System of the Damned

  Chapter 20- Roderick

  Beating culture in with a stick

  General Roderick O’Connell has a nice ring to it, right up until the moment that the Skull went through its latest renovation. Boot camp! Yay! Feck my fecking life, but I had drill sergeants that I had worked with and or trained. The snow had started to melt and we had fewer storms to drop new snow in the last few months, so spring was in the near future. My wife was also gravid and cranky, but she was getting into the tail end of the pregnancy. I was going to be a dad again, and that was more of a shock than being a general.

  I also felt bad for Arnold, but only a little since he was a dad now. Marie had given birth a few weeks ago to Sylvester, their first son. Honey is also going to be a dad, boy that aught to be interesting to watch. There’s this old joke about pregnancy and winter, cold and snuggling, yep, it's too damned true. We’d celebrated the Marines birthday a week back, and Gunny Paula Johnson was going to be a mom, and a dad. On a fully unrelated to mass pregnancy note, Yinyang had gotten cocoa beans and sugarcane growing in two of the grow houses he’d recently built.

  Thunder is also expecting a sibling or two, we’re not sure yet, but Stormwind is rounder than expected for this early. My wife is also now a short stack, and still wont let me play with them, which made her mother laugh. Stormwind laughed less when she grew her own orbs of distraction after a visit from Albert. I just hope for everyone’s sake that the kids aren’t too bitey, especially since the ultrasound that showed our son would indeed be born with teeth. I wasn’t too worried about it though, I’d already had bottles made. Hell the bunnies had thousands of the damned things, but they were too little for a human sized baby to use.

  Hiding from a cranky gravid wife and the unholy amount of paperwork wasn’t the reason I was currently down in The Burrows. The reason was the buckshot pattern beside my door after having to deal with one too many politically bent idiots. Did I mention that I wear my revolvers in thigh holsters now? The bird is fine by the way, and so is the idiot human that had tried to weasel in on my last nerve. Slow deep breaths and a nice cigar, that’s it, stay human, no fur coat today, patience…Ooo tank!

  There were no elevators or stairs in the Burrows, the bunny home, instead there were more tiny tunnels than I had body hair, and a mass of big tunnels. I was in Heinlein Clan’s territory, and yes I’m being serious. Marie had taken the surname of Heinlein after she’d read starship troopers, watched all eight movies, and the two series. I was still wondering how much of the Yangtze’s data stores had been filled with books and movies by a certain AI. She was in charge of suit design and had taken in the gear and track heads, which was why I was looking at a mass of alloy armored glory. The Mark One Anderson tank, seventy tons of armor, fission power, and guns.

  I kept my distance as I walked around to get a look at the tank, even I would get whacked with a wrench by a rabbit if I got in their way. So I kept out of the way, and didn’t get kneecapped by one of the two dozen bunnies hard at work. Arnold must have been watching Sylvester, because I could see Marie standing on a table, tapping away at a tablet and chittering to herself. That let me hang back and admire the wondrous beast, including the three inch plasma fired cannon. It was a mix of coilgun and plasma cannon.

  The test firing had been impressive, they were still filling in the hole it’d blown, and spent a few hours digging the cannon out of a wall. No one had been injured or killed, but the cloud of violet blue plasma erupting out of the ground had been pretty. After a few more tests, and two more cannons, they had a functioning main gun. The turret was unmanned and aside from tear-down, was otherwise only accessible to a dwarf or Rex. It was also a two person tank with a gunner and driver.

  The mark two was still missing its turret, and was already named the Banshee thanks to the use of Rodu fuel compressors. It was going to be a hover tank with one gau-8 and four gau-19 gatling guns. I was seriously glad that the horde of militant rabbits loved us and worked with us, they helped make engineers dreams come true. Ok, maybe not engineers, and more just crazed marine dreams.Now the bunnies weren’t coming up with all of the insane ideas, human, Ca’zeze, Lo’Kar, and Rodu engineers helped quite a bit. The Manti also helped with a stable non-flammable solidified nitrogen to use for the plasma cannons. The shoulder fired rpg launchers that worked for blurs was one hundred percent Hiroshima’s fault. Cause hey, let’s give the rabbits that can stop time, rocket launchers that work when they’re going super speed. Backblast area my ass, they had to be flying or completely away from people to use them. It was also the reason that there were huge scar patterns in the rock of the test cavern.

