out of breath, even in his power assist armor. He stopped next to the sole officer wearing heavy power armor done in white and gold, with heavy inlay and embossed runes and sigils. Unlike the other officers, who all carried the standard Confederate Armed Services magac rifle, the officer in white carried a heavy submachinegun on his hip and had an inlaid and enameled M318 autocannon in storage position.
"Major?" the PFC asked, tapping the officer with a comlink ping rather than physically touching him.
Vuxten jerked slightly, turning and looking at the PFC. He had been busy looking over the deployment orders for the entire battalion. He had only finished his Captain's tour a little over three months ago and had only graduated the Major's Command Course two weeks before the drop landing.
Unfortunately, Vuxten had slowly come to realize that while at first glance he was being promoted at the standard "with waiver" rate, he seemed to get immediate class availability, get all his waivers, and recommended for promotion at the first board that oversaw promotions.
Which meant, it was starting to feel political to Vuxten.
Which had left a slight sour tang of distaste in Vuxten's mouth.
His wife had told him that it would be a political concern if he was passed over, and she had rejected Vuxten's argument that he shouldn't receive waivers for time in grade and time in service, in order to get the minimum of both, as it was unfair to other troops as well as didn't give him time to get enough experience in the position, set a bad example.
But none of that mattered now. Fifth Telkan Marine Division was on the ground, backing up the Fifty Seventh Corps as part of 22nd Army in the invasion of eight different systems, 57th Corps' part in the Iron Piglet Counter-Offensive.
Which meant there was no time for doubts and fears.
"Yes, Private?" Vuxten asked, turning around, making sure one hand stayed on the lower part of the Madame 318 gunnery frame.
"Captain Hotexak needs you," the PFC said. "He's in with Colonel Dartrum and General Twargark is on the commo band."
"All right. Carry on, Private," Vuxten said. "If you'll excuse me," he said to the men he was with, mostly experienced NCO's going over things they didn't need him to stand there and oversee.
He just felt strange not leading a company from the front or at least just being at company level as he had for the months since he'd returned from...
from...
He tried not to think about it too much.
But the way people glanced at his armor and weapons, the way he could see the white enamel and gold filigree and inlay on his armor and weapons, kept him from being able to put it behind him with ease.
"What do you think the Captain wants?" Vuxten asked the one person he had around who knew what it was like having your life so radically and fundamentally altered.
--lost his head can't find it needs superior officer help-- 471/Inertia sent back over the suit link, accompanied by several snickering emojis and a meme of a Captain with his head in a fishtank going "Sir, sir, I can't seem to breathe!" while a frustrated and angry looking Major stared at him.
Vuxten chuckled. "Thanks, I needed that."
He heard whispers again and shook his head. He'd been to the medics twice, but there was no reason for the whispers.
The tent was coming up, covered in camouflage netting, a sparkling em-field, as well as the odd crystalline distortions in mid-air from the temporal and spacial stabilizer systems.
Still didn't help with whatever the Slorpies did to wipe out most the communication bands.
The two tent guards both nodded and Vuxten moved in, sighing when the creation engine of the Madame 318 thumped against a box and audibly snarled at it.
A female Telkan's voice whispered in his ear for a moment, but he couldn't hear it plainly. He shook his head and moved into the room, undoing the smart-harness and setting the Madame Three-Eighteen down on a table.
Several Telkan were gathered up around a holotank, which was hooked into the ground laid fiber-optic cable communication system. Several other officers, all with their ranks and position on labels underneath them, were in the holofield too.
Without saying anything, Vuxten moved up, nodded to the gathered officers, nodded to the ones in the holotank, and stared at data being displayed in the holotank.
The initial landings had gone well. They'd hit the system, the Task Force had deployed the system munitions, and everything had gone according to the warplan. Fifth Telkan Marine Division had made planetfall, straight into the zones. Forward operations bases, logistics bases, all had been established within hours of landing into enemy fire.
The lines had pushed out from the FOB's, linking together, establishing air superiority, counter-battery superiority, even wet navy launches.
The Atrekna had obviously been caught by surprise for the first sixty hours.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
But they weren't surprised any longer and they had a vested interest in winning.
Now, it was a complete shitshow.
The holotank showed it plainly.
The lines were firm, spreading out from the quickly established LZ's for the second wave,
"How bad?" Vuxten asked the Captain next to him.
Someone whispered in his non-cybernetic ear.
"Pretty bad, sir," the Telkan Marine Captain said, the earlier nervousness of being around a living legend having vanished under the heavy action of the last few days. He reached out and scrolled through the data windows until he popped open a drone feed.
It was a highway, full of cars, hovercraft that were still controlled by the traffic controller systems, and lines of people walking.
One Lanaktallan was galloping down the median wearing LawSec armor with "FREE HERD" spraypainted on it. The Lanaktallan had several children on his back and a flank-sash with two boxes attached, one on each side of his lower torso, filled with what looked like tiny children. He was obviously running almost past his endurance, his tongue hanging out, his eyes wild.
A gun in each of his four hands.
He wasn't the only one, but for a long second, he was the one that Vuxten's eyes were locked onto.
He could almost hear the scene provided by the stealth drone.
"Cities were full of refugees, of prisoner camps that the locals are claiming were larders for the Atrekna rulership caste," Captain Hotexak said. "This morning, counter-battery artillery flattened a large section of those biobugs and a few air strikes softened up the reinforcements, and that's when it happened."
