Imagine.
Staring up at the sky. Seeing all of the stars.
And knowing that you are utterly alone.
Your people are extinct.
You are among the last.
Could you keep from falling into despair?
Imagine.
Being alone. - Lamentations of Earth, 8735 PG, Smokey Cone Press
The grav striker hummed as it flew just over the treetops, the full stealth package engaged. The turbo fans were off, the jet thrusters offline, and only the center grav engine was running and that was silently. The striker was in the lead of a five craft formation. Grav strikers at the compass points, a large Treana'ad troop grav-transport, dripping with guns and heavy with armor.
Mukstet sat in the pilot's seat, his normal crew missing, just black mantids, Kobolds, and Tukna'rn special forces filling the striker's crew positions.
"Who do you think it is?" Mukstet asked the copilot, Flies in Crooked Lines.
"Not sure. A Confederate SAR beacon squawking in the clear like that is strange. It's got weird headings, so command isn't sure if it's a slorpie trap or not," Flies stated.
"Coming up, we should be on visual in thirty seconds," Mukstet said.
He heard his commo tech pass it on.
"Dropping speed to three knots," he stated. "Dropping to twenty meters off the deck," he added. The grav-striker hummed as it lowered and slowed down. He glanced at the black mantid. "Looks like our targets just on the other side of that treeline."
The striker cleared the trees, exposing a small clearing.
The trees were gone, a perfect hundred meter across circle in the middle of the trees, with eight ten-meter circles off of that circle at the eight compass points. The circles were all full of runic markings burnt into the grass and dirt, the outer circles connected to the main circles by runic arrows.
In the middle stood a suit of black armor. Three meters tall, all black, a massive cannon over the right shoulder in the storage position, heavy armor on the forearms, missile launchers on the lower legs.
"What is that?" Mukstet asked.
"Not sure," Flies said. "Never seen that kind of armor before."
Mukstet frowned as the armor started dancing and jittering on his screen.
"It's running jamming," Mukstet said.
"Unknown power armor, shut down all systems. This is Confederate SAR Team Bigby, shut down all systems," Mukstet heard over the channel.
The power armor just stood there.
"This feels weird," Flies said.
"Yeah," Mukstet said.
"This is Bigby-7 Actual, we're holding position," the Treana'ad troopship stated. "Take positions. Bigby-5, go in."
Mukstet nodded. "This is Bigby-5, we're going in."
Mukstet dropped down in the runic carved circle.
"Never seen markings like this," the black mantid said.
The armor just stood there as the striker settled onto the ground.
"Beacon still squawking," the commo tech, a Kobold Ranger, said, his voice tight with stress. "Armor's showing no readings. It's just a hunk of metal."
"Let's go," Mukstet said, detaching from the striker and grabbing his carbine.
"Looks human," Flies stated. "Too big to be any other biped. Not the right aesthetics for Rigellian."
"Looks nasty," Mukstet said, moving to the troops compartment. The doors were open, the side guns manned. He hopped to the ground, knowing that the special operations troops were right behind him.
He walked toward the armor, the heat and humidity of the planet hitting him almost immediately. His pilot's suit was soaked with sweat by the time he was ten meters from the armor. At five meters the psychic shielding in his helmet had risen to the point he could taste blueberries on his back teeth.
"Confederate markings," Flies stated. "Confederate SAR!" he called out, using his shoulder mounted speaker.
The armor jerked slightly.
The psychic shielding spiked and for a second Mukstet heard a human voice growling "DON'T TOUCH ME!"
He was reminded of Hesstla.
"Huh?" the armor said. It looked around quickly. "Oh. Sorry, dozed off," the armor added. The psychic shielded staged down as the armor shifted. It stretched, reaching toward the sky, the armor's sharp tipped fingers clacking as it made a fist. "Took you guys long enough."
"We couldn't see you on sat," Flies said. "Identify yourself."
"Ringbreaker Nine-Alpha Actual," the suit said. "Hang on. Lozen, let me go."
"This area is not safe," a woman's voice said.
"I'll be fine," the suit said.
There was a huffy feeling, then the front of the suit unfolded, revealing a large Terran standing in the armor. He jumped down, landing easily, and moved to Mukstet.
His psychic shielding jumped up to 78% load.
"Theater Command is here, right?" the Terran asked. He reached into a pocket and pulled out an eyepatch, pulling it on and adjusting it over his left eye.