  I had to step back even more as a few of the tanks hurled chains up to pulleys so they could start winching the big armor plates into place. That was all the hint I needed to slip out of that area and look around the others, of course I had almost full access to The Burrows. It was “almost” thanks to my gargantuan ass not fitting in several places. It made me proud that they had their own culture going, but had also taken quite a bit of stuff from humans, well human movies and television shows. The little shits were also secretive as hell with how anything but the main tunnels were laid out, and I couldn’t go many places other than the main tunnels.

  Being a friend and also an Alliance General, I knew several things I couldn’t share with the Alliance or other races. One being that the Manti had a permanent contingent based in The Burrows, who were helping the bunnies and some adopted science folk to experiment with the Mimics. The Ca’zeze were handling the majority of the smelting and major casting being done, and I’m fairly sure one of Honey’s wives was Ca’zeze raised. Brigid is what the bunnies called the jet black Lo’Kar female that carried as many blades as Honey, and worked their single smelter.

  My coat and shirt went onto hooks at the door to the underground forge and I took the one cooling vests that would fit me. The doors opened as I walked to them and I was punched in the face with the heat of the forge when I went through the second set. Sweat flashed onto my skin before evaporating in the dry heat, making me thankful for the water bladder built into the vest. I took a drink from the straw as I looked around at the various machines, along with the various beings working them. The mimics wouldn’t work with things that were too hot, and didn’t need to, so all of the main alloy work was done at the forges.

  The Ca’zeze were in full cooling suits, while the Rodu could get away with vests like I was wearing. Brigid was waiting for me wearing a loincloth, toolbelt, and boots, her hands were busy with a tablet she was tapping at. “By the Goddess, I wish you humans had showed up sooner. The amount of various metals we’re able to smelt from the salvage is glorious.” She was speaking in her native tongue and the translator system in my implant was great at keeping the musical quality to the translation.

  “Well, you know we wouldn’t be here at all if our government hadn’t tried to kill us. Glad we’re able to help now though.” I sighed. “And it’s less anything I might have done than dumb luck and good people…” I trailed off as a giant rode past on a lift hauling bricks of I think steel, it was hard to tell. “How have my people been holding up in this high heat hell?”

  Brigid turned and pointed to where a rather large hammock was set up between two smelting furnaces. “The tall one you call Jira naps there, the others are doing well with cycling between working and time spent in a cool room we have nearby. They are working as well as any of the others, and I’m the only Lo’Kar in here. It is hard for my people to handle such dry heats, I have learned a few tricks, and your smith has shown me drinks that help, and ointments. I may even breed with him like my sisters have, I haven’t decided yet though.” She clicked at the end.I leaned closer and sniffed, nodding softly. “My my, Honey has shown you the glory of cocoa butter. He must really like you to have revealed that he uses such things, but…” I waved a hand at the furnaces. “Heat burns and metal burns are a bitch and a half…” I trailed off again as I heard her clicking softly and motioned her on. “Let’s see what you’ve got to show me before I pass out from heat stroke.” I took a long drink from the water bladder.

  She clicked a few times and motioned for me to follow her back through the maze of separation machines, furnaces cooking metals to various temperatures, and let me watch god’s firehose in action. How do you keep still glowing metal from turning the oil and water solution used to temper it into a fireball? You simply use so much volume and pressure that the flames are too afraid to show themselves. I’m actually being serious, there were five one-meter pipes that fired thousands of gallons of the reusable mix into the stacks of ingots. The steam from the water choked out any idea of a fire, and made me feel like a greasy drowned rat.

  By the time we got to her office, I just felt like I’d washed with gun oil. What nearly floored me was when I watched Brigid slip into the odd hooded dress that muslim women back in the sand wore. She noticed me staring and plopped herself into her chair. “Yes, he gave this to me, and it is comfortable to wear over my forging attire when I’m in here.” She took a sip of an odd blue tea and motioned for me to sit. “Granted aside from being useful to hide knives in, I have no idea how your females wear…dresses.” She made a face. “Silly practices and nothing but a tripping hazard, let alone if there is even a breeze.”

