"High Most, I must protest most strongly the fact you are allowing these aliens access to our vehicles," The Maintenance Second High Most, one Lowenmoo, complained.
"Protest all you want, it is happening," Ekret stated flatly, walking toward the large buildings where his tanks were kept. "The Terrans have offered to ensure that we are able to work within their tactical computer network as well as are able to coordinate with our forces. An offer I intended on taking them up on."
Lowenmoo shuddered with anger. "We do not need their help! They haven't even been rated on the level of their sapience! What could they have to teach or offer us?"
"Their plasma compression chambers are eighteen times more efficient that ours, cool down four times as fast, their barrels are 340% more durable than ours, and are capable of firing five times as fast at the same bore width and chamber weight," Ekret stated, still moving at a steady walk to the hangar. "Just for that alone I would gratefully invite them over to engage in inter-species sexual intercourse with their choice of my mother or sister."
The Lanaktallan inflated his crests with horror.
"That kind of firepower alone ends battles faster than our weapons. Their focusing arrays are stronger, increasing the plasma cannon's range, they use a laser 'tip' to heat the air so that it does not attenuate the plasma as much. Why haven't our military researchers come up with that simple of a method to increase range," Ekret asked. He saluted the door guards, who were standing next to the massive Terran warborgs who had taken up stations recently.
"I would not presume to know. That is outside and above our paygrade," The Lanaktallan harrumphed. It paused for a second. "And above your birth station, Heavy Armor Most High," the four legged creature said slyly to remind Ekret of 'his place' in the scheme of things.
"In combat one's station matters little, all that matters is one's will, skill, and equipment," Ekret stated. The Maintenance Second Most High harrumphed as they entered the hangar and were great with chaos.
Terrans swarmed everywhere. Moving about quickly, sometimes at a jog, sometimes running. Carrying parts, tools, equipment. Climbing on the tanks, working under them, on the sides, conversing with the crews, attaching equipment to the tanks, or opening sections to gain access to critical systems. They called out to one another with their voices and Ekret could tell that the air was thick with implant and com array discussions. He could see VR keyboards, manuals, schematics glimmering in the air and ass he watched one Terran turned his palm up to project a schematic for several interested technicians to lean forward and examine.
The maintenance officers, primarily Lanaktallan's, were all clustered against the back wall, staring at the humans and some of the other 'lesser' species as they worked.
"They are causing chaos, you must stop them, Heavy Armor High Most," The Lanaktallan said, wringing his four hands together.
Ekret's brain, without the help of his implant, quickly deduced what everyone was up to. He'd seen plenty of maintenance done after the battlefield when the maintenance techs were trying to get ready for the Corporate Inspection Most High's arrival.
"Yes, they are," Ekret mused, heading toward his own heavy tank. His crew were watching a Terran affix something to the inside of the rear glacis, where the crumple-zone airspace was located that was supposed to keep EFP rounds from gutting his tank.
"Most High," his gunner, Cheepeek, snapped.
"Relax," Ekret said, waving a paw. He climbed up the tank, ignoring the Lanaktallan's plaintive pleas to stop the Terrans. He looked at the driver. "How is our vehicle?"
The saurian blinked his clear inner eyelids twice then gestured for Ekret to follow him into the tank. Once they were both inside the saurian, Driver Second Class Sselssen made a gesture of irritation.
"The Terrans, they try to hide it, but they are angry with our maintenance crews," He said.
"Why is that? Speak freely, we have been through too many battles together for you to worry about combing my fur," Ekret said.
"The Terrans claim we have armor and frame microfractures, that the alloy of our hull is showing stress, that our engine is not running at optimal performance, and that our computer systems are sadly lacking," Sselssen hissed. "Rather than rub my tail in it, their 'maintenance chief' ordered first our own crew to fix it, and when they refused, saying it was within company tolerances, he ordered his own men to carry out the repairs."
Ekret waited a moment. "And?"
Sselssen slapped his tailtip twice, a habit Ekret knew meant the other being was stressed. "They showed me, with our own instruments, how badly our vehicle has been maintained. I requested they repair our vehicle as if it was a Terran one and do you know what the 'maintenance chief' told me?"
