Chapter Fifty-One (Vuxten)

Vuxten had never seen a Terran before four days ago.

To be perfectly honest, he'd never seen anything like a Terran before.

Now he wished he had never seen one.

And was grateful they were here.

--------FOUR DAYS EARLIER-----------

The beeping woke Vuxten from where he was sleeping between his wife and two broodcarriers. He frowned a moment, trying to figure out what the beeping was. It took him a moment, he was still sleepy, his brain fogged by exhaustion of working at the CorpSec building cleaning things. One of the broodcarriers, her fur silky soft and her body warm, made a murmuring noise and turned over.

He could see it. His comlink. He wasn't important enough to rate an implant so he had a hand carried flip open comlink that only did voice and text. He ran a motorized buffer, buffing the hallways the Overseers used to a high shine. Robots were reserved for the out of the way places and he privately suspected its because how the Overseers enjoyed the fact that he had to stand to the side and look down as they passed where a robot just beeped at them till they moved. He was below a robot in ranking.

Video was expensive and only reserved for those much higher ranking than he was.

He opened the comlink, the display bright in the dark of the nesting room. On the screen was single line of text.

REPORT FOR WORK IMMEDIATELY

Sighing, he got up and moved to the clothing dispenser, printing out a paper jumpsuit with his name and Corporate Number on the back as well as a pair of paper shoes and a pair of paper gloves. He was careful not to tear it, it cost an hour's pay, got dressed, and left. He took public transport and noticed that every being on the grimy and creaking hoverbus was in CorpSec jumpsuits. Everyone was yawning, rubbing their eyes, scrubbing their fur, stretching, whatever their species used to signify tiredness.

The hoverbus was lit up and everyone looked up as a faint thrumming roar made the public transport vehicle vibrate. Vuxten looked out the window with them, curious at what would be landing so far from the port.

It was ugly. All black, only visible because of the CorpSec hovercraft around it, shining lights on it. It was black, jagged looking, with no lights or other signifiers. It moved steadily and Vuxten realized in a shock that it was setting down in the CorpSec parking lot. As he and everyone else on the bus watched landing gear deployed, crushing executive limousines under it, setting down with a long thrum.

"Overseers aren't going to be happy about that," A Frestilek with the name Dutra on her jumpsuit said, her voice squeaky.

"Who would dare do such a thing?" A winged featherless (due to CorpSec regs) avian asked. Their species name was all clicks and chirps, most of them out of Telkan hearing or speech range but Vuxten had taken to calling her kind Ikeekik's.

"Someone more powerful? More important?" Someone else guessed.

The hovercraft were still circling. The type that Vuxten remembered putting down a food riot in one of the richer quarters a year or so before. They were armed, fast, and capable of reducing an entire crowd to twitching nerve-stunned screaming in a single pass. He'd cleaned the cells that those beings had been put in. They'd been fined a weeks pay.

None of which went to paying for the six sets of jumpsuits he'd gone through.

"They fly like they are nervous chicks," The Ikeekik said, clacking her beak.

Now that she had mentioned it, Vuxten could see it.

Everyone's phones beeped and they all flipped them open at the same time and looked at them.

REPORT TO SHIFT SUPERVISORS IMMEDIATELY

Vuxten sighed, leaning back in the seat and waiting. The hoverbus wandered through its route and eventually arrived at the menial's gate. He got out, got in the orderly line, and waited to go through the security gate.

At the gate they took his apartment keycard, his ID card, his phone and gave him back an access card and a foldable paper phone.

He filed in, walking through the gray halls, his feet whispering on the cool plas floor, the lights dim. going to the meeting/lunch/assembly/relaxation lounge with the others who worked in his section. There was close to a hundred beings in the room and Vuxten realized that every shift had been called in.

A Lanaktallan overseer trotted in, his hooves clacking on the plas. He stood at the front and called out each being's name, marking that they were there on his datapad. He looked them over for a long time then made a motion.

Another Lanaktallan came into the room. This one was dressed in black segmented Sec armor, its eyes, nose, and jowls hidden by the helmet it wore. CORPSEC was written on the chest and on the flanks in six different languages, including Unified Civilized Systems Standard. Three others came in after him, all dressed the same.

"If I call your name, go stand on that side of the room and wait silently," it said.

Vuxten was one of the last ones called. The Lanaktallan just had him and the other thirty beings wait until he left, then they were told to follow him. They followed him down the stairs, through a corridor made of opaque plastic sheeting that Vuxten could tell by the smells and plascrete was the underground parking garage. More hallways, these brightly lit with metal walls, metal ceiling, and tile floors. They passed interrogation rooms and Vuxten knew the others were feeling as nervous as he was.

They had all cleaned up blood, hair, teeth, scales, nails from those rooms.

Finally they got to a big room and were told to stand in line.

Another Lanaktallan trotted in, followed by an automated trolley with black suits and helmets on it of all different types. The Lanaktallan went down the line of beings, handing them proper suits and helmets. Vuxten noted that the armor all said CORPSEC on the front and back with the same word on the back of the helmet. After that was boots and gloves.

