Nova Wars Chapter 36

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS In summary, we've got the Mar-gite flooding in, someone building some kind of fence, and a third player knocked out the Slappers. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- Recruitment numbers are bottomed out. We're having less volunteers now than we did a year ago. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- LANAKTALLAN ELECTRIC THOUGHT GRAZING FIELD Is it a population issue? ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- For us, it's the fact that our birth rate was cratered up until our mysterious replacement encouraged everyone to bring it up. But it's too little, too late. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- It isn't just grabbing some random Telkani off the street, cramming him in power armor, shoving a power rifle in his hands, and going "Go kill those dudes a lot before you take a power packet to the face" like some think. The lowered population meant shutting down production lines. From the 'we'll never need it' to 'we can just buy that stuff from the Lanks' to 'I don't want to work in the orbital shipyards'' problem. We have to train people to train people to work in the shipyards, everything else. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- Our MBOLO tanks aren't waking up. We think they might have been asleep for too long. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- We're not having the 'ships on paper only' problem, but even if we put every single member of Space Force and Planetary Defense on the ships, less than a quarter of them would be manned enough to even move out of parking orbit. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS We have less than four million warrior eggs, and they're at least three months from hatching. A year or two for growth. A year for training. We're three years from being able to field a Horde. And that will be the smallest Horde we've ever fielded. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- LANAKTALLAN RECIPE REPOSITORY NOW WITH FRUITCAKE Do we have three years? ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS Have you seen the size of those constructs? We've realized something. Those huge ones? The Petra and Tetra constructs? We were attacked by what those become after a long period of time. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS A construct goes largely dormant, sucking up solar radiation and deep space radiation. But they do more than that. They consume the innermost Mar-gite and slowly contract as they ones on the outside eat the core. Eventually you get a Spear or a Lance. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- That seems... suboptimal. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- Not from their viewpoint. Who cares if they lose a couple billion. They'll find a gas giant or a planet full of hydrocarbons, or just unroll near a stellar mass and gobble everything up. They'll even eat comets and the ice on frozen moons. They slurp up oceans. They gorge on the atmosphere itself if it comes down to it, leaving nothing behind but a bare rock. Then what looks like an overly thick Margite will peel into two Mar-gite. Repeat until the construct is rebuilt. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- How do they get off the planet. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS They rebuild the cluster, which then uses some kind of biological countergrav to lift up and break orbit. First thing they do is unwrap, that dark pebbly side soaking up solar radiation, then they roll back up and break orbit. Inside, the more well fed are splitting into two. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- HAMAROOSAN PINCHING FESTIVAL The perfect eating machine. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- Unless you count some of the Atrekna slavespawn and weapon spawn. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- Last time we stopped them, during the Second Mar-gite War and the Resurgence, it hurt us bad. Well, not us coreward races, but you, Space Force, and the Confederacy. The question is: Can we stop them this time? ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- We have to at least try. Can we stop them again? ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS That fence might be all that saves you younger ones once the lights go out on this side of it. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- TNVARU GRIPPING HANDS I WOULD NOT BEND MY NECK TO THE LANAKTALLAN! I WOULD NOT BEND MY NECK TO THE PRECURSOR AUTONOMOUS WAR MACHINES! This content has been unlawfully taken from NovelHub; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I WOULD NOT BEND MY NECK TO THE ATREKNA! I WILL NOT WEEP AND GIVE MYSELF TO OUR ENEMIES! I REFUSE TO JUST LAY DOWN AND DIE! I WON'T LET YOU LAY DOWN AND CRY AND DIE EITHER! WE THROW EVERYTHING WE HAVE INTO THE GUNS! THE MAR-GITE WILL EAT US ALL ANYWAY! AN ATTACK UPON ONE IS AN ATTACK UPON US ALL! BRING FORTH THE DARK CRUSADE MARTIAL ORDERS WITH FIRE AND BLOOD! FIRE THE PINK AND WHITE FLARES AND LET THE CRY OF DOKI KAWAII RING OUT AGAIN! I WILL NOT LAY DOWN AND DIE! ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS That's all well and good, kid, but we just don't have the numbers. And we may not have the time to get the numbers. