Nova Wars

If you train for only perfection on your side and unreactive enemies on the other side, you will eventually lose. - Tran'rmo'o, 22,487 TXE

IF IT AIN'T RAININ'!!!! - Terran Instructor, Age of Paranoia

Well, this sucks. - Every enlistedbeing ever everywhere

Vak.tel raised his eyetufts when he checked the morning schedule when he woke up.

Physical Training, good ol' PT, was, of course, on the list.

But rather than 'pocket classes' where you learned out of the book of common tasks and a few things for your primary military occupational specialty from the book, there was "Full eVR Combat Training" on his roster for training from roughly 0900 to 2100, with an hour break for lunch and an hour break for dinner.

"Hey, you seen this shit?" Vak.tel asked, tossing his schedule into the holo-emitter on the wall of the 3-man room.

"I've got the same thing," Juvretrik said.

"Me too," Nrexla said. "Damn, all day," he made a tapping motion in midair. "Uh, we're scheduled for this for the next week and a half."

"Guess rumor control was wrong and we're not only a day or two out from wherever we're going," Vak.tel said. He tapped the wall. "Guess we're still in hyperspace."

"If this old tub can even get into hyperspace," Nrexla said. "Probably can barely get into the Alpha Bands of jumpspace."

"Wonder if it's going to be as boring as the last few eVR runs," Vak.tel wondered allowed as the three left and headed for the large gym where PT took place.

0-0-0-0-0

Vak.tel had decided whoever was coming up with the scenarios had to be the most boring unimaginative Telkan to ever exist.

For the tenth time that day he was just steadily walking forward, relaxed in his armor as the BATTACNET did the work. 'Ghost rounds' clinked off his armor or thumped, but even in the simulation he wasn't suffering any armor degradation or loss of ablative shielding. Most of the time his simulated battlescreen didn't even waver or flicker.

It was a bare bones simple open area advance on a city's suburbs. The air defense took care of drones and aerospace assets. The point defense handled indirect fire and missile attacks. Enemies were rapidly destroyed by the pinpoint accuracy from the weapons on the drones and support elements like the wheeled 30mm hellbore and the little 4-legged missile and light machinegun drone. It was rare for anything to even get within engagement range of the M318 that Vak.tel had been assigned.

They crossed the green lines and the simulation went to wireframe then dissolved.

The armor walked him back to the starting side of the bay. The 20mm M318 autocannon in the gunnery harness went through a function check, the automation taken care of by the limited VI built into the system.

He sighed as the armor stopped, yawning real quick. He watched the upper corner as his armor went through the standard checks. Pressure levels, energy levels, ammunition levels, training lockouts, simulation levels.

Booooring.

The exercise number floated by and Vak.tel shook his head slightly, as much as his frozen armor would allow him. He recognized the number easily. A standard advance into prepared infantry using obsolete weaponry and equipment. It was mostly used for newbies to acclimate them to wearing what was basically a miniaturized tank, to get the fear out of them.

In other words, another boring boot exercise.

It went exactly as Vak.tel knew it would. Advance under ineffective fire, reach the blue line, end exercise. Walk back to the green line and wait.

They did it twice more before things changed.

Vak.tel was ordered to move position, with the rest of Kilo Company, to the right flank.

The communication bands were still locked out, standard operating procedure, so he couldn't really bitch to anyone about it.

But he complained to his suit anyway.

He found himself on the edge of Kilo Company's formation, next to some large all black robots with amber eyes.

The exercise was standard. Combined arms enemy advancing in the open, the Line would move forward to meet them. Once the blue line was reached, the exercise was over.

It went just like it always did.

Except the robots directly on his right sometimes took out his targets before his computer systems could even identify them.

By the fourth time, the robots were getting on his nerves.

Still, Vak.tel was glad when lunch arrived. The robots fucked off to wherever robots went when people had lunch and Vak.tel moved over to the rest of Kilo Company. He stopped at the mechanics, opening his armor and stepping out, ignoring the feeling of being naked even though he wore his duty uniform. He wandered over to where the rest of Kilo Company was sitting around, eating lunch off of a plastic plate.

He got his lunch and sat down between Juvretik and Nrexla, with PFC Cipdek sitting on the deck, leaned back against a cloth bag full of who cares what.

Once he was done eating, he looked around. "This is stupid," Vak.tel said.

