First Contact

Chapter 792: The Inheritor's War

General Twargark stared at the holotank as the Atrekna started slamming against the entire Corps area as if they had achieved the progress they'd made in Sector-17D. In the majority of cases they were hitting fresh units, all of whom had been put on alert and stand-to when the Atrekna had hit 17D without warning with such divergent tactics.

None of the new attacks were using the same indirect fire methods, no interlocked infantry with tanks, and dwellerspawn were across the entire front despite the fact the biological counters had proven highly effective against the biological weapons. Tanks were charging emplaced units that had set up extensive anti-armor. Artillery was firing on units with serious interlocked point defense and counter-battery. Infantry was charging, unsupported, into crew served weaponry.

What happened to the earlier tactics? General Twargark wondered. She glanced at 17D, which was still heavily contested, although it looked like the Atrekna were reverting to their old tactics again.

She glanced at the Telkan Marine transponders, noting that the unit had been hammered.

I hope your CO knows what he's doing, she thought as she saw that the retreating Atrekna tanks were suddenly reversing course and heading straight back into the Hesstlan tanks, heedless of casualties, with two more tank units and another infantry unit rushing to support them.

The Atrekna reinforcements would reach the formerly retreating Atrekna units soon.

General Twargark shook her head as she pinged the other Corps commanders to the East and West and let them know there would be a fast courier data-packet coming in with the details of the first part of the attack.

We got sloppy, she thought. In months you haven't shown any new tactics and we make the mistake of thinking you couldn't adapt. It almost cost us, but now you're giving us breathing room and falling back on your old tactics.

She stared at the icons. All you did is warn us that some of you are capable of pattern recognition.

-----

"Looks like the fight's moved north of us," The Sergeant said.

Vuxten looked up, panting, and nodding. The tube sticking out of his chest gave a hiss as it bled off the air pocket in his chest from his punctured lung. He looked back at his palm-emitter, looking over the hologram once more.

"Nineteenth Infantry is reporting only sporadic contact," Vuxten said. He shook his head. "We've got no armor, no heavy weapons," he said. He looked at the Sergeant. "We've got to retreat. Have the men pull out, go east, link up with the 19th."

The Sergeant nodded slowly.

Before anything could be said a Hesstlan slid through the entrance to the foxhole, landing smoothly and coming to her feet with a standard SMG in her fist. She looked around and let the SMG drop.

"Wounded?" she asked.

"The LT's out. Head wound," the Sergeant said.

"Caught a high-vee richocet," the Private said, patting his leg.

"The Major's got a rod stuck in his chest," the Sergeant said.

"LT first," the Hesstlan medic said, moving over to where the LT had been left sitting up. She looked him over quickly. "Fractured skull, cerebral swelling, damaged eye socket, destroyed eye," she said quietly.

Vuxten heard someone talking back as she quickly hung up plasma and set the needle quickly.

She tossed out stickers to the six Telkan in the foxhole. "Anti-rad. Take it now."

Vuxten just nodded, stripping off the plastic wrap and the plastic cap and injecting it into his leg.

As Vuxten watched she stuck an injector up the LT's nose and pressed the button. It clicked and the telltales went green.

"That's all I can do. Tank hit the medic wagon, it's out of action," the Hesstlan said. She moved to Vuxten, looking him over. "Punctured lung, sucking chest wound, missing ear, missing eye, cracked muzzle, two puncture wounds right thigh, abrasion on left thigh, concussion, radiation burns."

She looked at the bleed valve in his chest, then checked the bandage. "Bandage is stuck to wound," she checked the leg pressure dressings. "Bandages stuck to wound," she said when there was tacky resistance. She slapped up another plasma bag and threaded the needle into Vuxten's arm quickly.

Vuxten ignored her as she started moving to each person in the foxhole, going over the data. More and more datalinks were joining in, but they were still so very few compared to how large the battalion had been.

Well, before the atomic had gone off and caught them in the open and outside their armor.

"Gotta run," the Hesstlan said. She hefted her SMG as she moved to the exit. "Keep trying to punch through the MEDCOM, Rossy," she said to thin air.

Vuxten realized that she'd been talking to her eVI assistant.

