Chapter 940: The Setting Sun

Chapter 940: The Setting Sun

Corporate wars. Then the Big C3. Then the 2PW.

Then picking up the pieces.

A part of me always felt that it was terribly ironic that picking up the pieces after the wars meant firing the main gun of a tank. - Most High Ekret, 1st Armored Scout Division, Atomic Hooves, 17 Post Shade Night

General (Four Star) of the Warsteel (Formerly Great Grand Most High) A'armo'o, Commander of the Atomic Hooves, sat down behind the desk and looked around his new office. It was luxurious, seating for several different species against the wall, two holotanks capable of displaying 480p upscaled to 720p, a dedicated nutriforge to produce snacks and drinks, a caf-machine that burbled and smelled so enticing while it was brewing, a projector and screen, lovely highly polished tile, and majestic furnishing.

He picked up his name-plate and buffed it.

GENERAL A'ARMO'O, COMMANDANT the name-plate read.

He took the time to get up and move around the office, looking at the walls.

His people, prior to the Terran Invasion and the BigC3, not to mention the Atrekna attack and the Second Precursor war, had sneered at nostalgia, memorabilia, and the like.

The beings of the Terran Confederacy of Aligned Systems had reintroduced the concept and A'armo'o had to admit that he appreciated it.

Here was a 2.5d holosnap, downgraded to 480p, of the fierce battle against the Precursors that had led to him meeting the legendary General Trucker before the Terran's death during the Assault on Heaven.

There was the 2.5d holosnap of himself pinning the Confederate Cluster of Gallantry on a lowly gunner for his herculean effort to save civilians during the fighting on the planet.

A'armo'o felt pride in that moment just viewing the holosnap.

A framed meme of his underling Ge'ermo'o looking suspiciously at his own hat which had a drawing of a lemur penis on the back, then looking suspiciously at the Terrans, and the last picture of A'armo'o laughing wildly.

But it was I, your superior, A'armo'o!

The memory made him smile.

Another picture of A'armo'o drinking stimfizz from a 40mm cannon shell with other officers of several different races.

Pictures of the last five years Galactic Standard.

The last 54 years of A'armo'o's life thanks to Atrekna time manipulation.

General A'armo'o shifted a picture slightly to straighten it.

It was of General P'Kank looking around to make sure nobody saw him as he put googly eyes upon his own representation featured in a mural.

He clopped back over to his seat and sat down, taking the time to straighten up the items on his blotter. He looked at the pad of simple writing pas, admiring the header.

"FROM THE DESK OF THE SCHOOL COMMANDANT" was on the top.

He knew that only a few short years Galactic Standard ago he would have been outraged to be put in the position he was now honored to take.

There was a knock at the door and A'armo'o looked up.

"Enter," he said.

The door opened to reveal a Hikken Staff Sergeant.

"General Ge'ermo'o here to see you, sir," the NCO said.

"Show him in," A'armo'o said.

General Ge'ermo'o's adaptive camouflage uniform was impeccably done, like always. He stopped in front of the desk and saluted using his right upper arm, his fingers and palm straight, his fingertips touching just above his forward facing right eye.

"Lieutenant General Ge'ermo'o, reporting as ordered," the other Lanaktallan said.

A'armo'o returned the salute, then stood up, holding out his hand. Ge'ermo'o shook it, then went over and sat down in the comfortable chair at A'armo'o's wave.

"You'll be leaving soon," A'armo'o said.

Ge'ermo'o nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "I've been reassigned to the Confederate Armed Services, I am being deployed to Confederate Space to defend against hostile star nation encroachment."

A'armo'o tapped his fingers on the desk. "It will be strange to not have you by my side, loyal one," he said after a moment. "I had thought that the last few months as a school commandant would have shown you just how much you are needed here."

"It has, but I have been offered a Corps Sustainment Command, supporting Fifteen Corps's Eighteenth Tank Division," Ge'ermo'o said. "A new posting, a new unit."

Nodding thoughtfully A'armo'o tapped his fingers on the desk. "New unit, new people, Services wide draw?"

"Yes, sir," Ge'ermo'o said. "They believe it will be a year or more until we will be ready to deploy. Right now the force levels are at less than half of what our METL states is the minimum force levels. Our equipment is supposedly at nearly sixty percent, but I won't know until I gather an effective and reliable group of direct subordinates to order inspections down the line," Ge'ermo'o pointed at the caf-brewer. "May I?"

"Of course," A'armo'o said.

Ge'ermo'o went and poured himself a cup of stimcaf before moving over and sitting down.

"Unified Military Forces never built new units, my entire career. The idea of the Confederacy entrusting me with building a force the size of a COSCOM unit is startling, but I look forward to the challenge."

"It does sound exciting," A'armo'o admitted.

"I will be able to put to work the many lessons I learned as not only your subordinate, not only an officer of the Great Herd, but as General NoDra'ak's liaison and the head of maintenance for V Corps toward the end of the Two-Pee-Double-Ewe," Ge'ermo'o said. "It is a challenge I shall relish."

"Did you know that you have a certain leeway when selecting your officers to fill your immediate command structure?" A'armo'o asked.

Ge'ermo'o leaned back slightly, shifting slightly and A'armo'o knew it was to take pressure off of his lower left shoulder joint. "Yes, but I feel, since this is a unit formation, that I should allow random chance to give me all new officers, force me to learn to deal with the other more war-like species of the Confederacy as well as learn to work with what I have."

"An excellent plan," A'armo'o said. He waved in the general direction of the multitude of 2.5d holopics on the wall. "We have come very far since we heard 'HEAVY METAL IS HERE!' roar out across a system we were fighting a losing battle in."

Ge'ermo'o chuckled. "Indeed, Grand Great Most High, we have."

