My vision was blurred, my hands shaking, a ringing in my ears, and it was hard to breathe when we pulled into the refugee point just as dawn was breaking. In the distance the sky glowed with the violence of combat, flashes of atomic weaponry lighting up the dawn, outshining the sun, every few minutes. The ash was thick raining down from the sky, full of heavy tals and worse, my tank's scanners full of fuzz and distortion.
Mal-Kar brought the tank in and lowered it to the ground before turning off the hover fans.
The forward starboard fan made a clanging noise as it slowly wound down.
All three of my faithful crew were staggering as we climbed out of the tank. My vision kept going grey, shot with static, and at first I thought it was my helt, that perhaps the Terran molycircs had failed.
No.
It was my eyes, my brain.
I stumbled twice before I found myself supported between two Terrans in body armor.
"Easy now, Most High, we've got you," the one on the right said. The first un-synthesized voice I had heard from a Terran. It was soft, gentle, but I still didn't know if it was male or female.
"Need to reload the tank. Go back out," I mumbled. My cast thumped against the tarmac.
"Let's get him to dical. Can you understand what he's saying?" the other one asked.
"He's asking about his tank," the first one answered.
"You're tank's good. The chanics will have it fixed right up by the ti you get done with dical," one promised.
"There's more civilians. They need rescued," I mumbled.
We pushed into the dical tent. I shuddered at the contents. Injured people, so missing limbs, sobbing in pain as Terran doctors, the young filly, and the Matron moved through them, giving dical care where they could.
"Put him in sling seven," one of the Terrans said, pointing.
"There's still more out there. Just give a stim," I said softly as the Terrans put in the sling.
The Matron moved up, clicking her tongue in disapproval. She ran the scanner over and her tendrils curled.
I struggled feebly against the sling, then went limp, exhausted. The front of my lower abdon burned and ached, I couldn't catch my breath. She attached an IV line to my foreleg and another to my arm, shaking her head the entire ti.
A Terran moved up in body armor, stopping next to the Matron. "Diagnosis?"
I expected the Matron to speak out loud, instead she just showed the dataslate to the doctor.
"Just patch up, I need to get out there," I mumbled, looking up for a mont before looking back down, exhausted.
"You let us worry about that," the doctor said. He reached out and touched the complex device under the bag of simple saline water. It beeped and flashed a few lights. He turned to the Matron. "Tell his n it's just treatnt for exhaustion and stimulant overdose."
The Matron nodded and trotted away. The doctor looked at .
"Your mid-body heart is failing. Another hour and you would have started dying," he said. He put his hand on my armored forehead. "We're going to get you out of that armor, then I'm going to start working."
"There are others more wounded than ," I said, looking over at a HiKruth juvenile missing the legs on his right side. "What about him?"
"He's fine. He needs so regen ti or a cloned tissue replacent," the doctor said. "You worry about you, Most High."
I tried to object, but the dark pulled down.
-------------------
I had expected to be unconscious for days, perhaps weeks, receiving treatnt, but I woke up after less than fourteen hours, pulled to wakefulness by the dull roar and echoing rumble of an atomic detonation nearby.
Feelenta sat next to my bed, her arm in a sling, a patch covering her eye with black durachro around the patch. When I raised my head she looked up at , giving a pleased expression.
"Welco back, Most High," she smiled.
My head hurt and my chest felt weird, like it was packed with cotton.
"Get out of this sling," I said, reaching for the buckles but finding my hands too clumsy and numb to do much more than fumble at the latches.
Feelenta shook her head. "No can do. The Terrans were very specific that you spend another six hours in that sling while the quikheal takes hold."
"But the civilians," I started to say.
"Where you led, others have followed," she told . She put one hand on my paper gown covered flank. "The Terrans are helping with the effort."
The led to sagging in the sling and beginning to weep.
My failure was complete.
Feelenta put her hand on my flank again. "It's OK, Most High. It's OK."
I went to sleep again, the drugs pulling back under and back to sleep.
---------------
I woke up again, feeling the fuzziness of the anesthetic retreat slightly. My muscles felt better, no longer aching. My joints no longer felt like they were filled with a dull burning fire. My chest and lower abdon no longer ached and my breathing ca easy.
"How are you feeling?" Mal-Kar asked from where he was sitting on an ammo can next to my sling.
"Better," I said. I swallowed thickly. "Water?"
Mal-Kar nodded, holding up a brown pitcher with a straw in it. "It's citrus flavored. Go slow."
I wanted to gulp it all down. It tasted amazing, better than anything I had ever tasted. The bite of the citrus seed to clear the thick gummy taste from my mouth, wash away the strange taste of so kind of berry or fruit that I'd never tasted before.