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Mukstet's brain was still trying to process there was an actual Terran in front of him. It had been a month since they had vanished.
"Still need you to identify yourself," Flies said. He raised his carbine. "Stop right there."
The human stopped and looked at Mukstet and Flies. "I told you, Ringbreaker Nine-Alpha Actual."
Flies shook his head. "You're not in the database. I'm going to need you to get on your knees and put your hands behind your head."
The human's smile vanished and Mukstet could swear he could see an amber glow seeping through the black material of the eyepatch. His helmet loaded psychic shielding jumped to 112%, flashing a warning on his retinal link, and Mukstet could taste blueberries.
"You ain't got enough firepower here to enforce that, snake," the human said, his voice low and soft.
The armor suddenly closed and Mukstet heard the sound of ultra-dense capacitors charging.
158%. Mukstet could feel pressure behind his eyes and it felt like heat was coming off of the human.
"Lozen, stand down," the human said, raising one hand. He looked at Mukstet and then Flies. "This is so outside of protocol your head is about two miles underwater, snake."
The shielding dropped to 108%.
Flies made a show of flicking his antenna. "I'm just following..."
"Don't care. You're not restraining me," the human said. "I've come too far, seen too much, for any of that."
Mukstet heard his datalink clink.
"Stand down. Repeat, stand down," a voice said.
CONFEDERATE MILINT appeared in his vision.
Flies lowered his weapon, nervously tapping one foot.
"Lozen, you'll be going with the Treana'ad," the man said.
"I dislike being separated," the armor said. "Come back. Let me embrace you," the woman's voice grew soft, almost hypnotic. "I'm the only one who loves you. Come back to my arms. We don't need them, I am all you need, you are all I need. Return to my embrace."
"Lozen, go with the Treana'ad," the human stated. He closed his eye and swallowed. "We'll talk later."
There was a huffy aura about the armor.
"Sorry. She doesn't like being separated from me," the human said. He sighed, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a standard adaptive camouflage hat and tugged it on, taking the time to make sure the brim was two fingers above his nose and at the same angle. "Let's go."
Mukstet could tell that Flies wasn't happy. Still, he touched his datalink. "Bring in the transport."
"Be good, Lozen," the human said.
The armor just stood there, silent.
"Thank you," the human said. He looked at Mukstet and Flies. "She just worries."
Mukstet nodded.
The human stood silent as the Treana'ad put grav-lifters on the armor and moved it. At one point electric discharges started crackling around it but the human simply snapped out "Lozen. Stop it." and the discharges stopped.
When Mukstet looked at the human he just shrugged, his one eye unreadable.
The human said nothing else as he got into Mukstet's striker, grabbing a stabilization bar and bending his knees slightly.
The rest of the crew stared at the large human. Mukstet kept a data window open in his periphial vision, but it only looked like the human dozed off, loosely hanging from the bar by one hand. His one eye closed, knees bent.
"Trust him?" Mukstet asked.
Flies looked over. "I don't know. Three years ago, most of them suddenly die. A year ago almost all the others die or vanish. A month ago the rest vanish, then this one shows up?"
"What the hell is a Ringbreaker?" Mukstet asked.
The mantid shook his head. "No clue. I ran a quick check of the databases. That armor and the phrase Ringbreaker don't show up."
"Outside our paygrade?" Mukstet tried.
The mantid made a huffy sound. "I'm a Colonel, been with special operations for nearly thirty years, three fifths of my life, my paygrade goes pretty high."
Mukstet glanced at him. "Ever seen an eVI driven armor that claims to love the pilot before?"
Flies tapped his bladearm against his front right leg for a moment. "No."
"That armor, it didn't want us around," Mukstet said. "I mean, if I didn't know better, I'd swear it was jealous that we were there. It sounds crazy though."
"You're not crazy," the black mantid said. "Us mantids, we all got a touch of psychic ability, and that thing absolutely hated us. If it wasn't for the shielding in our helmets that armor probably would have melted our brains with sheer hate."
"It wasn't just him," Mukstet guessed.
The mantid shook his head. "No. That armor, it hated us."
Mukstet shrugged. "Been a weird war."
"That is has, my Telkan friend, that it has," Flies agreed.
