"People used to homogeneous societies look at the Confederacy and think it is one big monolith.
"That is so far from the truth it because comedically hysterical.
"Even the Mantid have two separate civilizations within the Confederacy.
"And just ask any three Treana'ad Matrons what their favorite ice cream is." - Ru'udamo'o, Meditations Upon the Lemur
The androids kept pushing at the doorway, taking shots to the face and dropping, dissolving away, only to be replace by two more.
For Ru'udamo'o is was practically a shooting gallery for nearly five minutes.
Then, glancing at the outside alley cameras, he saw all eight of the androids outside suddenly go still.
They quit marching lockstep toward the door, holding in place.
Then they scattered. Two taking cover to watch the mouths of the alleys. The other six getting one behind another in a close line, left hand on the one in front's left shoulder, battle rifle held low in the line with the leader holding it at low ready.
Ru'udamo'o frowned.
The tactic was a weird looking one.
They rushed in the door, close together, and Ru'udamo'o started shooting, wishing he had a grenade, going for the legs since they were unarmored.
They made it almost halfway down the hallway, pushing the lead members to the side when they got wounded, firing wildly, until the last one went down with a shattered head casing.
Ru'udamo'o had to admit, without grenades or maybe a directional mine, the tactic had almost managed to push them close enough. Only the narrow long hallway had kept them from reaching the room and spreading out.
He checked the monitor and saw the two still in the alleyway were facing one direction, firing their weapons. A bright light was illuminating the alleyway, throwing them into stark relief. He could see the android's mouths open and knew they were giving their high pitched screech of alarm slash warcry.
Bullets shattered their skulls and the light slowly faded.
Ru'udamo'o held tight to the pistol, noting that he was down to half an amblok, watching the security cameras.
A blur moved through, followed by a russet colored mantid holding tight to a heavy box and a greenie carrying a toolkit.
The blur stopped at the edge of the door.
"Friendly, coming in," came from the doorway.
"ID yourself," Ru'udamo'o said.
"Terran Diplomatic Team," the voice said. "Three coming in."
Ru'udamo'o recognized it as the Mosizlak's voice.
"Advance and be recognized," Ru'udamo'o ordered.
The Mosizlak, dressed in torn adaptive camouflage and carrying the board with a nail in it in one hand and a Terran magac rifle in the other, stepped into the doorway. Ru'udamo'o waved him forward, getting him close enough to poke with one hand to make sure it wasn't an android underneath a hologram projector.
"All the androids are down or they'd be coming straight at me or you," the Mosizlak said.
"Where is Speaks?" the russet asked.
"This way. I have a doctor working on him, but the doctor is relying on GalNet," Ru'udamo'o said.
"Then it is good I am here," the russet said.
"I'll watch the door," the Mosizlak said.
Ru'udamo'o nodded, feeling relief fill him.
-----
"How is he?" Dreams asked the hologram of Fights.
"Lost a lot of ichor, carapace damage, some internal organ damage, but he's tough and the doctor his savior took him to was skilled," Fights said.
Dreams took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, feeling the tension release.
"Good. Move him when you can," Dreams said. She looked around then at the hologram of the russet mantid. "Half the diplomatic channels are crashed. I can't get a hold of half the Diplomatic Corps and things are really confused right now."
"What happened?" Fights asked.
"Not over an open channel," Dreams said. "Thankfully, our assets warnings allowed us to defend the starport, the weather engineering control, and the important governmental assets the androids went after."
"Any clue who was using androids, of all things?" Fights asked.
Dreams shook her head. "No. It's causing some concern among certain people since androids haven't been seen in large numbers since the Fifth Human/Artificial War. Someone managed to bypass the lockouts on the creation engines and nanoforges, which has some interesting, and frankly frightening, implications."
"But not ones you're willing to go over across an unsecured channel," Speaks mused. She nodded. "All right. As soon as he's stable enough, we'll move him to a secure location."
