Behold: Humanity!: Screams of the Past, page 2
"Ten thousand years ago, before even the Mantid attacked, before they developed superluminal travel," Va'ano'os said. He sighed. "Maybe even before then."
"Regardless, I am ordering my men to take the city, destroy the field generator, and do our part to make sure we can crack this planet and leave," Mo'olo'op said.
There was a twinkle in the air and a Terran suddenly appeared. The hologram was in high fidelity and Mo'olo'op almost drew his pistol and shot it.
"We have you surrounded. We have for some time, but we have you in an untenable position," the human said. He was dressed in black pants, a black shirt, with a black beret. He held a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. His voice was uncaring, disinterested, and his expression was one of tired boredom.
"Bah, this is just a human trick," Mo'olo'op said.
The human gave a noncommittal gesture. "Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Many have attempted to take our nation away from us, and take our cities away from us. Some, we could live with as an oppressor, but you intend on destroying our planet, so you, we will not be able to live with."
"Drop the shield. Surrender and be destroyed," Mo'olo'op said, putting all the authority he could into the statement.
"Pologne does not surrender. I can see there will be no discussion between equals," the human said. He looked around. "We regret the loss of life, but you have left our people no choice. Do it."
"What do you..." Mo'olo'op started to asked.
He, and every bit of Lanaktallan hardware as well as the Lanaktallans protected by the battlescreens were converted to steam as the human male snapped his fingers.
If the Lanaktallan present or in orbit had been on Telkan for the war, they would have recognized it and shuddered.
It was an older attack, an older weapon.
But it still checked out.
Hellfracking.
-----
Ta'arnoo stared at his screens as his dropship roared toward the ground, the heavy engines pushing it faster, trying to get under the air defense systems. Three quarters of its sister ships were already spreading debris and falling garbage.
The network was spotty at best. The data couldn't be run through the ship’s analysis VI software since the systems were bare bones at best. Anything able to run a high level VI would give the Terran attack programs room enough to 'flex' and work. The network was images only, the bare amount of processing power it took to show images and save them.
So far he noticed the following:
If the Great Most High rushed in: He died.
If he dug in: He died.
If he delayed: He died.
If he tried maneuvering: He died.
As near as Ta'arnoo could tell, the whole planet was a deathtrap.
He understood why the Mantid had been beaten. The Terrans were insane and their planet was a death trap.
Intelligence stated that the Terrans had adjusted the satellites that controlled the weather over this part of the continent. Despite the fact it was summer in the Northern Hemisphere, they risked damaging their ecology severely.
It was snowing, a blizzard, over the interior northern section of the continent.
Already the early reports were stating there was a foot of snow on the ground, more coming in constantly, with high winds and even lighting.
He looked at his datapad. It was his job to put together the intelligence necessary to allow the Great Most High to take victory and disable the defenses. To make sure that at least one assault managed to complete its mission.
He wasn't sure about this though.
Snow. Heavy snow.
In a place called the Vodkatrog Empire.
He had a bad feeling.
Meet General Winter
Ta'arnoo stepped out of the assault shuttle and struggled through the snow. In the thirty minutes they had been driving for the surface it had gone from a mere foot or two of snow to waist deep. His armor immediately began to ping environmental warnings at him.
It was nearly sixty below zero before one took into account the howling wind that was moving at almost forty miles an hour, faster than a civilian car was allowed to move. The snow whipped around him, fouling the sensors, and the air was so cold that infrared and UV was useless. The snow caused beacons to fuzz, meaning he almost walked by the tactical operations center. If it hadn't been for the fact he walked face first into a guard wearing powered assist armor he would have kept right on walking. As it was, he pushed his way into the shelter and walked into an argument.
"...calm and sunny nine hours ago!" a Lanaktallan Ta'arnoo didn't recognize yelled.
"It's a Hellworld! Why didn't anyone know these blasted lemurs came from a Hellworld?" another bellowed at a cringing subordinate.