Cipdek snorted. "Yeah. And there's going to be more of it. We're through 'operational baseline gathering' and into 'basic force integration and synchronization' now."

"Synch up to what?" Vak.tel asked.

"Your mom's ass," Nrexla snorted.

"Creche born, eat a dick," Vak.tel shot back. "No, seriously, integration into who? They should be integrating into us."

"Supposedly we're getting used to operating with III Corps (Old Blood) and First Telkan Marine Expeditionary Force (Old Blood)," Cipdek said. He cracked his toe knuckles by curling his toes tightly. "Ah, that's the stuff," he looked back. "Apparently, that First Telkan Marine Expeditionary Force went to Terra for training right before the Bag slammed down," he gave a chuckle and tugged his hat down to shade his eyes from the overhead lights. "Poor bastards. Forty-thousand years go by and they're still in the Corps."

That got chuckles.

"Those fucking robots are starting to piss me off," Nrexla suddenly said.

"How so?" Cipdek asked. "I'm on the other side of the company from them."

"They keep jumping my targets," Nrexla said.

"Kill stealers," Vak.tel snorted.

"I'll kill steal you," Nrexla mock-threatened. "What the fuck do we even need with robots anyway?"

"Apparently they're from First Infantry Division (Old Blood) or something," Cipdek said after checking his implant.

"How are you getting this data?" Vak.tel asked.

"Captain Kemtrelap left his header unsecure again, so I cloned it," Cipdek said, shrugging.

"You're gonna get in trouble for doing that one of these days," Juvretik said.

"Naw. He'd have to admit he left his security codes unsecure," Cipdek said. He adjusted the brim of his hat. "He didn't want me to clone his shit and look at stuff, he should probably keep that shit secure."

"Eh, he's an officer, he's probably just glad he can walk and chew stimgum at the same time," Nrexla grinned.

The ten minute warning beep came over the datalinks. The quartet got up, bitching, tossed their plates, bottles, and cutlery into the grinder, and got back in their armor.

Moving to the green line Vak.tel sighed.

The black robots showed up again, getting into a sawtooth serrated line, their amber eyes shining.

The simulation started running. Vak.tel recognized it immediately as based off of the last few fights of the Telkan Hierophant Civil War a few decades before he was born.

After the third time, he was damn near asleep in his armor. The Battlefield Tactical Network had the entire thing happened and he was just the biological backup.

Which was pretty much par for the course.

The recent (1,500 years prior) upgrade to Vodamn Armor with Neolinnium plating made the M9221A4 Heavy Assault Combat Protective Powered Suit fielded by the Telkan Marine Corps damn near invulnerable to anything man portable and most emplaced weaponry. Lighter, thinner, more effective that the previous Chorak Armor and Shredytik plating by a factor of nearly 18.24%, it allowed more protection for the same weight and space on the M9221. It even outperformed Warsteel Mark VIII off of the Great Forge on Telkan-2.

Which meant none of the 'weaponry' being fielded against him could even mar his armor. Scratch the paint, sure, but actually mar it? Not even close.

The whole thing continued until dinner.

Again, he found himself sitting with the same group.

Vak.tel was halfway through his second fizzystim when Cipdek sat up, pushing the brim of his hat back.

"Uh-oh," the other Telkan said.

"What?" Vak.tel asked.

"CO's being summoned by the Old Man. Apparently the Terrans don't like the sim," Cipdek said. He brought up a keyboard and twiddled it. "There. Now they won't see me piggybacking."

Vak.tel just went back to trying to decipher the hieroglyphics on the inside wrapper of his fizzystim.

After a few minutes Cipdek sat back up. "Yeah, the Terrans don't believe that the simulations properly train for the battlefield," he shook his head. "They're claiming that the BATTACNET could go down. That we could run into an enemy with weaponry that can effect the Vodamn armor and inflict casualties on both personnel and armor/equipment."

"Man, who gives a shit what the Terrans are saying," Vak.tel said, shaking his head. "Their shit's all obsolete. Nobody's ever had and nobody ever will crack quantum entanglement communication systems. They're literally unjammable since it depends on paired quark states."

"Seriously, they got the whole Division's Old Men in front of the III Corps 4-star general," Cipdek said. He suddenly laughed. "The Terran said that we fight like we're letting the VI is run the show. The Terran is claiming that it's dangerous and all it would take is the BATTACNET getting interrupted or compromised for us to all be in trouble. Old Man Kretok told him 'the future is now, old man. Go back to Terra if he's afraid of modern warfare.' That Terran looks pissed. Huh, weird."