  I sat down and shook my head as I pulled out a cigar tube, popping the stub into my mouth without lighting it. “Yes, it’s just very odd to see one of you wearing that outfit.” Then to my surprise, Brigid pulled out a cigar from her desk and lit it. “And you smoke, my goodness, he’s sharing his sanity sticks with you?”She clicked as she tapped away at her Lo’Kar keyboard. “I will admit, they do help one keep from stabbing as many others. There is also the fact that the small fuzzy ones will keep my blades if I throw them at one, or start to…juggle? Yes, they will start to juggle them. Your humans try to bribe me with things that they think I like for some strange reason, why?” She asked the last bit with a curious head tilt.

  I’d lunged after my cigar stub that I’d just spit across the small room, picking it up and brushing it off. I puffed a little flame onto the stub to light it, which barely took any thought now to growl the chemicals out of my throat. My spit was also about the grade of mineral oil or a thin grease, but I was being stared at, so back on track, no mental wandering. “Everyone has gotten into the habit for the…two seasons? I think, but they’ve gotten into the habit of bribing a certain violent ball of fur and hate…” I looked over at Brigid. “I think they’re trying the same with you, since you’re about as cuddly most of the time as a crab.”She opened her mouth to speak and I held up a finger as I took a long draw of my cigar, letting it fill my lungs with smokey calm and sanity. “And you’re going to stop trying to stab the people working with you, or threatening to stab them. You may keep your blades on you, use them for work, but no more trying to murder or harm those working with you because they annoy you.” I said calmly and firmly.

  “Our rulers have let me have my say, and handle my business my way for cycles. Why should I change them for you? Even if you are prin…” A pulse flew from her as her desk suddenly crashed against the wall of her office. It was a subtle trick I used for getting someone's attention.

  “Because, I am married to your boss, who’s pregnant.” I was still calm and shook my hand to will the fur away that’d started to grow. “I’m General of the Alliance military.” A drag from my cigar and I looked her in the eye. “Adam…” I said softly.“Yes, General O’Connell?” Came from the com unit attached to my belt. “For every knife that Brigid throws at someone outside of combat or martial arts training, she’s to spend a day helping the Stein clan in the labs. This is effective immediately.” I said firmly and my did Brigid resemble a dull black-light currently.

  “It is recorded in the logs and Albert will be informed when he wakes.” Adam said casually and the intercom clicked off.

  “Now…” I said as I stood and set the desk back in its proper place. “Shall we go over the numbers and see about things you need.” I turned in time to catch her wrist, twist, and then shove to sling her across the room into a wall as she tried to stab me. “Or would you like to go ahead and visit the labs now? I’m curious what sort of fur colors you’ll end up with, or if you’ll end up with breasts…” I trailed off as she suddenly jerked herself into a tumble, out of the leaping attack she was making at me.

  The blade vanished back into her dress and I smiled softly around my cigar stub, picking hers up from the floor and brushing it off. “See, peaceful and non threatening workplaces can be a good thing.” I tossed it back to her. “And I’ll see that you get the same cigars that I and Honey get, just don’t smoke them too close to the Rodu.”

  She clicked and glared at me, taking a few deep puffs of the cigar and blowing the smoke from her blowhole like a steam engine. “Yes, they do have an odd allergy to it. I will refrain from smoking too close to them. This is going to make my life difficult…”

  I couldn’t stop the snort that ripped out of me. “Please, I was supposed to be the security for a bloody colony on a terraforming world. The only reason that I’m not making you and Honey look like models of sanity is your cousin.”

  “And large tranquilizer darts…” She added as she brought a display up on a fresh tablet and set it into a display system. Time to get back to work I guess.

  *******************************

  After an hour or so I headed back out from The Burrows and caught a portal to the training camp, which was still odd as hell. I mean seriously, they used staves and made portals, I’m now a werewolf, so all we need now is a midget with a spiffy ring. Maybe some elves? Wait, we already had a pixie. Not that I would ever call Eir a pixie to her face, I do not want to know the madness that would become my life if I made that mistake.

