The room was full of tension as Ekret walked in. He was proud of his uniform and rank, the High Most of the Heavy Armor Division, proud of the way everyone turned and nodded at him. He was the unstoppable bulwark that the enemy could not breech, the thundering guns that destroyed the enemy at range, and friend to the infantry. He had fought on a dozen worlds, commanded tanks since he was barely an adult, and had risen to an exalted rank for a neo-sapient.
"What is the issue?" Ekret asked the High Most of the Infantry. He was one of the Unified Civilized Races, a four hoofed, four armed, six eyed Lanaktallan with mouth tendrils, jowls, and inflatable crests. The High Most of the Infantry, named Moolowin, was of the same race as most of the High Mosts except for Ekret and Old Iron Feathers, but Ekret demanded respect as the commander of armored hovertanks that weighed nearly 150 tons each.
"The Terran Confederate Armed Forces have arrived. They call themselves 'Old Metal' and 'V Corps' and we of the Unified Military Council are trying to discern just how their chain of command and order of battle works," Moolowin answered, his tentacles tight with anxiety but his crests inflated with anger. "So far they have refused to turn over command to our System Defense High Most, citing that Terran military forces are always under the control of Confederacy commanders, never local governments. That is outrageous. Even if you disregard the fact that the Unified Civilized Races Council is far older than the Confederacy with a larger population, these are our systems, not theirs. They should respect our claims and turn over command of those units."
"Mmm," Ekret answered, staring at the holotank showing the system. Ekret didn't agree. Tanks were precision instruments of mass destruction that required skilled, dedicated, educated, and experienced commanders to avoid major problems. If the Terrans were as fearsome as their reputation was whispered about in the barracks pods he could understand their unwillingness to turn over command of their war machine.
That's a lot of ships, Ekret thought to himself. They were already deploying and Ekret appreciated the tight formations, the smooth coordinated way the Terran fleets moved, and how their first instinct was to identify weak points and shore them up.
"Do they have armor?" Ekret asked.
"They claim to have armored units. They plan on landing mixed units. Something called BOLO's are kept separate from the other armored units. They claim that a mere dozen BOLO's will work to hold the machines at bay on this world with the weight of their 'heavy metal' they're landing," Na'atreak, Old Iron Feathers himself, whispered. "I feel for you, having to deal with such arrogance."
"Admiral, I must insist you put your forces under my command," The System High Most was saying in one corner of the holotank.
"No, sir. I will happily interlock your planning with my own, but it would take time to catch you up to speed on our capabilities, much less our way of making war. If you would, sir, transmitting your battle plan to us will allow us to work seamlessly with your forces," The Terran was saying. He was represented merely by a pentagon sliced into 5 blue triangles surrounded by a black pentagon on a white background.
"As System High Most it is I who should be deciding the war plan," the Lanaktallan said, his tentacles trembling in rage. "You know nothing of this star system."
The Terran Admiral merely gave a sigh, which the translator reported as a sound of frustration and resignation or relief.
"System High Most, I'm going to explain this to you one more time. My forces are everything from parasite carriers with high penetration parasite vessels and heavy bomber parasite vessels. I have troop landing transports, portable logistics bases, field medical hospitals, everything I need to carry out a defense of this system," The Terran Admiral paused a moment. "To put it plainly, System Hind Most: I don't need you any more than I need burrs in my silky soft fox's tail. I'll let you coordinate with the Battle Tactical Net Artificial Intelligence until you can come to grips with reality."
"Hello, I am Xerxes-331, Digital Artificial Sentient. I am here to," A new voice said as the Terran commander's icon winked out and a new one appeared that looked the same but was overlaid on a system map.
"An AI? I don't want to talk to a collection of wires and circuits. Get someone sentient back on this call at once!" The System High Most yelled.
"What? How rude! I'm a fully sentient being who chose to be in the military, not some hash-creche tailor made VI! You apologize right this second," The new voice said.
"I most certainly will not. Return that arrogant and rude Terran commander to this call at once, you posturing computer program!" the System High Most roared out, his crests inflated, raising up on his rear hooves and pawing the air with his forward ones.
