Once there was a princess. A daughter of the most powerful nobility in her realm. They taught her everything. Manner, speech, geopolitics, statesmanship, philosophy, everything. Even military affairs and martial arts. And she excelled at them. She was revered by the nation and its neighbors. No one had the nerve to approach her directly. They did it through servants or followers of her house. As a result, she felt lonely all the time.
One evening she ran upriver. Unable to stand the feeling anymore, she thought of ending her life. Suddenly a man came to her side. A young man about her age. He was astonished to find her there. His clothes were dirty. His face was full of sweat. And his palms were rough. He told her that he always visits the place at the third day of the week. A clarity after a tough day at work he said. She noticed how he wasn’t nervous one bit in her presence. He didn’t emphasize his courtesy. He talked to her like she was his equals. Her confinement days made that attitude appealing.
When she returned home, her heart was vibrant. Her suicidal thoughts vanished. She finally found herself some company. She would return there every third day of the week. She would share a lot of things with the youth that think of her no different than him.
Caitlyn doesn’t see herself in her shoes. She is obviously a far cry from her. She wasn’t born to a noble family, nor raised by one. And she saw no education other than instructions handed to her during the first training. Though she now has a chance at the prospects of both, her interest is somewhere else. She just envies at how the princess could come across a person who cured her loneliness.
“Daydreaming again, Caitlyn?”
A girl with bundled brown hair sits to her left. She flashes her eyebrows. On her left hand is a battery tin that Caitlyn is also consuming.
“You’re here too, Alezia?”
“What do you mean?” Alezia shrugs. “I’ve been here since the first engagement in Patih Tread.” She nudges Caitlyn’s elbow with hers. “I saw you on the transport here yesterday.”
Caitlyn turns her gaze out the window pane again. “Well, I wasn’t paying attention.”
Alezia sighs. “Of course, you never do.” She gestures.
Alezia is her colleague back in NCO school, an Android too. Caitlyn happened to sit beside her during those times. Her hands are remarkable when taking notes. Caitlyn is the first person she turned to for interactions in the training program. They had always worked on exercises together. The girl even actively reminded her to review materials for the test. Caitlyn wouldn’t pass if it wasn’t for her. But for some reason she is one rank below. A color sergeant.
“I lost a platoon again so I have a reason this time.”
“Again?” Alezia exclaims, sounding disbelief.
Caitlyn glances at her with a weary sight. “Please don’t rub it on me.”
Alezia flattens her lips and nods. She reaches for Caitlyn’s right shoulder and pats it. The girl’s nape then opens. Alezia plucks a tiny cord inside and pulls it out. Its mouth is meant to be plugged into the battery tin. Azure sparkles stream from the battery’s protrusion to her nape. It’s a way for the Androids to restore energy. Though it doesn’t taste like a can of soda, the way they consume them appears similar to taking one. Albeit requiring a weird looking curvy straw.
“Anything from command?” Alezia asks.
“I have to report to…” Caitlyn paused. She forgets the name of the officer. She activates her utilizer on her left wrist to open the document. It is then projected into her neuralface. Being an Android, she doesn’t need another hand to operate her utilizer. It’s already built-in and wired into her processing unit. She just has to think of opening the document, and the utilizer will bring it up to her sight. “…Captain Voronezh Fort in ten minutes.”
“Cool.” Alezia remarks. “What kind of team you’ll be leading now?” She places her chin on her right hand, leaning to Caitlyn.
Caitlyn shrugs. She can’t care much. They are probably going to perish after she screws up again. Just like her previous platoon and many other platoons she had led before. She sometimes pities those people for being under her command.
“Really? Not one thought?”
Caitlyn looks away. “I don’t want to think about it.”
Alezia takes a deep breath. “Okay, okay.” She gestures. The girl glances away for a moment. “You know, I have to lead a drill after this.”
“Okay.” Caitlyn says.
Alezia gives her a glance. Caitlyn glances back. She doesn’t see how that relates to herself. She doesn’t know what to do with the information. But the looks on her colleague’s face tells her that she should respond more than that. She begins with a shrug.
“Good luck, I guess.”
She is silent for a second before smiling. “Thank you.” She says.
Caitlyn unplug her cord from the battery tin. It automatically retracts back to her nape. The nape then closes on its own. Rather, she tells them to do so through her processor. Caitlyn rises from her seat.
“I’m going now. See you later.”
“Good luck, Caitlyn.” Alezia waves to her.
Caitlyn silently waves back.
The mess hall is filled with a mix of individual chattering and the clatter of dishes being stacked. The meals aren’t that fancy. A handful of rice is the carbohydrate source. Scrambled egg and two blocks of meat wrapped in soybean curd accompanies it. The vegetables are either spinach, watercress or a combination of diced carrots, beans, cucumbers, and tomatoes. Personnel away from the base have to resort to field rations.
Caitlyn has no need for them. She just has to let the quartermaster staff check her core’s energy. If it passed the low threshold, the staffs would hand her a battery tin and she could last a whole month with all her tasks. She glances at the one on her hand. It’s basically a hand-sized battery. There’s a brand that she always noticed when consuming them.
…Prime Respite…
She frowns and squeezes the battery tin. Every consumption triggers her anger. It always happens since she is in the military. But Caitlyn is quick to cool down, even when it comes to seeing the company she despised. She looks away as she drops the tin into a bin she come across. The logistic sector demands they be recycled. They could be recharged and consumed over and over. It prevents Caitlyn from outright crushing the tin before throwing it down the bin.
