Vuxten's double shift was terrible. The Terran had watched as Vuxten and the others practiced shooting over and over and over. The Lanaktallan Overseers had become anxious as the big biped had tried to teach Vuxten and the others the many different ways of firing a weapon. Kneeling, standing, laying down, walking forward at a steady pace, crouched.
To Vuxten it was a dizzying array of how to position one's self while shooting a rifle.
After that he made them run. At top speed, in armor, holding their weapons, across the parking lot to throw themselves into the carefully manicured garden at the far end of the executive parking. Back and forth, back and forth, till beings were collapsing, vomiting, curled up weeping.
The worst part was the human ran with them. Calling out, yelling encouragement, pointing for different beings to go different ways, hide behind different things.
On and on it went and Vuxten was just glad he didn't vomit everywhere. When it was all over the Terran had even watched them change back into their paper jumpsuits, slippers and gloves. He turned and stared for a long moment at the Lanaktallan Overseer.
"These are your Corporate Security Division?" the human asked.
His voice reminded Vuxten of a sheathed knife. Hidden, but still razor edged.
"Yes. Many years," the Overseer pointed at Vuxten. "That being has been with the Company for almost ten years."
The human just made that "mm-hmm" noise again and nodded his head slowly, staring at Vuxten as he changed. Vuxten was glad to leave the company grounds, the human made him extremely nervous, the way he stared, his mechanical eyes never blinking, always a soft blue, always examining everything.
Vuxten rode in the hoverbus back to his little apartment. His wife was at work, busily scrubbing floors and cleaning the luxury apartments of the Overseers. Yes, a robot could have done her work but for some reason the Overseers preferred sentient beings.
The two broodcarriers had been distressed and it had taken him long moments of caressing their warm fur to get them to tell him why.
The credit account was horrifically overdrawn.
Sighing, Vuxten went over to check his Corporate Credit Account. When he saw the results, he laid his face against the desk and sighed.
He had been charged for the armor, the gloves, the boots, the helmet, the rifle, the pistol, the ammunition he had used, the time on the training range, compensation for the Overseers training him, had paid to compensate executives for using their parking lot, and had put money into the account to compensate the executives for their damaged or destroyed limousines.
In one night he was over thirty years in debt. His podlings would be born with debt.
And he had been so close. Less than a week in debt.
Still, he felt he needed to put a brave face on for the broodcarriers. He got up, reassured them that it was just a Company Financial Restructure, and when his wife got home, ate dinner with her. He told her, afterwards, what had happened to their careful frugality.
She had cried. Her podlings would be born into debt.
Vuxten was exhausted when he laid down and went to sleep. It seemed like he had only started to cradle his wife, between the warmth of the two broodcarriers, when his phone started beeping.
It had already been nine hours of sleep. He had not even gotten in a full night cycle of sleep.
REPORT TO WORK ASSIGNMENT IMMEDIATELY
Sighing, again, Vuxten got up, got dressed, carefully putting on the paper jumpsuit from the day before, and rode the hoverbus to the Corporate offices. Again he went through the gate, gave up his personal possessions, accepted his paper phone, then went to the large break room.
Again, he was put in armor.
"The human was not satisfied with your performance. You have reflected badly upon yourselves, your betters, the Kistimet Corporation which graciously allows you to earn a meager living doing work a robot could perform better. Due to this, you are all deducted one week's pay," the Overseer said.
Most of the beings didn't care. They were already generations in debt, paying off the debt of their ancestors. What was one week when you had a full century or more of debt?
Vuxten did his best not to groan. That meant penalties and interest payments and late fees. He had long ago that a week without pay meant that he'd actually be about a month in debt. It shouldn't have mattered, he had thirty years of debt, but that month meant it was a month before he could work on repaying that thirty years.
They were given shock batons this time. A long pole with rings on one end that stunned beings or just hit them with a painful electric shock, depending on the setting. They were told how to stand, how to walk forward jabbing, how to disable a criminal. They marched up to a robot that yelled anti-Corporate slogans, hit it with the baton so that it went limp, then went to the back of the line.
The human watched, his blue cybernetic eyes unreadable but Vuxten felt as if he was viewing it with exasperated humor.
Were humans capable of such emotion?
