DOKI ’̿’\̵͇̿̿\=(•̪●)=/̵͇̿̿/’̿̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ DOKI - Untranslatable, Neko Marine Joan Yukitora
I LOVE ROCKET LAUNCHERS! I WANT TO MARRY IT OR HAVE SEX WITH IT OR BOTH AND THIS IS [BLEEP] AMAZING AND I LOVE EVERY SECOND OF IT! THERE WILL NEVER BE AS GREAT OF PEOPLE AS MY SQUAD MATES AND I WILL NEVER BE SO ALIVE AGAIN! - Kra'at Systems Interstellar News Network interview with one Volunteer Base Class Yethy
"The Empire honors its obligations." - Darth Harmonus, Kra'at Systems Interstellar News Network
Volunteer Az'zkykrmo'o's laser rifle was making cracking sound with every trigger tap. Not that he could hear them, his helmet's smartware negated the sound for him, allowing him to keep up the fire along with his squad and not be deafened.
In his upper hands he held the laser rifle. In his lower hands he was firing laser pistols. The laser pistols were fairly new, he'd grabbed them out of a box of them at the Logistics Base when he thought nobody was looking.
The Sergeant hadn't said anything when Azzy had handed them out to the rest of the thirteen strong squad.
To Azzy's startlement Staff Sergeant Breaker had walked up and held out his hand. "Where's mine?"
Az'zkykrmo'o had handed the Sergeant one of the laser pistols.
Now the Sergeant was standing on the flipped over and burnt out car, in the middle of a rippled lake of superheated, melted, and hardened ferrocrete reinforced asphalt. The Terran was shooting pistols with bother hands.
The sealant lock to Hab-Sixteen-One-Eighty-Four had failed at ground level. Oxygen and carbon dioxide had flooded out of the blown seal, filling the streets.
Now Nineteenth Squad, Sixteenth Platoon, Kilo Company, 19843rd Battalion, 119th Brigade, Sixteenth Volunteer Division, XXXIV Corps, 17th Army was all that stood in between the Mar-gite and literally hundreds of thousands of tasty tasty citizens that were sheltering in place inside the massive hyperalloy and ferrocrete structure.
--seal bad bad bad manufacturer defect-- 7782 called out.
"Can you fix it?" Sergeant Breaker yelled out.
--negative need to pull whole door will flood street with atmosphere--
"GET SOME! GET SOME!" Vee-Yee was yelling, firing the stubby magac SMG she had gotten somewhere, her rocket launcher clonking against her helmet. The magazine had a compact ammo nanoforge sloppily welded to the bottom and the light on the side was blinking a slow amber-green-green-amber-green-green which obviously mean something to people but Azzy had no idea what.
His own rifle was one of the high terrawatt laser rifles. Under 7782's watchful eye he'd taken off the handgrips and then wrapped supercondutor tape around the spiralling cooling tubes and barrel, twisted the ends of the tape, then put the grip back on. Then he'd used superconductor epoxy on the tape, then put micro-heat-sinks that belonged to a weapon like Yee's SMG down the side of his weapon.
At the moment, three of his heat sinks were red, one in yellow, and one in green, meaning he'd ejected three and one was going to need ejecting soon.
He holstered one pistol, ejected the sink into his hand and hucked it.
"SINK OUT!" he yelled.
Heh, the fights got everything AND the sink. Hee hee, he thought to himself as the rapidly blinking heat sink arced away and into a mass of Mar-gite that were rushing across the parking lot.
The thermal sink exploded in a flash of white-hot energy.
Only two of the Mar-gite came out of the crowd. They had black outside skin. Superconductive and very very tough warsteel doped keratin and calcite armor.
"GET SOME! GET SOME!" Yee yelled out, throwing a burst into each of them. The 5mm rounds hit and exploded with AM3 fury.
The warsteel held up.
The keratin and calcite didn't.
A wad a warsteel biological threading was driven into flesh that had already exploded into pink mist.