The Proxies have a juniper-dark gray fatigue. Their greatcoat stretches to the top of their ankle. The front side is always folded to the back. It’s then covered by body armor. The standard one is a steel-composite plating that covers torso, shoulders, elbows, and knees. Their helmets have built-in visor. Infantry sometimes have mechanical masks issued as well. The Direct-class Proxies, whose tasks are to storm enemy positions, always wear them. Crewmen uniforms have shorter coat-length. They go just below the waist. And they have thick elastic corduroy covering their shins to keep them comfortable. It’s the tactical gear that Caitlyn and Alezia wear.
The sun shines overhead. Caitlyn doesn’t feel sultry despite her coat having a dark color. It can adjust the temperature so it doesn’t bother the user. Her active base is situated in a grassy-plains ten hours train ride away from her previous one. Lines of dark-greenish tents serve as lodgings for the enlisted and junior non-commissioned officers. Caitlyn is a senior NCO, she has her own quarter; A foldable field-shelter brandishing a grayish hue. It is just two blocks away from the mess hall. The hall is also a retractable shelter with similar color. Together with vehicle hangars, ammunition depots, weapons storages, and many repair stations, they form a tight residential complex enclosed by composite gabions wired to detect footsteps. No enemies can approach without ringing a bell.
There is a hill to the south-west. And on its foot is a town called Patih Tread. Local forces have been trying to seize it for a month. There have been a lot of back and forth exchanges. At the moment it is still in friendly hands. But there are words of upcoming telve counterattack. Reporting to the captain will probably be something about it.
There’s a column of trucks at the staging ground. The six-wheeler logistic trucks G3 ‘Turangga’ are able to accommodate fifteen infantry or fifteen containers of supplies. Five of them are in the column. Three squads of armed Proxies clump nearby, boarding the trucks. Each squad consists of ten men. The two other Turanggas are allocated for supplies. The five trucks drive past as Caitlyn marches down the base’s road. Caitlyn raises her hand and glances away as dust blown to her face.
On the other side are a column of four SB88 ‘Convex’ armored fighting vehicles entering the premises. They have four thrusters on both side of the vehicle that keeps them hovering. Two larger thrusters on the rear propel them forward. Armed with quad-linked thirty-millimeter autocannons and four anti-tank guided missiles, they are designed to assault enemy positions alongside infantry.
Amplifying shrieks catch her attention. Two PK10 ‘Kris’ assault gunships rise. The twin blades on its upper airfoils lifts the aircraft. They overall resemble swallows. The vertical stabilizer is on the ends of both horizontal stabilizers. Unguided rockets and guided anti-tank missiles are installed under its lower airfoils. It also has twin-linked thirty-millimeter chain gun under its cockpit to strike soft targets.
Automation has been a thing ever since the Artificial Creationists built its army, the Proxies. It dates back to the days of The Primus’ conquest seventy-seven years ago. The state is able to mass-produce sentient AIs on a scale unmatched by anyone. Most of those AIs went to humanoids platform and become Androids. Caitlyn is one. They have greater resilience, strength, endurance, can operate weeks without sleep, and takes less time to train to do their job.
The rest is allocated to various industries. In the defense industry, the AIs are specialized to operate combat vehicles. They’ve proven to be even better at neutralizing targets. They also free up manpower for foot units. These AIs are called Automatons. Their automation is limited for the moment but the state is taking steps in that direction. The aircrafts, notably the Kris, are the latest addition which are fully automated. They are basically a chunkier version of the telve assault drones. The Convex is also another example.
There’s a hangar down the road where the ground vehicles are housed. Command ordered to meet the captain there. She brings his dossier back to her neuralface, paying careful attention to the man’s photo. There are three eight-wheeler BT99 ‘Crescent’ armored personnel carriers lined up beside the hangar. Caitlyn finds the captain conversing with his men.
“Sir.” Cailtyn salutes him.
The captain turns around and returns it.
“First Sergeant Grauwelle Caitlyn, reporting.”
“Ah, so you’re my new NCO.” The captain smiles. His tone sounds friendly and welcoming. He then dismisses the men behind him and gestures to drop her salute. “Captain Voronezh Fort. Just call me Captain Fort.” He gives his hand.
“Sir.” Caitlyn shakes it.
“Welcome to the task force, first sergeant.”
A dot on the top right corner of her neuralface flashes. A notification system. It’s a document sent by Captain Fort. The man is an Android too. He doesn’t have to fiddle with any buttons to do it. Caitlyn skims the document. The name of the task force is on the header.
Caution.
Beneath that is an infographic of the detachment’s organization. The force consists of mostly depleted platoons and companies. It makes up a company in total; about one-hundred sixty-five men, both combat and non-combat personnel. There are four Crescent APCs, four Convex AFVs, a Kris gunship, and a Chord tank assigned to the force. There’s one more Crescent but it serves as a command vehicle. It’s where the captain is going to be for the majority of an operation.
“This isn’t a suicide squad, is it?”
The captain chuckles. “Don’t be silly. Command wouldn’t want their precious men got deleted that easily.”
“It seems so.”
Captain Fort points his right thumb to the hangar. “Get to know your tank.” He says. “Right column and innermost row. Your support unit should arrive in a moment. We’re departing in ten minutes.”
“Sir.” Caitlyn salutes him before moving into the hangar.
It’s the largest structure in the main base. Many armor crews hang around in the place when they’re not deployed. They have fun conversing with each other and the Automatons stationed there. The hangar contains various ground vehicles, both combat and non-combat. They are organized to prevent a wipe-out of an entire vehicle serial by telve’s Seraph Rounds. Such case will disrupt the Proxies’ combined arms warfare. It’s going to complicate attack or defense plan for decision makers.
Caitlyn eventually reaches her tank.
“Oh, it’s you.” He greets her first.