"What?" Vak.tel asked.

"The Terran's eyes were greenish irised, now they're just bright amber,"Cipdek paused a second. "Oh, shit."

"What?" Nrexla asked.

"Some Terran Field Colonel just called Old Man Shrekna a milk drinking coward that his broodcarriers are embarrassed by," Cipdek said.

"What?" Juvretik said, standing up. "Man, fuck that guy. What's Shrekna saying?"

"Captain Kemtrelap is being held back by Gunny Heltok. They're all yelling at the Terran, whose just standing there with his arms crossed," Cipdek said. He was silent a minute. "Fuck."

"What?" Juvretik asked.

"That Terran asked if the Old Man has the balls to put his money in his mouth where normally a dick is. He's challenging us," Cipdek said. He suddenly reached out and slapped an invisible button. "Shit, shit shit."

"What?" Vak.tel asked.

"That fucking Terran just asked Captain Kemtrelap how come he thinks the BATTACNET is so secure when, and I quote: 'PFC Cipdek from Kilo Company is watching this whole thing while he's laughing with', and get this, he named all of us."

"I told you that you were going to get us in trouble," Vak.tel swore.

His datalink clinked. New orders were dropping. Get into his armor and on the ready line. Vak.tel looked at what little he was being told. Null-G variable grav-point pads for full immersion, eVI interactions.

The ship's computer would randomize terrain, mission objectives, and positioning.

Vak.tel shook his head.

"If the Terrans want their ass whipping early, guess it's up to us to hand it off to them," Vak.tel snorted.

"We'll spank the elderly and be back in no time," Cipdek laughed.

Vak.tel stepped into his armor, feeling it fold around him.

"Time to teach the Terrans that the universe moved on and left them obsolete," Vak.tel said.

0-0-0-0-0

Vak.tel took a nap for a while, waiting for whatever was taking so long to finish so he'd get put into the simulation. The Null-G pad was weird. It allowed him full movement, but a seperate system handled inertia and which was was 'down' to the armor and his senses.

Still, he got in a good nap till a buzzing woke him up.

INCOMING PARAMETERS appeared on his visor.

His armor went dark, there was a light tremble, then his systems came back.

Environment: Hills with jungle. Some urban. Low clouds, heavy rain, lightning and thunder.

Enemy: Infantry with limited air and indirect fire support, estimated to be in company strength. Estimated to have obsolete weaponry and equipment.

Time: Night

Activity: Enemy infantry probing 17th Rifle Battalion's areas but breaking contact quickly

Objectives: Eliminate enemy infantry units when found

His visor cleared and he found himself standing inside a standard drop-pod manufactured fire base. Others appeared around him, arms outstretched for a moment before their armor synched up. Second Platoon gathered up around Gunny Heltok. A holo-emitter put up a terrain map of the area.

Hills, some at a higher angle than others, some streams, all covered in jungle. There were two small settlements, only about twenty to thirty buildings.

"All right. Kilo Company is being ordered to scout this settlement, then move forward to secure this ridge," Gunny Heltok said. "The weather and darkness isn't a problem, just good for background immersion," he said. He waved a hand at the surrounding jungle. "We've got artillery and strikers standing by, so there's that."

"How far?" Sergeant Letrill asked.

"Sixteen klicks to the settlement," Gunny Heltok said. He tapped a few spots on the map. "We'll be crossing two highways, so I'll want drones up as soon as possible."

Vak.tel grinned to himself. It was a lot easier than the fighting he'd taken part in before.

Three hours later and Vak.tel found himself wishing he could punch Old Man Shrekna in the muzzle.

Someone had thought it was funny to crack off high altitude artillery rounds that slowly covered the entire area in chaff. Radio jamming had started howling across the radio bands as soon as Kilo Company had left the drop-pod built bases. At first everything seemed fine, then the real fun started.

Sergeant Kellerman had fallen head first into a hole and satchel charges at the bottom and side had gone off, spraying everyone with chunky salsa and armor shards.

A sniper put a round into Lieutenant Gretilk's armpit and the armor had just slumped, the round bounding around inside the armor.

Two privates had stepped on anti-vehicle mines and been blown to chunks.

Twice spray mines had gone off, coating them in chaff and prism dust.

The only thing working was BATTACNET and the quantum communication's system.

