Let this world be our bedrock.

  We shall raise a fortress.

  And we shall defend the stars. - Grand Patron Cathal Casey, Founding Years

  The Confederate Armed Service stand ready to defend all worlds of the Confederacy. - Diplomatic Statement

  Come get some. Bitch. - Solarion Iron Dominion

  48 HOURS INTO OPERATION TATTERED WHIMSY

  His armor was beeping as his weapon overheated and the heat sink core popped out flashing. He slapped another one in as he kept running down the ruined street. Dodge the pile of rubble from where the dead skyraker had puked its guts out all over the street. Jump over the hole that led to the subtunnels beneath the city. Jink around where a dozen cars were crushed together by a grav weapon.

  He fired his rifle with one hand, arm fully extended, just putting hate downrange as he sprinted for cover and to get some distance between him and a Nookie infantry regiments that was hurriedly deploying their crew served weaponry.

  His rocket launcher screamed as it fired, unburnt and burnt propellant coating the front of the warsteel casing. The 2.75" rockets flew out, took an almost 90 degree turn and dropped to the deck. They raced at the infantry unit even as his grenade launcher suddenly came back online and dropped a half stick of smoke grenades behind him, where he'd tabbed them up to conceal his advance.

  --working working working-- his green mantid engineer 2209 texted. Greenies had difficulty talking like everyone else, a combination of tiny size, low lung volume, and not much in the way of vocal cords.

  "Just get stuff online!" he yelled.

  The warboi was highlighting and tagging targets. Hypervelocity machine guns, a 20mm autocannon that was the Nooky's version of the M318, a 66mm autocannon that the Nookies fired and it flipped end over end backwards because they forgot to secure the forward plates.

  "I'M HELPING!" the warboi, one Treefrog-228155 blurted out.

  "Uh-huh," he panted as he ran up and around the backside of where the guts had fallen out of a skyraker. His armor made it so he didn't trip over debris like the desk or chair half sticking out, but instead the artificial muscle fiber and armor made it so either the debris disintegrated or flew out or broke apart.

  "BEEP BEEP!" Treefrog yelled

  --hes happy--

  "Uh-huh," he answered.

  Now the Nookies were getting his number. His battlescreen started flashing as rifles began tagging it. A cannon shot went by, leaving behind the puffed smoke rings. A heavy MASER beam went by and his armor edited out the KA-RACK of the air collapsing into the vacuum created along the path of the beam.

  --keep running-- 2209 said. --take left get dist

  Up ahead an intersection was flashing.

  ATOMIC ATOMIC ATOMIC

  --fuck it run for your life--

  "Hey, I have great news, you're going to be hit by an atomic but it should be all right!" Treefrog helpfully added.

  Pan'nikk broke into a sprint, his armor smoothly taking off and accelerating up to a hundred fifty kilometers an hour within a dozen steps. There was no shuddering from the molecular graviton gyro compensator, no screech of overstressed artificial muscle fibers, no sudden power drop. He held his rifle at port arms as he charged forward. Back straight, knees up, head up.

  --increased incoming fire starboard compensating within tolerances--

  "Wonderful news! Ten paces till your out of their field of fire, boss, the screen'll hold!" Treefrog-228155 blurted out.

  The atomic went off, an airburst roughly three kilometers behind him, only in the 45 kt range. He didn't even stumble when the shockwave hit, just kept running. It wasn't too bad, the thermal pulse sat in 31 BTU/ft2 range and the psi was only at 2.9 when the shockwave hit.

  The rifle fire slowed to a dribble, but the crew served weaponry kept it up.

  "Good news, boss! The rifleman are gone! The crew served have autodeploying foxholes so most are still operational," Treefrog said. "Lucky for you, that means you are in a target rich environment!"

  Pan'nikk didn't answer, just moving almost on instinct. He was overrunning his reflexes, his thought to action time. He had to rely on his warboi, his greenie, and the implanted firmware.

  Nine paces.

  A leap took him over a tank that his brain hadn't registered. The smoking hull already a dead hulk. The sudden maneuver took the hate off of him, but it picked right back up as he hit the ground a hundred meters from where he'd jumped.

  Six paces.

  The heavy firepower ripped through the wall of the building, shattering macroplas windows, sheering through endosteel beams.

  Four paces.

  The vehicles he was running beside exploded behind him, a few of the Slapper gunners still not realizing that he needed to lead Pan'nikk as he laid even more hate down.

  Three paces

  Across the street. Street dead ends. Guide line goes straight to the wall.

  "Are you sure?"

  Two paces.

  --go faster--

  "FASTER!" Froggy yelled. "WHEEE!"

  One pace.

  Pan'nikk got his arm up.

  The wall exploded inward, his battlescreen went down with a crack, and he plunged through a produce section, bounced off the freezers, and then hit the automotive section.

  He went ass over tea kettle.

  "YIPPEE!"

  "NOT NOW!" Pan'nikk yelled, sliding to stop.