The human had the most amazing ability to hold almost perfectly still for long periods of time then move without having to stretch or hyperventilate to oxygenate his muscles. He also had the ability to move rapidly and then become perfectly still.
Vuxten watched the human as he stood waiting his turn to smack the dummy with the shock-baton.
Vuxten would admit he didn't know that much about the races of the Grand Unified Systems. He was a Telkan, a race who had only been part of the Unified Neo-Sapient Council for ten thousand years, so education wasn't a big priority for his species, so he didn't know that much about the other species.
But he didn't remember anything like the human.
He had also never seen the Overseers be that nervous around a different race. They were usually arrogant, demeaning, reminding everyone of their place in the Grand Unified Systems, but with the humans, the Lanaktallans seemed more... frightened?
"This is all well and good, but it won't help against a Precursor," the human suddenly said. "Those stun rods aren't going to stop a Precursor from tearing you apart and wearing your skin."
The Lanaktallan grew rigid with anger. "Those will stun robots, they will damage the Precursors."
The human shook it's large head. "Those damage your robots because your robots are cheap junk," he pointed at the robot. "I'm afraid someone's gonna break that damned thing."
The Lanaktallan snorted and shook its jowls with annoyance. "That is a repurposed crowd pacification drone! You will not 'break that damned thing' any more than..." it trailed off.
"Any more than what, Bessie?" The human asked, his voice suddenly seemed to deepen, slow down, become loaded with something Vuxten had never heard aimed at an Overseer.
"You could stop it from incapacitating you if it was properly piloted for crowd control," The Overseer said.
"One moment, please," the human said. He touched his datalink, waited a moment, then nodded. He looked at the Lanaktallan. "There will be waivers. Have your Corporate Legal Department sign them, then you sign them. I've already signed them."
The Lanaktallan Overseer's knees went weak when he got the datapacket. Vuxten watched the Overseer stammer and stutter for a long moment before the human pushed off the wall he had been leaning against.
"Get this thing fired up. I'm going to teach your troops something useful," the human said. He was slapping his fingerless gloves together as if he was dusting off his hand-pads. Vuxten wondered if he wore the gloves to protect soft textured handpads like he had on his own paw-hands. A half dozen Overseers came in, one wearing a headset to control a robot.
"You may be seriously injured, human," one of the Overseers said, rubbing its hands nervously.
"Yeah, I know," the human said. Vuxten watched it expose a lot of meat tearing teeth. "Ain't that fun?"
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
"It will be a few minutes to properly configure the drone," an Overseer said.
"Sure. Combat implants in sleep mode," the human said. He moved out to in front of the big practice robot. "Might want to move back guys. Make sure you can see it."
Everyone, including Vuxten, moved out past the yellow circle, while the human stood in the circle. The human put his feet apart and his hands behind his back. "There may come a time, despite what the best military theorists insist upon, that you will find yourself engaged in hand to hand combat."
The robot beeped twice and jerked upright.
"The enemy will be just as determined to kill you as you are determined to stay alive, because the only way he can stay alive is to kill you and the only way you can survive is to kill him," The human said plainly.
That made sense to Vuxten. Vuxten looked over and saw the Lanaktallan Overseers clustered together, whispering, and one looked up at the human with a smile of anticipation.
The robot suddenly swung one metal fist at the human's back.
The human suddenly moved, out of the way. Before it could recover the human drew back his boot and kicked the robot's mid-section joint with the heel.
The robot shot sparks and collapsed, its arms holding it up as the head turned to keep the human in view.
The human stepped forward, brought his foot up, then down, so the back of his heel hit the robot's head.
The head came off in a shower of sparks.
"Precision, speed, lethality. Proper identification of weak areas and load bearing articles," the human said, smacking his hands together as if to brush dust from them. "Whatever weapon you have at your disposal, those mantras will carry you to victory."
Vextan stared. The robot was made of the same thing as his armor, thick inflexible plates where his was light and flexible, and the human had disabled it in two blows.
The human was facing them again, hands behind his back, heavy feet shoulder-width apart.
"You will be facing the Precursors, intelligent robots from epochs long past, that seek to eliminate, apparently, all life in order to prevent living beings from consuming resources they have determinated should rightfully belong to them," the human said. "There is enough resources for everyone to enjoy a good standard of living, but the Precursors would rather everyone else's standard of living should be death."