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- >USER HAS ENTERED THE CHAT UNKNOWN USER>Doki? Doki? UNKNOWN USER> KITTY! KITTY KITTY! UNKNOWN USER> ORKY! KITTY! UNKNOWN USER(1)> wazzup UNKNOWN USER> KITTY ORKY KITTY! UNKNOWN USER(1)>KITTAH! KITTAH! LANAKTALLAN GALLOPING FIELD NOW WITH MORE PIXELS ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- UNKNOWN USER> KITTY KITTY KITTY! UNKNOWN USER(1)> DOGGO! DOGGO! DOGGO! TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- This might take a while. ---NOTHING FOLLOWS--- It was the largest Fleet engagement Commodore, no, Captain N'Skrek had ever seen. Four complete task forces, hundreds of ships each. The small task force his group had been part of had been put in with a full task force, reinforcing them. His task force had undergone two weeks of refit at the orbital shipyards. Junkers, cruise liners, every vessel that could carry three people locked in a bathroom had been pressed into service to evacuate the planet. For two weeks it had been a constant stream of ships jumping in, filling to the brim, and jumping out. Over two thirds of the population had been lifted out. Half of the remaining were refusing to leave their homes, citing their Right of Consent under the Confederacy laws. Half of those stubborn ones did not believe the Mar-gite were coming in such numbers. It was impossible, they believed. Some even claimed it was a trick to get them to abandon their planet so a rich omnicorp could buy up the property. As if there wasn't thousands of empty planets, some fully industrialized, just for the taking. In the reshuffle Captian N'Skrek had found himself in charge of a troopship and three divisions of landing troops. A Telkan Marine Division, a Confederate Marine Division, and a Confederate Army Division. All with power armor, robot combat armor, wawrmeks, and a half dozen Jaeger class warmeks. The ship was massive, with over ten thousand Space Force personnel aboard it. It had massive foundries, refit bays, training and living areas, three hospitals. It also was so old that he could taste the dust in the air no matter how many times the filters were changed. Some of the warmeks were so old they had graffiti on them from the Great Third Great Herd Great Civil War from over fourteen thousand years ago. The flight bays were loaded with nearly five thousand torchships and two thousand aerospace strikers. The strikers and torchships sitting in their cradles, waiting to be used. The ship was also barely manned. None of the redundant stations were manned, some personnel were doing the job of three or four other stations. Over half of the mechs and three quarters of his aerospace assets had no pilots. Age and neglect had left tens of thousands of shipboard functions inoperative. The Damage Control Center boards were lit up like he had been in combat. The ship was so old that it only had a hull number. A poll on the ship social media account had named her. Well, Captain N'Skrek had taken the fifth place winner. He didn't think Space Force would approve of "Big Butted Bitch" or "Big Dick Energy" or "Just Fucking Die!" or "This is bullshit" for the names of the assault carrier. The Grey Lady was the new name. As it stood, he watching a stream from Smokey Cone that was being broadcast to Fleet from the local threadcaster. It was Mandatory Viewing by the Smokey Cone High Matrons, for all Treana'ad everywhere. He puffed on his cigarette in nervous surprise as a War Queen was announced. Captain N'Skrek knew that the attempt to demand a Great Hatching had failed to pass the vote. The War Queen was demanding a Great Hatching. Captain N'Skrek groaned. He knew that the Matrons and the females would all refuse. The Tyranny of the Birthing Chamber had ended almost fifty thousand years ago with the P'Thok Liberation, when the great... The music changed and the War Queen stepped aside. Captain N'Skrek recognized the Terran who walked out onto the stage in glittering gold braid and the black naval uniform of the Confederacy. How could he not? He had seen that Terran's picture repeatedly growing up and in school. He mouthed the name as the Terran was announced, the name that was written on the Treaty of Ice Cream, Smoke, & Moo-Moos. Captain Decken stared at the cameras. "No being likes feeling they are nothing more than a machine, than a cog, than a pawn to be ordered around," he said, gripping the sides of the podium with his hands. Captain N'Skrek nodded. "But when war comes, when the great engines of violence shudder and groan to life, it is the duty of all beings to step forward," he said. "P'Thok knew this when he was chosen to invade Terra itself. He knew his duty. To his nation, to his people, to those that came after." The Terran's eyes were glowing red, just like the stories claimed. "The Treana'ad are the toughest beings the Terrans ever faced, with a win-rate of almost 30%. No other species has ever matched that or even came close. The Treana'ad people have always been known to be wise and clever, martially gifted, and capable of great deeds," Captain Decken said. "They, with my people, founded the Confederacy through blood and force of arms, protecting those who could not or would not protect themselves from the threats a malevolent universe gleefully produced." He leaned forward slightly. "Now the Mar-gite come. They do not care about your philosophy. They do not care about how well you dance, the fine cigarettes you smoke, or the delicious ice cream you feast upon," he said. "They are hear to feast upon you. You are what they want. "Your pleas, your cries for mercy, your begging, do nothing. They are coming. By the trillions. He looked around for a moment, as if he was looking at every Treana'ad watching. "The time for a Great Hatching was five years ago," he said. "It will take five years for your Great Hatching to make a difference even if you start laying eggs right this moment. "I, and every member of Space Force with me, will try to buy you those five years," he let go of the podium. "I'll give my life if need be to buy you the time you need. Space Force will give their lives to buy you that time." His eyes bored into the camera, into the viewers, into N'Skrek's very soul. "Don't waste our lives." With that, he turned and walked from the stage. The Mandatory Viewing Signal cut out. Captain N'Skrek started to stand up. His datalink beeped even as the lights flashed to amber and then red. "Captain here," he said. "Officer of the Watch, Captain," there was a pause. "First Petra-Cluster