The T199 ‘Chord’ is the Artificial Creationist main battle tank. A one-hundred-thirty-millimeter gun is its main armament. Weighing fifty-seven tons, it’s equipped with an autoloader which allows faster fire rate compared to Gauntlet. Its secondary armaments consist of a 12.7mm machine gun on top of its turret and a 7.62mm coaxial machine gun both operated by the tank’s AI. The tank Automaton are the oldest compared to the rest of the vehicles. It can only still take one role, either a gunner or a driver. Hence it requires two crews to operate. One as a commander, the other as a driver most of the time. It’s smaller than a Gauntlet and can’t take as much anti-tank hit. But it’s way more agile.
“PT?” Caitlyn tilts her head.
“You feel better now?” There is a built-in speaker on his turret that allows interaction with personnel outside the tank.
Caitlyn crosses her arms and shrugs. “Can’t you tell?”
“Why do you think I asked?”
Caitlyn puts her left hand on her waist. She frowns at the way he talks. It actually annoys her. She never gives in to nuisances. But he saved her three days ago. Her conscience demands that she returns the favor. She wants to filter him out but she can’t. She’s indebted to him. Moreover, she’ll be working with him onwards.
“Why are you like this?” She sighs.
“I just want to know how you are doing. Stop complicating it, KT.”
“Well I was fine on my way here.” Caitlyn gestures her thumb.
PT is silent for a moment. “You know I have feelings, right?”
“Come on, I shouldn’t be here now if I don’t feel better.” She said, walking to the tank’s side while strapping her helmet.
“I don’t believe that. Your gears could grind all day long even when you’re crying hard.”
“I’m fine, stop worrying about me.” She says indifferently.
“Hope you’re not fooling yourself, yeah?”
Caitlyn no longer grieves over her platoon anymore. But is she actually feeling better? There are other things bothering her. She thinks this isn’t a time for that, so she assumes that there is none. She can’t be bothered thinking about it. Duty comes first. She’d like to appreciate him for genuinely asking about her. She should have smiled a bit at least. It’s the only coin she could afford to him for now.
“First sergeant, come in.” Fort speaks through her utilizer.
The device also facilitates secure communications between personnel. One is connected to the other through channels. Private channels allow voice message between two Proxies. This applies to humans, Androids, and Automatons. Officers and NCOs are able to create a channel group for Proxies under their command. Only channel members can hear what’s broadcasted there. In this case, the captain spoke to her through a private channel.
“Copy, sir.”
“There is a report of complications regarding your support unit. They haven’t found you a new one. We have to make do without them for now. Assemble to me, we’re leaving.”
“Yes, sir.”
The transmission cuts.
“Not a day without them messing something up.” PT comments.
“Well,” Caitlyn climbs to her seat. “That’s the army for you.”
“I’m driving again?”
Caitlyn shuts the hatch above her. “You’re driving as long as I’m the commander.”
“You’re not a better gunner though.” The interface shows an emoji with a raised eyebrow.
“But I’m better at gunning than driving.” She shrugs.
The emoji’s eyes expand; the mouth disappears. “Damn girl, I hope you didn’t harm anyone on the test.”
PT exits the hangar. He positions himself in the lead of the column. Fort’s Crescent, Kalibr, is right behind him. He gives the order once the Convexes column up at the rear. Caitlyn emerges out of the hatch. The breeze streams against her face. Chords, Convexes, and Crescents are lining up. Various classes of Proxy infantry are assembling as well. There are flatbeds entering the compound with fresh batches of Kris. As soon as the column leave the base, she receives a document. An assessment from Fort.
Friendly forces took Patih Tread yesterday. They have been expecting counter-attacks since last night. But fortifying efforts have been hampered by telve artillery fires. The barricades couldn’t keep up with the barrage. There have been many delayed deliveries that slow down repairs and reconstructions. Command sends more troops there to make up for it. A lot have been sent in the past couple hours. They left in groups as reinforcements were arriving in the same manner.
There is an offensive operation planned far west of Patih Tread. Troops stationed there took defensive stance due to the stretched supply line. Control of the D230 highway heading northwest from the town could shorten it, which is essential for the operation. It’s precisely where Caution is heading. Given the movement of telve’s forces, Command expects a counterattack to contest the objective. There will be no Turangga sent through there until the D230 highway is secured.
Caitlyn takes a road to the northwest of a hill overlooking the town. It’s steep and barely traversable. It’d make a great firing position for PT. But he can’t get up there. The thick woods and vegetations are a burden to drive through. She notices two triangles on the foot of the hill. Each represents single personnel. Caitlyn curiously observes them. There are no friendly units in their vicinity. They might be separated from their unit.
“Friendly convoy, come in.” A voice heard through the local channel. Caitlyn catches it first.
“Convoy to personnel, we copy. Identify.” Caitlyn replies. She doesn’t see them yet.
“This is Maid Lance Corporal Cavatica. Our Creeper took a hit, requesting assistance over.”
The two personnel emerge in the distance. One waves her arms overhead.
“Captain, we have damsels in distress here.” Caitlyn messaged him.
“Literally.” Fort replies. “Be prepared to halt.”
The convoy halts as soon as PT does. The two girls approach the tank.
“Telves by the tree line to the west-northwest. They hit our Creeper’s skirt armor and damaged the front right wheel.”
The Maid Section is a branch of the military meant to support the core army. They only consist of female personnel. Their tasks revolve around sanitary keeping, supply distribution, wound treatment and morale support. Android Maids sometimes participate in combat or constructions due to their greater physique. Their fatigue is similar to any other Proxies. Their notable details are still visible however. They wear long combat-purpose skirts. There’s a brooch on their front band that shows their rank and the detachment they belong to. They also cast a transparent shield that deflect projectile hazards from small-arms up to mortar fires.
