Chương 95: Nova Wars - Chapter 80

I believe in myself so I have already won! - Anonymous Headstone He beat the French out of him! - Unknown, Resource Wars Era, TerraSol Saying we got beaten like a rug is an understatement. At least the rug is left after the beating. - Unknown, Age of Reasonable Concerns The Relaxation and Leisure Lounge on 27-348-Q had a... subdued atmosphere to say the least.

The Marines of the 7th Telkan Marine Division were clustered around tables in small groups, all of them drinking narcobrews, fizzystims, hard alk, or whatever their choice of poison was. Many had picked up the habit of smoking Treana'ad smoke sticks in the last month. The conversations were low and short lived, as the Telkan just took comfort in sitting next to people they knew.

The music was low and slow, just the jukebox running on random since nobody could be assed to get up and put money in it or select any songs. The drink-bots just wandered from table to table filling orders that were sent in via the datalink built into the table. The aura of defeat was palpable. Corporal Vak. tel sat with five others. His room-mates Private Nrexla and Private Juvretik were next to him on either side.

Their buddy PFC Cipdek sat silently halfway around the round table, a fizzybrew bottle in his hand that he was rolling one edge of the bottle across the tabletop in slow circles with. The unit armorer SSG Mepwalk sat next to Sergeant Kringik, both of them drinking off-brand narcobrews and staring at the table, with Mepwalk smoking T-Bug smokesticks one after another. Cipdek suddenly looked up and winced.

"Great, what does that asshole want?" he asked.

"Who?" Vak. tel asked, turning around. He spotted the subject instantly. The heavy leg prosthetic made the Telkani lurch slightly. The low lights of the RLL gleamed on his facial prosthetics and the dark metal of his prosthetic arm. The missing eye was plainly obvious. Field Sergeant Impton AKA Ivan Wektaki the Telkan, of the Black Skull Blood Drinker Vodkatrog Warsteel Horde, of the First Telkan Marine Corps Expeditionary Force. He saw Vak. tel's table and made a beeline for it. Vak.

tel noticed that other Telkan moved out of his way almost unconsciously, scooting in chairs, stepping to the side, or angling their bodies. The scarred and hard-bitten Telkani stopped at the table.

"You will come with me, yes?" FS Impton said. Mepwalk lifted up the bottle.

"I'm off duty. Come back tomorrow."

"That is why I am here," FS Impton said. He turned slightly.

"Come." Vak. tel shrugged.

"Sure, why not." The others got up and they followed Impton toward the exit. The Telkani stopped at one of the drink-bots, punching in a quick code and accepting the six-pack of heavy fizzybrews. The robot chirped a few times and rolled away.

"Did you just steal that?" SSG Mepwalk asked.

"It is a robot. It has no sentience or sapience. It exist to serve," Impton said. He waved his hand across the sensor at the door and Vak. tel saw the light go out. The battered Telkani waved everyone through then followed, pausing to wave his hand over the sensor again. The light came back on. Curious, Vak. tel checked his credit balance. He wasn't charged for any of the drinks.

"Where are we going?" Sergeant Kingik asked at one point.

"Somewhere for Marines to talk. That room, it stunk of defeat and sadness," Impton said. He stopped at one of the fast-print nanoforges, bringing up the menu and running through it quickly. He stepped back, set down the six-pack, and pulled two beers out, handing one to Nrexla and the other to Juvretik. After a minute to items slid out on the production plate with a ping. Vak. tel recognized it as a mass-tank and a small fabricator. Impton put them in the two empty slots of the six-pack and stood back up.

"Follow," was all the other Telkan said. Again they kept moving.

"We're heading for the morgue," SSG Mepwalk guessed.

"A place for warriors," Impton said in the oddly accented Confed Standard he used. The group was silent, even when he stopped by a 95 ton Giest Warmek and dug in the toolbox behind it. He pulled out two unlabeled glass bottles of reddish liquid, shook them up, and came back out. Eventually, he led them to where SSG Mepwalk usually worked.

"Sit, sit," Impton said. He messed with the mini-fab for a moment, connected it to the mass-tank, and set the mass-tank to draw from the atmosphere as well as undid the leaves to expose the tiny minigrinder. Another few minutes while the six Telkani sat silent and he suddenly smiled. Vak. tel realized that several of Impton's teeth had been replaced by black metal implants. He handed out the beer. Each time a bottle was removed the mini-fab hissed and a new bottle slid out to replace it.

Once the beers were handed out, he grabbed a camo-net bag, pulled it over, and sat down.

"To the Corps," Impton said, lifting his drink.