I was only allowed three swallows before Mal-Kar pulled it back.
"How... how long?" I asked.
"Twenty hours," he told . "The humans, the Terrans, have landed in force. They're driving the Precursors back across all fronts. Most High A'armo'o has ordered the Great Herd to interlock with the Terrans until further notice," he wiped his hands on the paper jumpsuit he wore over his chanic's coveralls. "We're seeing less deserters."
"That's good," I said. I blinked, aware that only four of my eyes seed to work.
Mal-Kar shrugged. "ans anyone not willing to fight is dead, ran away, or the officers got neural prods."
The doctor pushed in, the Matron looking around him. Again, I was struck how a Terran could be taller than yet give the impression of being short and squat, despite the fact that he was lean enough to remind of the knives carried by the bangers in the hab I'd grown up in.
"Good, you're awake. Your neural scans look good, but lets check for mory loss or any other neural defects," the doctor said.
The testing took only a few minutes. A few passes with a scanner, a few questions, looking into all four of my eyes and my ears and up my nose. He tested my feeding tendril response, nodding slowly.
"All right, I'm going to turn on your two new eyes. They're Terran cybernetics, but they've been proven to work just fine for your people," he said. "They'll feel weird."
"Do we have ti for to be able to use the eyes?" I asked.
"Shouldn't take more than an hour or so for them to fully synch up. Most of the work was done while you were asleep," he said.
"Doctor..." the Matron said.
"I know. Just a few more minutes, I'd like to have his implants working," the doctor said.
My vision suddenly ca back on my left rear arc. The logo "SYNTEK CYBERNETIC DIVISION" popped up then faded.
"Blink for ," he said. I did so and he nodded. "Focus on Nurse Cha'apehl," he said, pointing at the Matron. I did so. "OK, follow the light," he moved a light around. "All right. It's a non-costic version. You can get it replaced by a costic version or bioware implant later," he straightened up. "He can be released afterwards," he told the Matron. "Send him in."
The Matron nodded and Mal-Kar stood up.
"I should go," my faithful crewman said.
"Please, stay," I said, reaching out and grabbing his hand. I could see the shiny skin around my arm, where fur had not grown back, had replaced the surface burns on my arm.
Mal-Kar sat down.
The curtain parted and Great Grand Most High A'armo'o entered the tent. He was wearing his jeweled and ornate sash and flank covering, both festooned with awards, ribbons, recognition. His pistol on his belt was inlaid with precious tals and gems. His jewelry was shined and polished.
I felt my lip curl in disgust at the obvious finery he was prancing about in.
"You have seen the dark side, Gunner Ha'almo'or," he said. He tapped his chest. "They disgust you now, do they not?"
"They do," I admitted, and hung my head, embarrassed that I'd felt such a thing, dared to judge soone so very much my superior.
Most High A'armo'o leaned forward and whispered to conspiratorially. "They disgust too."
I felt my tendrils curl in embarrassnt.
"Do you know why I am here?" he asked .
Mal-Kar rubbed my newly healed forearm with his hand.
"No, Great Grand Most High," I answered, staring at the floor. "To place back under arrest and remand to LawSec?"
There was silence for a long mont.
"I have fought across the continent for three days, Ha'almo'or," he said solemnly. "Do you know how many civilians I directly saved in those three days?"
I shook my head. "No."
"None."
I looked up and Most High A'armo'o put his hand on my paper gown covered chest, holding my gaze with his own.
"I, and my n, fought as hard as we could," he said. "Would you like to hear what I told my n, all of the tankers of the Great Herd still surviving, upon the second day?"
I nodded, my mouth dry. I swallowed thickly and Mal-Kar held up the pitcher. I gratefully drank as Most High A'armo'o placed a datacube down on the dical tray and tapped the top, activating the built in holoprojector.
Most High A'armo'o's face appeared. It was covered in sweat, his hair was matted and wet, his eyes were red with exhaustion.
"I know you are tired, n," he said. "You may be feeling that we are throwing our lives away for nothing, but nothing could be further from the truth than that feeling of despair," A'armo'o said.
I looked up and Great Grand Most High of Armor A'armo'o motioned to the cube, bringing my attention to it.
"If they get past us, get into the city at our back, then everything Gunner Ha'almo'or has done is for naught! The lemurs are coming with fire and wrath and I am confident they will join our fight against these terrible machines for, like us, they are the living! Every hour, every minute, we hold, is another child, another man, another woman, that Ha'almo'or can rescue and seal away in the shelters he has created and defended with nobody but chanics and clerks ard with whatever castoffs he could scavenge!"
His volu rose even higher.
