The Terran was a big warborg, two tons of anodized black warsteel, heavy weapons hidden inside his chassis and the magnetic power-inductors the size of Ullmo'ok's hand covered with a thin layer of armorplas, with an 8 pierced by an upright arrow marking both of his shoulders. His face shield was open, letting Ullmo'ok see the Terran's biological face that had been attached to a warsteel skull. While other Lanaktallan's might have been distressed by the cyborg it didn't bother Ullmo'ok at all. The Terran was one of Ullmo'ok's loyal customers over the last weeks the Terrans had been deploying their war material and getting ready for a possible Precursor attack.
"You might want to get off the planet soon, Ullmo'ok," the Terran said. It took a sip of narcobrew. "Good stuff."
"My appreciation of your enjoyment," Ullmo'ok answered, nodding. He liked Terran physical body language much better than he liked crest and tendril signals. "Why would I want to leave?"
The Terran sighed. "There's Imps in the Oort Cloud and that can only mean one thing."
"Precursors are coming," Ullmo'ok guessed. The big Terran nodded. "You advise me to flee?"
The Terran warborg slowly nodded. "It's going to get ugly, friend. The Precursors are going to come at this system with everything they can shake loose. Its an important extraction and refinery system," The warborg paused. "They're going to come straight at this facility."
Ullmo'ok nodded again. "That sounds logical. My uncle has sent some of CorpSec out here, some with heavy vehicles as CorpSec designates them. To protect this refinery from any rivals he says but I believed it to try to protect from any of my Bashmech pilots going rogue."
"The CorpSec vehicles won't last fifteen seconds against Precursor machines," the Terran answered.
"I have seen my Bashmech list them as light civilian defense vehicles," Ullmo'ok answered. He lifted his hands in an approximation of a shrug. "My Bashmech is a civilian version, I can only imagine what the Precursor machines must be like and even then I am probably under-imagining them."
The Warborg nodded. "I faced off against some Precursors a few centuries ago. Not this brand, the other types, and they're a serious opponent. They don't stop and they linger to kill every living thing. To top it off, friend, they view your species as deserving to be wiped out."
Ullmo'ok shook his head. "I will not leave my loyal workers. They work hard for me, they fight harder."
The warborg sighed. "All right. Look, saying this is in the gray. I can probably get away with it because you're technically a CEO and a community leader. Nobody else outside of TERCONFEDMIL knows this yet."
"One moment," Ullmo'ok said. He used his implant to turn off any surveillance devices, clear the surrounding rooms, and lock the doors. The big warborg nodded at the sound of the mag-locks engaging. "Go ahead."
"These things use psychic assault arrays. We don't mind that much, we're highly resistant to such things, but I don't know how your people will react," the warborg said. "They come at you, there going to hit you with a psychic assault then slaughter your people while they're still alive and screaming."
Ullmo'ok thought a moment. "Is there a way for non-Terrans to protect themselves from this psychic assault?"
The warborg nodded. "Sure. Most of the Treana'ad officers have psychic shield implants, most vehicles have them, we've even got portable ones to protect camps and bases."
Ullmo'ok nodded. "Thank you for the information. It is most helpful. Can you guess at how long until the Precursors arrive?"
"Days? Weeks? With Imps in the Oort Cloud, we're being recon'd. It's not if they get here, it's when they get here," The warborg said. He stood up. "I should get back before I'm missed."
Ullmo'ok nodded, thinking carefully. He unlocked the door and ordered that the warborg be comp'd tonight's entertainment.
Psychic shielding, eh? The Terrans seem to have it commonly installed, that means they have it in abundance, he thought to himself. He signaled to the facilities computer to send two of his employees to him. One a structural engineer responsible for keeping the mine operational, the other a refinery expert.
They arrived quickly, both smelling of stim-sticks but they both had the obvious shakes from taking a quiksober. Ullmo'ot soothed their fears, handing them bottles of Terran narcobeer after he twisted the caps off. He turned down the music, then locked the doors.
"Honored Jumina'at," Ullmo'ok addressed the refinery master. The other being nervously signalled he was paying attention. "The humans call it warsteel, can we create and work it?"