Fort orders the Convexes to clear the telves in the trees. The Convexes drifts from the column and move ahead. Their autocannons sweep right. They fire in short-control burst. Each burst sound like a rapid knocking on a wooden door, only more deafening. Caitlyn used to cower slightly when their guns are doing the job, even with her ear-cuffs. Now they’re just background noises. In fact, she doesn’t believe that she is in duty when those ambiences aren’t around.
“Could you spare us some Utilities for repair?”
The girl is speaking to Caitlyn but the tank commander just glances back at her in silence. She is expecting Fort to reply since he holds the authority in the group. Meanwhile she pays more attention to how impressive they look. It’s rather their looks that draws her attention in the first place. The Maids are meant to appear as eye-candies. It is mandatory for them. But Caitlyn finds these two to be exceptionally enchanting. The one talking to her has a blonde hair of shoulder’s length. A black ribbon ties a small braid to her left. The other’s hair is a bit longer, about her waist. And the blond hue is slightly paler. They both are fair-skinned and appears to be of the same height as her.
“You’re not in luck, madam. We have no Utilities here.”
The maids share a glance for a second. “There are some by our objective.” The same maid points along the road. “We can use some escort.”
“Can your Creeper still drive?”
“It’ll be slow though.” The other maid says.
Caitlyn isn’t the one to get into others’ trouble. She has plenty of her own so why bother? But in this case, their trouble can solve one of hers. A tank force ideally consists of tanks, and support units. Namely, the truck the maids are operating. It’s what Command just failed to provide her. These maids don’t seem to be part of any units. They shouldn’t have gone by themselves if they are. And it looks like they have the same destination as her. It’s an opportunity to incorporate them into her team.
“Permission to do the favor, sir.” Caitlyn speaks. “They can be my support unit.”
“If you don’t mind, first sergeant. We’ll rendezvous on our destination. Out.” Fort’s transmission cut.
The destination is already marked on PT’s radar screen. They shouldn’t have trouble navigating to said position. Caitlyn tells the maids to hop on to her tank. Fort mobilizes the column once the Convexes report all clear.
The maids’ truck come into view. A lumbering machinery carried by eight large wheels. The KS5 ‘Creeper’, a multi-purpose truck. The large container attached to it could dispense small-arms cartridges to artillery shells. The truck’s role is mostly rearming, refueling, and sometimes repairing vehicles in the field. The container also has retractable arms that allows such feature. The vehicle is overall one and a half-time larger than a Chord.
The Convexes assemble in a column ahead of the Creeper. Caitlyn stops just behind it while the rest of the group circles around. They continue to move once they reformed the column. She bends to her right, trying to see how bad it is. There are parts lying around. They’re the shattered skirt’s armor. The center of the front-right wheel caves in and the rubber is a bit loose. Caitlyn believes that it could still move. But it’d require a thorough driving.
The maids drop to the ground. They both salute her.
“Thank you so much, ma’am.”
“It’s First Sergeant Caitlyn, by the way.” Her rank is already visible on her collar. She says it again just to be sure.
Stolen story; please report.
“Maid Corporal Genesis Zenith, at your service.” The maid with the shoulder-length blonde hair says.
“Maid Lance Corporal Charlotte Cavatica, ready for orders.” The other with waist-length hair said.
Caitlyn nods. “Now that you’re under my command, let’s just address each other by name.”
“Yes ma’am.” Genesis obliges. “I mean, Caitlyn.”
“Understood, Caitlyn.” Charlotte follows.
Caitlyn turns to the broken truck ahead of her. “And your call-sign, Creeper?”
“I’m Krasnaya Ploshchad.” The Creeper greets her. The AI has a senior female voice. “Sorry for the inconvenience, darling.”
“No problem, we got you covered.” PT says.
“Not talking to you.” The Creeper replies.
Caitlyn points her index toward her. “KP, it is.”
“Hey!” KP exclaims as if she just got shot. “You can’t just shorten my beautiful name like that!”
“She did mine as well.” PT says. “Can’t have call-sign in her team.”
“Should be fair given the inconvenience, right?” Caitlyn glances at the maids.
“We’ve agreed to help you.” KP says, sounding dissatisfied at her.
“I still need a driver. Any of you interested?”
Charlotte glances at Genesis. Her glance suggests that her friend is quite willing to drive the tank. Genesis only shrugs in response to Charlotte. The Android maids are allowed to fill the vacancies left by dead or wounded personnel. It had happened countless of times. They are even allowed to transfer if they display excellence in the pertinent role. She could one day be a tank commander as well. That is if…
“Have you ever drove one before?” Caitlyn asks.
Because if it’s going to be her first time, she is better off with her maid duties.
“I just need to follow your orders, right?” Genesis asks.
“Have you ever drove one before?” Caitlyn asks slower, folding her arms on PT’s hull while leaning closer.
Genesis shrugs again. “I don’t think I can convince you with words.” She smiles.
Caitlyn squints at her. It’s not that she underestimates her. It’d be a shame if the maid adds herself to the casualty because of her own mistake. That is the generous case. What if she takes PT and an additional ten men with her into the pyre? It’ll make a bad image for the Maid Section. Command might consider revoking their permission to fill role vacancies. Consequently, the reduced combat effectiveness is something that Caitlyn doesn’t wish to see.
But her statement is inarguable. Regardless of how well she explained her experience, if she had them, Caitlyn will still be in doubt. Easy way to get around it is to allow her into the driver seat and see it for herself.
“Fine, you drive.” Caitlyn orders. “One clash trial.”
“I’ll do my best, Caitlyn.” Genesis states.
“At last!” PT cheers. “I get to gun again.”