"Put that on," the first one said. "Take off your jumpsuits first and fold them carefully. Take off your shoes and gloves.

They all struggled into the suits, some needing help, until they all stood in the slightly shiny armor, helmets on their head, heavy boots and thick gloves on their hands and feet.

The next trolley had beatsticks, radios, cuffs on belts. They were told to put on the belts but not to touch anything on them.

"Follow," the original Lanaktallan said, motioning to them.

They all obediently followed. Afraid to displease but confused. They were all janitors, menials, not CorpSec. They didn't understand why there were dressed in armor.

They filed out into a long hallway that was open on one side, a chest high on a Lanaktallan wall with a flat space to set things on. Beyond the wall was a long open space with holograms of various kinds of beings.

Each being was told to stand in one of the cubicles.

Another Lanaktallan came by, handing Vuxten a heavy black rifle, that he was told to put on the flat space. Then a black pistol. Then two boxes. Vuxten did exactly as he was told, no more, no less.

His knees were shaking.

Lanaktallans, all in heavy black sec-armor, moved up and stood behind each worker. At the sound of a whistle they stepped forward.

"Pick up the rifle," the Lanaktallan behind Vuxten ordered. Vuxten did as he was told, picking it up. He fumbled it, the Lanaktallan having to explain twice how to hold it. The first time he held it upside down, the second time he had it in the wrong place against his chest instead of his shoulder. He was instructed how to put in the boxes into the bottom side of the rifle. In and out several times before leaving it in. He was told to press a white button on the side.

The rifle gave a slight twitch and there was the clacking humming a solenoid driven capacitor. Vuxten didn't drop it but others did. To Vuxten's surprise there was no yelling, no screaming of pain, just jowl jiggling spittle filled sighs.

He could tell the Lanaktallan was getting irritated by how he kept putting his hand on his heavy ion pistol. He tried extra hard to follow the directions.

Lean against the flat surface. Put his elbows on it. Look through the lens. Point the weapon at the holographic figure. Press the red button on the side of the rifle.

The rifle chirped and a rune for "locked" appeared on the lens.

"Press the red lever," the Lanaktallan behind him said, sounding slightly nervous.

The rifle kicked, hard, a sharp crack sounding out. Something inside the helmet clamped painfully over his ears, muffling the sound. The number three appeared above his target.

"Keep doing that. One trigger pull every time you count to ten," The Lanaktallan said. The Overseer's voice was clear.

Everyone was firing, spacing the shots out.

Vuxten was nervous, he could see any reason to do this.

The lens suddenly read "EMPTY" and pulling the little lever on the handgrip didn't work.

Little by little everyone else stopped firing.

"Take out the empty, stand against the wall, hold the weapon as instructed," the Lanaktallan told Vuxten. Vuxten did as he was told, holding the rifle with the barrel up by his left shoulder and the bottom of the rifle by his right hip.

"And stand up straight, all of you," the Lanaktallan said. "Or I'll send you all to mucking out the landfill."

Everyone stood up straight. Vuxten yawning inside the helmet, knowing nobody could see him. At least the helmet had stopped pinching his ears.

Long minutes passed before the door at the end opened up and one of the Overseers came back.

"As you can see, my men are trained and ready to defend the city," The Lanaktallan said.

Next to him was something that Vuxten had never seen before, and he'd seen all the various species on the planet. Cleaned up all their bodily fluids and tissues.

This one was new and dangerous looking.

It was tall, slightly taller than the Lanaktallan, wide shoulders, thick arms and legs, a neck as thick as the being's arms. It was bipedal, shaved hair on the top of the head, a heavy looking jaw, mechanical eyes, big ears, a big nose. Vuxten could see an complex implant on the being's temple. It had an omnitranslator on its ear as it walked down the line. It was dressed in a two piece gray and white pattern of small irregular blocks that seemed to shift and blur into the wall's appearance. His boots were black and he had on black gloves missing the fingers.

Other Overseers came out, in their armor, their helmets off. Their tendrils were tight with worry or fear.

"They are, huh?" The being asked. The human stopped in front of Vuxten and looked over all the beings against the wall. "All right," it reached out. "Your rifle, trooper, let me see it."

Vuxten looked up at the Overseer, who nodded. He handed it to the strange biped, almost dropping it. The biped looked at it.

"Magnetic accelerator rifle, 4mm bore," the human hefted it with one hand. "A little on the heavy side. Multi-optic. Hmm," the human held it back out to Vuxten, who took it clumsily. "Servicable."

"You should watch them practice targeting," the Overseer said. "Men, take your places."

Vuxten and the others moved back up, putting their elbows on the flat surface.

"Load one magazine," the Overseer stated.

Vuxten was proud of himself, he didn't drop anything and got it loaded. The rune for 30 popped up on the corner of the round flip-up screen.

"Engage your lane's targets," the Overseer commanded.

Vuxten figured that the Overseer meant to shoot, so he shot, counting to ten between shots. When he was done with the magazine there was a yellow temperature rune in the corner of the lens.