  I luckily walked into the camp after Albert had already left from his daily checkup of the soldiers, and the glee on his fuzzy face when it was time for shots…terrifying. It almost matched the glee on Xavier’s face when he got done shaving the first Ca’zeze recruit to get pissy. I could also see Xavier chittering out a cadance as he led a pack of dwarves around their track, which was run from building to building.

  There was a mixed lot being led on a fun run in full battle rattle by Spot, who oddly enough thoroughly enjoyed casually screaming at new recruits. I’d approved the first week’s breaking in rituals, which for the two most pain in the assed races, was slightly mean. For the avians, Spot would butcher and grill a chicken during morning pt, then eat it the rest of the day. For the humans, Left and Right Spot would grill a limb from one of the people Xavier had killed during our little purge. The Rodu weren’t part of basic training classes, while the Ca’zeze and Lo’Kar were very well behaved. It’s almost as if someone had warned them ahead of time of horrible torture and evil things befalling them if they messed up.

  I have no idea why there’s a neon orange furred Lo’Kar or a still bald Ca’zeze, que a casual glance at Xavier. It was all Stormwind and Grek’s faults though, they’d given the ok on us doing what was needed to turn the recruits into a proper fighting force. So I’d had Adam print out the Marine Bibles, the “Military Operations'' manuals to be exact. The two weeks I’d had to spend beating that into my staff’s heads was fun, and my wife had been my stick, cause pulsars know how to scream at people. Then she’d really hit that nesting mode, and eating, and was busy having most of the house rearranged repeatedly, and cleaned, and eating.

  The most glorious fun to be had was the O-course, well our enhanced O-course, which is where I was currently heading. I could hear the glorious and cheerful sounds of Jira and Echo singing sweet sweet praises and inspiring things to the recruits.

  “Pick up your fucking feet recruits! I said pick them the fuck up, a god damned rabbit lifts their fucking feet higher than that!” From Jira, who had such a sweet singing voice for the recruits.

  “Climb that fucking rope you useless sack of fucking feathers, if an avian is fucking afraid of heights, I’m gonna have them fucking plucked and roasted!” Echo was so inspiring, and still hadn’t given me back my one revolver…

  “If your ass raises any fucking higher, I’m gonna cut off a fucking roast! Humans taste fucking good with garlic, and this is a fucking low crawl! So fucking crawl god damned low you furless fucking ape!” That flowed out from Left and Right Spot like sweet praises to the recruits ears, though the big cleaver one of them used as an inspirational tool was inspiring.

  I moved away from the O-course and toward the weapons training areas, there was far less inspirational screaming there. There was more gunfire from the ranges, but less screaming, right up until one of the recruits failed at proper weapon’s safety. Then I got to watch a recruit get decked by the Rodu weapons officer. When the human recruit aggressively jumped back up, my revolver left its holster and I fanned the hammer three times. The trio of beanbags hit her in the thigh, stomach, and forehead. I’d switched shells before coming even into the burrows, and it paid off in a living lesson.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The rebelling recruit was dragged off by a medic and would be put through double pt for a few days once they were sure she wouldn’t die from her wounds. I snapped open my revolver and replaced the spent shells with fresh ones, then nodded to the trainers. One of my main changes to doctrine was that saluting only happened indoors or in formal situations. There were currently four different salutes, and I had to get everyone in one practice first. I lifted my hand up to the side and felt the rifle slap into my palm, a rifle that Miss Li had tossed.

  A quick check of the rifle showed that it was empty, and I held it muzzle up as I stepped up to a shooting position. I grabbed a magazine from the ammo can and checked it, noting the five point seven round in the fifty caliber casing. The rifle was long, since the rounds needed barrel length to get up to full speed. Semi or burst-fire only thanks to my learning curve with Lola’s suit gun, which she stole from me, but it was a great test bed for the round. I slammed the Tolkein sized magazine into the well and racked in the first round. “You all have been training on the five point seven rifles and fifty caliber rifles.” I spoke loudly. “Different teams will use different weapons, some will even use heavy weapons, others will become snipers, and others will go into becoming track heads or pilots.”

