First Contact

Chapter 408

"He's trying to get behind us, get on him, Mal-Kar, get on him!" I yelled, my face pressed tight to the worn and flattened foam surrounding my gunner's sight, welding my helmet's visor to it.

"I'm trying," Mal-Kar snarled, his feet moving as he shifted the balance of the fans to slide us to the side harder.

One of the Precursor's companion vessels got a clear shot at us as we slid past a pile of rubble that had been a furniture store. The heavy graser shot caught us a glancing blow, collapsing the starboard battlescreen. The trees we had strapped to the side exploded outward, the violent blast sending burning and charred chunks of wood fountaining into the sky.

But the armor held.

Mal-Kar's maneuvers knocked down several of the smaller units, smaller than a Telkan female, and the tank's weight crushed them. There was some clattering noises as one of them hung up on a fan, but the pitch changed and I knew the fan was still running.

"Almoooost," I crooned, my foot above the firing lever.

Another Precursor machine fired, taking advantage of Feelmeenta rotating up and powering new battlescreen projector cores. The lighter machines, that we were in the middle off, were ripping at us with lasers too weak to do anything more than light up the air between us.

The sandbags that were hit by the heavy laser sagged slightly, pebbles of glass falling from the charred bags, but nothing else. The lasers concentrated on that supposed weakness, but nothing happened.

Mal-Kar found a little bit of speed and my sight slid over the massive Precursor, the size of two double decker buses end to end. The tank rocked as we ran over something slightly larger, bobbling my sight, but it leveled out at just the right time.

"SHOT OUT!" I stomped the lever and the plasma gun roared, heat backwashing into the crew compartment. Even though my Terran made armor I could feel the heat rise.

The plasma shot, the "Enhanced Lanaktallan Plasma Cannon Round Mark IV", hit square where the two articulated body sections met. The ravening psuedo-matter detonated on the armor, caving it in.

"SHOT OUT!" I fired into the hellish flames of the first shot.

The Precursor machine kept turning, but the weapons stopped firing, the battlescreens collapsed. It began crushing its own smaller brethren.

One of its two companions fired at our back deck, but we were past, the shot streaming past us to hit the dead one even as Mal-Kar spun us in place, dragging the front right nacelle to pull us around faster than we would have normally been able to move.

The one that had just fired came into my sights just as the third, fired again. The cupola rang, but the armor held.

"SHOT OUT!" I stomped the bar and the Precursor fired.

Our forward battlescreen collapsed. The wood on the front of the tank exploded, blinding me for a second, but my sight cleared and I stomped the bar again. "SHOT OUT!"

The second one exploded in place as Feelmeenta cried out in victory. The battlescreen on the port side spun up even as she rotated up a new set of cores for the forward screen and Mal-Kar slid us forward even as we rotated.

The third one fired at the exact same time as I stomped the bar.

"SHO-" I started, my durachrome hoof stomping down on the bar.

My shot hit it before it could withdraw its missile launchers, the plasma hitting perfectly. The missile bay was suddenly filled with the stuff that makes up stars, even as it started to reload from automated systems.

The Precursor exploded as its missile stores detonated.

Then it was our turn.

The missiles screamed in, almost two thirds of them picked off by our point defense. Twenty got through, impacting against the remaining logs and the sandbags. Burning wood exploded from the front of our tanks, dirt and sand blew out in a cone. The lasers played over the armor, seeking anyplace that the superconductor layer didn't dissipate heat fast enough. The two heavy mass drivers fired, one ripping off all the sandbags from the top of the cupola and snapping off the TC's weapon. The other hit the forward glacis of the turret square, most of the energy directed away by the slant of the armor.

For the most part, the armor held.

For the most part.

The front panels inside the crew cab exploded. A bright lance went through the crew compartment and Feelmeenta screamed. Mal-Kar cried out to his digital savior. I cried out in pain and terror. Lu'ucilu'u screamed from her EW panel as it exploded in her face. Karelesh howled in agony. Shrapenl scythed through the cab panels exploded, screens imploded, and part of the armor detonated into the cab. Flames roared up around us even as I heard two fans go dead. The internal fire suppression system went off, filling the cab with inert noble gas in a sudden rush even as the ventilation system suddenly cut off.

The hull rang on the port side as munitions got through the battlescreen and impacted against the wood and sandbags, but the inner lining held.

Mal-Kar kept us moving, cursing, snarling, biting off the words savagery as he steered us.

"Cycling up projectors," Feelmeenta gagged.