Vexton frowned, glancing at the Overseers, who were looking nervous.
"There are no dangerous weapons, no dangerous objects, only dangerous beings with the willing to use whatever they are able to," the human said. He looked at the Overseers. "Your men need to be trained for jawnconnor coming up."
The human swept those glowing green eyes over the entire group wearing their CorpSec armor.
"They are just ancient machines. We have millions of years of progression beyond them. We are not afraid of old junk that has been gathering dust in space," the Overseer said.
The human didn't look at the Overseer at all. It just looked at the beings in ill fitting light riot gear, clumsily holding weapons they obviously didn't understand.
"Eighth Most High, there is something your men need to understand," the human said slowly.
"Some are females, others are a third or fourth sex," the Overseer said.
The human didn't move, his mechanical eyes staring at the 'CorpSec' forces in front of him.
"I would explain to you how 'men' is a term of respect but I think it would be lost on you and I would be explaining it to your later generations, vainly attempting to get them to understand something beyond their actual comprehension," the human said slowly.
Vuxten felt like the human was staring into his eyes, like somehow the human was staring right through his face shield and into his eyes, trying to stare inside of the Telkan's soul.
"Listen, and understand, all of you," the human said, his voice low, urgent, and full of urgency. "Those Precursors are out there. They can’t be bargained with. They can’t be reasoned with. They don’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And they absolutely will not stop, ever, until all of you are dead. Many of you still don't get it. You can't fight them how you are now. You can't hide from them. They'll find you. That's what they do. That's all they do. Right now, you can't stop them. They'll wade through your armies, reach down your mate's throat, and pull their fucking heart out."
The Overseers shrunk back. Three fainted, falling over. The beings like Vuxten in that armor drew back in fear at the words, at the intensity in the human's cybernetic eyes, at the low menace in his voice where his words rang true in a way they had never heard before.
"Right now, you can't survive. You have to survive if you want your families to survive," the human said. He turned to the Overseers. "If you want to survive, they have to survive. You need to allow me to teach them to kill and destroy the enemy if you wish them to survive."
He turned away and started to walk away. "I am going to discuss options with my command. I will return shortly, you should decide if you want to survive."
Vuxten watched him walk away.
-----------------------
Vuxten was eating in the dining hall when the human suddenly sat down next to him. Instead of turning the seating and sitting down he threw one leg over the back and sat down, putting his hands on the table, his back straight.
"You are Vuxten, if my implant can be relied upon," the human stated.
"Yes, Overseer," Vuxten answered.
"Call me by my title, Sergeant," the human stated.
Sergeant... the word sounded menacing and tasted faintly of ozone and something bitter to Vuxten's tongue.
"Yes, Sergeant," Vuxten said.
"How long have you been with CorpSec?" The human asked.
Vuxten remembered what he had been told to say. "Ten of your years, Sergeant." It was easy to remember to use his title instead of Overseer.
"Seen any action?" Sergeant asked.
"Action?" Vuxten set down his eating implement. It was never easy to eat and talk at the same time. To pay attention to the meal and the conversation going on.
"Combat. You seen any combat?" Sergeant asked.
"Yes," Vuxten said honestly. He'd seen it on the Vid before.
"How long, in the field, does it take your Gamtek Magnetic Accelerator Rifle to cool off once the mag-coils shut down?" Sergeant asked.
"Um," Vuxten said, wishing he had an implant to query.
"Mm-hmm. How long does the standard water allotment you carry last you during combat operations?" Sergeant asked.
"Um," Vuxten said. Having fur meant if he got hot he sweated enough that his fur was soaked. He needed a lot of water. "Two?"
"Mm-hmm," Sergeant said again, nodding. "What's the maximum effective range of an excuse?"
Vuxten thought hard, wondering if the human's omnitranslator had made a mistake. "Uh, seven?"
"Very good, Vuxten. I'll make a trooper of you yet," the human said. He got up, reversing the move, then turned and left.
Vuxten returned to his meal, wondering what that was all about.
-----------------------
Vuxten watched the human argue with the armored Overseer. Vuxten actually recognized the Overseer, the Third High Most of the Corporate Security Division. Vuxten often was ordered to buff the expensive off-world tiles in the Overseer's office. He was too far away to hear what was being said but he could tell by the way the Overseer's tendrils shivered and trembled, how it was blowing and shaking its jowls, that it was agitated.
