"Let this one be known to us. Let this one be known to our forebearers. Let this one be known to those yet inducted. Let this one's name be known in the halls of valor. Let the Detainee send forth her mighty to try to take their soul. Let the Digital Omnimessiah's Own welcome him. Unto history, we consign thee. Unto valor we shall remember thee. Stand at guard, now, until the Final Battle, honored one. We shall keep the faith." - Prayer for the honored dead, Bellum Chalybeius Vulpe, 138 TXE

"Let there be dakka and whiskey, for tomorrow we fight!" - Ordo Astro Vulpe, 1832 TXE

"In the Digital Omnimessiah's name, we consign your planet and the inhabitants, both guilty and innocent, to the Detainee and the Digital Omnimessiah. In death, may you be sorted by Chromium Saint Peter as to your sins and eventually find redemption." - Sancti Ordus Spiritus Tyr

"We've got antimatter radiation backscatter," one of the surveillance drone operators said, lifting up on hand. The Hesstlan tapped a few controls. "Moving a drone in for a closer look. Putting data on main holotank."

Tut'el stood up and moved over to the main holotank, standing opposite Lieutenant Colonel Ssalressk and next to Sergeant Major HsstSsar, looking at the holotank.

"Anti-matter, huh?" the Colonel mused. He looked at Tut'el. "Anti-matter used frequently in the Atrekna Contested Zone?" he asked.

Major Tut'el nodded slowly. "Standard infantry round, especially against Dwellerspawn and later the deaders when Infection Wave started in the Lanaktallan Zone."

There was another sparkle on the holotank, and the Colonel zoomed in the image.

"Skyraker. Pleasure Hab. Two hundred thirty six stories," the Colonel mused. "At ten meters a story, that's two thousand three hundred sixty meters, two point three kilometers," he frowned. "At least I think so, sometimes I screw up my math."

Tut'el just nodded, watching as the drone moved in.

Sparkles were showing three floors down from the strange architecture on the roof.

AM DETECTED flashed over the sparkles.

"What is that?" Tut'el asked, pointing at a large thing, bigger than a dropship, that suddenly reared up in the middle of the bowl-like construct on the roof.

"Unknown," the drone operator said. "Forwarding visual to MILINT."

Tut'el frowned.

PROXIMITY AL...

The drone suddenly spun, there was a glimpse of huge claws, scales, and flashing silver teeth.

ERT!

The drone feed went dead.

CONNECTION LOST

"What?" the drone operator said. "I don't get it. Suddenly it looked like a house was falling on the drone and I lost feed."

Tut'el reached out, rewinding the feed, then moving through frame by frame.

One frame showed between the massive claws. A huge body, wide, thick, heavily scaled with a long tail, huge bat wings, long armored neck, and an armored head with spikes and tendrils and one massive empty eye socket.

"Dragon," Tut'el said slowly. He shook his head. "It's a dragon."

The Colonel looked over at the communications section. "Get a hold of Brigade and Regiment, someone needs to check the species list for this planet."

The commo specialist nodded, ducking their head and speaking quickly.

The Sergeant Major leaned over. "Sir, if you don't mind me asking."

"Go ahead," Tut'el said.

"Why is your datalink turned off for communication?" the Senior NCO asked.

"There's deaders around. I turned off the quantum systems and the spooky particle system I was running was removed when I left the Atrekna Zone," Tut'el said. "I had a greenie turn on the analog system, so someone can still reach me."

The Colonel looked over. "Why did you turn off the quantum? That's standard communication in the Confederate Army, Major."

Tut'el frowned. "There's deaders around," he said, as if it explained all of it.

"Amplify," the Colonel said.

Tut'el moved over to one of the holotanks that was just mirroring the main and wiped away the image. He brought up the file showing the large crowd of deaders heading out of the city and toward the Forward Operations Base.

"Those are deaders," he said.

"Why are they heading toward us?" the Sergeant Major asked.

Tut'el looked at him as if he had asked if he should close the face shield on his spacesuit before entering vacuum.

"Because they're following the strikers that picked up Hotel and Kilo," he said. He shrugged. "Only one or two of them saw which way the strikers were heading, but you sent them straight line. So one or two saw and are heading that direction," he shrugged again. "The initial one has forgotten why he's going that direction now, he's just following the others."

The Colonel made a "hold on" motion and brought up the wallpaper for Brigade and Regiment Tactical Operations Command. He tapped it and waited until the two officers were brought on.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"What is it, Colonel?" the other Colonel, this one a full bird, asked.

"You need to hear this, pass it up to Division," Lieutenant Colonel Ssalressk stated.

The Colonel from Regiment turned and faced off the camera, muting it. Tut'el's lip reading software, a legacy of the Atrekna War, translated it.

"Find out what that damned distortion is," the Colonel was saying. "It's getting worse," he paused. "I don't give a damn, find out."

Tut'el shook his head and unbuttoned the top of his right chest pocket, reaching in an pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

"Didn't know you smoked T-Bug sticks, sir," the Sergeant Major said.

"In the field," Tut'el said. "Picked it up."

He busied himself taking out a cigarette, tapping the butt against the lighter, then lighting it. He watched both of them complain about the thickening distortion as he put the pack away. While he waited until the Colonel's turned back he brought up certain images that he knew he'd need to show.

"I can solve the mystery of the distortion issues," Tut'el said, exhaling smoke.

All three Colonels, two of them holograms, did their species equivalent of a frown as they stared at them.

"You can?" the Sergeant Major asked. "How?"

"It's the deaders," Tut'el said. He exhaled smoke slowly. "Terran brains have a strange quantum entanglement effect."

All three and the Sergeant Major stared.

"So what?" the Regiment one asked.