Dreams nodded. "Be careful," she said.
"You too," Fights said and cut the feed.
Dreams turned and looked at her four Tukna'rn guards and the two black mantid, all covered with holographic overlays to make them look like part of the flora and fauna of the Pacific Northwest Rain Forest National Park glade.
"Set up a meeting for the former Grand Most Highs that are still paying attention to the real world instead of grinding for Nebula Steam achievements," she ordered. "High security protocols," she said. She shook her head. "Speaks found something out and until we can find out what it is, I want the threat level to be considered high."
One of the black mantid, looking like a three ring flying carnivorous squirrel, nodded. "I'm under the opinion that it has to do with whatever just happened to the Senate and the Diplomatic Corps."
The other one, this one looking like a multi-hued peryton, nodded his antlered head slowly. "It's more than the Diplomatic Corps. Half of our agency contacts are silent or going to voice mail. I have contacts that said that it's all over the Confederacy's bureaucracy."
"And coincides with the near crash of the stock market and all of those assets selling off," Dreams mused. She lifted up a water droplet that the magnetic system was hidden in a pebble, and sipped at it, feeling the cool synth rock of the 'pebble' under her fingers. "That bloodbath is still shaking out."
"Agency slush funds took a pounding," the squirrel said. "Most of the covert action funds have been drained and disappeared into a labyrinth of shell companies, charities, and private accounts."
Dreams giggled. "On the plus side, my broker managed to snatch me up a nice manor on Tentrek-7, right on a beach."
The other two nodded.
"The big question is..." Dreams drew out the silence for a second. "What is causing all of this?"
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
Nobody answered while Mister Rings grabbed a wooly snail and began thumping it against the branch to get at the treat inside.
-----
The room was dim, with expensive ergonomic memory foam self-adjusting lounging chair, expensive computer equipment, and a GalNet-SolNet primary backbone node against one wall. Servers chuckled and whirred to themselves, their lights blinking and flashing. The room was warm from the collected computer equipment, but strangely chilled at the same time.
One wall was transparent armaglass, where a comfortable viewing box was located beyond the glass. The viewing box held multiple holotanks, viewscreens, couches, lounges, buffet tables, and three dedicated nutriforges as well as a chef's station.
The door opened and a snazzily dressed Lanaktallan entered, his sash simply proclaiming him to be the owner of a major software company called "Electronic Grazing Field Software". He was followed by a male Gulmisvan, his arm in a sling and half of his face slack. The two sat down and the Lanaktallan pressed a button, summoning a Telkan in a chef's uniform who began cooking.
"How are you?" the Lanaktallan asked.
Eegleet thought for a moment. "Tired. That was a nasty run."
"I ensured that Tremiree's family was compensated generously," the Lanaktallan said. He looked sorrowful for a moment. "She was a bright and inquisitive person, I found her to be pleasant around."
Eegleet nodded. He knew his employer wasn't one for interpersonal relationships and what might seem to be scant praise was actually a ringing personal endorsement of Eegleet's fallen comrade.
"What are we celebrating?" Eegleet asked as the chef set down a plate of carefully cut vegetables.
"The expansion of my corporation," Da'amo'o said, picking up a drink and sipping on it. "I knew that you being recruited for someone's mission that would involve your most highly skilled acquaintances would undoubtedly have massive consequences somewhere," he said. He took a sip of the drink and then smiled as he set it down to grab a stalk of goldleaf.
"I was right. Within the three days you were recovering in the medical wing, the Confederate and Council stock markets had a massive selloff of stocks and assets, as if entire omnicorps were being liquidated," Da'amo'o said. "I was in position to acquire quite a few assets."
"Anything special?" Eegleet asked. He carefully picked up a slice of maknaka fruit and nibbled on it.