just warped in." "By Kalki's dancing goat," someone breathed over the comlink. Jaskel was staring at the sky. The Mar-gite cluster was big enough to be seen by the naked eye. A long lance, as big around as the moon. As he watched it slowly began to unwrap. He could still feel the odd pull toward it. It was the fourth time he had felt the pull from a Mar-gite cluster big enough it had its own gravity, strong enough effect the tides and the wobble of the planet's core. He didn't like it then. He didn't like it now. "They're coming!" one of the engineers yelled. "Cut that strut. Cut those cables. Screw proper disconnect, get that creation engine loaded! We've only got a few hours!" Jaskel ran a function check on his armor and weapons. It had become a nervous habit, like chewing his claws or clenching and unclenching his hands. --big one-- 8814 said. "Giga-Cluster according to fleet," Jaskel answered. He could see, even with daylight, the bright streaks of Fleet engaging the Mar-gite that had warped into the system. His job was to guard the engineers and technicians while they stripped the industrial size creation engines and nanoforges from the factories and loaded them onto transports. The planet was already lost. "Fleet said it's already been shedding. The lead ones will be here in two hours. NavInt predicts, unless it gets broken up, it'll take five days for the whole thing to shed," Gunny Zolpad said. He paused. "Fleet says we're not doing a last stand. We get the fabs loaded that we can and bug out." Jaskel knew that the population that hadn't left was now on their own. He also knew that at this moment the ones who never believed the Mar-gite would actually show up would be streaming for the starports, screaming for Space Force and the planetary government to save them. Should have listened, Jaskel thought to himself. Contrails began to streak across the sky, heading for the unrolling Giga-Cluster, as the planetary defense batteries began to hammer at it. Should have done that hours ago, Jaskel thought. He habitually checked his systems. "It's ready! Load it up!" the engineer called out. "Class XXV and higher are the priority! Get on it!" Jaskel just kept looking up at the sky. It hurt to know that this battle was already lost. The white bead in the middle of the holotank was pulsing so fast it was flashing. The sole living occupant of the ship's bridge stared at, frowning. He was trying to remember what it meant. He looked down at his hand. There was a grip held it it. At the top of the contoured grip was a red button. He stared at it, then at the pulsing white dot, then at the button. The boxy robot propelled by tracks next to him gave a low and slow warbling whistle. The warped temporal effects of the bridge made it so that the whistle was drawn out some places, compressed in others, heard by the bulkhead before it sounded out at the hotwired consoles nearer to the robot. He blinked. First one eye, then the other. He knew he was supposed to do something when the white dot started to pulse. His thoughts were fragmented, hard to bring together. Parts of his brain working out of synch with the others as the strange tides of time rippled through the bridge. Gold sparkles filled the air. Time shuddered, heaved, and settled into a stately moving pool that encompassed the entire ship. He lifted the contoured grip, shifting his thumb over the button. "And here..." he said. He pressed the button. White fire wiped everything away. The Demo Frogs heard the enraged bellow echo across the entire world and looked up. The Dra.Falten Empress stumbled and fell to her knees as the bellow filled the entire world. The Strevik'al Senate screamed in terror as the roar sounded out. The entire local galactic cluster heaved as the roar sounded out. He was in bed. His head on comfortable pillows. The comforter was soft and warm, the sheets flannel. He could hear voices. "Should be all right," a woman's voice said. "Good. He solved one problem for us," A man's voice. There was a whistling chirp. "He'll be all right. He's just confused right now. It wasn't easy to put his mind back together," the woman said. "Well, everyone in the galactic spur knows he succeeded," the man chuckled. "I'm going to check on him. He just woke up," the woman said. He waited, opening his eyes. The room was quiet, dimly lit. A window had the curtains drawn back to show a dark night with snow drifting down. There was a dresser, two night-stands, a wardrobe, three chairs. Carpeted. The walls were polished and lacquered wood that was bright even though the stain was dark. The white door opened and the woman entered. She was thick of body, matronly, dressed in modest clothing. A blouse, an ankle-length skirt. She wore a simple choker around her neck and a single ring on her left hand. She came up and sat in the chair next to the bed. "Do you know who you are?" she asked. Her voice was soft, gentle, caring. "Not surprised," she reached out and smoothed his brow. "It's OK, Momma's got you now," she said. She fussed with the covers for a moment. "You did a very brave thing." "Did I die?" he asked. She nodded. "You did. I brought you back." "I did good?" he asked. She smiled as she stood up. "You did." She bent down and kissed his forehead. "Get some rest. You'll feel better." He yawned and nodded. She moved to the door, pausing for a moment. Jaskel rode out the shockwave of the pancake round, his grav spike howling. The shockwave passed. The Mar-gite that had been slammed against the ground started to get up. The sun dimmed, went dark, even though it was night. The air grew close and heavy. He could taste hot coppery blood in his mouth. --eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-- 8814 screamed Everything went still. On the bridge of his ship, giving orders to hammer the Petra-Cluster running for the jump zone, Captain N'Skrek heard it. LET THE UNIVERSE SHAKE IN THE WRATH OF TERRASOL!