"It's a rather strange effect," Tut'el said. He took a slow drag, getting his thoughts in order. "Human consciousness depends on quantum interaction. It's also used in their predatory modes," he said. He gave a big smile. "Did you know that humans can tell if someone is behind them, staring at him, at distances up to a kilometer. It took until the Age of Paranoia to scientifically explain it, even though Terran myth says it can't be explained."

He tapped his ashes on the rubber pad on the battlesteel floor and rubbed the ashes out with the toe of his boot. He tapped at the controls and brought up an anatomy picture of a human, zooming in on the brain.

"The act of observing a quantum particle changes it," Tut'el said. "Human neruons and axons and dendrites us quantum particles changes," he took another drag, pointing with the tip for effect. "I learned a lot about the Terran brain during the Shade and Deadite War."

"How does this effect," one of the Colonels, the one from Regiment started to say.

"Now, quantum communication relies on wide entanglement quantum particles, and those particles will synch up with any particle switched to their, well, frequency to make it quick," Tut'el kept saying. "The fact a quantum particle can change to switch and pair with another particle, even if that particle is paired to another, was discovered."

"That's the basis for our communication..." the Brigade Colonel said.

Tut'el exhaled smoke through his hologram, making it look accidental, as he jabbed his cigarette at the speech and language center of the Terran brain hologram.

"Terran brains have parts in the language center that the particles pair up between humans. It's why some humans develop an uncanny ability to act in almost perfect synch. It's why a human can instinctively track prey across featureless terrain. It's how a spouse or a twin knows something happened to someone. It's how humans share emotions on a deep level," Tut'el continued. "Now, what happens with the deaders, is that they are all on the same frequency. But, and this is a big butted midget Pukan pole dancer we're talking about, it also looks for other compatible particles to synch with. Other deaders on different frequencies, in different frequency nets."

The other officers were now silent and a half dozen windows had opened showing wallpaper or officers.

"Because we use particle frequency agile systems, what happens is over time, more and more of the deaders get paired to our communication system," Tut'el said. He bought up an image of an Atrekna. "This is what caused this fine purple fellow to bring along a butt swinging Pukan honey to completely disrupt the quantum commo system as a byproduct of their phasic abilities and what gave us such fits in the opening phases of the First Atrekna Intrusion."

"But..." a Major from Division started to say.

"So, that interference, is from these fine gentlemen, ladies, both, neither, and apparently either, that are approaching," Tut'el said, ignoring the Major. "They've got one ass swinging dancing midget with them and we're all going to have to pay her."

"That's..." a Colonel said.

He ignored the Colonel as he highlighted the oncoming crowd heading straight for FOB Chase and continued speaking.

"In the beginning, this group was one or two following the strikers along the line of flight. Probably one or two per block that looked up at the noise and saw the striker in the distance. It takes them a second or two to look up when they are in search mode," he tapped two holo icons and a path appeared. "This is the path the strikers were taking as they left the city at only five hundred meters above the tallest buildings along this path, which has the lowest buildings," he tapped his cigarette at the tank. "While this is commendable to avoid civilian casualties," he slowly looked at each of the operations officer.

Both of the Generals were watching intently, silently.

"It was a boot mistake," he said.

Both Generals nodded slowly.

"One followed the strikers. More saw that one and followed. Eventually, the ones in the lead forgot what they were doing, but followed the ones that walked by them. They're heading this way because this is the way the strikers were going. As they move, more and more join them, wondering what the others saw and unwilling to miss out on any food," Tut'el said. "Shades will join, come nightfall, curious as to if the deaders found anything for them to take their rage out on."

"But..." someone said.

Tut'el tapped the hologram. "They'll get more and more," he brought up several drone feeds from over other FOBs and Logistic Bases that were being set up.

They all had crowds around them, pushing on the battlescreens.

"More will join those. A few at first. Then dozens. Then scores. Then hundreds," he took a slow drag, then tapped his ashes while he held it, tipping up his muzzle and exhaling through his nostrils. "Then thousands."

The Generals nodded slowly.

"Nobody," someone at Corps level said.

"The data was in the data packets delivered at Corps level. I looked. It was missing from Brigade and Battalion level, I just doublechecked. Between TRADOC and Lessons Learned, someone removed that section about Shades and Deaders because, in their infinite wisdom and wide experience, they decided that it couldn't possibly be true," Tut'el said.

"That's because it..." another Colonel said.

"Whoever removed it had obviously never served in any deader or shade conflict capacity or they would have known about it and wouldn't have excised it as 'impossible' or 'ridiculous' under their own broad knowledge," Tut'el said, his voice soft and distant. "As I learned shoulder to shoulder with the Warfather in the presence of Enraged Phillip and the Ringerbreak Patriarch of the Ordo Tyr, when dealing with Terrans, nothing is impossible or ridiculous."

"They're only..." a Major said.

He tapped his ashes on the floor again.

"Gentlemen, ladies, both and neither, there is no such thing as 'only human'," he said.

"That's..." A full bird Colonel said.

Tut'el reached out to the carrier signal he brought up, adjust the levels.

At first it was chatter. Unit pushes and the like. A whisper started, low, unintelligible. It started to gain strength. An overlapping of confused whispers.

One whisper overrode the others, coming in perfectly clear.

so cold

Suddenly the murmur was clear.

"So hungry. So cold. Her eyes were green. So hungry. Where? Food? Where? Who? Where? What? So cold. So hungry" whispered from the tank.

All of the officer's eyes widened.

Tut'el cut the feed, taking a slow drag.

Everyone else's mouths dropped open as the whispers, now consciously audible over their own datalinks, continued.

Even if their commo was turned off.

"That's why I burned my quantum," he said, exhaling smoke. "That interference? It's them."

He gave a slow smile as he stood there, his arms folded over his chest, T-Bug smokestick in his mouth.

"Behold: Humanity."