"471, you there still? I gave you an order not to drown," Vuxten said, smiling. Painkillers were doing their work.

--at morgue armor all buried datacables damaged might be no-go-- 471 sent back.

"Get with a battle buddy," Vuxten ordered. He pinged the engineers. "Get to nearest battle buddy," he ordered.

He looked up at the Sergeant, who was looking at Vuxten with a blank expression.

"You're second highest ranking of my NCO's," Vuxten said.

The NCO nodded.

"I'm going to sound the retreat. We're pulling out East. 19th knows we're coming," Vuxten said.

The NCO nodded slowly.

"Leave the more heavily wounded," Vuxten ordered.

Something passed through the back of the NCO's eyes.

"We stay here, they're going to have the tanks hammer apart our cover and their infantry is going to dig us out," Vuxten said.

The NCO just nodded again.

"Good," Vuxten reached up and tapped his datalink, his fingers feeling the tacky texture of half-dried blood. "This is Major Vuxten. All NCO's, gather your men, leave behind any non-ambulatory wounded, break enemy contact and retreat east."

Only one protested, but Vuxten calmly ordered him again and the Corporal reluctantly said "Yes, sir," and disconnected.

Vuxten leaned back, panting, and gasped when the valve hissed and the iron band released on his chest. The painkiller nanites were blocking the pain signals, for the most part, keeping them to a dull murmur, but the band around his chest and the pressure inside were a weird kind of almost panicky not-pain.

"How's it look out there, Sergeant?" Vuxten asked.

The NCO popped the periscope and looked around.

"Looks clear," he said. "Looks like they're fighting to the north and west of us."

Vuxten nodded and touched his datalink. "It's clear. No reason to delay. Fall back to Rally Point Delta," he ordered. "Repeat, fall back to Rally Point Delta, all elements, all elements, fall back to Rally Point Delta."

Icons started flashing as Vuxten looked up.

"I'll stay here with the LT," Vuxten said. "You three make a run for it."

The Sergeant looked at the two Privates, who looked at the LT, then at Vuxten, then back at the Sergeant. The Sergeant gave a slight nod and the two Privates returned it.

"Yeah, we're not leaving the two of you here, sir," the Sergeant said.

Vuxten shook his head. "We'll be fine, Sergeant," he looked down at the holo-emitter. More and more icons were streaming to the east. He could tell by the speed that they were largely on foot and not in powered armor.

Sparks shot from the half-disassembled control panel and the overhead cover snapped back.

"Kalki's balls," the private swore, moving over to the panel. He looked in for a minute and jiggled the wires. Sparks shot out and he jumped back, but nothing else happened.

"Welp, this is fun," the NCO said. He dug in a pocket and pulled out a folded cravat, tying it around his muzzle. "Hate the dust."

Vuxten looked up. "Get out of here, Sergeant. Take the privates with you. That's an order."

The NCO shook his head. "Sorry, sir, ain't happening," he said. He looked down. "I'll just have my lawyers argue it was an illegal order if we survive."

Vuxten slowly stood up, his hand pressed right below the rod sticking out of his chest that had been sprayed with sealant. "I need you to lead the men."

The NCO shrugged and looked at the privates. "You two need leading, right?"

"Yes, sergeant," one private said.

"Sergeant, I can't remember how to tie my boots or if 670-1 says I should wear my helmet on my head or my ass," the other one said.

"See," the NCO said. He turned away from Vuxten. "Sit down, sir. Don't make it worse."

Vuxten swore, leaning back against the wall, panting through his mouth, pulling in the dust laden air.

The LT woke up with a jerk, looking around, blinking his eyes. "What happened?"

"Took a chunk of the generator shed to the face, sir," one of the privates said. Vuxten took a second to remember his name.

Geptek. Private Geptek.

"Head hurts," the LT said. He winced and coughed, hacking up blood and spitting it into the grenade sump.

"Skull fracture, sir," the other private, Piftun said.

"Explains the headache," the LT said. He looked around and saw Vuxten. "You all right, sir?"

"Fine, Lieutenant," Vuxten said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing the valve to hiss.

The Sergeant ducked down and swore.

"What?" Vuxten asked.

"Atrekna servitor infantry is moving up, looks like they're trying to support the tanks to the north," the NCO, Sergeant Nalret told him. "Lots of infantry."