"What?" Vuxten asked, swallowing and trying to concentrate.
Everyone was staring at him.
To be honest, it felt weird. The two higher ranking officers had decades of experience under their belt and they were all staring at him like he was about to perform a magic trick and awe everyone.
"The prisoners staged a breakout with the help of what appears to be an insurgency," General Twargark said, her voice low and musical. She rubbed her shoulder, the muscles on her arm bulging. Her finger tapped the icon of the Lanaktallan who had stopped, gasping, leaning on a car. There was a dead insect creature at his feet and his pistols were smoking. "They're wearing LawSec and CorpSec armor and carrying a hodgepodge of weapons, none of which have been too effective, but they're making up for their lack of tech edge with sheer grit."
The Lanaktallan straightened up, his chest and lower torso still heaving, and began trotting forward.
"They're streaming out of the cities by the tens, hundreds of thousands, maybe millions," Colonel Dartrum said. "Heading all for our lines."
"And we don't have the infrastructure to help them," Vuxten guessed.
"As you can see, we can't provide any support beyond the odd close air support," General Twargark said. She tapped a representation of the battle lines. "If we shift troops to give them ground support, it'll pull troops off the line. The Atrekna are mysteriously inactive since the POW camps broke free."
"They want us to shift to protect the civilians," Vuxten guessed. He closed his eyes. Legion's beard, I hate this.
*"*Intel figures that they're banking on us going to the civilians assistance. The refugee lines are as long as thirty miles in some places," Captain Hotexak said. He tapped another window and it expanded. "The traffic computers work, and are on martial law setting, which means the only vehicles that can override them are military vehicles, all the way up to here," he pointed at the window.
Five miles from the lines there was rubble and wreckage and a dead Ohm Class bioweapon cutting off the road. Refugees were abandoning vehicles and walking, streaming around the wreckage.
All heading for the Confederate lines.
"Eighteen different cities, all across the front, we've got millions of refugees and insurgents heading for our lines. The Atrekna are hitting them just enough to keep them panicked, kill some with the Dwellerspawn that are, well, messy. They're trying to force us to redeploy," the General said.
Vuxten sighed again, this time with relief, when his stimgum ration reset enough for him to tab up another piece of gum.
It made the whispers recede.
--double plus ungood-- 471 said.
Vuxten just triggered an agreement emoji back.
"This is new," Vuxten said. He leaned forward and watched as a large insect creature ran down the line of cars, smashing at the tops and at the front ends, where the cargo space was. It dented the body up, shattered windows, screeched at the occupants, then ran into the field, ducking down and crawling on all its limbs almost as fast as it ran on its bigger legs.
"That's not a probing attack or anything other than hitting their morale and causing fear," Vuxten said.
The others all nodded. "Intel concurs."
Vuxten closed his eyes again and focused himself.
be with me now the whisper was the first plain one he had heard.
Vuxten reached down, his hands finding the firing lever and the stabilization bar on Madame Three-Eighteen. He squeezed tightly, feeling the pressure sleeve in his gauntlet squish under his fingers.
"Uh, Major?" he heard from a far distance.
I beseech you to walk with me
in my darkest moment, please be with me
look after the podlings
lay thy hand upon the squirmlings
be with the children now as I try, all I can do is try, but please be with them
"Major?" the voice seemed even further.
be with us, as e=mc2 and t=d/s and ms^2 are our guides
be with the children
be with them, please
hear my prayers
hear my words
hear my pleas
help me
help us
help them
help
Help
HELP
HELP!
He felt it. The pounding rage. The wrath. It boiled up out of his core, where Lady Keena had taught him to lock it away, to temper it into steel.
Instead it was a boiling fire that rolled out of that tiny black spot that had just cracked and ruptured, under too much pressure to hold.
It filled his mind, filled his very being, filled his soul.
PLEASE, SAINT VUXTEN, GIVE ME COURAGE JUST FOR ONE LAST MOMENT!
He could feel a dozen, a hundred, a thousand pleading hands reaching out to him.
It felt to Vuxten like the entire world was made of white fire.
"I am with you," Vuxten whispered.
Everything went blue-white.
--INERTIA IS WITH YOU-- he heard screamed over the comlink.
Captain Hotexak stared at where just a moment before one of the most famous Telkan in existence had stood.
He looked around.
"Where is he? Where did he go?" Captain Hotexak asked.
"Find him! Lock onto his transponder!" the General snapped.
Vuxten felt his boots hit the ground and opened his eyes.
The Dwellerspawn were everywhere, chasing civilians, that screamed and ran. They streamed out of moss and vine covered buildings, clutching infants and children of all races and species, crying, screaming, blinking at the sunlight as they crashed through open doorways and empty windowframes.
The Dwellerspawn were screaming.
He could feel the cold approval and enjoyment of the Atrekna.
"NO MORE!" he roared out.
He shifted his thumb and saw the icon for Madame Three-Eighteen go from safe to dangerous.
"NO MORE!" his speakers vibrated with his rage.
He aimed the weapon.
He could see the Atrekna clearly, their tight clustered groups of two and three surrounded by a fairy dust sprinkling of clear prisms.
"NO MORE PODLING BLOOD!"
He squeezed the firing lever.