Chapter 734: The Inheritor's War

Chapter 734: The Inheritor's War

"Major! Major, Captain Hotexak needs you," the PFC said, running up. He sounded out of breath, even in his power assist armor. He stopped next to the sole officer wearing heavy power armor done in white and gold, with heavy inlay and embossed runes and sigils. Unlike the other officers, who all carried the standard Confederate Armed Services magac rifle, the officer in white carried a heavy submachinegun on his hip and had an inlaid and enameled M318 autocannon in storage position.

"Major?" the PFC asked, tapping the officer with a comlink ping rather than physically touching him.

Vuxten jerked slightly, turning and looking at the PFC. He had been busy looking over the deployment orders for the entire battalion. He had only finished his Captain's tour a little over three months ago and had only graduated the Major's Command Course two weeks before the drop landing.

Unfortunately, Vuxten had slowly come to realize that while at first glance he was being promoted at the standard "with waiver" rate, he seemed to get immediate class availability, get all his waivers, and recommended for promotion at the first board that oversaw promotions.

Which meant, it was starting to feel political to Vuxten.

Which had left a slight sour tang of distaste in Vuxten's mouth.

His wife had told him that it would be a political concern if he was passed over, and she had rejected Vuxten's argument that he shouldn't receive waivers for time in grade and time in service, in order to get the minimum of both, as it was unfair to other troops as well as didn't give him time to get enough experience in the position, set a bad example.

But none of that mattered now. Fifth Telkan Marine Division was on the ground, backing up the Fifty Seventh Corps as part of 22nd Army in the invasion of eight different systems, 57th Corps' part in the Iron Piglet Counter-Offensive.

Which meant there was no time for doubts and fears.

"Yes, Private?" Vuxten asked, turning around, making sure one hand stayed on the lower part of the Madame 318 gunnery frame.

"Captain Hotexak needs you," the PFC said. "He's in with Colonel Dartrum and General Twargark is on the commo band."

"All right. Carry on, Private," Vuxten said. "If you'll excuse me," he said to the men he was with, mostly experienced NCO's going over things they didn't need him to stand there and oversee.

He just felt strange not leading a company from the front or at least just being at company level as he had for the months since he'd returned from...

from...

He tried not to think about it too much.

But the way people glanced at his armor and weapons, the way he could see the white enamel and gold filigree and inlay on his armor and weapons, kept him from being able to put it behind him with ease.

"What do you think the Captain wants?" Vuxten asked the one person he had around who knew what it was like having your life so radically and fundamentally altered.

--lost his head can't find it needs superior officer help-- 471/Inertia sent back over the suit link, accompanied by several snickering emojis and a meme of a Captain with his head in a fishtank going "Sir, sir, I can't seem to breathe!" while a frustrated and angry looking Major stared at him.

Vuxten chuckled. "Thanks, I needed that."

He heard whispers again and shook his head. He'd been to the medics twice, but there was no reason for the whispers.

The tent was coming up, covered in camouflage netting, a sparkling em-field, as well as the odd crystalline distortions in mid-air from the temporal and spacial stabilizer systems.

Still didn't help with whatever the Slorpies did to wipe out most the communication bands.

The two tent guards both nodded and Vuxten moved in, sighing when the creation engine of the Madame 318 thumped against a box and audibly snarled at it.

A female Telkan's voice whispered in his ear for a moment, but he couldn't hear it plainly. He shook his head and moved into the room, undoing the smart-harness and setting the Madame Three-Eighteen down on a table.

Several Telkan were gathered up around a holotank, which was hooked into the ground laid fiber-optic cable communication system. Several other officers, all with their ranks and position on labels underneath them, were in the holofield too.

Without saying anything, Vuxten moved up, nodded to the gathered officers, nodded to the ones in the holotank, and stared at data being displayed in the holotank.

The initial landings had gone well. They'd hit the system, the Task Force had deployed the system munitions, and everything had gone according to the warplan. Fifth Telkan Marine Division had made planetfall, straight into the zones. Forward operations bases, logistics bases, all had been established within hours of landing into enemy fire.

The lines had pushed out from the FOB's, linking together, establishing air superiority, counter-battery superiority, even wet navy launches.

The Atrekna had obviously been caught by surprise for the first sixty hours.

But they weren't surprised any longer and they had a vested interest in winning.

Now, it was a complete shitshow.

The holotank showed it plainly.

The lines were firm, spreading out from the quickly established LZ's for the second wave,

"How bad?" Vuxten asked the Captain next to him.

Someone whispered in his non-cybernetic ear.

"Pretty bad, sir," the Telkan Marine Captain said, the earlier nervousness of being around a living legend having vanished under the heavy action of the last few days. He reached out and scrolled through the data windows until he popped open a drone feed.

be with the children

be with them, please

hear my prayers

hear my words

hear my pleas

help me

help us

help them

help

Help

HELP

HELP!

He felt it. The pounding rage. The wrath. It boiled up out of his core, where Lady Keena had taught him to lock it away, to temper it into steel.

Instead it was a boiling fire that rolled out of that tiny black spot that had just cracked and ruptured, under too much pressure to hold.

It filled his mind, filled his very being, filled his soul.

PLEASE, SAINT VUXTEN, GIVE ME COURAGE JUST FOR ONE LAST MOMENT!

He could feel a dozen, a hundred, a thousand pleading hands reaching out to him.

It felt to Vuxten like the entire world was made of white fire.

"I am with you," Vuxten whispered.

Everything went blue-white.

--INERTIA IS WITH YOU-- he heard screamed over the comlink.

Captain Hotexak stared at where just a moment before one of the most famous Telkan in existence had stood.

He looked around.

"Where is he? Where did he go?" Captain Hotexak asked.

"Find him! Lock onto his transponder!" the General snapped.

Vuxten felt his boots hit the ground and opened his eyes.

The Dwellerspawn were everywhere, chasing civilians, that screamed and ran. They streamed out of moss and vine covered buildings, clutching infants and children of all races and species, crying, screaming, blinking at the sunlight as they crashed through open doorways and empty windowframes.

The Dwellerspawn were screaming.

He could feel the cold approval and enjoyment of the Atrekna.

"NO MORE!" he roared out.

He shifted his thumb and saw the icon for Madame Three-Eighteen go from safe to dangerous.

"NO MORE!" his speakers vibrated with his rage.

He aimed the weapon.

He could see the Atrekna clearly, their tight clustered groups of two and three surrounded by a fairy dust sprinkling of clear prisms.

"NO MORE PODLING BLOOD!"

He squeezed the firing lever.