First Contact

Chapter 803: Ultimis Diebus Hominum

It was like living in the end of days. Stars going out and coming back. Entire planets erased of life and restored. Military forces clashing everywhere.

In the back of your mind was the question: Are the Atrekna coming for me next?

Entire species were wiped out. Some were restored, many were not.

Among them was Terran Descent Humanity.

Many feared: If the Mad Lemurs of Terra could be wiped out, does that mean I will be next? How can I stop them?

The Pubvians answered: You rage against the coming of the night. Do not go gently. Do not go without a whisper. Sing like a Rigellian in a park full of ducks. Love like a Telkan broodmother. Dance like a Treana'ad cattle princess at a debutante ball. Gallop with glee like a Lanaktallan. Laugh like a green mantid alone in an appliance store. Hold one another by the hands, lift your face to the sky, and cry out "I will not yield" even as the darkness approaches.

And so, as a Lanaktallan, I raised my voice in song, I loved, I sang, I laughed, I galloped through life as if it was a grassy field in the morning, and I held tight to my friends and family. - Ruminations on The End of Days, Smokey Cone Press, 8999 PG

Technical Specialist Grade Seven Fervat watched as the six Treana'ad pulled the grav-dolly into the maintenance bay. On it was a heavy black armor, over three meters tall, 1.75 meters wide, 1.75 meters deep. Biped design, heavy gun over the right shoulder, missile launchers at the lower legs, drone launcher on the left back, forearms more heavily armored then they needed to be.

"Careful, careful," the Treana'ad Master Technical Sergeant said, as the armor was lifted up by graviton and set down on the ground in front of an armor maintenance station. "All right, it's down."

The Treana'ad motioned to his men. "Let's go."

The Treana'ad headed back out, one of them reaching back to rotate the barrel on the minigun on his abdomen.

The maintenance technicians all looked at one another, wondering what the armor was doing just dropped on the floor of the maintenance shed.

"What is that?" someone asked.

Everyone jumped back as the armor shifted and got to its feet, standing up and perfectly still.

"It's live? Why isn't it shut down?" Chief Warrant Officer Two Hel.grak barked, moving forward. The Kobold looked at it. "Why are its armaments loaded? Why are the nanoforges hot?"

"Don't know, sir," the Armor Maintenance Master Sergreant said, tilting its head and getting a better look at the deadly looking armor. He looked at two green mantids working on a damaged set of Tukna'rn Heavy Infantry power armor. "You two, see if you can shut it down."

The two green mantids moved forward, saw the armor, then faced each other. They leaned forward, touched antenna, and then scurried off.

"Hey, get back here!" the Chief yelled. "Where are you going?"

Fervat frowned. He'd expected the green engineers to be thrilled to work on a unique suit of armor.

Instead, they used private communication, whispering to one another through tactile antenna touch, then rushed away.

The Chief moved forward with a scanner.

"All right, let's see what this armor is and who it belongs too," he said. He held it up and activated it.

Lasers sprang from the emitters, forming a grid over the armor.

The lasers immediately sprayed out from the armor, separated into their prismatic components wherever they touched the glossy black armor.

Fervat was looking at the scanner, standing slightly behind and to the right of the Chief, when it flashed.

SECURITY LOCKOUT it read.

Then bricked.

The Chief cursed, rebooted the scanner, and held it out again.

Fervat noticed that the armor seemed to shrink slightly, like it was tensing.

The lasers spun up, formed the grid.

And split into the component wavelengths where they touched the armor.

The scanner traced the outline. It went to lockout but the Chief was ready with an override.

To Fervat it seemed like the scanner was a bit nervous about it.

NO MATCH came up.

The scanner suddenly flashed SECURITY LOCKOUT and bricked again.

The Chief made an annoyed rattle in his throat, using a claw to press the reset button and hold it.

Fervant moved away, going over to a set of armor that was partially taken apart to allow the mechanics to fix the pressure sleeve. It was powered up and he connected the suit's computer to the network. He grabbed the helmet in his hands and turned it till the visor faced the strange suit of armor.