  There was the quick heavy thudding of something large running and my suit ran itself onto the far end of the range. “Some of you will move to using suits for various reasons, The Order now includes a few of every race, and they are making suits for about every profession.” I snorted. “Hell the first Mark ten is a walking field kitchen, but who doesn’t love Lola’s cookin?” I motioned out at my suit, which had bits of tape sticking off of it. “This rifle is the first hypervelocity rifle we’ve had designed, it's called the Peacemaker!” I shouldered the rifle and took aim, looking more through what my implants tossed into my vision than the actual sights.

  The Peacemaker rifle kicked like a bull you’d just punched in the sack and it vomited fire like a dragon. “Hit!” Sounded from behind me as I leaned into the rifle and dropped it to hip fire, hugging it to myself as I used the implant link to rapidly shoot the remaining nine tape tabs sticking off my armor. In seven seconds there were ten smoldering spots on my armor where the tape was burning. I held the rifle pointing at the sky with its bolt open, and vents pumping heat into the air as the built in cooling system ran.

  “We are upgrading all rifles to use implant links, but you still have to be able to aim the damned things. Lieutenant Xavier uses his suit’s links to aim and fire two weapons at once, have a full conversation with his wife, and scold one of their kids. I want you all to be able to aim with or without links, and see what else you can learn while you’re here…” I tossed the empty rifle back to Miss Li and moved to step away, listening to her snap out a name for the next shooter.As I headed for the vehicle courses, my suit followed me and only took a little effort to get it to not faceplant…or myself not to faceplant when focusing on the suit. Every berserker kept their suit not that far away, Jira and I though, we had ours follow us around. Yinyang could make his work beside him, Spot kept his near him and ready, and then Miss Li…had hers on overwatch over the camp. I think Jackelope had been fiddling with some of the programming of the suits lately, but I couldn’t prove it. Well I couldn’t prove it other than when Spot’s suit purred and meowed at random times.

  I was brought out of my thoughts when I suddenly had to dive to the ground to not get a face full of toppling valkyrie drone. The pilot managed to straighten out their craft in time to roast the grass with the tail thruster as they pulled back for the sky. The fans were absolutely screaming on the four cowled, eight rotored former drone, which had a hydrogen thruster added to it. There was also the autocannon, and cockpit addons, letting the bunnies use them as an insane cross between a quad-copter and a jet. Every single one of our drones had been taken and refitted by the bunnies, which is why there were training classes going on.

  Roughly a dozen more drones shot over me as I moved over the small rise and into the vehicle training grounds, and all of them were doing chaotic maneuvers. They reminded me of a hint of memory where I’d watched reaper drones doing strikes at the beginning of the coup. My eyes were drawn to where several blurs were being shot at by a gatling turret loaded with paint rounds. They were all dressed in light flexible armors, because trying to armor a bunny that fits in a mug is really hard. Well it’s hard if it’s not a tank, but less on Albert and more on the blurs. They were flashing around and taking apart a machine in one bunker, and putting it together in another bunker, which made them keep having to slow down and speed back up.

  I watched for thirty seconds and smiled as a flurry of paintballs from the gatling suddenly slammed back into its shielding and shut it down. “Excellent work…” I said as I heard what was apparently an engine start up in the second bunker, there was also that very tiny weight on my shoulder and I looked over at the bunny. “You're working on their control and it’s paying off Sergeant.”The dwarf’s fur was colored in a camouflage pattern of greens, browns, dashes of violet, and touches of blue. He was also wearing blur battle rattle and a full head helmet that he was taking off, giving me a salute with his ears. “Yes sir, General. They’re training to help with battlefield repairs to the tracks and other vehicles.” He chittered and his “voice” was one of the few that wasn’t deep.

  Granted my brow had snapped up at the mention of battlefield repairs. “You mean that they’re training to do the repairs during the combat? As in while they’re being attacked or shot at?”

  “Yes sir, as you can see they’ve also been training to divert enemy fire. Crabs don’t use bullets, but our suits keep us safe from the toxin. That’s the third time they’ve moved the engine this hour, and are needing rest. They’ve got practice after a rest cycle to cover tanks cranking track under fire. We got others in a rest cycle after doing bombing practice with the rpg’s that Commander Hiroshima had made for us.” He pulled a protein stick from his pack and started to nibble on it, then took a long drink from his water bladder.

