Chapter 801: Novissimis Diebus Hominum

Chapter 801: Novissimis Diebus Hominum

Imagine.

Staring up at the sky. Seeing all of the stars.

And knowing that you are utterly alone.

Your people are extinct.

You are among the last.

Could you keep from falling into despair?

Imagine.

Being alone. - Lamentations of Earth, 8735 PG, Smokey Cone Press

The grav striker hummed as it flew just over the treetops, the full stealth package engaged. The turbo fans were off, the jet thrusters offline, and only the center grav engine was running and that was silently. The striker was in the lead of a five craft formation. Grav strikers at the compass points, a large Treana'ad troop grav-transport, dripping with guns and heavy with armor.

Mukstet sat in the pilot's seat, his normal crew missing, just black mantids, Kobolds, and Tukna'rn special forces filling the striker's crew positions.

"Who do you think it is?" Mukstet asked the copilot, Flies in Crooked Lines.

"Not sure. A Confederate SAR beacon squawking in the clear like that is strange. It's got weird headings, so command isn't sure if it's a slorpie trap or not," Flies stated.

"Coming up, we should be on visual in thirty seconds," Mukstet said.

He heard his commo tech pass it on.

"Dropping speed to three knots," he stated. "Dropping to twenty meters off the deck," he added. The grav-striker hummed as it lowered and slowed down. He glanced at the black mantid. "Looks like our targets just on the other side of that treeline."

The striker cleared the trees, exposing a small clearing.

The trees were gone, a perfect hundred meter across circle in the middle of the trees, with eight ten-meter circles off of that circle at the eight compass points. The circles were all full of runic markings burnt into the grass and dirt, the outer circles connected to the main circles by runic arrows.

In the middle stood a suit of black armor. Three meters tall, all black, a massive cannon over the right shoulder in the storage position, heavy armor on the forearms, missile launchers on the lower legs.

"What is that?" Mukstet asked.

"Not sure," Flies said. "Never seen that kind of armor before."

Mukstet frowned as the armor started dancing and jittering on his screen.

"It's running jamming," Mukstet said.

"Unknown power armor, shut down all systems. This is Confederate SAR Team Bigby, shut down all systems," Mukstet heard over the channel.

The power armor just stood there.

"This feels weird," Flies said.

"Yeah," Mukstet said.

"This is Bigby-7 Actual, we're holding position," the Treana'ad troopship stated. "Take positions. Bigby-5, go in."

Mukstet nodded. "This is Bigby-5, we're going in."

Mukstet dropped down in the runic carved circle.

"Never seen markings like this," the black mantid said.

The armor just stood there as the striker settled onto the ground.

"Beacon still squawking," the commo tech, a Kobold Ranger, said, his voice tight with stress. "Armor's showing no readings. It's just a hunk of metal."

"Let's go," Mukstet said, detaching from the striker and grabbing his carbine.

"Looks human," Flies stated. "Too big to be any other biped. Not the right aesthetics for Rigellian."

"Looks nasty," Mukstet said, moving to the troops compartment. The doors were open, the side guns manned. He hopped to the ground, knowing that the special operations troops were right behind him.

He walked toward the armor, the heat and humidity of the planet hitting him almost immediately. His pilot's suit was soaked with sweat by the time he was ten meters from the armor. At five meters the psychic shielding in his helmet had risen to the point he could taste blueberries on his back teeth.

"Confederate markings," Flies stated. "Confederate SAR!" he called out, using his shoulder mounted speaker.

The armor jerked slightly.

The psychic shielding spiked and for a second Mukstet heard a human voice growling "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

He was reminded of Hesstla.

"Huh?" the armor said. It looked around quickly. "Oh. Sorry, dozed off," the armor added. The psychic shielded staged down as the armor shifted. It stretched, reaching toward the sky, the armor's sharp tipped fingers clacking as it made a fist. "Took you guys long enough."

"We couldn't see you on sat," Flies said. "Identify yourself."

"Ringbreaker Nine-Alpha Actual," the suit said. "Hang on. Lozen, let me go."

"This area is not safe," a woman's voice said.

"I'll be fine," the suit said.

