"It's been a weird war." - Second Precursor War

Vuxten felt bone weary as he stared out the window of the grav-car he was sitting in the back of. Private Bet.nik was across from him, head thrown back, mouth open, snoring. Captain Tut'el was to the left, curled up against the door, eyes closed, his left ear twitching as he dreamed. Across from him sat two Telkan from the 83rd Rangers and a pair black mantid Rangers from the Confederate Rangers. 471 was next to him, sprawled out on the seat, once in a while a part of a complex equation appearing between his antenna as the little greenie dreamed.

Outside the window was a city skyline. Fires were largely under control. The shades were either being lured to the phasic bait and hit with traps so they could be put in a containment unit or being destroyed by the application of cold iron edged with salt crystals and a will to kill.

There had been 14.5 million people in the this city five days ago. Now there is less than a million, Vuxten thought to himself. The city had 52 million before the Atrekna invaded. Now, only about 1% of the population has survived.

He looked down, so he could see the painted mag-stripes on the side of the road hiss by as rain pattered against the armaplex window. The ferrophalt road was smooth and blameless, gleaming dark gray, covered with a thin layer of water that the grav-systems of the car turned into a thin spray that shot out rainbows even with the low light levels.

The Division took 40% casualties and we're better than most. 73rd Division looks like there's less than a battalion left, and most of those are wounded and shade-shocked, Vuxten thought, watching as the grav systems touched the thin layer of water, shredded it into miniscule droplets just a little too large to be called a misting and sent the water out in a spray almost level with the ground that spattered against the ferrocrete wall of the roadway.

The Division has two Colonels, three Lieutenant Colonels, and eleven Majors left. We're the highest ranking officers now, Vuxten's mind went over the numbers again, for the hundredth time. I swear, if someone tries to pin any type of Colonel's cluster on my lapels or my helmet or my hat or my shirt closure, I'll go Daxin crazy with my chainsword.

"Are you all right, sir?" One of the black mantid asked.

"Yeah. Why?" Vuxten asked, still staring out at the road.

"Yer fist is crack-a-lackin," the other Mantid said, his voice carefully neutral.

Vuxten looked down, saw the thin tendrils of phasic energy crawling across his clenched fist, and sighed. He closed his eyes, ran through a quick set of calming mantras Lady K had taught him, and slowly opened his hand. When he opened his eyes, his hand looked normal and he went back to looking out the window.

Fleet, what's left of it, isn't picking up any Atrekna on the planet. The more phasically active of the dwellerspawn are all dead and it looks like the less aggressive more... well... natural ones are the ones left, Vuxten thought.

As if on cue the car swiffed by where a half dozen Ohm Class Dwellerspawn were munching on something, their eyes a steady blue. He spotted two with green eyes, but no red eyes.

Then the massive creatures were gone.

FTL commo is down, no hint of when it'll come back up. MI and Commo are saying that it looks like the hyperwave system might have melted down, Vuxten took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Hellspace is somehow more haunted. Upper reaches of jumpspace and the lower bands of hyperspace are haunted.

Another long sigh.

The shades caused more destruction in less than a week than... OK, it's been nine years for me, I think it's been five or six years for Brennie, that means... they did more damage in a week than the Two-Pee-Double-You has done in six years, Vuxten thought.

Vuxten shifted and his knee gave a wet pop that made one of the black mantid flinch and rub one of their own knees.

The city suddenly vanished, replaced by suburbs.

Some of it was still on fire.

Vuxten could see that there were some robotic systems fighting the fires and wished them luck.

Bit.nek shifted, farted, and relaxed again, smiling slightly. The black mantid next to him coughed and waved a bladearm in front of his face.

Without changing expression, Vuxten shifted his thumb, feeling the piece of plastic rock. The heater started blowing warm, humid air through the ceiling vents.

"Ugh," the other black mantid said. He waved a bladearm in front of his face and then touched his datalink, glancing at the window.

The window stayed stubbornly closed.

"Oh, God, it's burning my eyes," the Telkan Ranger said, coughing. He touched his datalink. "Why isn't the window rolling down?"

One of the Mantid reached over and hit the switch.

Nothing happened.

He tapped it a few more times and coughed. "Oh, God, it's like the gas chamber."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Vuxten held back a snort.

Bit.nek shifted again and smiled slightly, relaxing, his head still thrown back, still snoring.

"Gawd, did a shade crawl in this guy's ass and die?" the other Telkan Ranger asked. He tapped the window controls. "Why isn't it opening?"

"They're sec-locked," one of the black mantids said.

The armaplex between the passenger compartment and the driver's compartment suddenly slid down.

"Oh, thank the Digital Omnimessiah. Guys, open the windows, crack the windows, something," One of the black mantids gagged.

Vuxten kept his face and body language neutral as he kept staring out the window.

The rubble of the outside of the suburb was going by. Here and there were PAWM wrecks the size of fallen skyrakers. One, which Vuxten thought looked kind of like a dragon, was laying on its back, staring up at the sky, its back broken across a large cargo hauler. Its eyes were dark and rain was running off of it.

"Sec lockout," the Telkan riding shotgun said. "You guys need to disarm the sec lockout if you want the window to... oh, Dee's dirty panties, what is that stench?"

"Just roll down the window," the other black mantid gagged. "Argh, I can taste it in my spiracles."

"Why would someone do this?" the driver choked, tapping on the controls.

Vuxten shifted his thumb, rubbing the induction datalink pad hidden under his thumb gripping pad against the door control.

The locks all released.