  “I’m guessing the tanks are going to have their own armor? Have you started training with the other races at all?” I asked the questions as the Sergeant ate, one of the things that Blurs had to do quite often.

  He didn’t speak until he finished the protein stick and washed his mouth with a swig of water, then I finally got to see “Gore” written on the side of his helmet as it hung from his belt. “Yes, though the best relationships seem to be with Rodu and Ca’zeze. Humans of course, but all we usually have to do is look cute a time or two and any of you get brain melted. Got a smoke?” He asked and took the pinner I fished out from the pack I kept around for them.

  “You can thank the four horsemen for that, it’s the price of being a blur. You’re the most dangerous beings on this planet, sometimes you have to look cute to keep others from being afraid of you.” I lit a cigar myself and started to walk down toward the training areas. “And why did you choose Gore for your name?”

  “It’s all that’s left when one of us has to get our murder on, and I was tasked with training them sir. Seemed fitting, and names like Splat, Smear, and some far worse and more colorful ones were already taken. The Valkyrie pilots have taken to using names of human angels from your various religions.” He chittered and puffed on his smoke. “That’s not even counting the trackheads or hammer truckers.”

  “Hammer truckers?” I asked after nearly spitting my cigar out.

  “Yes sir, five and ten ton armored trucks based off of your Warg. Some of them are armored supply vehicles, Johnson started the trend. They use them like hammers and slam them into the enemy, smaller ones have drop ramps that let the tracks jump over them.” He shrugged. “You’d have to ask Johnson about that, she’s the lead of that group, she’s not allowed to do anything risky with her pregnancy though.”

  “I put her in charge of handling cultural issues with the birds, not training new marines in the art of vehicular manslaughter….why are you writing that down?” I asked as I saw Gore obviously typing something out in midair.

  “It’s a good term and a good name. We have two trucks that we’re refitting for our use, and one of them is going to end up being able to haul roughly one hundred and fifty ton loads at the least.” He cocked his head and puffed on his smoke as he looked at me with a single bright blue eye, cause they were glowing softly.

  “And you’re going to pass on Vehicular Manslaughter as a name suggestion?” I asked and watched him nod, which made me sigh softly. “How has the training been going working with the faster humans?”

  He waved an ear like a human would wave a hand. “Oh them, they’re sleeping from their last round of getting chased by Lola. We gave her one of the paint firing guns and asked her to teach them to learn to duck and dodge. They’re doing much better than when they first started, far fewer bruises.” He gave me a big grin. “Hurts like hell to get hit, and the First Mother has an artistic side.”

  I took in a deep drag and sighed as I walked, my suit not far behind. “So she’s been chasing them in her suit through tunnels and cleared forest and doodling on them with a paintball minigun when they fail to dodge or get behind cover?” I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye and sighed, then stopped and stared at the sight of various vehicles running flat out through different courses.

  Various tracks were racing around an obstacle course belching various colored flames from their intakes and exhausts while trucks flew through another course. Hesco barriers lined the courses and as the two courses converged each track moved behind a truck. The trucks were complete rebuilds and refits of our original trucks we’d landed with, and were rigged like my truck, but with a few additions. Most notable was the rollback style bed, heavier armoring, two to twelve exhaust pipes vomiting smoke and flames, and a big assed plow blade. The plow blades reminded me of a two stage version of a Russian plow I’d seen during the war.

  “They’re about to do it…watch this!” Gore sounded absolutely giddy and had snagged another smoke from me, puffing away on it. Sure enough we watched the group come around a final corner, the trucks slamming their beds up and back, and then hammering into the husks of other vehicles. The husks looked literally like identical copies of one of the Mrap trucks we’d used before, and they didn’t take the impacts well. The husks crumpled and broke apart in many cases as the “Hammer Trucks” smashed into them.