-----
Mukstet had to admit, curiosity had him following the big Terran as he was passed from checkpoint to checkpoint in the Theater Command building. Every time the detectors started howling and the guards raised their weapons. Every time the stand down order was given and the Terran was waved through. After the fourth checkpoint a military intelligence officer, a full Major, escorted the human.
Mukstet just silently walked right behind the Terran.
Nobody tried to stop him until he reached the door marked "THEATER OPERATIONS COMMANDER" and the Terran went in. The major turned and held out a hand.
"Nobody beyond this point," the Kobold said.
The Terran turned slightly. "He comes or I go," was all the Terran said.
The major looked at the Terran for a long moment then sighed. "Fine, go ahead."
Mukstet nodded and followed the Terran in.
"Why?" Mukstet asked as they moved into the office.
"Know a Telkan. Kinda like him. Makes me feel a bit more calm to have one with me," the Terran said.
Mukstet didn't have an answer.
Behind the desk sat the Lord On High of the entire sector. General of the Warsteel Donuthum Shaklatar, Commander, Sector Bravo-Two. On his right sat Fleet Admiral of the Warsteel Pulfun Ordnuk.
The Terran stopped, stared for a long moment, then saluted.
The General and the Admiral returned it.
"Chief Warrant Officer Three of the Iron Cathal Julius Casey," the General said.
"Lance Corporal now, sir," the Terran shrugged. "I was busted and moved to the Telkan Marine Corps. Before that, I was laterally demoted to Sergeant First Class."
The General acted as if he hadn't heard.
"The last Lord Knight Æsir of the Sancti Ordo Spiritus Tyr," the General said. "The Last Ringbreaker."
The big human shrugged. "The last two parts isn't exactly true."
The General raised an eyebrow.
"My four sons have Knight ranks and are Ringbreakers," The Terran said.
The General looked down and Mukstet realized that the two flag officers were looking at a hidden dataslate.
"No next of kin listed," the General said.
"It's... complicated," the Terran said.
"Says here you've been AWOL for four months," the Admiral said.
"Like I said, complicated," the Terran said.
"Says here you deserted your post, took your restricted power armor in violation of a direct order to avoid contact with that armor, and vanished," the General said.
The Human clenched his fists and Mukstet saw sparks shoot out from one hand.
"Not exactly, sir," the Terran said.
The General looked up. "It also says you took part in something called 'The War in Heaven' and fought next to the Biological Apostles," he said.
Mukstet could smell the stress pheromones in the air.
"And was recruited by the same to take the fight to the Atrekna," the human said. "My sons are there, now, ripping apart something the Atrekna would probably like to keep."
The General sighed and waved at the seat.
"Have a seat, Lord Knight," he said. He inhaled deeply and turned to the side in his chair. "There will be others joining us. I assume you don't want to keep repeating what you're here to say."
The big Terran shrugged. "I heard there's this new device called a recorder that lets people play back conversations and other sounds. Figured the Confederate military might have one or two laying around."
The Admiral gave a chuckle.
"I could use a drink of water that hasn't been run through a reclamation system after I sweated it out for a year or two," the Terran said. He ran his hands down the legs of his pants. "No alcohol though, please. I've only had nutripaste to eat for about three years, one bottle of narcobrew and I'd be hammered."
The General turned away from the screen that had lit up on the right. It was sectioned into nearly two dozen smaller windows, all with high ranking officers. He touched a button on his desk.
"Can you bring in something to drink, Captain?" he asked. "Water with lemon or lime slices, if you would."
"Yes, sir," a voice said.
"Thank you," the Terran said.
"Oh, sit down, Chief," the Admiral said, waving at Mukstet. Mukstet nodded and took a seat next to the big Terran, who reached over and patted his leg as if he was trying to comfort Mukstet.
It was silent until a Rigellian Captain brought in a pitcher of water.
Casey drank three large glasses quickly, then poured a fourth and leaned back, shaking the glass slowly to make the ice clink.
"Thank you. I know I'm not dehydrated, but after a month or two in armor you start to feel like it," he said.
"You transmitted you had priority data," the General said.
The Terran nodded. "I can explain a big mystery for you," he said. "But you can't solve the problem," he sighed. "Chromium Saint Peter isn't sure it can be solved yet."
"What's that?" the General asked.
The room seemed to get suddenly smaller, the air stifling.
"I can tell you what happened to all the humans."