Ekret sighed. "I assume he said no."
Sselssen slapped his tail again. "He told me, looking me right in my left eye: 'Bound by steel and blood, to lessen you is to lessen myself. Our lives are in one another's hands. It will be done.' and ordered his men to get to work."
Ekret cocked his head in confusion, then flicked his ears in assent. "All right. So..."
"Hi!' The voice interrupted their discussion. It came from the command panel and Ekret looked at it as Sselssen looked around the cramped tank compartment. A computer generated face, a blank icon usually used by the Unified Communications Agency, was on his command communication panel.
"Greetings," Ekret said.
"It's your aVI, a warboi," Zkukov whispered to him over the implant. "He's just been hashed, so he'll be curious about the tank."
The image jumped from display to display. Ekret motioned for Sselssen to relax. Finally the icon stopped and 'looked' at Ekret.
"Cav All the Way! It Will Be Done!" the image spoke and bobbed up and down while showing the rune for pleasure.
"Welcome aboard. You are installed to assist us?" Ekret asked.
"I work best with bio-troops," The 'warboi' chirped. "Together, we work the best. I compute a thirty percent increase in effectiveness."
Sselssen raised his tail curiously. "What if we were just moving toward the battle and I suddenly went to maximum acceleration, computer?"
"I would double-check the scans to see what I missed and assume your predator instinct had alerted you to a threat I cannot detect," The aVI said. "Did you know a human can tell if someone is staring at them even if the one staring at the human is hidden from sight and behind the human? Nobody knows why!"
Sselssen twitched his tail again. "That is very interesting. What should we call you?"
"Bouncy," Ekret said, watching the little icon for the aVI (advanced VI) bounce eagerly on the screen.
"I like that name," Bouncy answered.
"Indeed," Ekret looked at the VI's icon. "Is there anything else?"
"Our tank is in need of immediate repair, refurbishing, Service Life Extension, and refit," Bouncy said, sounding sad. "We are at less than 20% battle effective. Should I file a maintenance report?"
"Yes," Ekret said. "File it with the Terrans of 3rd COSCOM," he turned to Sselssen, "I shall be outside the tank. I wish to see the progress."
"As you wish, High Most," Sselseen said.
As Ekret climbed out he could see the VI, Bouncy the warboi, going through systems and running maintenance depot level diagnostics, somehow getting by the Corporate security lockouts.
The bay was still full of chaos, with the normal team still against the far wall. They'd started clustering up by rank and Ekret knew they would soon be complaining.
A Terran who looked more cyborg than bio came up, nodding.
"General Trucker, 3rd Armor Division. You must be Armored High Most Ekret, the new Armored Scout Recon Division CO," The big Terran said.
Ekret avoided the instinct to cower down in the face of a predator's stare that intense.
"Say 'yes, sir' and don't salute," Zhukov suggested. The AI followed up by uploading Terran Confederate Military etiquette to Ekret. Ekret noticed it all seemed to be for keeping highly aggressive predators from going at each other with knives over rank disputes.
"Yes, sir," Ekret said.
The big Terran nodded. "Third COSCOM tells me that through no fault of your own, you're in need of depot maintenance," he said.
"Yes, sir, that is correct," Ekret answered.
"Do you have enough simulators for all your men? I noticed you have ten thousand vehicles divided up between heavy, medium, and light designations. Can you put all of your men in simulators?" General Trucker asked, watching the maintenance crews work.
Ekret shook his head. "Only twenty percent of my men are expected to take part in any conflict," he said.
"That may be how you are used to it, V Corps takes a different approach," The General said.
"My military liaison, Zhukov-442, made me aware of that," Ekret said.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"Four-four-two? Good man, that one. Steady head, innovative, works well with non-digitals, an excellent mentor for you during this integration period," The General mused. "You two getting along?"
"Yes, sir," Ekret said.
"Excellent," The General looked around the bay. "We'll get you interlocked, Armored High Most, don't you worry about that."
Despite the fact that the Terran had been mostly bored looking, his voice calm and unruffled, Ekret believed him.
---------------------------
The first simulator practice had been a disaster. Ekret's unit had been virtually wiped out. His commanders had made every possible mistake. Worse, the 3rd Armored Division General himself had been riding in "tank" as they'd used VR to practice.