I could see dull red light of the burning city streaming through the hole in the cupola big enough for a Telkan to crawl through.

The last one slid into sight.

"SHOT OUT!" I yelled, and stamped the bar.

All I got back was beeping, barely audible over the wailing alarms.

The gun was empty.

A look showed me that there were still twenty-two rounds in the ammo locker.

I stomped the loading pedal.

It beeped back.

The Precursor fired again, the missiles slicing out. Point defense got all but two and those exploded against the battlescreen that had just started to spin up. I changed my grip, grabbing the controls for the coax, opening fire with the Terran 20mm autocannon.

The whole cab was full of smoke and white mist, but a glance showed me that the majority of my crew's vitals were yellow and green.

Karelesh's was flashing red.

Not X'd out.

Just flashing red.

I filed away the data as I hammered the Precursor vehicle with heavy kinetic rounds so favored by the Terran Confederacy. Another shot hit and the hull next to me suddenly acquired a slide down it a good half meter wide and two meters long.

My suit's medical alarms started wailing.

"HERE COMES THE RAIN!" Feelmeenta yelled out over our datalinks. The tank's commo system was dead.

Karelesh regained consciousness, shaking his head. He slapped the controls and the hatch for his gunner's assistant seat popped open. He grabbed the bag of antimatter grenades from the floor where they thankfully still sat undetonated as the seat rose up.

"Transponder squawking!" Lu'ucilu'u called out from the EW station.

The tank was showering sparks, the ass end dragging as I kept up the fire from the coax. The Terran rounds were shredding the armor, blowing huge craters in it, ripping it away.

To reveal more armor.

"Back, pull back," Karelesh coughed as his seat lifted him high enough to grab one of the secondary guns. It was dead, local control only, the computer linkage cut.

Mal-Kar threw the tank in reverse, ignoring that the hoverskirts of the rear plenum chambers folded back and shredded even as he applied full power to lift us up far enough to move.

Computer guided terminal guidance artillery rounds began raining down, hitting the smaller machines that my tank had been able to ignore. Huge fountains of alloys, ceracrete, ferrocrete, dirt, and burning rubble fountained into the air as the thermobaric rounds detonated.

Karelesh reached into the bag with both hands, did something, then slung the bag overhand, at the Precursor vehicle.

It landed between us even as I raked its forward sensors.

Karelesh grabbed the handle of the hatch, yanking it down after him as he dropped into the tank.

One of the return shots hit the hatch before it got closed, snatching it from his hand, hitting the twisted and wrecked missile pod and blowing it apart.

Shrapnel howled through the cab, clanking off metal.

Karelesh fell to the floor, limp, his icon burning a steady red.

But no X.

The Precursor machine rushed forward, through the falling artillery shells that were detonation around us, the terminal guidance systems IDing our transponder and steering the rounds away from us. Feelmeenta gave another cry of victory and I saw our forward battlescreen spin up as I kept raking the forward glacis of the precursor machine as it rushed us even as Mal-Kar sped us backwards.

The grenades detonated under the Precursor machine, breaking it in half, the white flare of antimatter snapping out again and again as they went off beneath the weakest point of the armor.

Mal-Kar dropped the tank onto the ground and Feelmeenta ramped up the battlescreens. We turtled up in the artillery rain, the battlescreens snarling from the blooms of plasma, the shockwaves of superheated air, and the shrapnel.

But the battlescreens held.

I coughed and looked around.

The tank was finished.

Feelmeenta had the medical kit opened and she unbuckled from the seat, half falling, kneeling next to Karelesh. She ran the scanner over him and started pulling out syringes based on the color coding and markings.

Lu'ucilu'u pinged me and I opened the channel.

"Got a SAR team coming in. My board is all over me. I'm injured, Most High," she said.

"How badly?" I asked her.

"I fear I may have to wipe my ass with a hook," she said, bitter humor in her voice.

"Do so gingerly," I advised.

She snorted as I changed the channels. "Mal-Kar, status?"

"The tank is..." he started.

"To the Digital Garbage Pile with the tank. What is your status?" I snapped.

"Hard to breathe, but the suit's medical kit is keeping me from being in pain," he said.

"No missing limbs? No missing tail? All of your eyes there?" I asked.

"No, Most High. My suit is telling me I have broken chest rings, that is all," he said.

"Relax, Mal-Kar. I do not believe our tank will be going anywhere," I told him.

The datalink pinged as I switched.