"We're all going to die here because you dropped us into a storm so terrible we don't even have words for it," still another yelled.
"My men can't fight if the lubricants in their tanks keep freezing up!" still another shouted.
"The air is so cold my mechs are suffering damage on the air intakes for the coolant system!" still another complained.
One turned and pointed at Ta'arnoo. "Oh, look, it's the Great Most High of Military Intelligence, here to tell us all about how his data says it’s summer so it can't possibly be snowing!"
Ta'arnoo shook his head. "The Terrans are using weather control systems to cause this weather. They call it a blizzard and in the winter it’s fairly common."
"So they know how to fight in it," one of the Most Highs said. He spit his chewed cud on Ta'anoo's feet. "My amazement at the Intelligence Services knows no bounds."
"Sapient life doesn't come from Hellworlds!" Ta'arnoo yelled back, kicking the cud back at the Most High. "Feral, primitive intelligence, yes, but sapients? No!"
"At least, so far, we aren't being engaged by the enemy," the Great Most High of Armor said.
"We are being engaged," Ta'arnoo snapped back. "They caused this storm, they wanted this storm across the entire middle of the continent."
Another Most High looked up. "Jamming is fierce and comprehensive. Anyone further than fifty miles or so is out of contact. A lot of units are not responding."
"If they're out of contact for longer than two hours, assume they have been destroyed," Ta'arnoo said. His tendrils curled as he stamped his forehooves a few times to ease off agitation. "The Terran defenses are a magnitude stronger than even our worst case estimates."
"They even use the weather as a weapon. Will these crazed lemurs refuse to stoop lower?" the Most High of Infantry asked.
"You realize what we're here to do, right?" The Most High of Mechs asked, reaching up and rubbing his face. He had been complaining of headaches for almost three months.
"To defeat their ground forces so we can have our ships burn their worlds," the Most High of Armor snapped.
"Then why should they not stoop to any level to ensure victory? Even insane lemurs, like the Terrans, know what happens if they lose," the Most High of Mechs said. He rubbed his face again. "We'll planet crack every rock in this system and they'll be dead. Why shouldn't they weaponize everything in reach? The Great Herd would."
"Don't they know our victory is inevitable? It would be much less painless if they just accepted the fact that the Great Herd will eliminate them from the galaxy. All they are doing is prolonging the agony until our inevitable victory," the Aerospace Most High harrumphed.
"You talk a lot for a male with no assets," the Mechanized Infantry Most High sneered. "I'd be more impressed with your words if you had a single surviving aerospace fighter."
"HOW DARE YOU!" the Aerospace Most High screamed.
"How dare he what? Tell the truth?" the Armored Infantry Most High asked, whirling around and clenching his rifle with all four hands. His power armor whined, the joints clicking.
"I can only hope you face the lemurs with the same ferocity and aggression you display at one another," Ta'arnoo said. "Because, mark my words down and keep them close, the Terrans are coming. The blizzard is just the first wave of their attacks."
The Aerospace Most High sneered again. "And what if they do? Our might will crush them."
"Says the male with nobody but himself," the Armored Infantry Most High snickered.
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" the Aerospace Most High screeched.
"ENOUGH!" the Great Most High of the attack force stood up from where he'd been sitting in the shadows, surrounded by technicians who were busy setting up equipment that would enable the Most Highs to command their troops.
Ta'arnoo could tell that everyone had forgotten he was there as the big male clattered out into the middle of everyone.
"The weather is a weapon, then," he turned to the Maintenance Most High. "Find out the status of our weapons, our armor, our equipment, our defenses. See how much this weather is effecting us."
The Maintenance Most High saluted and left the hastily assembled shelter, snow and wind blowing in for a moment, dropping the temperature to below zero almost instantly.
The heater against the wall started to whine and sputter.
The Great Most High turned to Ta'arnoo. "How long do we have until the lemurs attack?"