"I am not a computer program, I am a Digital Sentience, classified as Homo-Digitalus," The voice, Xerxes, answered stuffily.
"Stop arguing with me! I am the System High Most, and you will respect me, you jumped up answering service! Now put the Terran High Most back on the line!" the Lanaktallan insisted.
"Due to your repeated violations of the Terran Legal Code regarding Digital Sapience, I must now inform you that all contact between our two offices shall only be done through writing. Please submit your battle-plan for integration within twelve standard hours. Xerxes-331 out," The icon vanished, replaced by an electronic inbox with a timer.
"You get someone back on the line right this instant!" The System High Most roared at the communication technicians.
"Ahem, may I be excused?" Ekret asked.
The System High Most turned and stared at Ekret, but he'd stared into the barrels of enemy plasma cannons, he wasn't perturbed by the System High Most's glare.
"Yes. It is doubtful your armored units will be needed," The System High Most harumphed.
Ekret saluted, turned, and left, thinking.
Actual sapient AI's? Without them going insane and homicidal? Ships capable of acceleration far above what I've seen out of our fleet vessels? I need information and the System High Most is like most of his race, too arrogant to see what his six eyes show him, Ekret thought to himself as he climbed into his staff car. He mumbled to his driver to take him back to Armor Command and leaned back in his seat, grooming his closely shaved fur with his hands as he thought.
Ekret went over his forces. Two thousand heavy tanks, three thousand medium tanks, five thousand light tanks. While he didn't have control over the armored personnel carriers, he still watched over the nearly ten thousand of them. The best the Corporation could buy from the Unified Military Services.
Our equipment is purchased from the Unified Military Services. While they may be the best money can buy, the UMS only produces what sells the most. Do the Terrans approach war and the military in the same way? If they do not, are they required to each purchase their own vehicles or does a corporate or government provide them? How has this changed their approach to warfare, war material, strategy and tactics? Ekret wondered to himself. He triggered his implant to give him his VR desk and requested the comlinkages for the Terran Battle Tactical Network, using his own office's ID code with the messages.
He was surprised to get back the code within five minutes and even more surprised to find out that a VI had been assigned to him as a liaison due to the fact that the System High Most had not approved the linkage. Sighing, he disabled the vest and used his implant to connect to the linkage.
"Greetings, gentlebeing. I am Zhukov-442, Armored vehicle command liaison," a pleasant voice with a curt sounding accent answered. "Who do I have the pleasure of communicating with?"
"I am Ekret, Armored High Most, Unified Military Forces, attached to the Kestimet Corporation," Ekret said carefully. The voice sounded old and very formal. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
"A fellow armor commander. That is good to hear. I am responsible for interlocking your battle plans with the battle plan of the Terran Confederate Armed Services assigned to protect this system," The voice said. Ekret noticed a slight sound of what he interpreted as pleasure in the other's voice. "When you are in a secure area, we will go over necessary information. Do your prefer artificial sentience or physical beings to liaison with?"
Ekret thought for a moment. He was pretty sure this Zhukov was an artificial intelligence, and from the speech mannerisms and tone Ekret was pretty sure it was an old one.
"Can I have both, Honored Zkukov?" Ekret asked.
"I will assign an armor liaison. May I attach a maintenance unit to your forces in order to ensure that you are fully combat ready? I mean no disrespect to your current logistics but I have found that what High Command thinks a soldier needs to fight a war and what is really needed are two different things," Zhukov said.
Ekret barked a laugh. "But honored sir, I allocated exactly as many plasma rounds as there are enemy vehicles. How can you be out of ammunition?"
"Exactly, sir," Zhukov answered. "Am I to understand this is not your first combat engagement as a force leader?"
"No, Honored Zhukov, it is not. It is my experience that more battles are won or lost by the logistics corps than most commanders will admit," Ekret said, smoothing the fur on his legs.
"My own biological ancestor, the once-living being I was templated off of originally, would certainly agree with that. He lived prior to our current post-scarcity existence," Zhukov said. "To coin a phrase from ancient Terra: For the want of a nail a shoe was lost."