It highlighted the other armor, then the strange one.

The Chief cursed as the lasers hit and separated into rainbows again.

Fervant watched as the half-disassembled suit registered the suit.

CW3-I Casey, Lord Knight sir appeared above the armor. A strange symbol next to it. The letters were scrambled for a second beneath the wearer's ID, then cleared.

NOVASTAR-VII: MODEL XM4219E6b2z - RINGBREAKER CONFIG

It flashed twice then put up another notice.

FULLY AWOKEN

Then beneath it appeared a single word: LOZEN

The Chief cursed and tried again as Fervant stepped back. He walked toward the armor and saw movement above him. He slowed and glanced up.

There were at least two dozen green mantid engineers staring at the armor from the support beam that everyone called 'greenie highway' since they used it to move around up off the floor. Some were raising their bladearms as equations appeared between their antenna. It was a simple one, that Fervant knew: I=L/V

The formula for computing inertia.

The Chief tried again and mist suddenly blossomed around the armor's feet, rapidly covering it.

Fervant could tell by the slight bite to the sinuses that it was anti-laser prismatic mist.

Everyone started coughing. Someone hit the fans and the mist was sucked out.

"Someone power down that armor," the Chief yelled. He pointed at Fervant. "You, help two enlisted."

Fervant joined two lower enlisted and they moved over to the armor carefully. As he got close his head started to ache. One of the privates looked over nervously at Fervant and the Technical Specialist Grade Four slowed down.

do not defile me with your touch whispered in his brain.

Fervant stopped, holding up his hand. "Don't get any closer," he said. He began backing up. "Someone grab us helmets with live psychic shielding."

"Psychic shielding? Why?" the Chief asked.

that's right go away he heard faintly.

"Because the armor is phasically charged and psychically active," Fervant said.

A PFC ran up with three helmets, the telltales glowing that the psychic shielding was active. Fervant grabbed one and clapped it on his head before moving up to the armor.

He could see, in his retinal datalink, that the helmet was at 62.82% load.

Around the feet were hair thin tendrils of electricity, bright purple in color.

"Sir, I don't think this armor likes us," the PFC called out.

"Find the dataport, shut it down," the Chief ordered. "Why was it even brought in here live?"

"Don't know, sir," a Technical Sergeant said. "Some Treana'ad special forces brought it in."

"Well, where are they?" the Chief asked.

"They dropped off the armor and left," the T-SGT answered.

Fervant looked the armor over.

He couldn't see a single seam. No dataports. Nothing. Even the joints were smooth, like the armor had a skin rather than thick armor plating. There were no telltales, no access panels or ports, nothing. He held up a camera probe and looked at the barrel of the massive cannon.

An iris was closed just inside.

He checked the thrusters on the back, on either side of what had to be a massive ammo pack that had the two embedded orbs that let him know it had two dedicated nanoforges.

Closed with irises.

"There's no access points anywhere on this armor," Fervant said. He moved the camera to the neck. "Not even a neck seam."

The PFC rapped his knuckles on the armor and frowned at the fact there was barely any sound. Bright purple sparks jumped out from under his knuckles and he winced.

"My helmet's psychic shielding just peaked at 115%," the PFC said. He rapped and winced again. "Yup, every time I touch it."

Fervant got up and moved back, waving at the two lower enlisted. "Get away from her for right now," he said. He reached up and touched his datalink, rapidly scrolling through the options, until he got the local Military Intelligence shop.

"783rd Military Intelligence, Lieutenant Geerwark speaking, how may I help you, sir, ma'am, both, or neither?" the voice answered.

"This is Technical Specialist Fervant, 138th Maintenance, Alpha Company, I need a possibly classified records check," he said.

"One moment. Hold for Chief Tawrglark," the voice stated.

There were a couple clinks as Fervant moved over to the disassembled armor and cross loaded the imagery from the visor to the memory in his datalink.