Ta'arnoo shrugged. "According to our data passed by our spy we're in the middle of somewhere called the Vodkatrog Empire," he tapped his dataslate and looked over the data. "This region was relatively uninhabited once it recovered from the Mantid Glassing. Mostly tribes of what our spy termed 'techno-nomads' and primitives."
"Hmmm. How much force would these techno-nomads be able to bring to bear?" The Great Most High asked.
Ta'arnoo gave his race's equivalent of a shrug again. "Unknown. Apparently they fight among themselves quite a bit for territory and resources so it's doubtful they'd be able to put up a coordinated defense or offense against us, which means they will be easily defeated."
The Great Most High nodded. "And our ships in orbit?" he turned to the Most High in command of the dropships. "How did our ships in orbit fare?"
The Most High looked up from where he was sitting down, staring at his hand. "What ships?" he asked.
"Our ships in orbit. The ones with the planet crackers, our reinforcements, and our orbital support," the Great Most High repeated.
The Most High looked up. "Gone. A quarter of our forces never made it off the ships before they were destroyed. We have no resupply in orbit; Terran Orbital Defense took down our entire task force."
"Can we get support from another Task Force waiting in orbit?" the Great Most High asked.
The Most High of Orbital Operations shook his great head. "There are no ships in orbit that last longer than a few minutes. Most don't even get within the orbit of the planet's overly large satellite. It's like every square inch of the planet is covered in orbital defense systems."
The Great Most High just stared in shock. "None of them? What about the Domination Class Super-Dreadnoughts? There were over a hundred in our Task Force alone!"
"Half of them broke up or exploded with all hands before we even made orbit. The rest were destroyed by the guns on the surface of the planet and the satellite as we disembarked," the Orbital Most High said, staring at the floor again. "Those damnable guns of theirs."
"What about the Leviathan classes? We had almost thirty of them." another Most High asked.
"Blown out of orbit. A few lasted a little longer, but they were under attack by the same Terran aerospace assets that took out the Most High's entire force," the Orbital Operations Most High said. He slowly took a wad of nutricud out of his pouch and put it in his mouth. "Some of the Leviathans didn't even get a chance to launch their dropships."
Ta'arnoo just nodded, bringing up a window on his datapad and looking at the time-stamps for when the various ships had gone offline and when dropships had launched.
"Less than half of the entire task force survived to even get in range of launching dropships. Before we were halfway to the target the last transponder went offline," Ta'arnoo said. "The Most High is correct. Less than a quarter of our force survived to this landing zone. The other Task Forces either suffered the same fate, landed with less than a tenth, or were destroyed in orbit."
The Great Most High's hands shook and he stamped his hooves for a moment to get himself back under control. "How? How were they able to destroy Leviathans with just a handful of shots from their guns?"
"Because a single salvo from one of the lunar batteries is capable of destroying a super-dreadnought, and a half-salvo from Terran groundside orbital defense batteries could do the same," Ta'arnoo said, looking at the data. "It's not just their kinetic weapons, not just their standard laser warhead missiles; they've got munitions that go far beyond what we're capable of."
"Like what? Big rocks?" the Aerospace Most High sneered.
"Like this," Ta'arnoo swiped on the datapad, throwing the image taken from one of the dropships external cameras up onto the large dataslate against the wall.
The big Leviathan class ship's shields were blazing brightly, almost hiding the ship itself as more missiles came howling in on it.
"This is from the initial salvo," Ta'arnoo said. He used his finger to run the pointer. "At this time the Fury of the Unstoppable Herd has been engaged for less than a half second. I'm slowing down time at a 50:1 scale so you can understand what is happening.
The shields flared brightly again.
"That's a hit from one of those weapons they call a 'C+ Cannon', which uses the kinetic mass increase due to speed to make a twenty ton slug of raw iron into something weighing approximately a thousand times the original mass in kinetic mass," Tra'anoo said. "We're not sure how it works but the Executor Intelligence Agency said that the new shielding would stop the rounds. They did, for..."
