Chapter 837: Book of the Dead

Chapter 837: Book of the Dead

No sound in the universe is louder than the click of an empty gun. The Dead Man's Click. - Anonymous, Second Terran Phasic War, Age of Paranoia

"Cathy's at the building. She says there's lights and the building isn't evacuated. Looks like the antenna system is on the roof," Private Bit.nek said, one hand on his datalink, the other on the steering yoke of the vehicle. He glanced at the Warfather. "She says she's ready to mount the stairs and head for the roof. She's got a couple grenades to knock out the dishes."

The Warfather shook his head as he glanced at Captain Tut'el. "No. Patch me in."

The Private tapped his datalink, then grabbed the bottle of fizzybrew from between his legs, swerving the vehicle. Tut'el didn't even flinch as two shades bounced off the side of the high mobility wheeled vehicle's armored side, splattering into what the Warfather had told him was a substance called ectoplasm.

"Cathy?" the Warfather said, his hand on his own datalink.

The datalinks were slower now, noticably slower, and text was flashing in Tut'el's vision.

TEXT/VOICE ONLY flashed in the lower right.

LOW BANDWIDTH ONLY flashed on the lower left.

"You see that building? That's handling half the traffic for the eastern half of the entire continent," the Warfather said. "I know. There are still people in there. Yes, I know Corporal," he took his fingers off of the datalink, made a long slow inhale and exhale, then touched the datalink again.

The Private drove through a crowd, splattering them.

"Corporal Kathreelee, I will not order you to do something like this. I am asking you, Corporal, I am begging you, fire that gun into that building's lower floor," the Warfather said, his voice sounding tired. "Save half the megacontinent. The people in that building, it's just wrong place, wrong time."

There was silence for a moment.

"The Digital Omnimessiah will forgive you, Cathy. The only choices were bad ones," the Warfather said softly. "I'm sending you coordinates. Meet us there," he said.

The vehicle shuddered as the Private pulled it in a sudden tight turn, yanking on the e-brake, then letting it snap back halfway through the turn, even as he gunned the engine. The big beast roared and Tut'el managed to brace a hand against the roof of the cab as the vehicle hit the bottom of the stairs. The vehicle shuddered as it climbed the faux-marble steps, the tires screaming as they fought for traction on the slick polished stone.

"I take it this is the Civil Services Building?" the Warfather asked.

"Yup," the Private said, still holding onto the half-full fizzybrew bottle with one hand and the steering yoke with the other.

With a loud roar the vehicle cleared the top of the steps, the weight of the back end keeping the front end of the vehicle pointing at the side of the building.

Shades swirling around the side of the building screamed as the sodium lamps passed over them.

The front of the vehicle dropped down with a crash and the all-wheel drive and inertia sent the vehicle barreling toward the front doors of the government building.

The two reinforced ferrocrete blockades exploded into substandard ferrocrete powder when the grillguard of the vehicle won the contest between (supposedly) immovable object and (actual) irresistible force.

The vehicle slid slightly to the side right before it hit the heavy doors. Five tons of light armored wheeled vehicle versus endosteel reinforced entryway.

The entryway lost.

Tut'el held tight at the vehicle abruptly slowed, coming to a stop after it crashed through the popup bollards, several desks, four rows of chairs, and a wall. Something in the front gave out and steam shot up from the twisted rents in the front armor.

"Everyone out, rides over," the Warfather said. He kicked the door twice to get it open then held out his arm.

Tut'el saw the mantid 471 climb up the Warfather's arm and hold on at the shoulder.

Bit.nek kicked the door twice and got it open, pulling the weapon with him. He cocked it, fired, then cocked and fired again.

"They're a mite bit excited," Bit.nek said.

The Warfather looked up. "Yeah, I try to wear my armor in here and I'll fall through the floor," he said.

"Elevators that way," Tut'el said, pointing at a sign.

"Can you do just text on that computer line and find out where the emergency broadcast system is?" the Warfather asked, pulling debris away from a still functioning computer.

The Warfather nodded, bent down, and put the mantid on the rubble.

"We'll cover him. He's going to try to patch me through to the emergency broadcast system so we don't have to fight our way down there," the Warfather said.

"How bad do you think it is?" Captain Tut'el asked.

The Warfather shrugged. "If it hit everywhere with a GalNet link like it hit here, the casualties are in the tens of billions."

"Whole worlds probably are already dark," Bit.nek said. He cocked the shotgun, raised it, and fired, splattering ectoplasm.

"I didn't see anything," Tut'el said.

"Lurker," the Private answered. "Watch for a wavery shadow."

Tut'el just nodded. He looked around as shades suddenly swarmed out of the darkness, from the walls, down the hallways and out the doorways, and from outside. They all pressed against the yellowish light given off by the vehicle's intact headlights.

"Oooh boy," Tut'el said.

The Warfather suddenly knelt down.