Da'amo'o smiled widely. "Five of our rivals I bought in their entirety, from software libraries, patents, and copyrights all the down to the contracts of the most low caste menial worker," he made a humming noise of pleasure. "It was entirely gratifying to immediately bring up the pay and benefit structure of those companies to the standard I insist for my company, completely erasing any residual loyalty to the previous company by those who do the actual work."
Eegleet nodded. Da'amo'o was known to be almost foolishly generous with his work benefits, confusing the other Lanaktallan business magnates who could not understand how Da'amo'o seemed to generate more profit the more money he spent.
"I did sell off anything making military hardware, firmware, or software," Da'amo'o said. He shuddered. "I prefer to entertain, you understand."
Eegleet nodded.
"But that is not what is of interest to you, my taciturn friend," Da'amo'o smiled.
"What?" Eegleet asked, picking up a star-fruit cup and nibbling at it. He paused to wipe the slack corner of his mouth and noticed Da'amo'o was just smiling. "What?"
Da'amo'o leaned forward and activated a holotank. "Oh, just that I might have acquired the omnicorp that produced intrusion countermeasure electronics as well as intrusion software and firmware as well as an omnicorp that produced dedicated electronic warfare intrusion systems a few centuries ago for the Confederate Armed Services," Da'amo'o's feeding tendrils curled in excitement. "While the software and hardware is undoubtedly far behind what is currently used by the Confederate Intelligence Corps, nothing in Council space can stand up to it."
Eegleet just stared.
"Welcome to leveling up, my friend," Da'amo'o said.
-----
Frowning, Vuxten opened his eyes when 471 pinged him. He was still wearing his armor, leaning against a hay bale on the flatbed trailer, the ornate and inlaid M318 20mm autocannon next to him. 471 was sitting on a hay bale, a holoemitter at his feet, watching some kind of complex show that Vuxten didn't quite understand that involved some kind of super genius greenie using math and science to solve the unsolvable problems.
It seemed rather dry and boring to him, but 471 was positively bursting with excitement when the main character, 5.A.9, applied the Fourth Law of Interdimensional Relativity to the mega-city traffic patterns to figure out where the kidnappers had gone.
Vuxten saw that JR was walking across the tarmac from the control tower to the trailer, shaking his head and looking slightly frustrated. Vuxten reached over and nudged the Joan, who was kneeling on the flatbed trailer and praying, then tapped Dambree, who was laying on her back and staring up at the sky, wearing a Hesstlan sundress and a pair of mirror shades.
"Bad news," JR said.
Vuxten gave a sigh. "What?"
"Ansible is out. Looks like whoever attacked us killed the orbiting satellites," JR said. He shrugged. "Ships are gone too. Looks like you're stuck here until we figure something out."
"Great," Vuxten grumbled.
The Digital Omnimessiah stepped up, putting on hand on the bed of the truck trailer.
"I have never understood the reasoning that it is all right to ask me for help in prayers but not ask me for assistance when you are standing right next to you," the digital being smiled. "I am here, with you, as much as is possible, yet you do not ask me for assistance."
"The Gods help those who help themselves," one of the Casey the Youngers said.
"Indeed they do, but in this, I can assist you," the Digital Omnimessiah said. He waved his hand. "I can send each of you home, safely, if you will let me."
Vuxten sat up. "Can you help me and 471 get home?" he asked.
The Digital Omnimessiah smiled.
-----
The day was overcast but not cold, slightly windy without being blustery, the morning one of those strange ones that felt like it should be storming or miserable but instead was oddly pleasant.
Headquarters Company, First Telkan Marine Division, was drawn up in ranks for morning accountability formation, the wan sunlight bathing the Telkan Marines gathered up in their adaptive camouflage uniforms.
At the front of the four platoons were three Telkan. One carrying the guidon, the pennant snapping in the breeze. The company First Sergeant, who was staring at the gathered troops, and behind him was the Interim Company Commander, normally the Executive Officer, First Lieutenant Naxton.
"Company!" the First Sergeant, a Rigellian female, bellowed out.
"PLATOON!" the Platoon Sergeants yelled.