"Feelmeenta, how is he?" I asked.

"Bad. He's stable right now, thank the Digital Omnimessiah for the Terran medical kits that the Matron insisted we take," Feelmeenta said. "He lost a hand and part of his forearm, internal injuries. His armor held though."

"And you?" I asked.

"I will miss my tail," she said softly.

"Very well. SAR is on the way," I told them. I clicked through channels until I got to the recovery vehicle. "Vul'Krit, this is Ha'almo'or, do you read? Over."

"I read you, Most High," the N'Karooan said. "We're on our way, a half mile out if your transponder is still attached to your tank."

I chuckled. "I believe it is. Ha'almo'or, out."

We sat in the dark tank as the breeze moved through it. The black rain dripped in through the gaps and there was a faint flash followed by a rumble.

I heard impacts on the ground and there came a knocking at the hull.

"13th Evac SAR," came the loudspeaker projected voice.

"We are here," I called back. "We have wounded. One badly."

"The loading ramp's jammed, we'll have to pry it open," the speaker said.

"I do not think it will matter much in the grand scheme of things," I told the speaker.

Heavy gauntlets pushed through the gap, the battlesteel flexing and bending away. The hands pulled open the back loading deck, where it fell to the ground with a crash.

The logs covering it were smoking from a hit we'd taken and not even realized.

The armors looked fearsome, despite the fact they were silver.

They took Mal-Kar and Karelesh first, hurrying them out on grav-stretchers. I watched as they loaded Feelmeenta and Lu'ucilu'u onto stretchers and carried them out.

One of the armored medics knelt down next to me, looking me over.

"Are you just trapped or is your armor breached?" He asked, playing a white light over the anti-spalling liner that had curled over my rear legs.

"Trapped, I believe," I told him. "I have been holding still and trying not to give into panic."

The face shield nodded. "All right. Let's cut this away."

I held still while the heavy fusion torch built into the medic's armor cut away the liner. It fell to the floor and the pressure over my rear legs eased.

"Don't move yet," the medic told me. He scanned me again. There was a beep and he put his scanner down where my abdomen met my lower torso. "No cardiac events. Your heart was beating pretty hard, but that's to be expected in combat."

He shook his head. "You should still be in recovery, with how recent that cardiac cybernetic implant is."

"This is the duty I must perform," I said stiffly.

"I getcha. All right, let's get you out of here," he said. He cut through the jammed arm rests and helped me out of the seat. I trotted down the ramp just as the recovery vehicle pushed its way through the wreckage, backing up. Vul'Krit was half out of the driver's hatch, waving at me, as he slowly came to a stop.

The medivac striker lifted off, my loyal crew out of the fight, and I sat down on the ramp. I popped open my face shield and slowly unwrapped a Goody Yum Yum Bar, the Matron smiling at me. There was a joke printed on the inside of the wrapper.

One cannibal looks at the other and says "Does this comedian taste funny?"

The crude, horrific joke made me bray out laughter as I sat on the loading ramp, surrounded by destroyed Precursor machines. Vul-Krit moved up to me and patted my shoulder.

"How are you holding up, Most High?" He asked me.

"Much better now," I said, holding up the bar. The sweet doughy outside was delicious, and the berry gelatin interior was crisp tasting and delicious.

"Those bars are the best," he agreed. He waved his hands. "All right, crew, let's hook up the Most High's tank!"

Three hulking Tukna'rn adults exited the vehicle, two grabbing the heavy cables and pulling them along. The third carried heavy graviton lifters over to magnetically attach them to my tank.

"These guys were maintenance workers at one of the factories. I kinda told them they work for me now," the N'Karooan rubbed the top of his head where short fur was growing in. "I needed crewmen."

"I approve," I told him. I took another bite and held it in my mouth, touching it with my feeding tendrils, absorbing the taste and texture. I closed my eyes, even my two cybereyes, and relished the sensation.

"Hooked up, boss," the Tukna'rn said, slapping his hands together. I opened my eyes and saw that another one was bringing over a pack of brown bottles that I recognized as narcobrew. Vul'Krit grabbed one, opened it, handed it to me, then grabbed one for himself. The three Tukna'rn each grabbed a bottle, cracking them open with the sharp fizz of good quality narcobrew.

We sat on the back deck, drinking the thick beer, as strikers roared by overhead. Four times there was the faint flash of far away atomic blasts.

"Those Terrans can fight, boss," one of the Tukna'rn rumbled. "Never seen anyone got at the Precursors like that."