"He is?" the Warfather asked. He closed his eyes and nodded. "Yeah. Tell him."

Tut'el frowned as the Warfather stood up and slowly turned to face them.

"Brace yourselves."

-----

"How many planets?" Daxin asked across the channel.

"I'm at thirty two thousand, six hundred, fifteen clones and counting. Every planet has Phasic Shades swarming out of the GalNet and SolNet links like it's last call and whoever's still there gets stuck with the check," Legion said. "What about where you're at?"

"Hasn't hit here yet. Hasn't quite propagated through," Daxin said. He looked around from where he was standing on the roof of a building, staring down at the massive ansible receiver set into the ground. "I'm gonna blow the receiver."

"Command thinks we might have caught the edge of some kind of Atrekna attack on the outside," the Rigellian general said.

"And we still don't know what's going on out there or if we're going to be able to get out there in time to provide assistance," Tik-Tak mused.

The Lanaktallan general shook his head. "No."

"How about your people? Did they take many casualties?" Tik-Tak asked.

The Lanaktallan shook his heavy head again. "No. Terran insistence on maintaining security systems even when they appear to be useless proved to be the correct option. When the Shades came flooding out, lockdowns kicked on immediately. My people took less than ten thousand casualties, and that was to adult males."

Tik-Tak nodded.

"You seem preoccupied, General," the Treana'ad said.

"We have a two hundred to one and climbing time dilation difference between the Sol System and the outside universe," Tik-Tak said. "We have intermittent contact across the hypercom wave, which originates from the Sol System right now, and we still had tens of thousands of Phasic Shades try to assault Fortress Sol."

The others nodded.

"Which has led me to consider what is going on outside. How quickly and in what numbers are the Phasic Shades swarming through the hypercom wave system?" Tik-Tak asked.

All of the gathered generals looked at one another.

"Standing up here, watching Phasic Shades assault the fences of this storage depot, knowing they are streaming in from one of the ansible receivers that is useless due to the time dilation," Tik-Tak continued. "I wonder: How bad is it out there?"

The Treana'ad nodded. "Thousands, tens of thousands a second instead of the hundreds here," he suggested.

"According to the Ranger Team that destroyed one of the 'dead' ansible uplinks, three hundred Phasic Shades exited the ansible's array every second," Tik-Tak said. He shook his head. "Papernapkinmath states that the ansible system is transmitting sixty-thousand shades a second to every receiver."

There was silence for a moment.

"Which means the hypercom wave system is, to use ancient parlance, is haunted," he turned and faced the others. "Gentlemen, ladies, both and neither, we have no choice."

The Rigellian broke the silence.

"No choice but to what?" she asked.

"Tell Fortress Sol Defense that the hypercom wave generator must be destroyed," Tik-Tak said. He turned back to staring at the desert night. "The Wave is haunted and those ghosts are murderous."

There was total silence.

"The entire hypercom wave system will go dead in seconds, minutes at the most, across the entire wave," the Treana'ad said.

"Mm-hm," Tik-tak said.

"You're talking about tens of thousands of systems suddenly out of contact with one another," The Rigellian said.

"You're talking about cutting the hypercom wave system during a massive military operation to prevent an interdimensional attacker from devouring the entire universe," the Treana'ad said.

"That would destroy the free flow of information across the entire galactic arm spur," the Lanaktallan general said, reaching up and nervously brushing the edge of his beret with one finger.

"Yes."

"You're talking about plunging the entire Confederacy into the very situation that the Clownface Nebula War was fought to prevent," the other Terran said. "Billions died in that war to keep the Confederacy from plunging into a communication dark age."

"Listen," Tik-Tak said, holding up one finger. He cocked his head. "Listen, Generals."

The gathered officers listened.

"Do you hear it?" Tik-Tak asked.

A few frowned.

"Can you hear the universe laughing at us?"

-----

"Brace ourselves? For what, sir?" Captain Tut'el asked.

There was the sounds of lightning outside. The lights seemed to dim and flicker. There was the clatter of chains and the screech of unoiled hinges.

"We've got help coming," Vuxten said.

There was a booming noise that could be felt in Tut'el's very marrow.

The shades that were being held back by the yellow glow of the headlights of the transport all flinched. Some faded away, some turned and fled.

LET THIS WORLD SHAKE IN THE RAGE OF LOST TERRASOL

The impact outside made the ground shake, made panels fall from the ceiling. Most of the shades burst like cheap balloons.

The sound of pistons and whining gears seemed deafening as footsteps crunched closer and then stopped.

"May I come in?" came a bass rumble.

"Please, brother," Vuxten said, slowly coming to his feet.

Tut'el wondered when the Warfather had put on the white and gold power armor.

Tut'el didn't want to, but he turned as the footsteps came closer.

The power armor was heavy, massive plates, all angles and rage.

The occupant spoke.

"Do you need assistance?"