"I do not understand the reference," Ekret stated. The AI uploaded a chain of events that started with the loss of a horseshoe nail due to poor blacksmithing, resulting in the loss of the shoe, which resulted in the laming of the horse, which caused the rider to fall out of formation, which then caused a hole in the formation, all cascading into the loss of a kingdom. A second one refered to ancient cavalry riders keeping a nail in their pockets to spike enemy guns they'd overran, and one rider did not have a nail, and so the cannon was used to knock out that rider's cannons, resulting in the loss of the battle and the death of a High Most.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
I shall frame this and put it in my office, Ekret thought to himself. He had lost tanks to the lack of bearings for the hoverfan systems. Once a corporation had skimped on the superlubricant and an entire brigade's worth the tanks had their engines and turbofans seize up, turning the tanks into nothing more than heavily armed and armored emplacements.
"Might I see your, how do you refer to it, 'Heavy Metal''s battle honors?" Ekret answered.
"Of course, sir," Zhukov answered. What came next was a long list of not only where V Corps (Old Metal) had fought, but where the officers had fought, where the sub-components fought, and where the model of equipment had seen action.
Ekret noticed that not only was there a written list but he could view the battles either from a strategic map or VR or eVR if he chose, with links to whole volumes of after action reports, historical analysis, and more.
He was forced to leave most of the information in his office computer's buffer, his own system remarking it would take nearly two hours to save all the information to local storage. Ekret wasn't surprised, there was nearly eight thousand years of data, thousands of battles, scores of wars. Ekret decided to go backwards in the chronological order.
"Sir, Lieutenant Colonel Hargeson and his staff are making descent for your unit area. Will you permit them to enter? They would prefer to be waiting for you, sir," Zhukov said, breaking into Ekret's examination of the Third Battle of Numera's Star, where the V Corps (Old Metal) broke the back of the Gulsa'an Empire with armored units made up of (Heavy Metal). The tactics were much different than the Unified Military Fleet, who preferred head on engagements with minimal support that used the least resources. The battle he was studying was a whirling mass of thrust, counter-thrust, flanking, rear marching, close air support, infantry ambushes, orbital missile fire, it looked to Ekret more like an entire war rather than the last battle of the war. No one unit took the honor and glory, it was a group effort that even included Space Navy orbital fire. Glory went to all their banners.
"Permission granted. Thank you for informing me, Honored Zhukov," Ekret said. He closed the VR tactical overview of the battle and leaned back again.
The Terrans made war much different than the Unified Military Forces. The Unified Corporate Council had long ago made it a capital crime to target manufacturing or industrial facilities as part of warfare, yet half of what the Terrans did seemed to revolve around protecting or destroying those assets. The civilian workers were quite often not a legitimate target, unlike the Council's rules. The Terrans seemed to put effort toward avoiding civilian casualties to the point there were multiple treaties regarding it.
The Unified Military Forces also put their units piecemeal into the battle, only committing additional units when it was apparent that the force was approaching 10% of fielded casualties. The Terrans, however, seemed to have the entire military force interlocked into their planning, even if a unit was holding position and waiting to reinforce other units or exploit any sudden gap in the defenses.
From what he had seen, Terrans would also fight to the last vehicle, robot, or sentient being. No "ten percent" casualties. They fought till the other side withdrew, surrendered, or was destroyed.
The 10% rule had been in place in the Unified Military Forces and the Unified Corporate Security for so long that some commanders struck the colors at 9% and a few even at 8%.
Ekret found himself wondering just when Terran morale broke.
Or did it break?
Ekret's hovercar settled down and Ekret noted three heavily armed and armored dropships sitting on the airfield normally used for aircars or air units. Each dropship had four massive armored bipeds on guard, weapons held in hand, cannons deployed. The dropships had the symbol of a triangle around a cannon bisected by a lightning bolt. The massive armored bipeds had the same symbols on their right and left shoulders, the paint obvious against the chrome.
"Honored Zhukov, Where is the Terran liaison?" Ekret asked as he climbed out.
"They are, sir, awaiting your pleasure at the door of your Tactical Operations Command, as they have not been given permission to enter such a sensitive area, sir," The AI responded.