Vul'Krit nodded. "Dam crazy lemurs, but they make good food bars and narcobrew."

We fell back to silence until the narcobrews were done.

"I think I will sit on my tank," I said.

"Sure thing, boss. Be about an hour drive back anyway," Vul'Krit said. He tossed me the last narcobrew. "Drink up, boss."

I climbed clumsily around to the front of my tank, my cybernetic hoof clunking on the damaged battlesteel. I sat down and cracked open the bottle, staring at the wreckage around me as Vul'Krit began towing my tank back to the base.

Time flowed by slowly and I avoided thinking by staring at the surroundings but actually looking at nothing. I finished the narcobrew and threw the bottle into the ruins, seeing it bounce twice before shattering.

I opened up another Goody Yum Yum Bar.

Why can't you trust atoms? They make up everything.

That got another braying laugh from me.

We were moving through a section of the city that I had cleared days before, the habs all collapsed, when I spotted her.

She ran out into the street, waving a cloth, stumbling and almost falling as she chased after us.

"Vul'Krit, stop the vehicle," I ordered, standing up. I jumped down, almost collapsing from the shock of jumping from such a hieght, and trotted up to her.

I held my rifle in my hands and watched around myself with all six eyes.

"Please, help us! She can't move any more and won't wake up," the little immature female Cemtrary cried out as I got close. "She's too heavy for us to move!"

I could see her fur was singed and blood stained. She had bandages and what looked like medical gel on her in patches.

"Please, Overseer, help us," she cried out.

"Lead me to 'her', little one," I ordered.

"We covered her up with the hood of a car," she told me.

I kept close watch around us. I would not be fooled. There was the wreckage of many Precursor infantry robots around, even three of the heavier combat machines burning nearby.

It looked like they had put the hood of a vehicle over the top part of a robot. Massively thick legs stuck out from under the hood. Powerful hands, one holding a heavy thick stubber with a bird of prey done up in burning gold on the side. Around the covered prone figure were two dozen Cemtrary females, most of them holding tiny versions of themselves.

I grabbed the hood and threw it to the side.

Her face was severe, pale, I could see her skull where three heavy divots had blown bone out in a crater. I could not see her brain, but the divots blown out of her skull probably did not mean anything good for her. She had long flowing blonde hair. Her eyes were closed, blue around the corners of her mouth and nose, but she was still breathing heavily. Blood was running from her nose.

"We can't pull her, Overseer, she's too heavy," one of the Cemtrary girls said.

It was a Terran over three meters tall, entirely clad in heavy thick plates of armor. There was a bird of prey on the chest, just as it was on the weapon, the warsteel smouldering white in silent fury. She had a torch on each shoulder, the torches smouldering, and what looked like some kind of ejector system on her hip.

"I'll bet she is," I said softly. I turned on my datalink. "Vul'Krit, get a grav-dolly and a power lifter. We've got a Terran heavy power armor troop down and unconscious."

"All right, boss," Vul'Krit answered.

I knelt down, staring at the Terran. She was beautiful, in a coldly angry kind of way. She faintly smelled of incense and scorched warsteel.

The two Tukna'rn came through rubble, pulling the grav-dolly with the power-lifter on one end.

"What is that?" one of them asked.

"It's a SHE, not a WHAT," one of the Cemtrary snapped.

"Yeah," one of the smaller ones holding tight to her back added.

"A Terran," I said.

"Huh. OK, boss," one said.

"Be careful with her," another Cemtrary female added.

They carefully moved her onto the dolly. She was too heavy for the two muscular Tukna'rn to move by themselves, so they used the lifter system. I glanced at the gauge and saw that she weighed just over two tons.

"Follow me," I ordered. I pushed the grav-dolly myself, my prosthetic hoof striking sparks as I walked.

"What happened to your foot, Overseer?" one asked.

"Precursor blew it off," I told her. "I am no-one's Overseer. Call me Ha'almo'or, little one."

"Oh," she said.

I watched as the little ones climbed into the recovery vehicle, then took a hooked chain and attached the grav-dolly to my tank so we could tow the wounded Terran. One of the Tukna'rn came around to help me and hand me another nacrobrew.

I sat back on the front armor, took out another Goody Yum Yum bar and began to eat, sipping at the narcobrew as I read the wrapper.

Why was the burglar so emotional? He took things personally.

I brayed laughter as the black rain fell around me.

--Excerpt From: We Were the Lanaktallan of the Atomic Hooves, a Memoir.