When he showed up at the After Action Briefing Ekret firmly believed he'd be dressed down at least, replaced at worst. He gathered up with the other Division commanders and waited as the General of V Corps, a Treana'ad by the name of General Nodra'ak stared at a fast forward reply in the holotank for almost ten minutes.
Finally the General stopped it at the words "END SIMULATION" and looked around.
"That went... suboptimal," The General said, his voice calm and unruffled and sounding more like a human's than a large mantis-like insect. He lit a small white stick, which Ekret had learned was some kind of stimulant and appetite suppressant and pain killer that was used through inhalation of the smoke.
Ekret waited for the lash to hit.
"General Trucker, care to explain what happened?" General Nodra'ak asked mildly, pointing with his "smoke."
Trucker lifted a can and spit some kind of cud juice into it before answering. "A cascade of failures that mistakes and bad decisions that happens in any unit's first integrated exercise," he shrugged. "We let our armored recon get chewed up and then acted all surprised when the 'enemy' flanked us and wiped out our logistics."
The burning white stick got jabbed at him and Ekret stood as straight as his hips and spine allowed him.
"What went wrong, Armored High Most?" General Nodra'ak asked.
"I outran my artillery support. Several of my commanders refused to listen to their vehicle VI's and called in airstrikes, orbital strikes, or artillery strikes on their own units. An entire brigade ran out in front of a moving BOLO company. When we took 15% casualties my men tried to withdraw, as is Unified Military Forces policy and the 'enemy' pounded us into scrap while we ran," Ekret said honestly.
The General lifted an antenna as he inhaled smoke. When Ekret finished speaking the General blew the smoke out of his mandibles and nodded. "Brutal, but truthful. I like that in an Armor officer," he jabbed the tube at the holotank. "Well, Unit-9823JWS, you have an explanation for what happened to an entire Brigade of my recon, Jaws?"
The slightly mechanical voice came out of the holotank. "We had not been loaded up with the proper IFF and they were mistaken for Precursor machines. I have remedied that by ordering my Brigade mates to load up allied vehicle profile and IFF files," there was a moment of calm. "I was unaware that command had not loaded them."
"You didn't ask for them either, Jaws," The General chided. "You're a brand new CO, that's why we're doing this shakedown."
The General turned to the 19th Artillery CO. "What happened with you? Why didn't you autocorrect."
"When my controller went to verify the coordinates, they were given the friendly units present override code," that General said.
Ekret felt himself bridle up. Those idiots hadn't passed the request through him and then had used a code normally use when a unit was being overrun?
"I shall rectify that, sir," Ekret stated.
"All right, gentlebeings," General Nodra'ak said. "Let's get to work. We have a long way to go."
Ekret found himself nodding.
He refused to embarrass himself or his men again.
---------------------
"What happened, Ekret?" General Nodra'ak said, lighting his smoke.
"I should have asked for a sonar scan of that bay. It had been reported a Jotun crashed into the ocean, I didn't expect it to lunge up out of the ocean," Ekret admitted. "I didn't expect my commanders to retreat rather than open fire."
--------------------
"Well, Ekret?" General Nodra'ak asked, bringing out his pack of 'cigarettes' that apparently were imported all the way from Terra.
"My men had turned off the VI's at the orders from their Brigade Commander and were unfamiliar with the map designation for minefield."
---------------------
"How did I lose three quarters of my recon to friendly fire on the first day, Ekret?" General Nodra'ak asked, exhaling smoke from his mandibles.
"It all went to excrement, sir," Ekret said. "One of my Brigade commanders mistook a friendly unit for an enemy unit and opened fire. The rest of my Commanders panicked and tried to retreat or opened fire."
General Nodra'ak stared at him for a long moment, his compound eyes seeemingly serious. "If you want to replace commanders, High Most, now is the time."
-------------------
Ekret watched the Lanaktallan officers leave, all threatening to destroy his career, all reminding him that he was just a neo-sapient and that he would rue the day he ever joined the UMF.
"What should I do, Zhukov?" Ekret asked.