Judging by the few snatches that Vak.tel could hear in the clear, everyone else was having just as bad a time as Kilo Company was.

The casualties were mounting and nobody had even seen the Terrans.

Now someone from Bravo Company was screaming over the open channel, raw full throated screams of agony, and nobody could figure out how to cut him out of the communications link.

The Telkani's pleas and screams suddenly cut off.

For a second, over the channel, there was silent.

A female Terran's voice spoke.

"You are all going to die here," she said.

The channel went dead.

Regiment ordered the communications algorithms changed out and the commo switched over to a new quantum 'channel' as well as rapid squirting new code arrays.

It didn't help.

Someone from Charlie Company started screaming for a long moment before the sound cut off.

This time the Terran female outright mocked them.

"One, two, Terra's coming for you..."

Vak.tel knew it was all VR, but still...

They were coming up on the road finally when Gunny motioned everyone to stop.

"I want drones up," he said.

Vak.tel nodded, firing off two drones with a dull chuff. They were gone only five minutes before returning. Vak.tel downloaded the telemetry and passed it to Gunny Heltok even while he looked it over.

The drones checked the highway, finding nothing but vehicles, some wrecked, trees, and in case a lizard chasing a six legged furry thing.

"Road looks clear," Staff Sergeant Gantez said. "Nothing on thermal, nothing on power sources, no gasses consistent with power armor."

Gunny Heltok nodded.

"Move out," he ordered. "Six across, keep your spacing."

Ten minutes later they were at the road.

Vak.tel looked it over. It looked like someone had called an airstrike on the road. The ground was covered in water-filled craters, damaged or wrecked vehicles, and jungle flora obviously thrown there by the storm.

"Stack up, eight deep, six stacks," Gunny Heltok said. "We'll all cross at once."

Vak.tel found himself in the middle of the third stack. At the Gunny's signal they all started hustling across the six-lane highway, weaving between the vehicles.

He was in the median when it all went to shit.

"POWER SOURCES!" someone yelled.

The wrecks were already standing up, or ripping apart to show those big black robots with the amber eyes. Honest to God antique cutting bars started roaring as within two seconds the big robots were in with the stacks.

Vak.tel saw Sergeant Trimmax get his head ripped clear off. Someone else was grabbed by two of the robots and their arms ripped off. The cutting bars were howling even as the platoon tried to react to the sudden appearance of the big black robots.

Vak.tel brought his M318 around, trying to target one of the robots, but it grabbed PFC Pellertik from second squad and held him up like a shield even as it charged.

A score of rounds hit Pellertik before the gun went dead with "FRIENDLY" popping up on Vak.tel's visor. Not that it helped Pellertik, whose chest was blown open by the heavy 20mm rounds.

Vak.tel backed up from the charging robot.

It threw Pellertik's corpse to the side, reached forward, and grabbed him. Vak.tel went to break the hold, his brain still whirling.

The robot lifted him into the air.

He could see lightning crackling in the clouds.

He was suddenly dropped down. Something hit the waist seams of his armor in the back. His guts sprayed out as the bearing seal gave way and his back snapped. He was dropped and saw the big black robot stand up from where it had broken Vak.tel over its knee. It lifted one foot and stomped Vak.tel right in the visor.

SIMULATION ENDED appeared in his visor.

"Shit."

0-0-0-0-0

"Man, that was nothing but pure bullshit," Vak.tel said, stomping into the room.

Juvretik nodded, following him in.

Nrexla was sitting next to Cipdek on one of the beds. The duo looked up.

"That whole thing was bullshit," Vak.tel said. He moved to the fridge and got out a fizzybrew. "And the bullshit with the mines was just bullshit."

"The Terrans had three hours to prepare. The computer watched all of it," Cipdek said. "Apparently since they were the defenders, they got to plant mines and shit."

"Like hide their robots inside wrecked vehicles? That was bullshit," Juvretik said. "I got my head twisted off by a fucking robot."

Nrexla and Cipdek looked at each other and then at Juvretik, who was twisting open a bottle of fizzystim.

"They didn't have robots," Cipdek said.

"The fuck they didn't! I saw the fucking yellow eyed trash piles," Vak.tel said. "Fucking robots attacking everyone with fucking cutting bars. It was bullshit. I got my face stomped in by a fucking robot."

Nrexla and Cipdek looked at each other again, then at Vak.tel.

"Those were Terrans."