They sat, reminiscing and making small talk for a few minutes.Visitt novelbin(.)co/m for the latest updates

"I'm sure you have much to do in preparation," A'armo'o said.

Ge'ermo'o finished his cup of stimcaf and set the cup down. "Indeed I do," he stood up. "By your leave, General."

"Dismissed, old friend," A'armo'o said.

He wiped his palms on the legs of his pants.

"Your hair will fall out, leaving you completely denuded," the Doctor said, touching part of the DNA helix. Your hair will grow back in, roughly to the length you keep it at and military standard, by the three week mark. You will notice significant changes to your fur as the follicles are replaced. Your fur will be thicker, more luxurious, better coloration, more robust and able to withstand damage," the Doctor turned back and smiled. "Of course, during your bald phase is when your entire epidermis will be replaced."

Ekret swallowed and nodded. His muscles ached in remembered pain.

"At the end, well, you will have to undergo a Skills Qualification Test as well as a complete physical, mental, and emotional stability check," the Doctor said.

Ekret frowned. "In case it doesn't work?"

"No," the Doctor gave a low chuckle and for a moment Ekret felt his hackles rise up. "It will because the treatment did work," he said. "Confederate laws of Informed Consent mandate that you understand this next part."

Ekret just nodded, swallowing.

It was going to hurt and had a low survivability rate, he knew it.

"The treatment will return you to just post adolescent physical condition," the Doctor said. "You'll still have you memories, but your thought processes, emotional processing, physical condition, will all be just post-adolescent phase. You will lose muscle memory and ingrained reflexes."

The Doctor tapped the dataslate and the DNA helix vanished.

"Full maturity for your species is 19 standard years," the Doctor said. "You'll be nineteen again, give or take a year or so, depending on personal puberty progression. This means that your life will be starting over again."

Ekret nodded, wondering what the bad side was.

"However, and this is the big one, you will not be able to accept any future longevity treatments. Getting another one in a hundred or so years means that you will suffer neural tissue overwrite or worse," the Doctor fixed him with a stern gaze. "You get to have your youth back, but if another, better treatment comes along, I would not advise taking it unless you want to die and have someone else take your place, with only some of your memories and none of your personality traits. You will cease to exist," the Doctor said.

Ekret nodded. "I understand."

"However, according to my reading of your DNA, you have approximately four months before you will require a pacemaker. Six months after that, a replacement. Fifteen months after that you will suffer a massive stroke and aortic rupture and will die in less than nine seconds. Your heart has taken a lot of damage and the clone tissue is starting to deviate from your natural heart tissue due to telomere length. If I'm correct," he gave another stern, authoritarian gaze. "And I am, you will suffer a heart attack in exactly one hundred six days, ten hours from now. You can mark that on your smart watch."

Ekret blinked. He was used to genetic physicians talking about maybes and possiblies.

"I would recommend my treatment. No other longevity treatment is statistically likely in the time you have left. There is a slight statistical chance that another longetivity treatment, compatible with this one, will be developed later," the Doctor said. "According to my projections, taking into account environmental contaminates and carcinogen exposures, you will live to be one hundred sixty-two years, eight months, four days after the treatment is complete."

The Doctor picked up the dataslate, swiping through the data.

"Confederate Military Regulations demands that I give you seventy-two hours before I accept your decision, and you have thirty days to make a decision before your window closes," the Doctor said.

"And if I accept?" Ekret asked, firmly believing he'd have to start a major gene therapy process.

"Report to your Troop Medical Clinic, sit through the bad cartoon, listen to doctors that might as well be talking about wizardry, and accept a single shot into your left buttock. Go on convalescent leave, stay in your quarters, follow all instructions," the Doctor said.

Ekret sat and thought for a moment.

He couldn't process it.

He'd be 19 again. Younger even then he was when he had finished the Officer's Training Course and been assigned to be a tank commander.

"I will need to consider it," he said.

"If you turn it down, I would recommend getting a cardiac replacement. Type-VIII synthcardium should do it, as well as an arterial plaque removal, followed by a cerebral circulation system flush. That will give you another two years of life," the Doctor said.

Ekret just nodded it.

The Doctor stared at him. "I am Terran," he said.

Ekret nodded, his mouth dry.

"I, more than anyone else, understand the concept of a "life well lived" should you refuse treatment. You have led an impressive life, with honors and accolades to make any being envious," he said. "The loss of your homeworld to the Atrekna, that fact that two thirds of the Hikken people lay dead, the rest of you scattered, may make you feel that you owe something, but I understand that part of you that feels you have done enough for your people, for the galaxy," he said.

His eyes were glowing amber.

"I will not attempt to force you or cajole you to take this treatment," he said.

Ekret swallowed with a dry tongue, nodding.

"However," the Terran said. He reached out and picked up the dataslate and tapped a few icons before handing it to Ekret.

Ekret looked down.

The Doctor had logged Ekret into PopTop, a dating/casual sex app, with a profile that Ekret didn't know he had, and had moved to the Hikken section.

Nearly a dozen profile splashes were visible. All of comely female Hikken.

The top of the section read "Drank from the Fountain of Youth" and Ekret knew he was looking at female Hikken who had taken the same treatment that was being offered to him.

"Life is sweet," the Doctor said. "I think, General,"

Ekret looked up.

"You need them. One of them. Maybe a few dozen to slake the thirst you didn't know you have, just as they need you," the Doctor said.

Ekret couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You have spent your entire time in the military," the Doctor said. "Maybe, just maybe, you should stop living for others."

The doctor leaned forward.

"And live for yourself."

Ekret blinked.

"On that, I have other patients," the Doctor said. He stood up.

Ekret watched him leave, stunned to silence.

The datapad beeped and he looked down.

He had four new matches.