"And the Baba Yaga." The others repeated it, their hearts not really in it. Vak. tel closed his eyes and tried to resist coughing when he took the first swallow. It was less a heavy fizzybrew and more like someone took a dark narcobrew, dropped hard alcohol in it, then mixed in some stimbrew. Nrexla and Cipdek coughed. Impton laughed, reaching over to pound Cipdek's back.

"Is good, no?" Impton laughed.

"Mother's milk of Led-Cybir, the land of ice, snow, iron, and blood." He switched to pounding on Nrexla's back. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"Tastes like ass," Nrexla gasped.

"Ah, but is igood ass?" Impton laughed. The others just mumbled. Impton looked around.

"Why so glum? Is good day. Alive. Booze. Smokes. The Baba-Yaga nowhere to be seen. Is good day." Vak. tel glared.

"I don't know if you're up on current events, pal, but we just got our asses kicked." Impton grinned and nodded.

"Yes. But was good ass kicking," he reached over and slapped Cipdek on the back.

"You're just saying that because you weren't on the receiving end," SGT Kringik said. He looked down.

"We spent forty-five days getting our shit pushed in." Impton shrugged.

"I was not, not this time," he said. He looked around at the darkened bay.

"I have been," he leaned forward, tapping the black metal prothesis on the side of his muzzle.

"Not just exercises." The scarred Telkan leaned back, lighting a smokestick and puffing on it. He exhaled a cloud.

"Why so glum?"

"Because we spent forty-five days of the Terrans beating us like a rug," SSG Mepwalk said. Impton nodded.

"Yes. Tough fight." Vak. tel snorted.

"We outnumbered them. We had air superiority. We had constant reinforcements. They just jumped up and down on us." Impton shrugged.

"So?" he looked around.

"Did good. Be proud."

"How did we do good?" Vak. tel asked. The booze, the frustration, all combined with Impton's blasé attitude at the Corps being embarrassed to turn into a low simmering anger.

"We didn't take a single objective. We didn't accomplish any of the over-all missions." Impton nodded, smiling as he exhaled smoke between his teeth.

"Was grader. Did good." Everyone slowly looked up at him.

"What?" Cipdek asked. Impton shrugged.

"Was grader. Invisible in eVR with admin tools. Watched," he pointed at his missing eye and then at everyone else.

"Watched you. Did good."

"Fuck we did," SSG Mepwalk smiled.

"Commanders did not tell you?" Impton asked.

"Oh, they told us. Told us we were an embarrassment to the Corps. Told us we were stupid and incompetent. Told us we failed at everything," Mepwalk said. He angrily chugged the bottle and went to throw it.

"Here," Impton said, holding out a new beer. The six-pack hissed and clinked, pushing a new bottle into the six-pack. Mepwalk handed it over and Imton dropped it into the grinder. Everyone stayed silent as the grinder chewed through the bottle, gave a beep, and went to standby.

"Was grader," Impton said.

"You said that," Nrexla grumped.

"Watched you, I did," Impton said.

"Did everything right to training, to doctrine, to experience." The others nodded along.

"Did not matter. Terrans cheated. Terrans didn't fight fair. Terrans acted unprofessionally. Terrans deliberately humiliated Telkan," Impton said, imitating the nasally tone of the Division commander. The others nodded.

"Not true," Impton said. He looked at them.

"Commanders did not tell you how you did good?" Everyone shook their heads. Impton looked angry and for a split second Vak. tel was positive the Telkani's empty eye socket got a faint amber glow.

"I should give them a taste of my shoe," Impton snarled. He turned his hand over and activated the holo-emitter in his palm, lifting up the bottle of streaked reddish fluid and taking a drink from it.

"Thought that was for commanding officers only," Juvretik said, pointing at the spray of color and light being emitted from Impton's hand.

"No. Much needed at squad/element level," Impton said. He made some adjustments. The hologram came into focus. Percentages. Results. Vak. tel could see how there was passing grades down the line.

"Training shows holes and weakness in training, doctrine, experiences," Impton said. He shook his head.

"Failure was not at those who fight," he scrolled down. Red "FAIL" started to show up.

"Leaders fail. Commanders make poor decisions. Commanders not learn from mistakes. Commanders do not counsel each other," Impton said.

"Poor leadership. Inexperienced at warfare. Unable to properly apply force and force multipliers. Repeated same mistakes expecting different outcome. Not listen to intelligence. Not listen to briefing. Consistent underestimation Terran fighting capability." Impton shut off the hologram, sitting down and taking a long pull off the bottle.

"No failure at you," Impton said. He shook his head.

"You fight Terrans, usually lose even if win."