"I will notify the guard they may enter," Ekret answered, strangely grateful at the courtesy. He signaled his security forces and the limited security AI that the Terrans could enter the command center.
Security force beings saluted Akret as he entered his command center, making a beeline for the Tactical Operations Command. When he entered he saw his first Terran.
He wasn't sure what to think. Lean, came to mind. Focused, with their eyes forward facing and intent, was another. They had hair on their heads, cut short like Ekret's fur, which Ekret immediately appreciated. They all had cybernetic linkages on their temples, five had cybernetic eyes surrounded by metal, one had a cybernetic arm that appeared to Ekret to be more functional than a normal cybernetic prosthetic, which would barely have tactile feedback. They all wore what looked like photo-dopple camouflage, which kept making their outlines slightly blurry. Three of the eight bipeds carried sidearms while the other five carried some type of rifle slung across their back.
"Attention!" one of the Terrans barked, turning and giving Ekret an odd salute. The others all went ramrod still, hands down at their sides, heels and legs together, staring, not at Ekret, but directly ahead.
"Tell them 'at ease', sir," Zhukov whispered.
"At ease," Ekret said and watched as all their postures relaxed at the same time.
Well disciplined does not mean combat effective, Ekret whispered to himself.
"I'm Lieutenant Colonel Hargeson, this is Major Allison, my Executive Office," The Terran said, introducing each one in turn. The master of the lower grades was present also.
Ekret noted that they were all very formal in their posture, attentiveness, speech, and address.
Ekret was informed that the Maintenance units, apparently something called a Corps Support Command (COSCOM) was landing to assist with maintenance of the Terran's Heavy Metal. Ekret was startled that their maintenance unit was the size of three of his own divisions. They had ten times the number of beings in their maintenance unit that Ekret's entire armored host.
Partway through Hargeson stopped, paused the holodisplay which was showing Ekret the breakdown of the unit structure of V Corps, and looked at Ekret.
"Sir, if I may ask, which of your units is considered Heavy Metal?" The LTC asked, his body language seeming distressed to Ekret. Ekret answered, firm in the belief that his hover tanks were impressive.
"These units?" The LTC asked, bringing up the image of the heavy tank on the holodisplay.
Ekret admired it as it slowly rotated. Ninety millimeter bore heavy plasma cannon, three coaxial rapid fire plasma guns, two point defense, and six 40mm mortars with nearly a dozen shots for each in them. Each tank was 150 tons of layered armor, eight hover fans, two gravity engines. A crew of four: The Tank High Most, the gunner, the EW/EMCOM/COM, the driver, all trained to a high efficiency, most crews with hundreds of hours in their tanks. Rolling doom who any who dared face them.
"Yes, COSCOM High Most," Ekret said, giving the equivalent of a sigh of pleasure at the sight of his craft.
The Terrans went perfectly still and silent and for a moment Ekret wondered if a predator had entered the room.
Is there a problem? Ekret asked through the implant.
It would be better if my biological counterpart explained it, Armored High Most, Zhukov answered carefully.
"If there is a problem, rub my muzzle in it, don't try to use it to comb the fur of my buttocks," Ekret said, putting on his best commander voice.
"I feel perhaps I should let you do a comparison," the LTC said, his voice grave. He made a motion, dividing the holotank in half, and made a tossing motion.
What appeared in the holotank was an absolute nightmare.
Over 2,800 tons, treads, graviton assistance, a main gun with a bore diameter of over 300mm that appeared to compress a nuclear blast into a directed energy 'slug' that would impact with the force between, at the discretion of the commander, of 11 kilotons all the way up to 22.5 megatons. It was capable of a shot every 5-11 seconds depending on the skill of the loader and how hot the chamber had gotten, compared to 15 seconds for his own guns. Worse, the main gun was capable of "mission flexible munitions" which had a dizzying array. Its armor was thicker than all the armor on Ekret's tank combined and made up of war-steel laminate. The rest of the weapons were point defense, mortars, vertical launch rocket systems, anti-infantry weapons.
"May I?" Ekret asked, moving toward the holotank and raising one paw toward the drive train specifications box.
"Of course, Armor High Most," The LTC said.