Caitlyn gestures to Charlotte. The maid scrambles into KP. Meanwhile Genesis climbs PT’s hull and drops into the driver seat. Caitlyn drops to her seat as well, closing the hatch above her. She then switches PT into gunner mode. The gunner control folds and retracts back to its slot in the dashboard. The steer and pedals unfold before Genesis. Caitlyn invites them to Caution’s voice channel as well as her own that she just created. They are now able to communicate to each other through long distance without invoking noises in Caution’s channel.
“You better do.” Caitlyn says to Genesis.
Genesis half-smiles. There is no hint of worry on her face. She confidently nods. She appears to be free of doubt and doesn’t seem to care if she has to die tomorrow. Caitlyn hopes it’s a good sign. Caitlyn hopes she can surpass her expectations.
“Drive ahead but keep at their pace.” Caitlyn orders.
Genesis shifts gear and drives PT around KP. The Creeper’s engine bellows. The engine isn’t hit. But it still has to move a vehicle that just lost a part crucial for its movement. The Creeper already moves at a horrendous speed given their loads, equipment, and armor. With one of its wheels damaged, it’s time to find out how slower it can be.
Caitlyn doesn’t mind that.
The third war with the Terran Vindicator has went on for eight years. The state calls it The Great Liberation War. It is a quest to depose the power who have applied dogmatic teaching of faith to humans. The Artificial Creationist believes that human minds are not to be restricted by some weird texts carved in stone tablets. Their potentials are enormous. They must be allowed to achieve them. It’s the only way civilizations could ascend. Divine decree dictates what’s right and wrong. Technological development always sits on their wrong. Such mindset won’t get humanity anywhere.
The Primus is the head of the Artificial Creationist. Ruthless is the one and only word for him. Once an institutional leader who improved the lives of many, his popularity among the people never wane. He did a better job than the senate at that time. Even the military were rooting for him. It was not long until a plot brewed. But he smelled it. And when he marched to the capital with an army, the senate bent their knee. He seized power from them. The senate is no more. There are only his advisors who are loyal to his cause. Not long after there is an incursion by the Terran Vindicators, a great raid across the borders. It is what the chroniclers believed to have sparked the first war against them.
That was sixty-years ago. Many said that the first war is far bloodier than this one. The Primus himself got his hands dirty. With all the current ways both sides have to rain hell from the other side of earth’s curvature, Caitlyn can’t imagine how it could be much worse. It’s a words of mouth tale so she has to find veterans of the war if she wants to know the truth. But does it matter? The Primus promised wealth for her service. So far, he is in line with his words though the value is a bit off from her expectation. Maybe he meant to give the rest once the war is over. Or maybe her expectation was just too high. Regardless, the state doesn’t discriminate. Even the Androids got paid.
Caitlyn has accumulated the salaries earned throughout her service. It’s certainly a lot. But she can’t think of anything to spend them on. Caitlyn puts both hands on her face. Thinking about it always pains her. Yet letting it go would undermine her sense of duty. It’s the pillar of her motives in the first place. She hates how both choices are bad. Usually, when it comes to battle, it’s a dilemma between bad or worse decisions. Caitlyn sees them as equally terrible. She still can’t decide what to do about them. Doing nothing is no good either. The longer they stay, the more they root on her. The more they root, the more overwhelming they become.
The dot on the top right of her neuralface flashes. A text message comes through.
“You definitely don’t feel better.” PT says.
Caitlyn frowns. Why would he speak through text channel instead of just doing it through the speaker?
“Why are you sending me text messages?” Caitlyn asks. She also replies through the text channel. She doesn’t have to type anything. She only has to think of what she wants to say and her system will do it for her.
“She won’t know what are we talking about, will she?”
Caitlyn glances at her. Genesis’ face is focused to the env-screen as she drives. It’s the only way she could see the surroundings. Her body is close to the steer. Her eyes are vigilant, constantly swapping displays every second. She’s doing well keeping the gruesomely sluggish pace. Caitlyn is fascinated. Even her daydream made it first. Caitlyn is sure that PT would jabber a lot when he’s on the wheel. Maybe the maid actually does have potential.
“She’s doing a great job.” Caitlyn replies.
“Can you stop diverting the conversation, KT? Please?”
Caitlyn sighs. “I’m fine. What are you talking about?” She was fine actually. But then her anxiety strikes again and she can’t help herself.
“Yeah, you’re fine. But since when wiping your face with both hands indicate that?”
The tank keeps prying on her. Caitlyn leans her head against the headrest. She doesn’t see how it matters to him that she’s feeling like this. It’s not like he can do something about it. He’s a tank. He’s not made to discuss personal affairs. He doesn’t benefit from those. He is also probably going to die too shortly after.
“That’s just how I do it.” Caitlyn says. For now, she’s going to let that pass. There’s a skirmish coming up and she doesn’t want to be bugged with it.
There’s a humming on the cabin. It comes from Genesis. Her head gently bounces as she does so. The maid appears to be elated by the tune. They sound propelling. Pride and confidence are implied by its rhythm. It must be one of those marching songs.
“Blonde, what are you humming?” PT asks her through the speaker.
Genesis turns to the interface. “A song.” She flashes her eyebrows.
“Bloody hell, I thought you are humming a manifesto.”
Genesis chuckles and smirks. “You don’t know me. Depending on which manifesto, it can be just as fun.”
“Not happening.” PT says.
The maid is probably not being serious. Caitlyn envies how she can get along with him like that. They just met. Caitlyn has known PT for three days now. Some people are just built different. It’s disheartening for her to think that it isn’t her.
“Any particular preference though?”
Genesis looks above her. “Not really. Anything that sounds, empowering.”