"Promote from within, list 10% of your vehicles as combat replacements, begin training. Let it be known that any officer who fails in his duty shall be replaced. As High Most, you could have them executed, which I approve of, but Terran Military Code of Uniform Justice prohibits. Just assign any failure officers to light tanks and put them in risky positions," The AI told him.
Ekret nodded.
------------------
The General lit his smoke and pointed at Ekret. "What happened?"
Ekret stood up as straight as possible. "I convinced the enemy through electronic warfare that my light tanks were BOLO's, pulling him out of position and into an artillery placed mine field where his anti-air could not counter our close air support. I then had my men go to full stealth and fall back to the rally point at Point Golf," Ekret said.
The General exhaled bluish smoke, turning to General Trucker. "So, General, how exactly did you lose half my heavy metal before even deployment?"
Trucker spit the cud-juice into the can and shook his head. "I didn't trust my recon and ordered the dropships to land us at Hotel, walking straight into an ambush."
Nodra'ak nodded, stalking around the hototank in a very human movement despite his four legs.
"We're getting better, gentlebeings," the Treana'ad growled. "A few more and we'll use our actual vehicles."
----------------
Ekret sat on the back of his tank, chewing his ration. Less than a hundred feet above him one of Combat Talon ripped across the sky, followed by a dozen of its comrades. Ekret watched the overpowered 'aircraft' go by, his ration tube in his mouth.
"Ten minutes, sir," Zhukov told him.
"Thank you, Zhukov," he said. He spit the ration tube into the churned up grass and climbed back in his tank. He looked at his crew and gave a Terran-esque smile. "Let's see what General Kli'kitik is trying to hide from everyone."
His crew gave back the same expressions. Bouncy jumped to the command console as Ekret's driver made sure the stealth systems the Terrans had installed were running before firing up his engine so he didn't 'attract a butt load of missiles' again.
----------------
"So, Jaws, what happened?" The General asked.
"I had not expected Most High Ekret to use his recon skimmers to drop depth charges on me as I crossed the channel," The BOLO answered. "He used stealth sheathing on the charges and the very first one 'detonated' between my hull and the barrel of my Hellbore. He delivered enough firepower to cripple a Jotun before I could surface."
The General nodded, moving to the next point.
Ekret felt a cold burning pride in his men.
-----------------
Ekret sat on the edge of the hatch, chewing an empty ration tube and staring at all the maintenance crews running at top speed to correct the defects identified when the tank crews had inspected their vehicles that morning. Each tank crew helped their maintenance crew with the work, adding manpower to the job. Ekret ignored how many of his Armored unit had the V Corps blue triangles pentagon shaved into fur, tattooed onto skin, dyed into feathers, or scarred into scales. Their morale was high, even doing maintenance and constant drills. The tank crews had been trained to care for their tanks, doing the small jobs that were easy to do without special tools, including repairing hoverskirts and even replacing a broken fan-blade.
"Bouncy, what's on the agenda for the rest of the day?" Ekret asked, considering giving the crews the night off to go into town.
"I don't know. You're supposed to..." the aVI started to say. I suddenly bounced over to Ekret's panel and flashed it twice for attention. "Incoming message from TERMILINT!"
"Put it up and to my implant," Ekret said, spitting out the ration tube and sliding into his commander's seat.
Both had the same message: ATTACK IMMINENT! ALL TROOPS TO READY STATION! ATTACK IMMINENT! LOAD WARPLANS AND GO TO BRAVO!
"Download the warplans, Bouncy," Ekret said, trigging the elevator to lift him out of the tank. "Sselssen, as soon as the maintenance techs give you the clearance, get this thing ready to roll!"
Ekret saw the humans were working faster somehow. Putting armor back on, tightening bolds, fixing hoverskirts. In some places ten or twenty humans swarmed a tank, ripping it apart, adding to it or replacing parts, and putting it back together.
"GREEN GREEN GREEN!" One of the Terrans at the back of Ekret's tank yelled, slapping it three times. The Terrans all scattered, running to tanks that only had a paw's count of techs working on it.
His crew climbed past him, dove into the hatch, and got into their positions.