The human moved over to the Overseer that was in charge of the holographic targets, handing that Overseer a small data-wafer. The Third Most High barked out to the target handler to not take the wafer.
The human grabbed the control for the holo-targets and Vuxten stared.
The human had been like a striking snake. Almost blurry, and had deftly twisted and pulled the control away as if the Lanaktallan hadn't been holding it with three hands. The human looked the control over and slotted the data-wafer, activating the hologram.
There were screams and a rush for the door when a large blocky Precursor machine popped up, draped in the torn free skin, fur, and feathers of its victims. Blood dripped from its claws, ran down its forward chassis, and flesh, fur, and feathers were stuck in the treads.
"AT EASE!" the human bellowed, a primate roar of dominance and command.
Every being immediately went still. Some crouching.
Vuxten noted that the three closest Overseers clutched their heads in all four hands and fell down, kicking and drooling and making noises of distress. The other three grabbed their heads and staggered away, mooing in pain.
Vuxten tasted blood and something metallic and sour and bitter.
"Get back on the firing line, damn you," the human snapped. His eyes glowed bright blue. He touched his implant. "Medics to Firing Practice Range Seven."
Every being rushed to the firing booths, some dropping their weapons when they went to pick them up.
"This is a light armored Precursor attack vehicle," the human started.
"What about the..." one of the others said.
"They're incapacitated, knocked out, injured, maybe even dying or dead, but you worry about yourself and the men on your right and left," the human snapped. He pressed a button and the treads began rolling, throwing up a spray of blood and body parts. A couple creatures screamed.
"GET ON THE FIRING LINE, DAMN YOU!" the human roared.
Those beings who had started moving toward the wall were suddenly more afraid of the human that the hologram. They rushed back up, putting their elbows on the tabletop.
"Open fire!" he roared.
The shots started. Slow at first, picking up volume. At least they could hit the massive machine. The human walked back and forth, commenting, giving encouragement.
"KEEP FIRING!" he yelled when some beings ran out their magazine. "DON'T STOP UNTIL I TELL YOU!"
Vuxten's weapon overheated halfway through the second magazine, shutting down.
"You're dead. Stand by the wall," the human said. Vuxten went to the wall. One by one more beings went to stand by the wall.
Vuxten watched Medical Emergency and Injury Overseers carry away the injured Overseers on hover-transports, glaring suspiciously at the human. Vuxten noticed that the Overseers had bled from their ears and nostrils.
Finally everyone was on the wall.
"It advanced one hundred meters and you all had dead weapons that will not fire until they are completely cooled down," the human stated. He held out his hand and one of the beings against the wall handed him the weapon.
Vuxten watched in amazement as he quickly took it apart, without even instruction, pulling it into small pieces. He held up coils, wires, circuitry, all kinds of stuff, staring at it with his blue eyes, rolling it between his fingers. Vuxten was even more amazed that he put it back together, ran some kind of check on it, and handed it back. He touched his implant, his eyes dulling for a moment, then he turned to the gathered up beings.
"We're going running. Fill your water allotments," he ordered. "Full armor, carrying your weapons."
Vuxten felt his muscles hurt already.
---------------------
TO: General Rickers, V CORPS TRADOC
FROM: SFC Ulganga, Maynerd Kikit, TERCONMIL Army (Old Metal)
Local forces are more than poorly trained. I suspect that these beings were not actually CorpSec, despite the paperwork they filed with TRADOC. Most of them barely know how to hold their weapons and most of them can barely put their armor on.
I suspect these beings were on some other kind of work but listed as security forces on paperwork, allowing the plant manager or some other official to pocket the difference between security force payments and whatever shift they were actually on.
Weaponry is several decades, possibly centuries old. Found serious age-related defects to weapon components. Will be inspecting vehicles tomorrow.
I need some metal to back these guys up. Sparing that, I'm uploading the physical profiles of the "CorpSec" troopers they have been showing me, scanned with my cyberoptics. I'll need at least weaponry and basic armor.
Sir, these guys are the only thing protecting this whole city. We know the Precursors are on the way. This is a city of 22.5 million.
-------NOTHING FOLLOWS--------