The other Lanaktallan shook his heavy head. "No, honored Ullmo'ok. We can craft it but it immediately hardens and cannot be worked."
"What hyperalloy can we create that we can work with the tools available?" Ullmo'ok asked.
"Terran endosteel. We had the templates and industrial fabrication specifications," the refinery master said.
"Turn ten percent of our output to endosteel production. Keep it off the books. Offer triple-pay for anyone willing to work off the books shifts to produce it," Ullmo'ok said.
"As you wish, High Most," Jumina'at said.
"One another thing, Jumina'at," Ullmo'ok said. The subordinate looked nervous. "You have family on planet?"
"Yes, Most High," he answered.
"Bring them in. I will have vacation time authorized for them. Use one of the empty Executive Villas for them. Bring all of them," Ullmo'ok ordered.
Jumina'at didn't ask why, just nodded. Every one of Ullmo'ok's idea has enriched him vastly and Jumina'at had ceased asking questions. He accepted his dismissal and left, Ullmo'ot locking the door again behind him.
"Za'almooint?" Ullmo'ok turned to the master engineer.
She nodded, still looking miserable from the quiksober shot. "Yes, High Most?" She stared at the male's robotic eye, fascinated by it. Supposedly Lanaktallan's were 'too advanced' to accept cybernetic prosthetics, but the eye had been there for weeks without problems.
Ullmo'ok used his personal holotank, a Terran version with excellent resolution and fidelity, to put up a map of one of the played out mines that wormed beneath the worker habs and the executive villas. "I want you to build shelters beneath these structures, in these mines, with fast access ports that can then be sealed and camouflaged until rescue can arrive."
The female Lanaktallan nodded slowly, getting up and moving around the holotank. "Shelters for how many people, High Most?"
"All of them. Plus another 10% redundancy, no, make it 20% redundancy and provide atmospheric, power, and food dispenser backups," Ullmo'ok ordered. "Triple pay for all who work on this. I want it done as soon as possible."
"As you will," she answered. "Will that be all?"
Ullmo'ok shook his head. "No, I have one other set of orders," he stated. He moved the scan to a set of played out mines a mile away. It had a large entry-cavern.
She curled her tendrils in confusion but waited.
"I want you to move all our spare parts, all our spare repair equipment, for the Bashmechs to this spot. We're going to be going back to cargo-mech fights for a little bit," he said. "Build these hollow buildings out of durachrome. Make sure the repair scaffolding is finished first."
"Which do I prioritize?"
"Concealed repair bays first, moving the parts second. I'll have different crews get the cargomech's ready to fight."
"Your customers won't like that," she warned.
"I'll play it up as a celebration of some type, offer reduced fees, that will quiet them," He said. He thought for a moment. "Send in Krekit. Personally, no datalink or com."
Za'almooint nodded and left, finding the Puntimat mechanic drinking narcobrew and puffing on a narcostick in one of the lounges, a pile of script, chits, and rations in front of him.
"Sober up, the High Most wants you right now," Za'almooint said.
The little Puntimat nodded, ordering a quiksober and getting up. He injected it into his arm as he hustled to where he knew The Boss would be watching the fights. When he went in he heard the door lock behind him and worried that The Boss knew that he'd been skimming money off the repair fees being charged the fighters.
"Sit, Honored High Mechanic," Ullmo'ok said, motioning at the comfortable seats. Krekit sat down, nervous, noting the unholstered needler pistol on the holotank. Ullmo'ok cracked open two Terran narcobeers and handed the little furry lizard one.
Krekit watched as Ullmo'ok brought up the schematics for his own Bashmech.
"Assign your less skilled techs to brining the cargomechs back up to fighting status," Ullmo'ok stated. "Your best techs will have an assignment soon. They'll be making modifications to our Bashmechs."
"What kind?" Krekit asked, feeling a tingle of excitement.
"Right now, I'm not sure. Just have your men go over the technical documents for the Bashmechs and start doing eVR training from the datachips in the manuals. Even the stuff like a ruptured reactor shield," Ullmo'ok ordered. He handed another beer to the little fuzzy lizard. "Triple pay."
