Behold: Humanity!: The Fire Rises by Ralts Bloodthorne

Author:Ralts Bloodthorne [Bloodthorne, Ralts]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-03-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Nine

General NoDra’ak looked down at the holotanks below him. He was standing up at the observers area, in front of the seats, leaning against the railing and smoking a cigarette. He could see all of the holotanks from up here, and watch the ebb and flows of the battle. Next to him stood his aide, Colonel BuChampe, and one of the Great Grand Most Highs of the system, formerly in charge of the infantry, now in charge of precisely jack and shit but wounded troops that had barely survived. On NoDra’ak's other side was Most High Ge'ermo'o, aide to Great Most High A'armo'o, who still commanded nearly ten thousand tanks, and General Moffeta, who was in charge of Terran close air support assets.

Most High A'armo'o's men were pushing deeper into the three cities, paving the way for 3rd Armor to engage the Precursor forces inside the city that were surrounding the massive ships that had landed or crashed in the city centers. 18th Armor Division was currently sweeping The Graveyard, where dozens of Precursor machines had crashed. It was a radioactive hellscape full of twisted metal, destroyed or heavily damaged Precursor combat vehicles, and shattered landscape. All twelve infantry divisions (unpowered) were sweeping the cities, fighting next to the armored vehicles. The power armor troops were mixed in with the cities, as well as working with the Air Cav units to sweep the countryside, looking for any Precursor that might have avoided the net so far.

That wasn't to say combat was over. Space Force had only recently finished off the last of the Harvester Class Precursors and most of the lesser machines, but some were still out there playing hide and seek with Space Force.

It was odd, NoDra’ak thought to himself, these ones didn't Helljump out. They kept fighting, as if they could pull victory from defeat from an enemy that outgunned them, outranged them, and that they could barely effect even with massed fire.

Space Force was holding roughly a third of their ships in reserve, suspecting another wave to come in.

It was all down to the ground forces now.

"Trucker's engaging," Ge'ermo'o stated. The fact that humans often dispensed with titles when talking about one another seemed odd.

"Of course he is," NoDra’ak said, tapping his ashes into the ashtray. He brought up a virtual keyboard with a command to his implant and tapped a few keys with one bladearm, taking a long drag off of his Terran import smoke.

"Sir?" the summoned image was of a Saurian Compact Kobold with red scales and the flash of a staff sergeant on his collar.

"What's the bandwidth looking like for Trucker's battle tactical network updates?" NoDra’ak asked.

The tech looked down, then back up. "Minor updates to the battleplan, fairly low so far," he said.

"Let me know once it crosses into BOLO bandwidth territory," NoDra’ak said and closed the channel.

"So, he doesn't give orders verbally?" Ge'ermo'o asked.

NoDra’ak shook his head. "No. He uses his implant to make warplan addendum and adjustments. He reserves voice commands for urgent things.

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