  The lined up husks did manage to stop the trucks fairly quickly, which is why the trucks seemed to explode in flames. It was just high output hydrogen pumping around the front of the truck and a spark. Said spark came from the tracks slamming up the ramps and steel sparking off steel, giving a hell of a show as the tracks vaulted through flames in arcs that sent them like cannon shells. The tracks landed atop more husks and crushed them before tearing into and through more of them. The hydrogen blasts had freed the trucks, which were backing up and firing blanks from cab mounted chainguns.

  “Damn…” Was all I could say as I tapped the same simulation feed that the drivers and track heads were hooked into. It was a sim of the same sort of attack I’d accidently set off months back, which made me almost miss the four cargo trucks, which were a very fat version of a half-track. It looked like they’d used one of the big Rodu trucks, ripped out the drivetrain, replaced it with dually front steering and tracks for the drive. “Ten tons my ass, those are at least twenty or thirty ton trucks…” I said as I waved a hand at the cargo haulers that sure as shit weren’t dodging around the course. No they were smashing through any Hesco barrier not marked as protruding rock, and damn were they loud.

  “Truck crews are almost all tanks, and only tanks in the cargo versions…Piston just messaged me, he’s naming the heavy that term you said…” Gore said as two of the haulers skidded to a halt behind the Hammers, flamethrowers vomited flame as autocannons chewed through blanks to kill sim crabs. Two heavily armored troopers stepped out from either hauler and moved to cover the three others from each that went to reload the Hammers ammo bins. “We’ve been practicing this sort of thing for a while, and the sims have helped keep it safer.”I pointed to the two haulers that used their plows to obliterate the husks, sending several flying through the air in pieces. “Safer, really…how do you guys reset the courses after you obliterate them like that?” I asked curiously and took another drag.

  “Oh we bribe mimics to remake the husks, and the rest is good training….” He cocked his head and grinned at me in that unnerving predatory grin the bunnies had. “The First tells me that Marines are all about loving hills and good training…” He meant Xavier, who was currently teaching other dwarves to love hills in the form of roofs and ramps.

  “Touche..” I slipped out of the simulation feed and turned back for where I’d seen a burrow exit. “You’re all doing really well, sadly I need to go work on more paperwork. I can’t keep hiding from it.” I admitted.

  “Oh, none of us can hide from that horror. I do most of it in my plants, ours are different from yours though.” Gore slipped on his helmet and latched it into place after…when had he stolen a third smoke? Well he spat the roach away and pointed to where I’d been heading. “I’ll catch the next tunnel cart that comes along.”

  “You guys use carts?” I asked as I knelt near what would look to most like an odd stacking of rocks. I knew it wasn’t, it was a camouflaged entrance to one of the bunny tunnels.

  Gore let out a bit of squeaky giggles. “This one runs on a track and is like the mining trains humans used to use. They only go forward or back on their track, and…well…This one only handles up to a giant, no humans or other races get to ride this ride…”

  “I’m good…” I said, waving a hand as I watched him shift a certain rock and another moved out of his way. “Be safe.” I said as I went to head back through the camp, thinking about being able to watch the sims, but not actually do combat. It was annoying as hell, but even Dr Dennis Lee said that my implants could only suppress so much. Neither he, Albert, or any of the other genetics nerds could figure out how to fix my lack of flight response. The lack of flight response and ptsd…what was it that they’d called it? Oh! “No one knew it, but you’re a nuclear bomb wrapped in small boxes. Opening the wrong boxes sets it off, and there are no clues which are triggers and which let us defuse it.” Played in my head thanks to my implant, which was really cool tech to have around.

  I was still pondering my issues as I headed for the portal point when I was hit with two thirty pound sacks of fluffy happiness. One young giant took out my legs and the other hit my chest to slam me into the trimmed grass. Tom was chittering happily as he sat on my chest while Mel hopped back and stood by my head. There was a crashing sound of something heavy slamming into the ground because I’d lost the dash of focus I’d been using to guide my suit, causing it to face-plant. Mel was the older sibling and Tom the younger by a few minutes, both being the children of Master and Blaster.

  That is why I got a toothy grin from Tom. “Got 'em, now what.” Why was Maestro the only one that spoke English? And who the hell had made the black leather biker outfits these two were wearing? And how the hell did Tom have a mohawk!? He was a damned bunny!Mel chittered and got a distant look. “Mel of Clan Yamaguchi to Clan Stein, Uncle Fluffy in custody…”“Guys, what are you doing, tackling me like…” I tried to protest and sit up, but that doesn’t work when a thirty pound sack of happiness kicks you into the ground again.