"They notice our men bugging out?" Vuxten asked.

"We're retreating?" The Lieutenant asked.

"Lots of tanks and we got atom smashed," Private Piftun said.

"How bad are the casualties?" the Lieutenant asked, struggling to sit upright.

"Bad," Vuxten said. "Battalion took heavy casualties. Slorpies are using new tactics, caught us all with our pants down."

"And ass fucked us straight into oblivion," Sergeant Nalret said. He peeked up and ducked down right as gunshots could be heard. "Dammit, they're clearing the foxholes."

Vuxten nodded and glanced up, looking for one thing in particular.

The Hesstlan tank, Bunnicula, was still sitting there, the flames still whooshing out of the front deck.

The antenna were still intact.

There was a skittering and a green mantid wearing a swath of ballistic cloth around himself and a face mask dropped into the foxhole.

--made it-- 471 said.

"You were supposed to retreat," Vuxten said.

--sorry no speak zero-math-- 471 said, moving over next to Vuxten. He looked over him. --cant leave you alone for a minute before you get attacked by a big bird--

Vuxten laughed, coughed, and groaned.

More gunshots followed by a grenade.

"Dammit," the NCO said. "They're flat out executing people."

Vuxten stood up, feeling 471 climb up his leg.

--got a plan-- 471 asked.

"You aren't going to like it," Vuxten said. He looked around real quick. The dust was still thick, visibility was down, and the heavy particles from the atomic made sure everything was hazy. He could see another group of servitor infantry moving by. Their armor was ocher colored and they were one of the bipedal ones.

"I'm not going to like what, sir?" Sergeant Nalret asked.

"Dammit," Vuxten swore as a group of Telkan Marines made a run for it but were forced back into cover by the servitor's fire. "Jack up the painkillers but keep me mobile, 471."

--roger-- 471 said. --nanite med-interface hacked--

"We've got to keep the infantry from keeping us pinned down for the tanks," Vuxten swore. He felt the sudden tingle and loss of sensation around where the injuries were.

"All right, men, you heard the Major," the LT said, slowly standing up. He racked a round in the rifle. "You know what we have to do."

The two privates nodded, checking their rifles.

"Cover me," Vuxten said, suddenly scrambling out of the foxhole.

"SIR!" Sergeant Nalret yelled.

High-vee rounds whipped around Vuxten, narrowly missing him, as he sprinted the twenty meters to the tank. The troops in the foxhole Vuxten had left behind answered with fire of their own, pulling tyhe servitors fire toward them as Vuxten's boots pounded on the scorched and packed dirt. The iron band tightened down to the point that he was seeing spots as he slid to a stop behind it. The telephone panel was open and he looked inside.

The little crosspatch module was still inside, blinking green.

"Hook that thing into my datalink," Vuxten said. He took a deep breath and there was a hiss as the pressure released.

--gotcha-- 471 said.

Vuxten climbed up the tank, ducking down as someone took a shot at him. The wisps of smoke from the crew compartment smelled of burnt wiring and scorched macroplas and Vuxten breathed a sigh of relief that there wasn't a body in the hatch as he dropped inside.

CONNECTION ESTABLISHED appeared in his vision as he stood up and checked the power leads to the TC's gun. It was connected, but the telltales on the gun were dark.

"Can you get it fixed?" Vuxten asked as 471 climbed up next to him.

--pull charging lever fire-- 471 said.

The charging lever highlighted in Vuxten's vision as a handful of rounds smacked into the TC's shield. Vuxten grabbed it and yanked it back even as he activated the comlink.

"HHC, 4th Telkan Rifleman Battalion, to 63rd Artillery Brigade. Need immediate fire support, enemy infantry in the open," Vuxten said as he let the bolt snap forward on the heavy machinegun. He glanced at 471. "Ready?"

471 put up a thumbs up emoji.

"HHC 63rd Artillery, go for fire request," the datalink answered.

"Fire ranging shots, will correct," Vuxten said.

"Roger. Forty-two seconds," the voice said.

Vuxten saw a dozen of the servitors heading for the foxhole, behind the sergeant and the two privates, who were busy shooting at a squad of servitors they had pinned down.