The windows hissed down, letting in rain and cold. Bit.nek and Tut'el both grumbled in their sleep and turned away. One of the Telkan Marines in the front leaned his head out the window.

Bet.nik made a squeaking noise that made everyone look at him. A long squeaking noise.

Vuxten rolled the windows back up as the Private passed gas in a high pitched squeak that went on for nearly a half second after the windows locked into place.

"Oh, Daxin preserve us!" one of the black mantid said. He reached down to his waist, grabbing his gas mask and pulling it on. "Gas gas gas."

Vuxten snickered.

Everyone but the driver put on gas masks.

Vuxten gave another snicker and looked back out the window.

Destroyed agrifarms swept by. He could see an airfield, hastily built in the open area of the farms. The aircraft were all still lined up, ready for almost immediate deployment. He could see the markings on two of the quonset huts that marked them as air mobile power armor lockers.

There were clutches of black avians, the reptile/bird cross that was local to the area, on the airfield. Some reared back, beating their wings, fighting with others over position.

Bodies.

Vuxten's mood soured again.

Then he could hear everyone breathing through the gas mask and grinned again.

The Private seemed entirely fueled by bad beer, hard alk, shitty junk food, MRE's, and chow hall grub, so Vuxten wasn't surprised in the slightest that his body produced odors that most people weren't sure a healthy man could produce.

"Menhit's Grace, I can smell it through my mask," one of the black mantids complained.

Vuxten could see everyone sweating in their mask as he cranked the heat and humidity up slightly, slowly, to avoid the pilot noticing. The driver wasn't jacked in, so Vuxten was pretty sure that environmental was just one set of numbers the driver just didn't really pay attention to.

Hills and blasted forests started going by. The rain was coming down harder, the sky was gray, and the air outside the grav car seemed heavier just looking outside.

Vuxten suddenly switched the heater to air conditioner with almost zero humidity as he rolled down the windows all the way. Wind ripped through the car and the driver started cursing.

More outcrying. Vuxten looked over to see that the sudden drop in temperature as well as the masks having cold air rush over them, had made it so the humid air inside the mask was now turned to fog on the lenses.

"Arrgh, is this piece of shit haunted?" the Telkan riding shotgun yelled. He pulled off the mask. The others followed suit.

Vuxten rubbed the dataport on the door with his thumb and rolled the windows up.

Slowly.

Everyone kept glancing at Bit.nek as the car swept off the freeway and onto a side road.

Bit.nek suddenly sat up, stretching as best as he could inside the car. He touched Vuxten's knee.

"Sir," he said.

Vuxten looked over at him. "Yes?"

"We're about ten minutes out. The Colonel will probably want to see you," he said.

"Thank you, Private," Vuxten said.

Bit.nek just shrugged. "No charge, sir."

Vuxten popped a piece of stimgum in his mouth as Bit.nek woke up Captain Tut'el, who began checking over his uniform.

As if fussing over it could get rid of the scorch marks, the stains, and the small tears and rips here and there.

"Boots need shined," Vuxten said, his voice deadpan, pointing at Tut'el's boots.

The Captain nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a rag. He scrubbed at the smears, the scuffs, and the mud and blood, stared at his boots mournfully, sighed, and put them back in his pocket.

Vuxten had to hide a smile.

The vehicle was silent until it pulled up to a large building, hastily painted red, with the windows possessing the silvery tint of mylar with aluminum doping. The Telkan Ranger got out, opening the door and holding it for Vuxten.

"Thanks, Sergeant," Vuxten said. He adjusted the strap across his chest for the cutting bar's attachment system, checked his stubber and pistol, then the cold iron blade at his hip. He glanced back. "Bit.nek, grab some grub out of a vending machine and hang around. Captain, you might want to come with me."

Both Telkan nodded and Vuxten moved up the steps. He knew he was limping slightly, the damp and cold having settled into the joint, which already ached from spending time in power armor again, but there was nothing he could do.

The Commander of 7th Armor Regiment, Colonel Brett T'Klakak, was waiting just inside the doors, the big warrior caste Treana'ad smoking a cigarettte. He held out the pack to Vuxten, who shook his head, then to Tut'el and Bit.nek, both of whom grabbed one of the self-lights and puffed on them.

"Vending machine's already spitting out freebies, Private," the Colonel said, pointing at a hallway.

"Thanks, sir," Bit.nek said, then slouched off.

Vuxten kind of wished he could follow the Private. He knew what came next.

Endless talking.

"Might want to sit in on this, Captain," the Colonel said, turning slowly. The Colonel's cyberarm flashed in the light as he tucked the pack away. "If nothing else, it's good experience for a junior commanding officer."

"Yes, sir," Tut'el said.

"Heard you broke the ansible system," the Colonel said.

"I had help," Vuxten shrugged.

"That Private with the tank saved millions," the Colonel said. "She's being put in for a commendation."

Vuxten nodded.

Tut'el felt shock. The Private had stolen the tank from Planetary Defense in order to sell it for cash to buy booze and porn with.

"Red's going to be a real popular color for a few decades," Vuxten said. He grabbed a can of Liquid Hate out of a bowl that was packed with ice and had the cans shoved into the ice.

The Colonel stopped outside the door. "That it is, Major, that it is," the big Treana'ad said. He gave a long sigh. "Well, at least it's just those of us planetside, no visual, no hologram, just voice and text only, so we don't have to put up with Corp, CosCom, or Army bitching at us."

Vuxten nodded as the big Treana'ad officer opened the door to the meeting room. As he stepped in, he put on a stoic face as he spoke.

"Time to read the butcher's bill."