"For all of your careers you have done things, followed orders, that you wondered if they were honorable! Now you know why you are wrapped in battlesteel! THIS, this mont RIGHT HERE, is why you were born," he bellowed out. "Fight, and gouge one more minute from the Precursors cold tal claws for Gunner Ha'almo'or and his loyal troops! Give him the ti to rescue one more colt, one more calf, one more filly! Buy him that ti, and you will not die in vain! I will be by your side and together we will form a bulwark between the Precursors and those Gunner Ha'almo'or fights to save even if we must do so with our destroyed tanks and !"
The cube winked out and I found myself crying.
"That speech rallied my n, enabled us to push them back from the cities," he said. "I lost ten thousand tanks, each full of the finest Lanaktallan to ever trot across tarmac, but we pushed them back."
He was silent for a mont, staring at .
"I am proud to call you brother, Gunner Ha'almo'or," he said softly. "I must return to my tank. The battle still rages on, despite the addition of the Terran's might it is still in doubt."
I nodded, still weeping. He moved to the door, then paused. "Soday, I hope, you can look back at these dark days with pride."
And he was gone.
I sat for a long mont after the doctor and Matron left. Eventually I wiped my eyes and looked at Mal-Kar. "Help out of the sling."
He didn't question, didn't protest, just helped untangle myself from the dical instrunts and the sling. He let lean on him for a mont as the anesthetic beam and nanites suddenly cut off and my leg began to ache.
I dressed slowly, putting on my vest, sash, and flank covering, then peeked out the flap of the fabric 'walls' that made up my little recovery area.
Just the wounded.
So many of them.
I trotted out, head held up high, acting as if I had no business within the recovery tent. When we exited I exhaled in relief.
My first breath of the outside air carried the bitter tang and tallic taste of the last several days.
Mal-Kar followed as I moved through the tents that had gone up while I had been asleep, following as we headed for where the vehicle were. Terrans ran every which way, sotis calling out to one another, many of them carrying objects or dragging cables as they worked.
My tank sat on the tarmac, in a parking space, surrounded by other tanks.
I had gotten eight steps when a Fifth Most High Tank Commander confronted .
"Where is your tank, trooper?" he asked , his tendrils limp and exhausted. "We return to battle soon, the Precursors are massing for another assault in hopes of pulling the Terrans away from the manufacturing machines."
"There, Most High," I said, pointing at my tank.
He looked it over with his side eyes, still keeping in his vision. I could see my tank, knew he could see it as clearly as .
"GREAT HERD ERGENCY SERVICES" was spray painted on the side in blue paint. The armor was patched with beaded welds. The barrel was discolored from being fired so often. The hoverskirts were patched, the plasma guns replaced by Terran kinetic weapons.
"Identify yourself," he ordered.
"Gunnery Assistant Fifteenth Class Ha'almo'or," I said, drawing myself up and saluting.
He stared at for a long ti, sothing I didn't recognize passing through his eyes. He moved aside, making a motion with his hands for to continue on toward my tank. I got five steps away when he called out my na. Not my rank, just my na. I stopped, turning to look at him.
"My mother was among those you have saved, Gunner Ha'almo'or," he said slowly. "I will never forget that you saved her despite the way the Great Herd dishonored you."
"You, and her, are welco, Most High," I said.
Karelesh waved from where they were sitting on the cupola of the tank, chewing on a ration bar. I nodded, moving up and pressing the touch-plate to lower the back deck.
"Round up your crew, alert the grav lifter crews and the bus crews," I said.
Mal-Kar nodded and jogged away.
"We going back out?" Lu'ucilu'u asked from her place at the EW console when I clattered in, my cast thumping on the deck.
"The Precursors are intending on attacking the city again," I told her.
Karelesh dropped inside the tank, still chewing on his ration bar. His hands quickly went over the controls and I felt the tank start to vibrate as the fans spun up to speed.
I put my face to the sight and toggled the power. I was carrying XM-3821 plasma cannon rounds, the two letters letting know I was carrying Terran ordnance. The status ca back at 87% after I triggered a burst of air through the chamber to clear the debris.
After a few minutes Feelenta let know the others were ready to go.
Eight other tanks would be joining us, as would two platoons of Terran Light Powered Infantry and a squad of Telkan Marine Infantry. Feelenta let know that we had air support and artillery support, via the Terrans, should we need it.
It made feel better as we moved back into the burning city. The thick smoke blocked normal vision, even created interference for the tank's sensors.
It didn't block out the wailing that could be heard even through the thick armor of the tank.
Undeterred, we drove into the city anyway, the Goodboi's and Simbas bounding along beside us.
There were more to save.
--Excerpt From: We Were the Lanaktallan of the Atomic Hooves, a moir.
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