He pointed right as the shields on the massive ship dropped, revealing its awesome lines. It was almost fifty miles long, ten miles wide, and a mile thick.
"Half the barrage, less than a tenth of a second," Ta'arnoo said. Massive craters started dimpling the Leviathan's armor and plumes of vaporized alloys started bursting from the craters. "There's the rest of the barrage. This was the first barrage fired at the Fury of the Unstoppable Herd, which has never been beaten in over twelve million years of service."
"So the Executor's vaunted shielding failed," the Aerospace Most High sneered, grasping at anything to make himself look better.
"Any other shielding would have been ineffective, the rounds passing straight through it and detonating inside the hull, like they did with the Corporate Fleet," Ta'arnoo said. He highlighted a volley of missiles. "These missiles, with the shield down, drove in for the kill."
"There's only a few dozen missiles," the Aerospace Most High said, frowning. "How could only a few dozen kill the Fury?"
"Because each missile represents a hundred missile pods," Ta'arnoo said.
On the screen, the missile swarms began to sparkle.
"They're firing off their laser heads pretty far out," the Air Defense Most High mused.
"They aren't firing off laser heads. Terran missile systems are particularly aggravating," Ta'arnoo said. He zoomed in on what looked like a long tube with two boxes, one on each side, tacked on. As everyone watched the boxes fired off 280 missiles each, then the tube vanished.
"What happened?" the Armor Most High asked.
"Once it fires its submunitions, and this is one missile pod, the main body of the missile uses a graviton driver to yank itself into the grav field, from the back, accelerating forward, into a hypervelocity nCv round," Ta'arnoo said.
The display followed the missile in, which came in fast and spiraling, dodging point defense systems. Ta'arnoo looked around and could see that the majority of Most Highs were sneering at the tiny missiles.
The fired and Ta'arnoo froze the image.
"Each of those beams is a only a meter wide, they're firing directly into and around the impact point of the nCv round," Ta'arnoo stated. "Now, look at the damage."
The beams just seemed to core out holes straight into the ship, sending up clouds of particles.
"What was that?" the Great Most High asked as the screen pulled back to show the Fury starting to break apart.
"As near as any systems can tell, it changes the charges on atomic forces, making static electrical charges attractive and nuclear attraction force repelling, it makes the atoms just come apart, but you haven't seen the rest," Ta'anoo hit play.
"In comes the rest of the missile," Ta'arnoo said, highlighting what should have either been destroyed by the firing of the beams or been nothing but dead junk. Instead it immediately pulsed and vanished. "That's a pulse of some type of energy we don't really understand. It disrupts sensors," the screen went white. "That's the Fury exploding."
There was silence as Ta'arnoo ended the video.
"And that, Great Most High, is why we have exactly zero orbital assets," he finished.
"And the other Task Forces?" the Great Most High asked.
"Those that made it off the ships took heavy casualties, making planetfall; over forty-percent were wiped out completely. We're the strongest, and we have slightly less than a third of our forces, no aerospace assets, limited artillery, and no ammunition beyond what was carried," Ta'arnoo said.
"And what is the opinion of Military Intelligence regarding our efforts here to destroy the planetary shield generator?" the Great Most High asked.
Ta'arnoo said something that he had never thought, in all of his three hundred years of life, that he'd ever say.
"We have no chance. The only question is a simple one," Ta'arnoo said.
"And what is that?" The Aerospace Most High sneered.
"How long it takes the Terrans to kill us."
-----
Inside the Oort Cloud, when the Corporate Fleet dropped in, ancient subspace beacons, running on a forgotten and lost channel, stirred to life. They were clustered with ice and particle debris from the thousands of years of drifting through the cloud, using gravitic anchors to stay in roughly the same position. They were completely undetectable unless someone knew the exact band to look upon.
A band that had been abandoned long ago.