  --nicely done--

  "Oh, piss off," Pan'nikk said.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He slowly got up. He was covered in all kinds of different and colorful food, leaving him looking like he'd been attacked by a paint set.

  "How bad?" Pan'nikk asked.

  "We're good, boss!" Treefrog said.

  --trying to get uplink-- 2209 said.

  ATOMIC ATOMIC ATOMIC went by again.

  This time it was close enough that part of the wall around the hole Pan'nikk had made blew inwards. The white light filled everything and static shot across his viewscreen for a second.

  "PINCHIE! OW!" Treefrog squealed. "Owie!"

  "Lock it down, Froggy," Pan'nikk said.

  --firing drone-- 2209 said.

  Pan'nikk slowly moved around, running a function check on his joints. "Roger."

  The grenade launcher chuffed and the drone unfolded only a few paces from Pan'nikk.

  NUKE NUKE NUKE

  --run for your life-- 2209 said again. --running route--

  "Wow, boss, lucky you! You get to see what looks like a starburst city killer detonation!" Treefrog said. "We're so lucky, the regiment is the target not us. But we'll be able to see it!"

  The glowing line popped up with a countdown.

  "Crap!" Pan'nikk took off toward the far wall.

  --locking frog down-- 2209 said.

  "NO! FROGGY HELP!" the warboi yelled.

  Pan'nikk saw the little icon drop into a box that the lid folded shut.

  He managed to crash through the wall and into the street, still running as fast as he could.

  This time the white light blotted everything out. He heard his grav-anchor scream as it felt like fists were punching him. He skidded down the street and his grav-anchor tore up ferrocrete tarmac in a long line.

  Vehicles flew by almost fluttering, shedding parts, some disintegrating, some on fire, some exploding. Three hit him, sending him spinning. Ones lifted up in the air spun wildly, often exploding, shedding parts. A semi hit his battlescreen and it flared.

  Everything moved in slow motion as synthetic adrenaline was dumped into his system.

  One of the buildings next to him just vanished as another blast wave hit. The one on the other side of the street just... shredded apart, leaving behind a skeleton that was already warping and twisting as the endosteel frame started heating up as the thermal pulse hammered at it and the radiation was intense enough to turn endosteel red hot.

  "SHIT SHIT SHIT!"

  --spiking grav anchor diverting power she canna take much maar captain-- 2209 said.

  He sudden started panting as his armor went hot. The grav anchor was wailing, alarms were going off. His rad alarm was spiking. The overpressure wave hit hard and his pressure sleeve squeezed him so tight he filled both waste tubes and almost puked into his helmet.

  The 25 mt kicker detonated, refueling the fireball and reigniting the hellfire.

  --aw crap--

  The ferrocrete asphalt suddenly shimmered and went liquid, the top bursting into flames that were put out immediately by the still ongoing blast wave.

  The psi was screaming.

  200

  300

  400

  His grav-anchor was holding him but he was still getting dragged down the street. He reached down and grabbed the road with one hand, pushing through the asphalt that was boiling away and into the ferrocrete substrata.

  450

  --blowout blowout blowout--

  The battlescreen flared and blew out, redirecting the shock impulse.

  --vent vent vent--

  Temps were climbing fast and he was panting even as he tried to breathe. His chest rings crackled and he felt like his stomach was being forced up.

  --almost--

  Steam blew from release valves and superheated supercoolant hissed into vapor.

  The shockwave reversed as the air collapsed into the superheated air created vacuum.

  Then the dust cloud rolled over, following the thermal pulse and the shockwaves.

  Pan'nikk laid there for a long moment. His chest hurt, each breath hurt.

  --rebooting--

  His suit flickered off then reboot.

  --you all right--

  He nodded, clearing his throat and spitting into the suction cup. "Yeah."

  --nuked brigade-- 2209 said. --recompiling treefrog--

  "Yeah," Pan'nikk said slowly.

  --at inside edge of starburst-- 2209 said. A quick visual showed up.

  The detonations had been 15 megatons at 2,500 meters, 5,000 meters apart in a pentagram. 1.5 seconds into the blast a 25 megaton detonated at 1500 meters, reigniting the fireball and pushing everything into the stratosphere.

  "Welp, Brigade is fucked," Pan'nikk said. He started jogging to get out of the debris cloud.

  --stand fast compensating-- 2209 said. --still rebooting systems then nanoforge repairs--

  Pan'nikk stopped, moving over and taking a knee. The grenade launcher chuffed three times, firing out radiation resistant drones.

  He started being able to see further as systems came online. His microwave radar, his phased radar array, everything else.

  --nookie tanks coming-- 2209 said. An arrow pointed and Pan'nikk slowly turned.

  "Can we fight?" Pan'nikk asked.

  --stand fast-- 2209 said. --gonna learn today boy--

  "What?"

  The filters finally worked and the dust cleared.

  Pan'nikk coughed, his chest starting to hurt with a sharp pain joining the aching.