The Chief was trying to order the greenies in but they just put up emojis and icons of refusal and stayed up on the 'highway' above the floor.

Fervant moved over by the drink machine, waiting.

"Chief Tawrglark, 783rd Military Intelligence, Records Section, how may I help you, sir, ma'am, both, or neither?" a new voice asked.

"This is Tech Specialist Fervant, 138th Maintenance, Alpha Company," Fervant stated.

"How can 738 help you?" the Chief asked.

"We've got an odd suit of armor. It keeps bricking our scanners. I could only pull up an armor HUD ID on it, but it didn't tell me much," Fervant said. "I've got armor HUD imagery files if you need it."

"Shoot it to me, I'll see what I can do," the Chief sounded pretty upbeat.

"Starting," Fervant said, sending the file. It took a little over two seconds. "Done."

"Got it. Let's see what you've..." the voice trailed off. "Uh, tell me there's nobody touching it."

Fervant looked over. The Chief was tapping on it with a sensor wand. A private was running his hands over it, trying to find any seams or any spot with any give. There was tendrils of electricity around the feet and starting to dance on the clawed fingers.

"Yes, sir, there is," Fervant said.

His datalink clinked, suspending the call he was on, and a new voice came over his datalink.

"All personnel near the armor designated Lozen, immediately cease contact or attempts at communication. This is an order direct from Sector Command," appeared in his vision and was broadcast audibly.

"I am Lozen. Do not touch me," the armor suddenly said, its voice that of a stern woman, that brought up the mental image of a disapproving school teacher.

The Chief jumped back. The enlisted scrambled away. Fervant could see the Chief touching his datalink, an angry expression on his face.

The datalink clinked.

CALL RESUMED appeared in his vision.

"Welcome back. That right there's a Ringbreaker suit. An old Novastar-VII suit," the voice of the MI Chief said. "There won't be any files on it. No schematics. It's a discontinued suit with warsteel type two laminate armor. It's name is Lozen, and it's about two to three hundred years old."

Fervant blinked.

"Treat it with respect. It's sentient. Not a VI either. That's a phasic intertwined AI designed to cause Complex Operator Identification Syndrome in the pilot," The MI Chief said.

"What's it doing here?" Fervant asked.

"Pilot's debriefing Sector Commanders about something. Can't get into it," the Chief said. "If you have any problems, let your CO know. For the love of Enraged Phillip, do not piss that armor off."

The line went dead and Fervant moved over next to the Chief and the gathered up lower enlisted, all of whom were staring at the armor. The flat faceshield now had two burning red lights that appeared to be sunk in the glossy black metal.

Fervant quickly explained it to the Chief.

The Chief swore and stalked off after yelling at everyone to get back to work. Fervant saw the Chief head into his office, slamming the door behind him.

There was the eerie experience of almost total silence in the massive armorer maintenance bay.

Fervant looked at the others. "Ideas?"

One of the Puntimat mechanics raised her hand.

"Go ahead, Simms," Fervant said.

"Maybe appealing to it to allow us to work on it might work?" she asked. "Use formal address and proper respect? Like the Imperium guys do?"

Fervant though for a moment, then nodded. "Give it a try."

"What's the pilot's name, rank, unit?" she asked, looking around.

Fervant told her, noticing that somehow it seemed like the armor looked at him when he recited the pilot's name and rank.

The Puntimat mechanic moved forward, going over to several work stations before moving toward the armor and stopping a good three meters from the suit.

"Oh, powerful and mighty Lozen, protector and sword of Lord Knight sir Casey, I am Technical Specialist Grade Three Smizahala, Confederate Army, Bravo Company, 138th Maintenance Battalion," she said. She set down four expended 40mm shell casings that had 550 cord wicks floating in oil. She lit each of them with a hand-held butane torch before pulling out a handful of diagnostic tools and setting them down in a half-circle around her. She knelt down, faced the armor, and sang. "I beseech unto you, to deliver unto us, the mechanics of 138th Maintenance Battalion, your requirements to remain in holy service. It is my and my unit's duty and honor to keep armor ready to protect our loved warriors. "

There was silence for a moment.