There was a huffy feeling, then the front of the suit unfolded, revealing a large Terran standing in the armor. He jumped down, landing easily, and moved to Mukstet.

His psychic shielding jumped up to 78% load.

Nobody tried to stop him until he reached the door marked "THEATER OPERATIONS COMMANDER" and the Terran went in. The major turned and held out a hand.

"Nobody beyond this point," the Kobold said.

The Terran turned slightly. "He comes or I go," was all the Terran said.

The major looked at the Terran for a long moment then sighed. "Fine, go ahead."

Mukstet nodded and followed the Terran in.

"Why?" Mukstet asked as they moved into the office.

"Know a Telkan. Kinda like him. Makes me feel a bit more calm to have one with me," the Terran said.

Mukstet didn't have an answer.

Behind the desk sat the Lord On High of the entire sector. General of the Warsteel Donuthum Shaklatar, Commander, Sector Bravo-Two. On his right sat Fleet Admiral of the Warsteel Pulfun Ordnuk.

The Terran stopped, stared for a long moment, then saluted.

The General and the Admiral returned it.

"Chief Warrant Officer Three of the Iron Cathal Julius Casey," the General said.

"Lance Corporal now, sir," the Terran shrugged. "I was busted and moved to the Telkan Marine Corps. Before that, I was laterally demoted to Sergeant First Class."

The General acted as if he hadn't heard.

"The last Lord Knight sir of the Sancti Ordo Spiritus Tyr," the General said. "The Last Ringbreaker."

The big human shrugged. "The last two parts isn't exactly true."

The General raised an eyebrow.

"My four sons have Knight ranks and are Ringbreakers," The Terran said.

The General looked down and Mukstet realized that the two flag officers were looking at a hidden dataslate.

"No next of kin listed," the General said.

"It's... complicated," the Terran said.

"Says here you've been AWOL for four months," the Admiral said.

"Like I said, complicated," the Terran said.

"Says here you deserted your post, took your restricted power armor in violation of a direct order to avoid contact with that armor, and vanished," the General said.

The Human clenched his fists and Mukstet saw sparks shoot out from one hand.

"Not exactly, sir," the Terran said.

The General looked up. "It also says you took part in something called 'The War in Heaven' and fought next to the Biological Apostles," he said.

Mukstet could smell the stress pheromones in the air.

"And was recruited by the same to take the fight to the Atrekna," the human said. "My sons are there, now, ripping apart something the Atrekna would probably like to keep."

The General sighed and waved at the seat.

"Have a seat, Lord Knight," he said. He inhaled deeply and turned to the side in his chair. "There will be others joining us. I assume you don't want to keep repeating what you're here to say."

The big Terran shrugged. "I heard there's this new device called a recorder that lets people play back conversations and other sounds. Figured the Confederate military might have one or two laying around."

The Admiral gave a chuckle.

"I could use a drink of water that hasn't been run through a reclamation system after I sweated it out for a year or two," the Terran said. He ran his hands down the legs of his pants. "No alcohol though, please. I've only had nutripaste to eat for about three years, one bottle of narcobrew and I'd be hammered."

The General turned away from the screen that had lit up on the right. It was sectioned into nearly two dozen smaller windows, all with high ranking officers. He touched a button on his desk.

"Can you bring in something to drink, Captain?" he asked. "Water with lemon or lime slices, if you would."

"Yes, sir," a voice said.

"Thank you," the Terran said.

"Oh, sit down, Chief," the Admiral said, waving at Mukstet. Mukstet nodded and took a seat next to the big Terran, who reached over and patted his leg as if he was trying to comfort Mukstet.

It was silent until a Rigellian Captain brought in a pitcher of water.

Casey drank three large glasses quickly, then poured a fourth and leaned back, shaking the glass slowly to make the ice clink.

"Thank you. I know I'm not dehydrated, but after a month or two in armor you start to feel like it," he said.

"You transmitted you had priority data," the General said.

The Terran nodded. "I can explain a big mystery for you," he said. "But you can't solve the problem," he sighed. "Chromium Saint Peter isn't sure it can be solved yet."

"What's that?" the General asked.

The room seemed to get suddenly smaller, the air stifling.

"I can tell you what happened to all the humans."