"Unload your weapon, step back to the wall in the correct position," the Overseer stated.

Vuxten followed the instruction.

"As you can see, my men are highly proficient with their weapons," the Overseer said.

"Mm-hmm,' the biped said. It sounded like uncertainty to Vuxten. "One hundred percent accuracy. Not bad, not bad."

"It is perfect," the Overseer said. "My men do not miss."

"I see," the biped said. It reached into its pocket, taking out a small tube. The human twisted one end, making the other end flash, and threw it halfway down the long room, between the holograms and the shooting booths.

"Do it again," the biped said.

"I must object," the Overseer said.

"Objection logged and recorded. Do it again," the biped said.

The Overseer's tendrils curled and his jowls shook, but he motioned at Vuxten and the others. "Men, take your places."

Vuxten did so.

"Load one magazine."

This time the popup screen was different. It kept flashing an error rune. He could see the hologram, it kept jumping around like before but the rune for "locked" was missing, just flashing 'error' over and over.

"Engage your lane's targets," the Overseer commanded.

This time the shots took longer, were more spaced, more uncertain. Eventually the last trigger was pulled and the room went silent. Vuxten breathed a sigh of relief when the helmet let go of his ears.

"Unload your weapon, step back to the wall in the correct position," the Overseer's voice sounded nervous to Vuxten.

"Hmm. Eleven hits. Total. Overseer, I'm disappointed," The biped said.

"You did something with that tube, human," the Overseer said.

"It's a standard personal electronic warfare device," the biped, the human said, looking down at Vuxten as if it could see through the macroplast face shield.

"Could your men..." the Overseer started to say.

"Clear the range!" the human stated, turning and stepping forward into Vuxten's booth. Its hand went to its waist and it pulled out a heavy looking black pistol. The human pointed the barrel straight up by bending its elbow and incredible distance into the inside elbow angle. "Disengage smartlink."

One of the Overseers fumbled with a box, finally looking up. "Range is reset, human."

"Set for variable distance moving popup targets," the human said.

The Overseer with the box looked doubtful but made adjustments.

"Call it," the human said.

"Eh..." the Overseer said.

The pistol was leveled, firing. Rapidly. The slide kept running back, ejecting vapor. The human moved its hand back and forth, firing, until it suddenly hit a stud and the magazine popped out the bottom. Before it even hit the ground the human had slapped in a new one and resumed firing. Five magazines, the human kept switching between targets.

Each pull of the trigger a bright silver actinic line connected the barrel with the hologram. Vuxten could see plascrete puffing out of craters as big as his head in the building when some kind of energy screen flashed into sparks on the fifth shot.

Finally it ejected the fifth magazine into its hand, tilting the pistol to check inside of it before setting it on the desk. He bent down and picked up all four of the magazines on the floor, then stood up, placing the magazines next to the pistol.

"Score, range master?" the human asked.

"Eighty five out of seventy five across twenty-five targets," the Overseer stated.

"Keep the lanes clear," the human said. It put the pistol back in the holster and the magazines upside down in his magazine pouches. The human lifted the flat surface and walked through, walking down to the little cylinder and picking it up. It twisted the end and the light stopped blinking.

He walked back, setting the tabletop down, then moved over to the Overseers.

"You were saying?" the human asked.

"You have cybernetic eyes," the Overseer stated. "It does not count."

The human lifted its shoulders and let them fall. "If you insist, Overseer."

He, if it was a he, turned and looked over the gathered up janitorial staff against the wall.

"We have days, at the most, until the Precursors arrive, Overseer," he said. "I suggest you train your men."

"My men are highly trained," the Overseer stated.

"By your standards," The human said, and left.

Vuxten had thought he'd seen the last of a human.

He was wrong.

----------------------

V CORPS (OLD METAL) MEMO

Ensure all Planetary Military, Defense, Military, and other armed organizations, including corporate security, are prepared to resist Precursor incursion with local weaponry.

Report any defects to V CORPS TRADOC OIC.

------NOTHING FOLLOWS--------

TO: V CORPS TRADOC

FROM: SFC Ulganga, Maynerd Kikit, TERCONMIL Army (Old Metal)

Local planetary corporate security is poorly trained and armed for defense against Precursor military types as well as Precursor resource extraction/reclaimation standard types. Forces use magnetic auto-aim systems to over-reliance. Local mag-auto-aim targeting system able to be jammed by a personal privacy device, suggesting poor EW shielding.

Will try to cooperate with local planetary corporate security leaders (Overseers) and attempt to increase training and skill.

-----NOTHING FOLLOWS--------

KISTIMET INDUSTRIAL EXTRACTION, REFINING, MANUFACTURING CORPORATION MEMO

All Kistimet corporate security personnel of Third Grade Overseer and higher shall prepare the attached listed named to help defend Shur'rima'an from supposed Precursor attack.

We shall show these Terrans that the Kistimet Corporation does not need to rely on some foreign government who seems to employ only predators for their military.

This "Old Metal" should be shown who is the dominant military and security in this galactic arm