Vuxten's thumbs hit the butterfly trigger on the grand old dame of the infantry.

The big Ma-Deuce roared as Vuxten raked the infantry. Shots started pinging off the ballistic shields around him as he pulled the gun around.

--use pedals-- 471 said, highlighting the pedals at his feet in Vuxten's cybereye.

Vuxten raked the incoming infantry, stomped the bar, and was flung against the side of the hatch by the speed. He groaned, spit blood, and fired the heavy general purpose heavy machinegun at the oncoming Atrekna servitors.

"Fall back!" Vuxten ordered through his datalink to the thirty or so icons he could see.

Most of them didn't blink in recognition of the order. They didn't move either.

The ranging shots hit and Vuxten looked around. He overlaid the fire grid over his vision and started blinking at targets, letting the software loaded into his datalink give them the adjustments, which he called out over the commo band to 63rd Field Artillery's fire control operator through the tank's radio.

White phosphorous lit up the dusty darkness as the rounds started hammering down, coming in with a shriek and a flutter as the big twelve-inch guns of divisional artillery started hammering. Vuxten kept calling in corrections even while 471 kept the failing nanoforge running.

The Atrekna servitors kept coming in waves and Vuxten kept raking them with the heavy machinegun. He was breathing heavy, the band not releasing when the valve hissed, but he kept firing.

A tank round whipped by and Vuxten kicked the pedal, turning the gun around.

Four Atrekna tanks loomed out of the darkness, their lights searching around.

Vuxten fired on the first one, watching the API-AM rounds tear into the front glacis.

The return shot missed, but not by much.

The second shot from the right hand tank hit the side of the tank, throwing Vuxten against the ring mount as the reactive armor exploded to bleed off the energy. The explosion inside the tank slammed against the blast shield at the bottom of the TC's lift, throwing Vuxten half out of the tank.

Crazily, he could see the straps that he should have used to buckle himself safely in.

Trucker never used those... he thought, slightly dazed.

One of the tanks reoriented its gun and fired at the foxhole, sending up a gout of dirt.

--up up up get up-- 471 sent. He used the hack on the medical nanites to null the painkiller effect for a moment.

Vuxten screamed as the pain hit him from the injuries, grabbing his side.

471 cut the pain.

Vuxten rolled over and looked in time to see a troop run out from behind a dead tank, holding a shoulder fired rocket launcher in one hand and a reload box in the other. The trooper knelt down, fumbling at the launcher, trying to load it.

Vuxten got behind the gun, swiveling it around, and started firing at the tanks.

The gunner put the launcher on his shoulder.

A burst from one of the infantry squads cut him down, leaving his torn corpse laying in the dust.

A tank round whipped by and Vuxten felt the burn of a near hit as the air fluoresced.

Two figured burst out of the foxhole, running for the launcher, and Vuxten swiveled, putting hate on the squad of servitors. Two vanished in a spray of chunky salsa as Vuxten directed the heavy fifty rounds onto them, WP spraying up from the incendiary core and the white flash of the antimatter kicker throwing the others to the side, their armor barely holding.

One lifted up the launcher, the other grabbed the reload box.

471 fired a micro-rocket at the tank starting to aim at the two gunners. The rocket whipped across with a sharp whistle but didn't do anything else but make a bright flash and blow off paint.

Vuxten corrected the artillery and kept his thumbs on the triggers as he raked the berm that now the Atrekna servitor infantry was using for cover instead of his troops.

"Feel it, baby, feel it," Vuxten heard over the comlink as the trooper with the rocket launcher fired. The rocket whipped across the space and hit right where the cupola met the hull.

The hatches blew off the tank in a bright white flash.

Vuxten saw movement and swung the gun around, using muscle power, pain flaring in his side for a moment. He saw the ocher armor of the servitors and fired again, knocking most of them into the dirt missing vital parts. The others dove for cover and Vuxten held the trigger, the AM part of the APIWP-AM round chewing apart the cover in three seconds flat.

The rounds started hitting right where Vuxten ordered.

Rounds clanked off the ballistic shield as another tank exploded and the two man crew ran for a new position. Someone else climbed out of the foxhole and ran forward, joining the other two, kneeling down and firing a rifle.

