Chapter 968: The Shadows of Twilight
During the war I was one of the 'brave fighting men' to the population and politicians. When I ended up in the hospital I was a hero when they pinned my medals on me. When I came home I was brave and patriotic and people thanked me for my sacrifice when they saw the scars and the limp.
Six months later?
I was a drain on the taxpayers and a monster.- Found in diaries after every conflict
ATOMIC ATOMIC ATOMIC - Standard C3/2PW warning call
Why has this unit had 428 alcohol related incidents in a single month when there is only 240 troops in it? - 61st Ordnance Company, Resource Wars Era, Terra
"When I was a child, a Terran came to my school to speak in one of our history classes. We were amazed at just how warm she was. No, not just her reassuring, friendly demeanour. She radiated the same comforting heat a sunning stone at midday does, and her eyes sometimes seemed to be on fire as she spoke. She spoke at length of the many friends and enemies humanity had made in their history. I realised something important that day."
"The camp fire that can keep you warm at night is the same fire that can burn down the forest."-- Memoirs of War and Peace, u/Bergusia. Chapter 37, The Inheritors War.
"The Confederacy has vast libraries of doctrine, theory, history, and lessons learned. The majority of troops couldn't find the databases if you threatened to withhold the coingirls and joyboys from them." - General Ekret, First Armored Recon (Speed Metal), The Big C3, 8547 PG
'While some few adhere to human religions, the vast majority of Canis Familiaris Sapiens simply live to be companions of humans and work alongside them. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about Canis Familiaris Sapiens, which are already remarkable themselves as the galaxy's only known pre-interstellar uplifted species, is their concept of an afterlife. The psyche has no room for your concept of 'God', big G. There were some attempts early after their creation to create for them a belief system based on concepts of a pack and Sirius as a divine being, but they were rejected as was the cosmology.
Instead, the Dogboys generally hold to one of two destinies for their souls after death, discounting that there are atheist and agnostic Dogboys that believe that nothing persists after death.
The two destinies are believed to be a choice; Dogboys may choose to linger at a destination called the 'Rainbow Bridge' where they will wait until the souls of the terrans they cared most about arrive, and they will accompany them to the afterlife. This idyllic place is in a forested glade near a stream with everything they could want except 'their humans'.
The alternative is more dark; Dogboys may choose to join a never-ending battle in a dark dreamscape alongside others, where they will forever defend the souls and minds of Terrans from dark forces and nightmares. The 'Sleepless Watch' is a strong presence in their culture, and is entirely a belief of the Familiaris cultural subconscious. Which is what makes it so remarkable- They don't have a hell, because they can't imagine an eternity that isn't based around being our friends or protectors.
Because they're all the goodest of boys and goodest of girls. - Dr. Clifford Reddington, Dogboi theologian. Age of paranoia, year unknown.
Bit.nek was slouched down the in chair in the Day Room, with the rest of Third Platoon, Kilo Company, listening to the Training NCO, one Staff Sergeant R'Kalkrik, as the SSG droned on and on about how to properly call in an artillery strike or close air support.
He was listening to people practicing the unit call-sign, but other than that, Bit.nek knew something that pretty much all of the room didn't seem aware of.
Sure, when you're practicing, or things are calm, you'd go through the over, out, polite introductions, carefully enunciating things.
When the shit hit the fan and you needed that artillery right fucking now, all that went straight into the mass grinder.
"Am I boring you, Private?" the SSG asked.
Bit.nek was busy remembering calling artillery down on their own position when the slorpies had almost overrun the line during Iron Piglet.
"Private Bit.netk," the SSG said.
"Sorry, Sergeant," Bit.nek said, looking up. "Not boring me. Paying attention to the Kilo Company commo net identifiers."
"Do you have anything to add?" the SSG asked.
Bit.nek narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "No, Sergeant."
The Training NCO shook his head. "It's not a trick question, Private. Is there anything you can see that was missed?"
Bit.nek took a deep breath, then nodded. "A lot."
"Care to educate us?" the SSG asked.
Bit.nek frowned.
"Not a trick, Private. Why don't you come on up here," the SSG said.
Slightly suspicious, Bit.nek set down his fizzybrew and moved to the front. The SSG handed him the pointer.
"Take over the lesson," the SSG said, moving over and sitting down.
Bit.nek heaved a deep breath. "Morning, class. I'm PFC Bit.nek, and this is requesting artillery and close air support."
He turned and looked at the image on the wall. It was a standard by the book line art of terrain. He shook his head. "Terrain like this is only in books," he said. He cocked his wrist, getting the attention of the projector. He went through the context menus and just grabbed a picture of forest outside a city.
"First this in, this is what it'll look like," he said. "Only, there may or may not be heavy EM jamming, microprisms, smoke, fog, and the like, but we'll go with this."