  "That's a lot of tanks," Pan'nikk said. "Man, they look weird."

  The tanks had skis on the front, articulated Ornislarp legs on the side, a bulldozer blade, claws, a round body, treads, and two barrels coming out of the mouth. Their battlescreens were obviously down and their hulls were covered with thick dust.

  --heavy slapper tanks-- 2209 said.

  They suddenly all stopped and Pan'nikk got the weirdest feeling that they were afraid.

  "What? We that scary?"

  --look behind-- 2209 said. --using slapper filter--

  Pan'nikk turned and looked.

  Through the dust and smoke the massive ten foot tall heavily armored Solarian suits came marching, the overly done exaggerated movements as they walked forward.

  The battlescreens were still sparkling as they came into contact with the dirt and dust.

  Their guns started firing and the tanks started exploding.

  "Hey, boss. Wow, that was scary even in my box," Treefrog said.

  "Welcome back, buddy," Pan'nikk said.

  "Oh, look, big brother!" Treefrog said.

  There was an icon pulse and Pan'nikk glanced at it, opening the comm line.

  It was Pv2 Pinion.

  "You OK, Sergeant?" the human asked.

  "Yeah. Got close," Pan'nikk admitted.

  "Platoon sergeant says your metrics are off the charts. Fall back to the fortress," Pinion said. "Need an escort?"

  --armor ok--

  "I'm OK, boss," Treefrog said.

  "No, I'm all right," Pan'nikk said.

  "Platoon daddy wants the medics to check you. You took a pounding. Your armor's smoking," Pinion said.

  Pan'nikk said. "Enroute. Scout-One logging out."

  --logging out--

  "Logging out," Treefrog said.

  Pan'nikk just moved past the line of heavy armors, which were still hammering the tanks.

  They shrugged that like it was nothing. They probably didn't even break step, Pan'nikk thought.

  He saw Pinion's armor. It was scuffed but Pan'nikk remembered the infantryman taking a 140mm kinetic beam cannon shot to the chest plate right as his battlescreen had cycled.

  It hadn't even rocked him back, just scuffed the enamel.

  As Pan'nikk went by Pinion held out one massive fist, leaning down slightly. Pan'nikk lifted his fist and thumped it against Pinion's, almost laughing that Pinion's fist was like three times the size of his.

  Pan'nikk could hear music now, something about butts. He'd heard it before, apparently it was an ode to large rumps and the chanters admiration of them on the females of his species.

  Pan'nikk just shook his head. Humans were weird.

  The mobile base came into view and he changed direction, jogging over to it. The airlock let him in and he was in front of the greenies again.

  "Issues?" came from the terminal. There were three green mantids, one of which was eating something from a tube.

  "Got hit by the nukes," Pan'nikk said.

  --everything is hashed-- 2209 added.

  "Good news, I'm all right!" Treefrog put in helpfully.

  There was lots of equations appearing between the antenna of the greenies. Nothing that he recognized.

  --ill handle it-- 2209 said.

  2209 LOGGED OUT

  PROTECTIVE COVER OPENED

  PROTECTIVE COVER CLOSED

  "How come he gets to go out?" Treefrog asked.

  "The greenies will make sure you get to go somewhere," Pan'nikk said. He looked up. "Hey, send Froggy to play in a park or something with the other warbois. He did a good job today and its his birthday."

  'YAY!" the warboi said. "That was fun. I'm glad we'll be able to do that lots together from now on."

  WARBOI DISCONNECTED

  Pan'nikk went spread eagle, the waste system disconnected and only made him wince, the suit opened, and he stepped out.

  Bone deep exhaustion suddenly hit him.

  There was a sudden urgent beeping and he looked up.

  "Please stay in place," the terminal said.

  A russet mantid rushed in with a robotic stretcher.

  "Hurry up," the terminal said and Pan'nikk recognized 2209's synth voice.

  The russet got him on the stretcher and pulled him deeper into the mobile base.

  She was barking commands and a Telkan and a Puntimat were waiting.

  "Extreme radiation exposure. His suit protection was insufficient. Cracked chest rings. Cardiac episode," the russet said.

  "Hey, now wait a..."

  The russet slapped him in the face with the anesti-beam and everything went black.

  0-0-0-0-0

  Pan'nikk looked up as the door to his tiny recuperation cubicle opened.

  He had forgotten just how massive the platoon leader was.

  "Stopped by to check on you," the platoon leader said.

  "I'm all right, sir," Pan'nikk assured the lieutenant.

  "The doc, Deny the Ferryman, she said you'll be back in armor in six hours," the lieutenant said. "Mental health says you're cleared. I want it straight: you rode out a starburst in a set of scout armor. Are you OK?"

  Pan'nikk thought about it then nodded, looking up at the lieutenant.

  "Ready, sir."

  "Good man. I've got a city to take."

  The LT left and Pan'nikk leaned back.

  This is going to be a long war.

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