Vuxten was too busy hammering the big fifty rounds at the servitors, ignoring the return fire that kept hitting the ballistic shielding or whipping past him with the high pitched screaming whirring of hi-vee rounds.

Another group was in the open and Vuxten called in the artillery corrections based on the ranging round that was still pinging its location, even as he fired at them, forcing them to take cover behind the destroyed Atrekna tanks.

He whipped around and returned fire when another group of servitors got his range and started plinking small arms at him. The rocket crew fired and the round hit at a bad angle, the EFP just tearing a long gouge in the battlesteel armor of the tank. He heard a round clank off the hull right before his left leg went numb. He glanced down to make sure it was still there, then pulled the fifty around, moving around the cupola, to return fire.

A third tank exploded and the little group started running for a new position.

The fourth tank fired and the trio disappeared in a cloud of dust and the bloom of an explosion.

Vuxten pulled the gun around and put hate into the front glacis of the tank, the fifty chewing at the thick armor and leaving fist sized dents as the AM happily devoured everything it touched in a white flash.

A figure broke from cover, keeping low, running at the last tank.

--nanoforge out working-- 471 said.

The tank's return fire rocked the tank as it hit the side and blew through into the crew spaces.

The figure grabbed something off its waist harness, brought it close, then jumped up and dropped something into the barrel of the tank even as Vuxten let off the trigger. Vuxten saw the figure's head was wrapped in bandages as they sprinted for a building, started staggering, and collapsed next to a burning medic wagon.

Two of the trio got up, one grabbing the launcher, the other grabbing the reload pack with one hand and the equipment harness of the unmoving one.

Vuxten saw movement, pulling the gun around, and saw servitors running from the tanks toward the wreckage of the armory.

The fifty ripped them to shreds.

The duo made it to cover, pulling the unmoving one with them.

The forth tank's hatches blew off.

More artillery dropped down, pounding the other side of the berm.

"Correct, point three north one point two east," Vuxten coughed out.

"Forty-one seconds," fire control answered.

Vuxten pulled the gun back around as he spotted a group of servitors stand up and climb the berm.

The fifty knocked what was left of them back onto the other side of the berm. The last box of ammo clanked into the autoloader and the belts were cross-attached.

Another pair of servitor tanks appeared from the darkness, facing north. One fired at something Vuxten couldn't see. Both were damaged and smoking, their armor dented and rent.

A rocket from the duo hit the other one before it could fire, hitting low on the rear.

The entire ass end exploded up and the port track blew off.

Vuxten saw the duo drop the rocket launcher when the one holding the reload pack tossed it to the side. They hefted the unmoving one and started running for a smoking foxhole.

Tracers whipped around them and Vuxten pulled the gun around, spotting the servitors, and directing fire their way.

The ones that didn't get shredded ducked behind the berm, more important things than a pair of running Telkans suddenly on their minds.

--on your left-- 471 said. --time for some tunes--

Vuxten pulled the gun around just in time to see a rocket team kneel down, aiming at the tank he was on. He pressed the butterfly trigger and hammered rounds at them. They blew apart just as they fired but the rocket shrieked by and vanished into the darkness.

I'M A HIP HOP SOLDIER! sounded out from the speakers on the tank.

The figure by the burning medic wagon lifted its head and got to all fours, shaking their head.

Vuxten raked the fifty across the berm to keep the servitors honest and then swore as the gun jammed. He yanked twice on the handle, got nothing, and popped the feed tray, glancing at the other tank.

It was getting closer, rotating its barrel.

Vuxten pulled the knife off his harness and dug the blade in, trying to pry the dented shell casing loose as rounds started clanking off the hull of the tank.

The figure by the medic wagon lunged up like a sprinter at the starting gun. It ran up and jumped, grabbing the ladder, and pulling themselves up onto the hull of the tank.

Servitors fired at Vuxten but one of the duo crouched down by a burning mass-tank truck threw a grenade, which dropped into the foxhole that the servitors had taken over.

It blew hamburger into the air with a white flash.

The shell casing popped free and Vuxten slapped the feed tray shut with one hand as he sheathed the knife with the other.

LIKE A PISTOL IMMA SMOKIN'

He racked a round in and pulled the gun around.