"Attention!" the First Sergeant called out.
All of the Telkan went to attention.
"Report," the First Sergeant ordered.
Each platoon sergeant called out that all were present and accounted for, one by one, starting with headquaters platoon and finishing with maintenance platoon.
The First Sergeant tensed to do an about face and salute the CO and turn the company over to him when there was a bright flash at the back of formation, where the officers and some of the senior enlisted were standing.
There was the sound of trumpets, loud enough to shake the windows. The gold glow brightened then the middle dimmed enough to show what looked like golden clouds and what looked like a wrought gate made entirely of gold.
Everyone turned to look, shielding their eyes.
A blurred figure could be seen approaching the gate. It paused, on the other side of gate, turning around and waving. Several other shapes, larger than the first one, did the same.
Nobody said anything, everyone frozen in shock, as all seven of the figures walked through the gate, becoming more distinct as they walked toward the gathered together company.
There were gasps as the first one stepped out of the arch of golden light, the light sparking and popping in showers of gold and silver sparks.
The armor was unmistakable, even if the colors were different. The armor was white with gold inlay, except for the red and silver warsteel making up a bullseye in the middle of the chest. The faceplate was missing, showing the familiar face of the only person who wore armor anywhere near that design. The figure had a smart-harness on and was holding an inlaid and ornately done up M318 20mm autocannon.
The next one was a Terran female, wearing adaptive camouflage, smiling at everyone as she moved to the side.
Afterwards came five of the heavy Ringbreaker suits.
The gate closed and then vanished as the golden light disappeared and the horns and trumpets went silent.
The first one, the Telkan, moved up to the front of the formation, letting the autocannon move up into the storage position.
"Everyone accounted for, First Sergeant?" the Telkan asked.
"Yes, sir," the First Sergeant said, trying to hold onto her professionalism.
"Excellent. Have the armorer fall out and meet me at the arms room. Have the armor master present too, First Sergeant," the Telkan said.
"Yes, sir," the First Sergeant said.
"We've come a long way and wouldn't mind getting out of our armor," Vuxten smiled. He looked up. "Gonna rain soon, might want to get the troops moving."
The First Sergeant just nodded, staring as the Telkan slowly moved toward the building. She noticed that he had a hitch in the shoulder joint and the knee joint and that there was a deep dent in the greenie protective housing.
She turned back to the company. "Armorer and Armor Master, post to place of duty," she snapped.
The two Telkan jerked as if she'd physically slapped them, then fell out of formation, jogging to the building, passing the seven people heading for it.
The First Sergeant did an about face, saluted the XO. "All yours, sir."
The XO stepped up. "Platoon Sergeants take charge. Company, attention!" he called out. "Fall out!"
The XO and the First Sergeant ran for the building even as the first drops of rain began to fall. They stood nearby, watching anxiously as the seven figures all cleared their weapons.
Vuxten held back a smile as he watched everyone almost hop from foot to foot, questions hanging in the air.
"Are you going to need debriefed by military intelligence and CID, sir?" the XO asked.
Vuxten chuckled. "Might want to call the Chaplain Corps too."
"Where were you, sir?" the First Sergeant asked.
Vuxten turned and looked at the highly decorated non-commissioned officer, a female with over two hundred years in service. He stood still for a moment, thinking.
"A place you can't get to from here, I think," he said as 471 popped the shell and climbed out. He saw the gathered up greenies and stood to his full fifteen inches of height, raising his hands over his head.
"INERTIA!" the greenies all yelled.
Vuxten just chuckled, moving toward the armorer's cage. The armorer had the door open.
"Treat her good," Vuxten said. "It was a pretty intense business trip for her."
The armored looked down at the weapon. Even the nanoforges and the ammo belt links were engraved.
Even the rounds themselves were inlaid and engraved.
When he handed over the heavy assault cannon, Vuxten took a moment, just a single breath, to close his eyes.
I'm glad to be home.