Krekit nodded, hustling out of the room.
Ullmo'ok opened his personal encrypted datalink address book, going over the various link addresses he had amassed. There, there was some contacts there were even at the Mechbash Arena.
He ordered in comely male and female members of all races, had them dress scandalously, then had his "office" arranged for effect. He then went out and took part in an "unscheduled match" to get that feeling again.
He needed his edge to meet with the beings he needed to meet with.
------------------------------
Uncle Lo'omo'nan;
I invite you to inspect the mines in a week or two. Please bring my aunt and my cousins, I have missed them dearly. I promise you won't be disappointed in what I wish to show you.
----Ullmo'ok
------------------------------
The Terran officer got out of the heavy cargo truck, walking toward where Ullmo'ok sat on the foot of his Bashmech, feeling the machine vibrate with power and menace. The Terran officer glanced up once then nodded before moving up to Ullmo'ok. The big Terran held out one crushing primate gripper and when Ullmo'ok shook it the primate increased the pressure, staring in Ullmo'ok's eyes.
Ullmo'ok held the stare, refusing to show any pain.
Pain was life.
The Terran officer nodded, grudgingly, and released Ullmo'ok's hand. Ullmo'ok ignored the pain of crushed muscle and bruised bone, the balloon-like feeling of swelling.
It was just pain.
"I got what you wanted. Psychic shielding for warmechs, updated molycirc packs, everything but warboi hashes. Even got you training eVR progs for your simulators. Uses the latest battle data we've got against the Precursor machines," the Terran said. "What do you have for me?"
"Here," the Lanaktallan said, motioning. Two Puntimat's ran forward each carrying a chip box. The idea had startled Ullmo'ok, it was simple, so easily done, and apparently brought in massive amounts of credits, chits, payment, and customers.
The first one was opened and the Terran removed one of the chips, checking it. The fifteen seconds was unlocked, the rest behind, surprisingly enough, civilian grade Terran cryptography. The Terran turned it off and put it back in the box. "Full eVR?" he asked. "That's important."
Ullmo'ok nodded. "That one's just sex," he opened the second case. "This one, my friend, will be your big money maker."
"Oh? Why? What do you have there?" the Terran asked.
"Everything from slowly eating a meal while sitting naked outside in the rain to feeling low power heated blowers drying one's fur to a slow kiss between two lovers. Urinating after the bladder has gotten excessively full, the first drink of water after going a full day without, the feel of an infant's soft fur or scales or skin beneath your warm hand. The gain was turned up to maximum, as broad spectrum as my techs could make it," Ullmo'ot said. He lifted his upper lip in the best approximation of a human smile as he could make. "Before you tell me that's worthless compared to xenospecies sex, let me tell you, a warborg offered me a year's pay for the eVR of a female Puntimat finishing a long run on a treadmill then carefully and slowing washing with shampoo beneath a stream of warm water before blow drying her fur slowly."
The Terran narrowed his eyes. He'd dealt with Lanaktallan before, but had never seen one who was so focused, almost predatory for an herbivore species that might, occasionally, eat meat. He thought for a moment, trying to decide if he could bluff this one or maybe apply a little bit of good old intimidation.
Ullmo'ok knew what the other was thinking. He pulled out a long thin stick of spiced and treated meat, something he saw the Terrans enjoy, slowly unwrapping the Slender James, and beginning to chew on the stick, coiling his feeding tendrils in pleasure. When he knew he had the Terrans attention he reached down and patted the gigantic foot of the "Pleasure & Glory" with his lower left hand.
The Terran quickly changed his opinion. He had been warned by the person who had put him on this nice bit of graft that this Lanaktallan was different but he hadn't believed it until he watched the way the Lanaktallan was not enjoying the meat stick but knew what kind of effect it had and was relishing every little bit of the transaction.
"All right. Deal," The Terran said. "Parts, ammunition, repair vehicles, the whole nine yards."
"Excellent, buddy," Lanaktallan said. He whistled, another Terran skill he'd spend days mastering. Puntimat worker ran forward while others drove cargo trucks up. Lanaktallan shook the other being's hand, and this time he squeezed as hard as possible, staring into the human's eyes, tilting his head so his side-cybereye was part of the stare.