  “Roger Roger, Yeet protocol…” Mel chittered and it was amazing how well two really big and young rabbits could manhandle me. I mean I suddenly had one under my ass and the other under my shoulders…then I was screaming and flying. “Yeet protocol” was apparently literally hurling someone fifty feet up into the air through a portal. Said portal spat me out inside the Lo’Kar labs, skipped me across a pool, and I finally stopped when I slammed into the far wall. There were sounds of things skipping against water and two thuds before I saw Mel and Tom land on either side of me. “Uncle Fluffy, you need to learn to land better..”

  I just groaned at them as I picked myself up from the floor, eyeing the pool I’d skipped across like a rock. “Need…something on this side…to catch people…” I said as I checked myself over and found nothing broken or dislocated, that was good.

  “Yep, not installed yet.” Tom chittered and hopped past me toward a set of double doors. “C’mon, Aunty Squeaky is having a baby!” He cheered and I was moving before I realized it, through the door, down two different halls, broke another door that didn’t open fast enough, and got clotheslined by a Ca’zeze that’d been eating their Caltunium.

  I knew they’d been eating the mineral more because of the glowing fur sticking out around the medical gown. “Thanks Groska!” Came from Mel, before a set of muffs were slapped over my ears and a needle went into my neck to pump me full of mild calm. Literally the berserker tranquilizer shots were classed in levels of “calm” now. Groska though, was female, and a tank. I knew she was a tank because she bear-hugged me and brought me into the room with Thunder.

  There’s an old joke about wives breaking husband’s fingers and such during contractions, my wife broke my jaw. Luckily she had the odd sound dispersing gag they put on Pulsars during birthings, otherwise I think she’d of popped my head. Luckily for all involved, it was only an hour or so into the “miracle of birth” that the docs gave my wife a new scar in the form of a c-section. And I quote. “There is no way that you are going to have this child naturally unless we break your hips.” For some reason Thunder didn’t complain.

  The miracle of birth was calmed with the miracle of drugs, and soon enough we all got one hell of a surprise. Our son came into the world pissed! Take a normal angry baby scream, which is loud, now pump that through a concert speaker. Like any good baby though, boobs gave him some chill. William didn’t bite his mom, who got sewn up pretty quick and had calmed thanks to the miracle of drugs. No the little shit bit the fuck out of me! Then giggled, which honestly made me start to cry and melt into a puddle of happy idiot.

  A few hours later, Thunder laid on the comfy bed squeaking every so often as William used a bit of tooth. Apparently it was a good thing she had four, our son was very hungry. He looked mostly human oddly enough, but totally hairless. Bright blue eyes glared at me when I touched his buffet, but he did turn into a ball of giggles if I tickled him. I also forgot to mention that my son William was black, and not normal human dark skin pigment, no, the Lo’kar pigment that could sometimes eat light. He also had a really cool pattern of lighter skin tones in a sort of brendel pattern, which is the best way I can put it.

  “The First Red Dawn of Spring!” Thunder cheered, and made me about jump out of my skin. William stopped eating at the buffet and looked at us, then went back to drinking, picking a new tap.

  “What?” I asked confused.

  “His short name can be Red, but his middle name, or full Lo’Kar name is The First Red Dawn of Spring.” She said and pointed at the glowing red horizon, smiling up at me with a proud look.

  I did the only smart thing that I might have possibly done that day, I bit my damned tongue and smiled as I nodded to her. It was tradition, and I’d given her the choice to do a traditional name for his middle name. At the least, the kid didn’t have any signs of growing hair, so maybe he would be alright. I’d just have to pray that no one aside from me remembered Red Dawn, or its two remakes they’d tried to do.

  Soon enough Thunder and I were curled up with William between us asleep, a collar around his neck with a tiny green light on it. It was a Pulsar collar usually put on baby girls, but hey, our son was loud too…oh well. Time for the proper Marine and parent tradition, sleep when you fecking can!