Chapter 826: Ultimis Diebus Hominum

Chapter 826: Ultimis Diebus Hominum

HAT WEARING AUNTIE

How's the Iron Piglet windup?

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CONFEDMIL

Good. Over two thirds of objectives taken, over half of the remaining third still in doubt.

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TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

So, the other half of that third, a sixth of the objectives, we got repulsed?

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CONFEDMIL

Or are being forced out.

Reinforcements and redeployment should make the difference.

Things would probably be a lot different if we weren't spamming temporal stabilization and resonance charges everywhere. They can't get away.

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HAT WEARING AUNTIENewW novels updates at novelhall.com

I know better than to ask how much longer the war will last.

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TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

Why?

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HAT WEARING AUNTIE

Because anyone who tells you "The war will be over by summer" and isn't talking about their own forces losing, is lying to you.

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TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

Oh.

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CONFEDMIL

The war goes on until we can wipe out the Atrekna completely, or they'll be back by the trillions after infesting and harvesting entire galaxies.

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PUBVIAN DOMINION

I kind of dislike xenocidal conflicts, but we really don't have a choice here.

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AKLTAK SOARING WORLDS

Is there...

...wait, is my header different?

Anyway, is there any way to tell when the war is over?

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RIGELLIAN SAURIAN COMPACT

Not until a few years after the last trigger pull.

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AKLTAK SOARING WORLDS

Oh.

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The river was thick and deep, the bandwidth wide, the water sluggish and moving slowly, the surface mirror smooth. At the edges, on the banks, data sparkled and shone, the thin reeds of header checks and file stability checkers making the code appear and disappear.

The river moved through the canyon until it reached the edge, where the river dropped off the edge of a massive cliff and into the depths.

Winged creatures great and small, strange and oddly familiar, soared on the code breezes that rose from the depths, giving out cries to one another. Mist shrouded the gulf, preventing anyone from seeing the ground below, if it even existed.

The cliff face was not smooth. There were grasses, trees, ledges, even caves dotting the leviathan cliff.

On one such ledge a small fire of recycled data burned next to a tree in front of the cliff.

Sitting around the fire were a Frog, a Fox, and a Man.

The trio was singing as they ate a small meal of data packets that they shared together.

The meal done they laid on the ledge and stared up into the sparkling sky.

"What do you think is at the bottom?" the Frog asked.

The Man shrugged, his hands behind his head. "I do not know. I believe it will be wondrous to see."

XXXIV Corps was being reassigned and rumor control said it was for another assault.

Vuxten clenched his fist at the memory of being told he had to stay behind and oversee the Third Shop. It was the only unit in XXXIV that wasn't moving out, and the Brigade Commander had left Vuxten in place as part of the chain of command for the maintenance and repair unit.

There was a pinging from his console and he reached over and checked it.

A message from the shop.

Another warsteel fabrication creation engine had 'gone dark', meaning there were only two left for the entire Regiment.

Vuxten hung his head and scrubbed at one of his newly replaced ears.

--what wrong-- 471 asked.

"Another creation engine went dark," Vuxten said. He looked up. "That leaves two that can fabricate warsteel."

471 put up icons and emojis of frustration. --no Terran around to relight them--

Vuxten shook his head. "Nope. There's not a single Terran in the Division except Casey, and he's on some kind of weird detached duty."

--maybe Casey can relight engine-- 471 suggested. --warsteel engines require Terrans--

"I could call him," Vuxten said, leaning back in the chair. "You think it'll work?"

--might as well try-- 471 said.

Vuxten picked up the handset and called Regiment, then Division, then spent a half hour calling various comlink numbers until he slammed the handset down.

"Nobody knows where he is. I must have left a dozen messages," Vuxten said. He closed his eyes, clenching his fist. For a second he wished he could throw the comlink against the wall. He took a couple of deep breaths and suddenly stood up.

"I'm going down to the shop. You wanna come along?" he asked.

--sure sure-- 471 said. He signed off a request, forwarded it to Regiment, then logged out. He grabbed his little hat and hurried over next to Vuxten.

Vuxten was quiet as the Duty Driver took him to 138ths repair shop. He was aware the Telkan driving kept side eyeing him, but ignored it.

When they reached the motorpool, he got out, tugging on his hat and shifting it a few times.

The newly replaced left ear still felt slightly off to him.

Twice he had to walk around heavily damaged warbound, some of them looking thousands of years old. He ignored the robed troops, tried to ignore the chanting and the incense, keeping an eye out.

Finally, he found Chief Hel.grak, the OIC of the Third Shop repair bays. The Kobold looked stressed to Vuxten as he hurried out of the main maintenance bay, following Vuxten.

"How can I help you, sir?" the Kobold asked. "Your armor is fully repaired if you want to inspect it."

Vuxten shook his head. "No. I'm more worried about the fact you had another creation engine go dark."

Chief Hel.grak nodded. "It's happening across Confed. Something to do with the lack of Terrans."

"Which one just went dead?" Vuxten asked. "I know a Terran. He's lurking around base somewhere, I just need to find him and maybe he can help."

The Chief walked Vuxten to the back of the maintenance area until they reached a massive orb set in a set of gantries and external housing components. The iris was closed and the orb trembled slightly.

"It's fine for anything but warsteel," Chief Hel.grak said. "Problem is, warsteel needs wrath. I've tried a couple of the old Crusade warbound, but they weren't able to do anything."

Vuxten nodded. "Casey's pretty good with wrath," he said.

--so are you-- 471 broke in. --try--

"Me?" Vuxten said, looking down at 471. "I've got it under control."

471 flashed a shrugging icon. --think of first telkan war put hand on it--

Vuxten sighed and decided to play along. He closed his eyes and put his hand on the big Class-XIV creation engine, big enough to run super-heavy tank parts off of.

This is dumb. I mean, what am I supposed to think about? First Telkan? I spent most of First Telkan terrified. Second Telkan was the bad one, Vuxten thought. Between the Dwellerspawn and that fight... that fight under the mountain, Second Telkan was terrible.

471 tapped a few keys on a holographic keyboard, looking up at Vuxten.

--think about what lady kay said-- 471 said. --control it use it--

Vuxten nodded, gritting his teeth, and remembering.

After a few long moments Chief Hel.grak opened his mouth to ask if there was anything he could do when lightning snarled down Major Vuxten's arm, spreading across the massive battlesteel orb of the creation engine.

Vuxten's eyes opened, glowing red, as he glared at the creation engine in front of him, letting the rage and fury fill him, pass through him, flow into the huge construct in front of him.

The creation engine hissed suddenly, releasing steam from hidden valves.

The iris opened, revealing a red glow in the depths.

Vuxten took a deep breath, held it, and slowly let it out as he stepped back, letting his arm fall to his side.

Chief Hel.grak checked the readouts quickly, then turned to Vuxten, who was leaning against one of the girders, his eyes closed.

"Whatever you did, it's at full operational status," Chief Hel.grak said.

Vuxten nodded. "How many more are dark here?"

"Three," the Chief said.

"Gimme a minute," Vuxten said. He took a long, shaky breath. "Give me a minute and we'll go to the next one."

--you ok buddy-- 471 asked,

Vuxten nodded slowly. "I think so."

"Maybe I should clear this with Division," Chief Hel.grak said carefully.

Vuxten nodded, still breathing heavy. "All right. I'll be in my office."

Chief Hel.grak watched the Telkan officer leave, the diminutive green mantid hurrying along beside him.

He waited until the Telkan left before rushing to the office and making the phone call.