“Girl would listen to commissar speeches as a mood booster.” The interface shows a skull emoji.
“Hey, it works you know?”
“I mean, yeah. It’s literally their job.”
The D230 highway is flanked by woods and tree lines to the southwest and an open plain to the northeast. Both sides are at a dismay. The Proxies’ positions overlooking the road and beyond lie on the open plain, which is vulnerable for any indirect fire the telves have. Seraph Rounds in particular. Telve forces, The Guards, on the other hand might have better cover by the woods. But their advance will be slowed by them. Friendly forces have laid obstacles to even slow them and expose their troops to their direct fire.
Seraph Rounds might be powerful and precise. But they can’t be used en masse. They are fired from nearby deployed Warlocks, and they take a long time to reload. And an even longer time to fire. Given how powerful it is, their command must have acquired plenty fire mission request. The time is most probably spent on debating which target deserves the honor of its steel. It’s what Caitlyn understood from a two minutes tech-analysis clip regularly broadcasted in the base. She remembers how she half-smiled the first time she watches it yesterday. It means the empress deemed her to be worthy of her fist. She finds the thought amusing. She must have done something great that the empress herself noticed her.
The plain is flat. Friendly forces have dug up trenches and foxholes with machine gun positions. Several vehicle nests have been prepared as well. They are stationed slightly behind since their guns could overall cover greater distance. Firewall Heavy Anti-Tank weapons are set up in between those nests. There is a large spacing between them as to not attract telve artilleries or Seraphs. Caitlyn is concerned about their own artillery. They’re not meant to be seen around. But she hopes there are plenty aimed at the highway since it’s their objective. Fort said that they’re getting reinforcements soon. Caitlyn herself took an indirect role. She positions PT behind a mound that conceals PT’s profile as he angles his shot over it. KP is just behind him, ready to act if PT goes awry.
There is still no hostile spotted. Even after KP is repaired. Caitlyn pops out of the hatch. The day is getting late. The sun is three-quarter from setting. If the telves plan to tire her out, then they’re not doing a great job. Androids don’t tire for weeks, unless they have been through too much stress.
Genesis emerges out of her hatch, stretching her arms as high as she possibly could. “What a lovely day.” She exhales.
Their eyes meet as Caitlyn glances at the maid. PT’s gun separates them.
“So…first sergeant.” She says, leaning on the gun. “Caitlyn, yes. What’s your full name?”
“Does it matter though?” Caitlyn shrugs, sounding uninterested.
“I just told you mine.” Genesis says, keeping her smile.
“It’s Grauwelle.”
“Grauwelle huh…” Genesis crosses her arms. “In a sense, no wonder why you look…”
Caitlyn lowers her eyebrows. Her face turns from disinterest into irritation. She knows where this is going. Her minds begin to flood with thoughts on how to make her repent. Luckily the maid doesn’t finish her statement. Genesis glances at her with a face that realizes the mistake she made.
“Ah, my bad. My bad.” Genesis waves her hands in front of her. “Not a good way to make impression.” She then bends and gestures to Caitlyn. “Please don’t kick me out.”
Caitlyn glances at her thoroughly. The maid isn’t only eye-catching, she appears to have decent demeanor as well. All in all, she looks like the princess from that tale. Though a bit more upbeat and outgoing. It settles her boiling head. She’s just going to let it pass for now. There’s no use kicking out a newfound partner anyway. In fact, just now she realized how her presence lightens up her mood.
“Good girl.” Caitlyn says.
“Careful, blonde.” PT says. “She could bite you at the moment.”
Caitlyn twists to glance at the turret. “PT, why do you tell her that?”
“Awareness is important.” PT states. “I think. You have to keep looking after your partner.”
“You call him PT, Caitlyn?” Genesis asks, pointing her thumb toward the turret.
Caitlyn nods.
“No. Not allowing you to call me that.”
“But you call me blonde.”
“You didn’t complain.”
Genesis smiles wider. “PT.”
“Stop.”
“PT…” She lasciviously says.
“No.”
“Come on, P-”
PT’s turret jerks to Genesis’ direction. The gun hits her face.
“-AH!”
Genesis puts both hands on her face. She falls silent.
“That hurt?” PT asks.
Genesis doesn’t respond.
“I’m not apologizing.”
The maid drops her hands. She lands an indifferent gaze toward the tank. “You forget that I have shields, don’t you?”
“Oh.”
“Same actually.”
Caitlyn takes a deep breath. The maid’s playful attitude matches PT’s talkative personality. It seems like vibrant days are waiting for her. It shouldn’t be bad. She has served for ten years already. The war has shot many things her way and she persisted. She knows it’ll be fine. She just hopes that it’s more than fine, lovely maybe. She really could use them. There’s not much of those in the war. She learned it the hard way.
“Sniper! Sniper!” Says a voice through local channel.
They both immediately drop to their seat. A bullet ricochets on PT’s turret. Caitlyn’s head was in the way a second ago. Realizing it astonishes her. PT’s turret turns. His gun roars. Flame burst out of the muzzle in a fraction of second. The smoke at its end disperses as if the winds snatch them away. A round flies to the projectile’s supposed origin. Caitlyn peeks out. A cloud of smoke follows a flash of orange amidst distant trees on the inclination ahead. It’s silent for a moment. The Convexes point their guns to where the shell hits. They seem to be keen on following it up.
“He’s down.” The same voice says.
“He’s down.” Another voice repeats his colleague’s statement. “Nice shot.”
“Don’t like that do you, sniper!?” PT cries through his speaker.
“By the Primus,” Genesis says. “That was close.”