"YEAH! GET SOME!" Vee Vaisley, already jokingly called Double-Vee, yelled, firing pistols with two hands even as he reloaded his rifle with his other two hands. He was next to the truck, which had "COUNT TRUCULA" written on the sides.
"GET SOME!" Azzy yelled, slapping a new thermal clip into the last red podder and leveling the rifle. He tapped the trigger rapidly.
The days of giving it a half breath between shots were over.
The Mar-gite were attention whores and Azzy couldn't take the time to let them think he wasn't obsessing over them at any given time.
--hive holds sixty two thousand-- 7782 said, waving a bladearm up at the skyraker. --seal borked--
"That the official engineering term?" Breaker yelled, lifting his rifle up and firing twice.
--engineering term much more profane-- 7782 said. He lifted up the micro-launcher and fired. The little dart sized rocket kicked in the sprint drive and hit the Mar-gite three thousand feet up at MACH-8 and the grain of sand sized AM8 warhead exploded.
"Well, what do you suggest?" Breaker said. "Can you fix it?"
--no no no-- 7782 said. --have to yank the seal that flood street with O2 and CO2 and CO mar-gite be all over us--
Breaker stood there for a moment.
"Fuck it," he snapped. He started pointing. "Clicker, crack the forge in the back of Trucula, fab us up some autodeploy sandbags. Silicate is best, but I'll settle for foam bags," he pointed at Yee. "Let your launcher reload and cool off. I want you covering Clicker."
"OOOH YEAH!" Yee said, taking a moment to flex her arms in front of her stomach.
Azzy got his instruction. Get in the middle line and help hold it off.
Breaker tossed Azzy his rifle.
"Don't fuck up my rifle, volunteer," was all he said before he went back to giving instructions.
Azzy thrilled at the fact he was holding a high caliber magac rifle without even any grav-shock absorbers. He slung his rifle and trotted out to where he was supposed to be.
Sergeant Grak'el, the muscular Tukna'rn, pulled three of the dumpsters over to give Azzy and the three others cover, stopping briefly to let Yee pull a bunch of garbage out of the dumpster and throw it into the ever shrinking pile in the back of Trucula.
7782 AKA Clicker attached a hose from the mostly empty mass-tank and tossed it into the fourth dumpster, which Grak'el left next to the truck. He ran off a hose real quick and hooked the cooling rocket launcher's mass tank into the dumpster.
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After that he pushed his bladearm into the IO port and started running decryption, despite having heard his entire career that he would never do that.
It took him almost sixteen seconds to crack the nanoforge, which was a testament to the coders.
Azzy was firing the heavy magac rifle through the gap between the dumpsters, the heavy rounds shredding the Mar-gite no matter what color the pebbled surface was. AM3 exploded flesh, leaving warsteel fiber behind. Flechettes turned flesh into liquid sprays. Solid core rounds blew holes big enough in the tough fibrous flesh for a greenie to run through.
"GET SOME! GET SOME!" Yee was yelling from where she was standing on the truck, firing over the hose attached dumpster with her SMG. The tracers snapped out, intersecting with the Mar-gite. She lifted her weapon and started snapping off bursts. "GET OFF OF THERE!" she shouted.
Azzy was concentrating on his part, keeping the far end of the parking lot clear.
Someone threw a bandoleer over one of his shoulders. He grabbed it and slung it over one shoulder in such a way that it flew around his body and clicked together. A part of him was jealous, knowing he'd never be able to do that where there was witnesses.
He reloaded and went back to work. The mag-rails were in the yellow, the coils were in the green, putting additional spin on the round or separating the flechetttes.
This thing rocks! he thought to himself.
He opened his mouth when he saw it.
ATOMIC ATOMIC ATOMIC
"KEEP IT UP! CLICKER, GRAV SPIKE THE TRUCK!" Breaker yelled. "SQUAD GRAV SPIKE!"
Azzy threw his shoulders against the two dumpsters. He turned up the grav spikes built into his hoofshoes.