"Then why have us fight them, even in simulation, if they're going to defeat us so easily?" SGT Kringik asked.

"Not get good fighting less skilled, get more good fighting best," Impton said. He took a drink off the bottle of streaked reddish liquid and a drag off of his smokestick.

"Terrans best," he looked around.

"Want to know secret?"

"Duh," Vak. tel said.

"They did not fight as if they were in eVR," Impton said. He looked at each of the gathered Telkani.

"They fought as if it was real. As if they would be dead. Always fight as if is real. Always. They fought to win, or, if they could not win, they fought so they did not lose. Understand?" Vak. tel shook his head.

"Still feels bad." Impton shrugged.

"You have never stood beside humans, fighting to survive," he said. He looked up.

"I was there when the Warfather fell into the depths and the Warsteel Volcano, the Great Forge, ignited," he said softly.

"Was there when Daxin the Liberator arrived. Was fighting Dwellerspawn at Refugee Zone Delta, on the walls as the 'spawn pushed their assault." A cold breeze seemed to wind through the armor bay, a faint moan echoed in the distance. He tapped his cybernetic arm.

"My arm, pulled off by a whippersnapper, but still I fought. Chainsword in hand. Bliss mixed with fight chems and stims. Armor pulling me back from Bliss, nothing but fear, pain..." he paused for a moment.

"Nothing but rage."

"Behind me, civilians. Could hear their screams," Impton took another drink.

"Day suddenly went cold.

'Spawn went still. Sun seemed to go out. Great stillness." Impton exhaled smoke.

"Still, fought. Screaming. Raving. You. Shall. Not. Pass. Then sun turn black."

"Was not Daxin's voice. Was the Grave Bound Beauty whose voice shook the world," He shook his head.

"Can still hear her voice: Let this world shake in the wrath of Lost Terrasol. Bliss turn to rage. Fill me. I scream back, rage, wrath, still hacking with chainsword. Shall. Not. Pass." He shivered.

"Heard it. Look up. See great iron doors wrapped in chain. Chains explode. Great iron doors open. He drop from sky to ground, shaking the very earth of Telkan." Vak. tel looked around, shivering.

"The 'spawn broke. Fled," Impton stood up, swaying slightly, "Greenie on my back screamed in fervor," he raised his head and threw back his arms.

"DAXIN THE UNFEELING, LIBERATOR, DEATHLESS, TYRANTBANE HAS COME! WOE AND LAMENTATIONS! OUR SAVIOR HAS ARRIVED!" he bellowed into the darkness. Vak. tel rubbed his upper arms. The others were all staring. Impton sat down and took another long pull.

"Was conscript against machines before that. Was loading mech driver for industrial concern. Fought in old warmek and in power armor. After First Battle for Telkan, went to be part of first class of Telkan Marines," he said. He tapped runes on the shoulder of his cybernetic arm.

"Number One-Zero-Six. Class Alpha Zero One. Standing: Fifteen."

"After Second Battle for Telkan, was assigned First Telkan Marine Expeditionary Force. Sent to TerraSol for Interservice Training. Was going to be Telkan's contribution to Confederate military," he shrugged and took another drink and gave a crooked grin.

"Everything changed when the Lanky Nation attack." Everyone looked at each other in confusion.

"No?" Impton said. Everyone just shrugged.

"Getting old," Impton grunted. He looked at them.

"Train hard. Fight harder." There was silence for a while as everyone drank, the micro-forge hissing and clinking to replace bottles handed out to replace empty ones that were fed into the micro-grinder.

"They just yelled at us. Told us we sucked. That we made the Corps look bad," SGT Kringik said softly.

"Poor officer blame troops for own failure," Impton said, grimacing.

"Watched. Graded. Fought well. Doctrine, training at fault. Leadership at fault," he shrugged.

"Doesn't help us," Nrexla said. Impton held up his cybernetic hand, tilting it left to right as he took another pull off of the swirled red liquid.

"Maybe yes. Maybe no," he said. He set the bottle down and lit another cigarette.

"Tomorrow, will talk to Lady Iron Pants," he said, grinning.

"General of Iron Amanda Arnold Breastasteel, go in during open door hours. Tell her 7th Division leadership blaming troops." He held up the full bottle of red liquid, cracking it open. He handed it to Kringik who took a drink and coughed even as he held it out to Nrexla.

"Tonight we drink," Impton said. He paused then smiled.

"Tomorrow, we train."

"Ugh," Vak. tel said, taking the bottle. It tasted like liquid hate going down and burned like wrath.

"We will meet enemy soon," Impton said. He gave a wide smile.

"Glorious day will that be."