"You may approach, worthy one," the armor said softly. The voice had gone from a stern school teacher to a low, smokey, sultry voice.

"Be careful," someone said, unnecessarily.

Simms moved up, standing in front of the armor.

"Place your palm induction datalink upon the surface of my breast," the woman stated.

Simms gulped, closed her eyes, and put her palm on the armor.

Fervant saw the Puntimat gasp suddenly, her eyes opening wide. She trembled as her eyes rolled back slightly, her ears twitching and her fur rippling on her head. Her nostrils flared and her lips parted as she gave another shuddering gasp.

One of the privates went to step forward and Fervant grabbed him, shaking his head when the private looked at him.

After over a full minute the Puntimat stepped back, taking a deep breath. Her uniform was soaked with sweat down her sides as she turned and walked forward.

A few people, Fervant included, gasped at the sight of her eyes.

They glowed a soft amber.

"She won't permit males to touch her unless they're part of a warrior caste like the Treana'ad or Mantid. She'll permit males who are initiates or higher of a religious order to work on her," Simms said. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, the amber glow was gone. "She has certain requirements."

Simms held a datapad out to Fervant. Fervant took it and glanced at it, then took another look.

Candles. Candelabras. Warsteel skulls. Strips of cloth and vellum inscribed with runes.

"She wants all of this?" Fervant asked.

Simms nodded. "That or she will endure the pain as her operator does," the Puntimat said. She shuddered again. "That was... something not really covered in training. They don't cover telemechanic psychic linkage in mechanic school."

"No, they don't," Fervant said. He tapped the dataslate. "Select a half dozen female mechanics that specialize in power armor maintenance. Run this stuff off over at the Class-VI creation engine by the tanks. Set it up how she wants it. I'll talk to the Chief."

Simms nodded and moved away.

Fervant glanced at the armor as he headed to the Chief's office. When he went on, the Chief was on the com, asking why 138 had to hand the armor.

Fervant stood and waited for the Chief's call to get done. Finally, the Chief disconnected the call with a slap of his hand.

"Nearest armor maintenance bay," Chief Warrant Officer Two Hel.grak snarled. He shook his head then slapped his tail on the floor to bleed off irritation. "Do you have something for me?"

Fervant nodded and handed over the datapad. The Chief looked at it, scrolling through the limited data.

"Novastar? Aren't those from the Ringwars?" the Chief asked.

Fervant shrugged. "Even if they are, it's in our bay now," he sighed. "The armor is fully sentient."

The Chief tapped the dataslate. "What is Holy Martial Order Sancti Ordo Spiritus Tyr?" He waved Fervant to his side of the desk. "Ever heard of it?"

"No," Fervant reached down and tapped the slate, running a search.

There wasn't much. A militant religious order from Pre-Glassing. Rigellian Kobold and Earthling membership. Thought to be wiped out in the Glassing, reappeared about two thousand years ago on another planet that wasn't listed, not long after the Reunification War of the Confederacy. Deployed during the Ringwars. Last military action as a group was the Mar-gite Invasion.

The order itself was considered wiped out during the Confederacy-Council Conflict when the order's homeworld was biocracked despite not being deployed.

No members were listed as having survived.

"So what's it doing here?" the Chief asked.

"Apparently the pilot is debriefing the Sector Commanders, according to MI. They probably just brought the armor in here instead of having it stand in Sector HQ's parking lot," Fervant said.

"All right. Get a group of mechanics, female only, run off the requirements, we'll see what we can do," the Chief said. He sat down and put his head in his hands before giving a long suffering sigh. "Bad enough we have that Digital Omnimessiah blessed Telkan Marine's Imperium of Rage armor in our shop, now we have a Novastar too."

Fervant nodded and headed toward the door.

"It's been a weird war," he heard the Chief say, right before he closed the door.