"Zhukov, redesignate my unit as an HHQ Armored Cavalry Scout Brigade, redesignate the rest of my units as discussed," Ekret ordered.
"Redesignating," Zhukov said. "Third Armor Commander's compliments, sir. Signal when deployable."
"Most High," A signal over the implant broke in. Oh, great, it was Sa'altlikk, his Third Most High in charge of the light stealth tanks.
"Ekret, go ahead," he said. He had considered replacing the cud-chewer repeatedly, but his crew were excellent soldiers and he didn't want to mess it up.
Great, I'm starting to talk like the humans too, he thought.
"I object. We are a heavy armor division, with divisions of medium and light tanks. We are heavy armor, not some kind of reconnaissance force," Sa'altlikk moaned. "I request permission to rejoin the heavy tanks again, not this flotilla of floaters."
"Compared to Terran tanks, we're lucky we aren't considered ammunition," Ekret snapped. "Get off my implant and get your crew ready."
"We'll see what my cousin says about this," The Lanaktallan threatened before cutting out.
"I have disabled all non-military communications that are not routed through me, sir," Zhukov said. "Am maintaining proper communications net procedure. Additionally I have assigned a code string to ensure that Third High Most Sa'altlikk's vehicle is under proper EMCOM."
"Thank you, Zhukov," Ekret said.
He enjoyed the speed and efficiency of the AI.
Ekret turned and climbed back up on his tank, standing on the seat so his upper body was outside the tank's hull. He watched the Terran techs suddenly stream away, like a flock of birds, and the floor was completely clear except for the odd crewman running for his tank.
Ekret shook his head. It would have taken the normal maintenance crew almost an hour to make their way to the back wall where they were already huddled. They would have stopped for conversations, to establish dominance over each other or 'lesser species' or stopped to berate tank crewmen.
Instead, the hangar bay looked like it was deserted of everything but the tanks.
"Warplan loaded, sir," Zhukov suddenly said.
"Thank you, Zhukov," Ekret said. He ducked down and looked at his communications officer. "Open a unit wide channel."
"Open sir," the officer said.
"I helped. I shut down all communications outside each tank so they can't talk to other people!" the aVI, Bouncy, said.
"Yes, yes you did," The com-tech reassured it.
"All units, all units," Ekret said. His men were used to him abandoning honorifics. "The Precursors are fighting their way to our planet as they speak. The Corporate Military Council and our own Unified Military Services Council are still engaged in argument even as space shakes with the thunder of combat."
Ekret thumbed the activate rune for the movement plan to someplace called "Staging Point Bravo" and kept talking.
"The Terrans have dispensed with arguing and instead are ordering their units, of which we are to consider ourselves part of, to protecting this world, these people, this system. We are still under my command, and I will not spend your lives without reason. You know this, I have proved this in a dozen battles with you," Ekret said. "But we are to act as part of a larger whole, so that we interlock together like a finely made engine. Like the whole of a tank we are greater than the sum of our parts."
"We are the First Armored Scout Cavalry Division. We shall find the enemy, seek him out, so that he may be destroyed. We do this in honor. Our scanners are tuned, our eyes are sharp, and our guns are ready.
"MOVE OUT!"
"IT WILL BE DONE!" roared back over the com-links.
Ekret noted that the formation the Terrans expected was an odd one. A staggered wedge with firing orders. It was one long practiced, but for his recon division to use it was odd.
It meant that it was real. The Precursors were here.
And expected to make landfall.
Ekret slid an empty ration tube out of his chest pocket and started chewing on the end.
-----------------------
TERMILCOM ALERT
FIFTY (50) GOLIATHS IN SYSTEM! DOUBLE ATTENDANT NUMBERS! PREPARE FOR BATTLE!
-------NOTHING FOLLOWS---------------
V CORPS ALERT
Unknown number of Goliaths heading toward planet. Expected to be four (4) or more. Commanders, load battle plan Alpha-five-niner.
IT WILL BE DONE!
---------NOTHING FOLLOWS--------------
UNIFIED MILITARY FORCES ALERT
The size of Precursor forces is too much to defend against. All commanders withdraw at your own discretion. All Third High Most and above commanders and Company Executives or higher are permitted to retreat from the system at own discretion.