The bandaged up Telkan Marine used a pistol to fire into the top hatch of the servitor tank then yanked the hatch open as Vuxten pressed down on the butterfly trigger, the fifty roaring out.

Ma-Deuce is faithful as long as you feed her, Vuxten heard his basic training instructor in his memories.

IMMA CRUSHIN NOT JOKIN'

The Telkan on top of the servitor tank dropped something inside then dove off the top of the tank, hitting heavily as the tank kept closing in on Vuxten.

WHIPPIN SISSIES FOR A PAST TIME

One of the duo broke cover, running for the collapsed Telkan.

There was a bright flash and the hatches blew off the servitor tank.

Vuxten raked the berm again, keeping the servitor's head down even as he ordered another correction for the artillery. The last box of ammo was down to almost empty and there were no more boxes in the autoloader.

AND NO I'M NEVER JOKING

--nanoforge back up-- 471 said.

The nanoforged hissed and a box of fifty ammo slapped into the autoloader.

Vuxten held down the trigger and raked the berm with the last of the box and the first third of the next box in one long burst.

The fifty's barrel was starting to glow a dull red.

I BLOW AWAY SUCKERS

A servitor popped up with an anti-tank rocket, fired, and ducked back down.

One of the duo pegged him with a burst and the duck became a flop as the other one reached cover dragging the limp one with the bandaged head.

WITH A FLICKER OF MY INDEX

--oh crap-- 471 one said, putting up a tic mark.

Vuxten swung around the gun and swore.

Tanks were advancing from the south, heading north, toward what few defenders remained.

"Fire control, I've got tanks in the open," Vuxten said, his voice tight. "Marking. Fire for effect."

"I've got friendly transponders in the area," Fire Control warned.

"Then shoot straight, you Army pukes," Vuxten snapped, holding down the trigger and raking a group of servitors that were running for the running lights of the oncoming tanks.

There was a chuckle "Fifty-two seconds, Marines," Fire Control stated.

I CARRY LOTS OF CASH

Vuxten saw one of the trio run for the wreckage of the armory, a greenie hanging on for dear life on the belt of his equipment harness. Vuxten saw a group of servitors running for one of the half-collapsed foxholes and hit the butterfly trigger.

The servitors didn't make it.

I WHIP A SUCKERS ASS

--822 got gun forge up-- 471 said.

I DRIVE A BIG CADDY

"Barrel's overheating, buddy," Vuxten said.

--duck down--

AND I PULL THE TRIGGER FAST

Vuxten ducked as the music cut out and 471 climbed up onto the TC's gun mount.

The servitors took the lack of fire as their chance to run for their own tanks.

Which meant they got caught in the open as 63rd Field Artillery's rounds dropped in, blowing off their stealth shells and erupting into bomblets that turned the entire area into a flash of explosions. Vuxten squinted his cybereye and saw that most of the tanks, the flashes were in a corona around them as the tank's point defense picked off the bomblets.

The infantry had no such luck.

471 was spraying the barrel with a hose he'd pulled from his microforge, the barrel hissing as the green mantid sprayed what looked like a random pattern but was really keeping the rapid cooling from warping the barrel.

The tanks were getting closer as 471 dropped back down next to Vuxten.

--some fun-- 471 said.

Vuxten coughed, tasted blood, and spit over the side of the tank.

"Yeah."

--music-- 471 asked.

The trooper that had run for the armory came running back, carrying a launcher over their shoulders and six ammo cans hanging from straps, three on each end. They started jumping left to right as bullets started hitting around them.

"Might as well," Vuxten said, standing back up and putting his hands on the handles of the gun.

He pressed the trigger as the tank's external speakers went live.

NOW I HAVE A STORY THAT I'D LIKE TO TELL

The gun roared and the servitors dove for cover.

The trooper carrying the launcher put on a burst of speed and slid, left foot first, next to the other Telkan Marine who had pulled wreckage around to use for cover.

ABOUT THIS GUY YOU ALL KNOW HIM

Vuxten was completely unaware he was smiling as the bomblets kept dropping on the tanks, some of them starting to get hits as the tank's point defense systems were overloaded.

HE HAS ME SCARED AS HELL!