"The book says use these two power poles, but a lot of places won't have them," he stated. "That's when you use your biggest advantage, which is your armor's brainbox. It tracks a lot of data, and using that data effectively is how you do this right."
He went over how the brain box kept track of everyone in the chain of command. From the CO and XO to the Platoon Sergeant, Platoon Leader, heavy weapons, even the Squad Leader.
"Now, a quick thing is tying this in with the datalink," he said. He tapped a set of fallen trees. "Triangulation is key for distance. In this case, you call your squad leader, ask him to carat the fallen trees, then, we'll say the platoon sergeant is on your right, you ask him to do the same, then you have the brainbox run the distance."
He went into calling it in, corrections, in flight corrections, danger close, even calling it down on your own positions. Several times he used his palm-implanted holo-emitter to add to the image being projected on the wall.
"That thing could have jumped out of the holo-emitter and killed half this room before any of us could react," Tut'el said. He wiped his mouth. "What were you thinking?"
"It's a non-phasic hologram. Approved by Brigade and Division," the Captain protested.
"So they're the homicidal or stupid ones?" Tut'el asked.
"It's non-phasic," The Captain protested.
"Right up until it rips everyone's fucking guts out!" Tut'el yelled. "Did none of you read a single briefing about the damn things?"
"I was just getting to the briefing," the Captain protested.
"The first thing it says is to show a Shade only in silver and crimson. NEVER any shade of white," Tut'el snarled. "That thing could have gone phasic and killed everyone in here."
"There haven't been any shades in this region," the Captain said.
"Major, a word?" the Lieutenant Colonel's voice was calm. When Tut'el turned he saw the CO standing next to the door.
Gritting his teeth, Tut'el went out the door that the Colonel was holding open, hearing it shut behind him.
"Take a moment, Major," the Colonel said.
Tut'el stood there for a long moment, closing his eyes, slowly getting his breathing under control.
"Better?" the Colonel asked.
Major Tut'el opened his eyes and saw that the CO was holding a fizzybrew out to him.
"Yeah," Tut'el said.
"I'll check the Captain's training material, see if the oversight in coloration was at his hands or further up the chain," the Colonel said. He glanced at the door. "Can they really go from a simple hologram to an actual shade?"
Tut'el nodded. "Yeah. Uh, yes, sir. And quickly. You have only a split second to react," he took a deep drink off the bottle. "Happened a couple of times before it went around the theater that you couldn't even draw them with white chalk in some areas."
"Even after the Flash?" the Colonel asked.
Tut'el nodded. "Even after the Flashbang, sir. Those things racked up a body count like you wouldn't believe in the first twenty-six hours. Tens of billions."
The Colonel raised an eye tuft. "That bad?"
"They didn't tell you?" Tut'el asked. He glanced at the door where everyone was paying attention to the Training OIC's lecture. "They're sending us to a Tomb World and they didn't tell you?"
The Colonel made a humming noise. "I think I need to review the training data," he said slowly. He looked at Tut'el. "I want you to double-check all training materials. Make sure they're not missing critical information. I know you have a lot on your plate at the moment, but I want this to take priority."
Tut'el nodded. "Yes, sir."
-----
Lieutenant Colonel Ssalressk looked at Sergeant Major HsstSsar as the replay came to an end.
The kobold checked his chron. "Took him less than a second to go from nothing to red eyes, took him sixteen seconds to cool to amber, nearly an hour to go from amber to normal," the Sergeant Major checked his datapad. "The Major was agitated the rest of the day, but was not abusive or short with any subordinates and handled problems professionally."
The Colonel nodded. "What about our other potential problem?"
The Sergeant Major consulted his datapad. "Gave a class on calling indirect fire support as well as close air support and orbital bombardment. Kilo Company Training NCO said it was a bit scattered, but covered everything nicely. Works well with others, just isn't very sociable."
"So, no problems with the Private?" the Colonel asked.
"He's shown up to PT pretty hung over or still half drunk, but he stays in the run or at least catches back up when he's done vomiting," the Sergeant Major said. He tapped the database. "He goes to the E-Club to watch the band or the dancers, play slots, but other than that, he keeps to himself."
The Colonel nodded. "Nothing in common with anyone else," he mused.
"Had an argument with the Armorer about..." he looked at his datapad. "Coolant Line 4 on the M318. Said you have to put extra insulation on it or use a size bigger flex line or it gets clogged after a couple dozen hours of straight use."
The Colonel nodded. "Let me guess, Armorer was arguing that nobody's going to be running the weapons that long."
"Right in one, sir," the Sergeant Major said.
"Check with TRADOC and Ordnance, see if he's right," the Colonel said. He turned and looked out the window.
"We leave in a week. PIMM is almost over," the Colonel said. "I don't want these guys first combat drop to be a complete shit show."
"Then that's what it's going to be, sir," the Sergeant Major replied.
The Colonel just nodded. "And it's up to us to make sure the shit show doesn't last a full six acts."