The world went white for a moment. His helmet shut off, then tried to reboot.
"HERE COMES THE GIANT FIST!" He heard Breaker faintly yell.
The blast wave hit the dumpsters, trying to push him back as the overpressure wave hit like a brick wall. He could faintly hear his hoofshoes screaming, his shoulders burned, his longspine and mid-spine joint began to flare with pain.
Then it was gone.
The ground rumbled right after.
"HERE IT COMES!" another yell from Breaker.
The dust wall hit. The debris washed over him. His helmet came back, crashed, rebooted, crashed again.
Another wave hit going backwards.
He was aware he was panting from heat.
He slapped it, just like training had said on one sentence he only remembered right now.
It rebooted cleanly.
The haze was thick as he looked around, panting. His eyes still worked.
The rifle in his hands was blinking "READY". His helmet ranged out with invisible fingers, plucking up targets and throwing them up for him. He was aware he'd never stopped firing.
He looked up.
The macroplas on the building wasn't even cracked.
Thank the Digital Omnimessiah for macroplas, he thought.
"Everyone hit a red," Breaker ordered.
Azzy holstered his pistol, grabbed the pack of reds, lit one, tossed the match for luck and tucked the pack away. The smoke was harsh on his lungs but Azzy knew it beat dying of rad sickness.
"THAT'S RIGHT, BITCHES! WE GOT ATOM SMASHER SHIT!" Yee yelled out.
She fired twice.
Azzy shook his head at the way the tarmac was steaming.
At least it seemed to slow down the Mar-gite. Many of them were down and not moving, steaming and seemingly melting.
He put bursts into them anyway, just in case they were only taking a post atom-smasher nap.
"COMING THROUGH!" Yee yelled after a few minutes.
She ran by the front of the dumpsters, trailing a cable, Clicker riding on her head with a cable spool held in his hands.
Azzy noted she had divots in her helmets where Clicker's grav-spike boots had dented it.
Breaker moved up next to Azzy.
"We're fortifying up. Next atomic and we'll break the seal. That'll bring every damn Mar-gite for ten miles down on us. Right now they're roaming the streets by the thousand," he looked back at the skyraker. "Their shelter is at 80% completion. We only have to hold out for another six hours."
"Six hours, right, Sergeant!" Azzy called out.
His ears were still ringing.
He kept banging shots downrange, quickly shifting aiming. His helmet based battlecomp linked up with the Volunteers on either side of him, giving him a zone of responsibility and a field of fire. It also prompted him to glance upwards every five minutes of so.
The tubing suddenly bulged, steaming. He ignored it, still firing.
It turned into layered interlinked heavy canvas looking bags stacked up waist high on a tall Lanaktallan.
"Azzy, here!" Yee called out.
Azzy looked through his rear eyes.
Yee was holding out a stripped down light machinegun that his helmet identified as a Mark Two-Four-Zero-Gee-Nine-Six-Bravo.
She threw it, making a "yeet" sound of effort.
Holstering his pistols in one smooth movement, Azzy turned at the waist and grabbed it out of midair. His grabbed the ammo pack with his upper right hand. He turned around using his lower hands, the ammo belt hanging free as he slung the ammo pack around his waist with a smooth motion that clicked the buckle at the end.
He knew nobody would ever believe what he had just done.
"Sergeant Breaker!" he yelled. The Terran NCO, having only front facing eyes, had to turn to look at him. Azzy threw the rifle, then the bandoleer.
The NCO caught the bandoleer and slung it over his shoulder so it maglocked at the end.
Everyone will believe he did it, Azzy held back a giggle, feeling euphoric.
He slapped open the biped and dropped the LMG on the top of the dumpsters.
The Mar-gite shrieked and rushed him again.
He pulled the trigger and the weapon bounced and rattled, the sound of the shots edited out by his helmet but he could hear the bipod rattling against the top of the dumpster. He slapped the side of the weapon where his helmet was telling him and small grav-spikes stuck the weapon in place.