Ekret touched the box and watched the data spill out. It could move under counter-grav but was designed to move on the treads for a multitude of reasons, half of them psychological. It was capable of bursts of speed up to 180 kph and a sustained speed of 70 kph, which it was expected to do battle at. It could fire inside its own turning arc during a 90-degree turn. It carried the same crew as Ekret's tanks, with the exception of also carrying a maintenance/stores officer who ran something call the creation engine/nano-forge during battle.
It was a monster.
"How much do each of these cost?" Ekret asked, his mind boggling at what he was seeing.
"Roughly 255 million Terran Credits, mostly the resources shipment, creation of the parts, assembly. Not as expensive as, say, a Hercules Class War Titan, but still expensive," The Major said.
Ekret closed his eyes and thought a moment. If that was what the Terran military was going to field to help defend this planet, his tanks, even the heaviest ones, would be more than litter in front of the treads. Just the corona from that massive cannon passage would shred his tank's armor.
Insanely, that main gun could even hurt other tanks, shoot into near orbit, and maybe even hit a target on orbital approach.
"High Most?" The LTC asked.
"A moment," Ekret said. He thought quickly. They had not denigrated his men or his vehicles, just stated that there was a problem that was instantly obvious to Ekret the minute he saw one of their hyper-expensive massive war machines.
"What is equivelant to my armored vehicles?" Ekret asked, opening his eyes. "Do no be afraid of ruffling my fur, my men's lives depend on facts, not feelings."
The Terran's position shifted slightly and Ekret saw a couple of subtle nods, which the Terrans used to signify assent.
"Light attack craft. Primarily scouting and reconnaissance," The LTC said.
Ekret thought about what he'd read and witnessed looking at V Corps (Old Metal)'s record. He held up his hand for patience and closed his eyes. He looked for and found "Cav Scouts" in 3rd Armor and looked up their battle honors. Hundreds of them. He chose a battle at random and let it play out on fast forward in his mind. His implant heated with the amount of data and he shut down the link.
"Cavalry Scout is an honored and risky duty that often decides the order of battle," Ekret said, drawing himself up in pride. "My metal will be pleased to assist in such a manner."
The gathered up Terrans all nodded and he could see the gleam of respect in their eyes.
Ekret knew why. He'd seen the casualties but he'd also seen how vitally important they were.
War is not a place for pride, if one believes they are willing to pay any cost for victory, Ekret thought to himself. I will not sacrifice my men for my own pride. The Precursor munitions will not be stopped by a commander's pride, only the application of metal.
He waved the tank specs away. "Come, gentlebeings, let us plan."
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3rd ARMOR DIVISION (HEAVY METAL) MEMO
Local Forces have agreed to act as light scout (Cav Scout) forces. Commander has a excellent ability to integrate new tactics into his skill set and does not react with pride when defeated in simulations. His "Heavy Armor" units are equivalent to Light Scout Vehicles. Will be integrating his forces with 3rd Armor. 3rd COSCOM is currently refitting their units to acceptable specifications while retaining existing abilities so as to not erode crew skill levels.
-------NOTHING FOLLOWS----------
3rd COSCOM (OLD METAL) MEMO
Local vehicles are in need of computer upgrade, VI upgrade, weapon upgrade, ablative armor additions, and power train upgrade. Am consulting with local commanders on comparable and compateble tech levels. The vehicles may be soft metal but their crews are experience and willing.
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS----------
SYSTEM MOST HIGH ORDERS
Armored Most High Ekret, you are to ensure that Unified Military Forces are retaining command of all units and areas of operation. Unified Intelligence Council and Unified Corporate Council both believe that the Terrans are over-estimating and overstating the level of their technology and their military's abilities.
Do not these aliens displace you from your honored command of Heavy Armor in the name of the Unified Military Forces and the Kestimet Corporation.
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KESTIMET CORPORATION MEMO
Ekret, remember who holds your contract and who gives you your orders.
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108th MILITARY INTELLIGENCE
ALL UNITS ALL COMMANDERS
IMP PRESENCE DETECTED IN OORT CLOUD
ATTACK IMMENENT
ATTACK IMMINENT
ATTACK IMMINENT
--------NOTHING FOLLOWS--------