Caitlyn glances at her blankly. Death was upon her. A second late and it would have swept her neck clean. She is fortunate that she’s not. Credit to the soldier who spotted the sniper before they fire. Caitlyn realizes how he just mentioned that there is a sniper, but didn’t pinpoint where they were. PT can somehow track it through the ricochet on his turret. The way he instantly scores on the first hit fascinates her. Now she understands why he is always excited to gun.
“I can do that as well.” Caitlyn assures herself.
“Like after five rounds or something?” PT asks.
“I need focus you know.” Caitlyn gestures. “You were yelling inside my ear canal last time.”
“Dare to bet?”
Caitlyn sighs. Of course, she doesn’t. She lowers her sight. She admits that it’s an amazing shot. She is certain that she couldn’t copy that in one try. Her gunner days is long past. Commanding is what she’s been doing in recent years. The muscle memory is still there but it’s rusting. She once can see where her shot would land. Now there has to be one or two shot before she sees it. Caitlyn can put the blame on the thoughts haunting her. But it won’t take her anywhere. Because she can’t do anything about them either.
“Alright, you should stop that.” Genesis points to the interface screen.
“What?” PT exclaims. “What did I do?”
Genesis leans closer to the interface. “Just…” Genesis gestured at the interface. “…stop.” Genesis said with her tone raised. “I’m gunning if you don’t.”
“I’ve passed the privilege to KT already. You’re not getting it.”
Genesis nods as if she’s got something done. Caitlyn is grateful that the maid stands up for her. At least the tank is not going any further. She gives her a smile. Genesis smiles back and winks. A charming wink that makes Caitlyn wish she makes it through this grueling war. It’s the first time Caitlyn bears such sentiment. It’s not like she wished the downfall of others before. She is merely appreciating the maid. And she is surprised that she appreciates her this much, as much as Alezia.
Artillery shells fall. They don’t rain their position, but their tremendous clamors startle them. The sound of fireworks but ten times louder and way more staggering. It batters her synthetic ear drums from kilometers away. Caitlyn closes the hatch above her. Genesis does the same. They used to be terrifying. But the frequency of their encounter has steeled her resolve. They even help her daydream when she is in a well-protected position. Their soothing rhythm allows her to forget her problems. She sometimes forgets that she is in a war. And the thundering explosions sometimes feel like one of those state-owned thumpers used to extract resources.
Caitlyn gazes at the fourth-quadrant screen, to the direction of Patih Tread. The shells are pounding the town. It has been contested for a month. Shambles is an understatement for the town’s buildings. Their roofs collapsed. The upper half of their walls are gone. Debris are everywhere. The shelling is obviously responsible. Friendly artillery took part as well. They had to get the telves out of their cover. It’s what the telves have been doing to them since morning. When two major powers clash, it always comes down to who is better at throwing rocks from faraway. And someone else’s house is going to have a bad time.
The maid is humming again. The same tune like recently. She is half-smiling while she does so. The shell might not be targeting them. But the shock it delivers is undoubtedly evident. The way one couldn’t do anything amidst a downpour of explosive steels but cower and pray, it can be overwhelming. The tune keeps the maid up. That’s good on her. She has to drive the tank so she better be in the spirit.
Caitlyn gazes at the radar. She orders Genesis to move PT to a new spot. If there’s anything the sniper accomplished, it is revealing their position. PT’s response gave it away as well. They move to another screen of trees which provides direct line of sight to the D230 highway. The trees are a bit spaced. They’ll probably be spotted again before PT fires. She hopes PT could get three to four rounds off before moving again. She also believes that the defense wouldn’t hold. Their job might only be to blunt telve’s advance. Her position is behind anyone else. She is ordered to hold the line there in case of retreats. Hopefully everyone would regroup with the reinforcements on her position before pushing the telve back.
The barrage continues. Several shells fall ahead of their position. White smoke swells and covers the trees. Caitlyn couldn’t see pass them. The thermal sight doesn’t help. Their barricades should be enough to halt infantry advances. The woods should do the job against vehicles. They have to slip between the trunks, which exposes them to anti-tank weaponries set up by friendlies. At first, Caitlyn was expecting Guards’ infantry to emerge out of the smoke. But it is a bit foolish to just send them unsupported against an entrenched position. And they don’t shell her position to cover their advance either.
“I don’t like this.” Caitlyn said. There’s a sense of eerie that’s bugging her.
“No Seraphs either.” PT comments.
Caitlyn observes the trees beyond the smoke collapsing one by one. PT can topple some trees to clear a path. But he needs a special attachment for that. And the rate of his work would be less than what she is seeing. Dread begins to grip.
Three large barrels emerge from the smoke. They bellow successively. Their roars are times louder than the shells pounding Patih Tread. Two shots hit the Firewalls. Caitlyn watches as the equipment and the crews burst into the air with the dirt. The other one hits the spot where they were.
“Oh crap!” PT cries.
Caitlyn can relate his shocked response. She knows well how powerful Gauntlets’ guns are. It’s engraved in her subconsciousness. Those shots are more powerful. There is more weight to them. The crater they left looks just like the impacts from artillery rounds. The telves have as big as 203mm guns in their arsenal. Caitlyn have an experience being shelled with them. It feels just as that.
“Are they sending their self-propelled guns forward?” Caitlyn asks.
“Not sure if those are self-propelled guns, Caitlyn.” Genesis replies.
Eventually, the menaces show themselves.
“That doesn’t look good…” PT’s interface shows a shocked emoji.
Three massive tanks. Each is two times the size of a Chord. They cruise down the inclination, casually uprooting the trees. They have two set of tracks on both sides. Their guns are attached to a turret. And those are 203mm guns.