"BOOYAH!" he yelled out, firing short sharp bursts across the Mar-gite that were charging.
He noticed something odd.
"Sergeant! Sergeant!" he called out.
"What?" Breaker almost appeared out of thin air next to him.
"They're doing something weird."
Breaker looked out, shading his eyes unnecessarily.
Some of the Mar-gite were flopping face down in the alley, in the street, at the edge of the parking lot.
"Shit. They're eating," he snapped. He turned away and Azzy heard him start to speak, his hand going to his helmet.
"Six six two this is Victor Foxtrot November Six Six Tree Tree Actual, I need fire at..." the Sergeant said as he hustled away.
Azzy kept it up, now raking where the Mar-gite 'tripped' and went face first.
He glanced up and saw the sky was full of streaks. Some black and sooty, others pink and white, some red, some yellow, some sparkling like glitter. There was puffs of black, which he knew was flak cannons stripping away Mar-gite.
He kept firing, his forward eyes locked onto his field of responsibility, which was now widened and lengthened.
"BUCKLE UP, BUTTERCUPS!" he heard Breaker yell.
Less than a second later there was a high pitched screaming sound.
The Mar-gite on the ground paused and screeched back.
The streets exploded in flame that erupted almost twenty feet above the street, then dropping in a sheet of burning viscous liquid.
The Mar-gite still screamed and ran into the flame.
Azzy opened his mouth to yell when he saw it,.
ATOMIC ATOMIC ATOMIC
"FUCK YEAH!" Yee yelled.
Azzy grabbed up the gun, turning and pressing his back to the dumpster. His helmet warning him he couldn't take another face full of rads this time.
The flash made everything go flat, robbing it of shadows and depth. He lit a red and paused throwing away the match.
The shockwave hit and he tossed the match for luck.
The heat hit, then the return blast wave.
Then the debris.
He popped up, slapping the gun down and firing into the fire and flames.
It's mine to throw away.
0-0-0-0-0
High Admiral Enem'edwnmo'o watched as the Neko Marine battlewagons engaged the smaller of the Mar-gite constructs.
Yeah. Smaller. Some of them measures in the hundreds of kilometers, he thought, giving a snort. His XO glanced at him then looked back at the holotank.
Putting all four hands behind his back, High Admiral Enem'edwnmo'o watched as the Mar-gite clusters kept breaking up.
It was going into three days now that the Empire and the Neko Marines had been helping defend the system and there was no sign that the Mar-gite were willing to give up their attempt at taking it away.
"Status change! Unidentified craft have entered outer system!" was called out.
High Admiral Enem'edwnmo'o didn't wait for the statement to be relayed to him, he immediately turned his attention to the holotank.
"Talk to me, tactical!" he snapped.
"Data still coming in. Multiple signatures! Launching sensor torped..."
There was a bright white flash.
High Admiral Enem'edwnmo'o found himself laying on the floor, only one of his cybereyes working and that only showing everything in grainy black and white.
The bridge was almost completely dark.
Only one holotank was on.
Displayed in the flickering holographic field, kept lit only by a single zero point reactor hidden in the mechanism of the holotank, was a cryptic statement.
HUR DEE HUR DEE HURR™
0-0-0-0-0
There was a white flash without the ATOMIC warning. Azzy's helmet crashed and stayed dead.
But the gun still fired. The grav-spike hiccupped for a moment, letting the weapon rattle for a moment.
It didn't matter.
Azzy kept shooting.
Clicker had the whole entrance to the hab torn apart, replacing the seals and filling in the cracks with epoxy to make sure that the building didn't leak any atmosphere.
It didn't matter what happened.
It didn't matter what the cost was.
The entrance to a hab containing tens of thousands of people outside the bunker, with an unsealed bunker still being constructed by auto-borers, was all that mattered.
"GET SOME! GET SOME!" he yelled.
It's mine to throw away.