Panic ensues in local channel. Order is still preserved in the detachment channel but it begins to deteriorate. The remaining Firewalls fire at them. The missiles hit the front hull. No penetration occurs. The lead tank rotates its turret and neutralize one Firewall in a fiery explosion. The shot must have hit the missiles stored close to the launcher. The turret sweeps to the other side where the other Firewall is and fire. The shot shatters the launcher. The crews got out of there under a shower of dirt. The Convexes return fire, but their guns couldn’t do anything against their armor. They focus their AT missile at the lead tank. Two scores a hit on the front hull again. They managed to leave a dent but still no penetration. The other two hit the armor on the tracks and do nothing.
“All units retreat. I repeat, all unit retreat.” Fort says through local channel. He is the most senior official around and he seized the control of local forces to order withdrawal.
The tank right of the lead aims at one of the Convex. It lets off a round that decimates the vehicle. The turret switches to the next Convex and gives the same treatment. Caitlyn is astonished. That tank just let out two shots at a shorter interval than PT could. The tank left of the lead finishes off the two other Convexes in the same manner. The Convexes are gone. All their AT missiles are liquidated. Not one of them deal any damage.
The lead tank fires at the trench, another salvo of two shells. Four personnel are neutralized. Their bodies are tossed to the air. Nearby Crescents pop smoke-screens to cover them. The tank’s machine guns manage to down some as they flee. Caitlyn is awe-struck by the carnage she is seeing.
“Are we just going to sit here, KT!?” PT cries for her.
“What do we do, Caitlyn? What do we do?” Genesis says, holding the driver control tight.
The tanks soon trample the barricades. They were not made to stop a Gauntlet, let alone those hulking tanks. Caitlyn takes a deep breath. But that doesn’t calm her down. Her nerve has never been this high. Reinforcement should be arriving now. They should come any moment.
“Open fire! Lead tank!” Caitlyn shouted.
PT fires at its gun. The shell hits. It carves a dent on the gun. But the tank fires another two-shot salvo. The gun is still operational.
“What the hell!?” PT yells.
The tank left of the lead finds them. The big hollow cylinder that spells death is now looking at them.
“Genesis, back! Back!” Caitlyn slaps her shoulder.
Genesis hits the reverse gear. That’s when the massive tank fires. Two shells fly their way. They got out in time. Both hit the place where they were.
“First sergeant, what are you doing?” Fort asked through private channel. She broadcasts it so Genesis and PT could hear.
“Were trying to hold the line, sir.”
“Just get out of there!”
“I thought we have reinforcements, sir.” Caitlyn says.
“Only two Kris can make it. I doubt they are able to-” Fort pauses. “There they are.”
The assault gunships zoom across the sky, glimpsing at the env-screens. They should be able to delay them to allow friendly forces’ retreat. A total of four missiles leave the tanks’ turret as soon as they get in range. They reach to the sky, eventually finding their way to the gunships. Two of them down one. It spins down to its pyre. One missile hits the other gunship but it’s still afloat. The other misses. The remaining Kris immediately pops flares before reversing its course.
“There goes our Kris.” The captain said.
Caitlyn clenches her teeth. She doesn’t believe that they can stand against one, let alone three of them. Moreover, their position is already known. They will be expecting them if they decide to charge out. It’s a pointless way to die. The only option for her is to fall back with the others. She can’t think of helping those infantry. She has to help herself.
“PT, smoke out and hold fire. Genesis, drive us out.” Caitlyn orders.
PT pops his smoke screens while Genesis reverse the tank. Two shots land nearby, barely hitting them. The cabin rocks in their wake. Caitlyn regains her bearing. PT is reversing. The tank’s massive figure is no longer imposing as they grow distant. They no longer have direct line of sight. But for some reason PT is still within their field of fire. A volley of two shots come after them again. Then another. All of them miss but they are dangerously close.
“They’re targeting us!” Genesis said. The maid repeatedly tilts the steer.
PT zig-zags his way back. Four consecutive shots struck. They all miss, spreading near PT’s trajectory. Genesis’ maneuver almost drove them into one.
“No, Genesis get us straight!”
“What?”
“Just do it!”
It seems like those tanks are able to switch to indirect fire. And it appears that their shots become less accurate. The spread distance should be consistent. But where the shells land in them is not. Caitlyn isn’t sure whether going straight is safer. She just feels like it. Genesis almost got them killed. She can be wrong.
“KT, get my safeties off!” PT yells.
“Are you serious?” Caitlyn asks.
“You want to die here!?”
She looks at the encased switch. Her hands still refuse to reach it. She doesn’t want to spur terrible things. Especially now that she has another personnel on board. She just doesn’t want anyone around her to be harmed by her action. The risk tends to lead that way. It drives her great hesitance.
“Caitlyn!” Genesis shouts.
One of the massive tanks finds itself a slight elevation. It now has a direct line of fire. One hit from that tank should no doubt be fatal. Its gun trains to them.
“KT!”
She is again faced with the dilemma. Flipping the switch cand potentially harm the tank. She can quickly get away but there’s a chance of the tank breaking down. Meanwhile doing nothing can also harm the tank. This time the volley shouldn’t miss. There’s a chance it will, but it’s very low. Caitlyn is about to reach for the switch but she thinks that it’s too late. Especially when she is struggling against her hesitance. She instead braces herself.
Genesis opens the casing and flip the switch at a breakneck speed. “I’m taking you both to safety.” She says, her face is frowning.
The maid hits the pedal like no tomorrow. There actually isn’t if they don’t act.
The tank fires. PT lurches a further back. The two shell volley lands just in front of them. The cabin rocks as dirt showers PT. The tank then pops another smoke-screen. This time it perfectly conceals their withdrawal. That tank eventually disappears from sight.