The Terran, Major Taktaven, Delta Company, 108th Military Intelligence (Rangers) (Detached), smiled back. "Pleasure doing business with you."
--------------------------
Krekit looked up from where he was crouched behind Ullmo'ok's fighting cradle, the panel behind the cradle removed. The little Punitmat had a firmware analyzer in his hand and had an expression of satisfaction on his face.
"Well, we know what those interfaces we could never figure out are actually for now," Krekit said. "The psychic shielding booted up just fine, went through diagnostics, then stayed stable during your entire match."
Ullmo'ok nodded. "And the shielding inside the shelters?" he asked.
"Four days of constant activation and now we've got the right analytics and wavelengths to protect everyone," Krekit said. He used his tools to start reattaching the covers over the dense molycirc bricks. "The shelters are complete, they're being furnished and stocked as we speak."
"All right, outfit the rest of the Bashmechs with the psychic shielding," Ullmo'ok ordered.
Krekit hesitated a moment. "Honored Most High Ullmo'ok?" he asked.
"Yes, loyal one?" Ullmo'ok asked, stroking the controls to Pleasure & Glory like some men stroked their sleeping wife's hip, the same far away look on his face.
"The Precursors are coming, aren't they?" Krekit asked.
"Yes. They are."
"Do you intend on fighting them?" Krekit asked.
"Do defend all of my loyal employees? Of course," Ullmo'ok said. "Your wife pulled a knife from my back and repaired my lung. Your daughter works hard to make sure the coin-girls and joyboys are all healthy and have thumpmen nearby. How could I not defend you?"
Krekit nodded. "My men, they have spoken. We will hide in the cavern and repair any damage we can."
"That pleases me to know," Ullmo'ok said.
And he meant it.
---------------------------
Lo'omo'nan exited his vehicle, moving over to where his nephew was dressed appropriately for once, surrounded by well dressed syncophants and underlings like a proper Lanaktallan should be. Lo'omo'nan's wife and children exited the limo, looking around with parts disgust at being at a refinery/mining location/manufacturing facility, parts pleasure at seeing Ullmo'ok so improved.
They all oohed and aahed appreciatively during the tour. Lo'omo'nan noticed that beings came to his nephew frequently with updates, forms to be signed, introductions.
They were moving outside, preparing to leave, when Lo'omo'nan saw his nephew suddenly jerk upright and put his hand against the elaborate datalink on his temple and blink all four eyes.
"Repeat that," Ullmo'ok snapped. The authority and urgent focus in the two words made Lo'omo'nan and his family draw back from the young male Lanaktallan in slight fear. There was a second and Ullmo'ok took his hand from his implant, blinking his eyes, including the ugly looking cybertic one, and gave a reassuring gesture. Lo'omo'nan saw Tukna'rn security officers jogging toward them, holding weapons.
"Sorry, my apologies," Ullmo'ok said. He gestured toward the Executive Villas and made a motion. "Please, before you fly out, at least enjoy some refreshments."
"I'm sorry, Honored Nephew, we don't have the time," Lo'omo'nan answered, suddenly feeling nervous. "Perhaps another day."
Ullmo'ok sighed and looked at his uncle, slowly drawing a needler from a holster he kept beneath his pouch. The Tukna'rn security men leveled their weapons at Lo'omo'nan's Lanaktallan guards and then disarmed them.
"I'm sorry, aunt, uncle, cousins, but I'm afraid that my words were not a request. It is an insistence," Ullmo'on said, his voice violent sounding and menacing.
It reminded Lo'omo'nan of how stressed Terran's sounded.
"Ullo, dear? What do you mean, darling one?" Lo'omo'nan's wife asked, hugging herself in fear.
"I am sorry, most beloved aunt, but you must quickly come with my men. I will be remaining here," Ullmo'ok said. He stared at his aunt. "Do remember, though, that I do care deeply for all of you."
The guards barked and motioned and Lo'omo'nan and his family began moving.
As they clattered away, their hoofs clumping on the tarmac, Lo'omo'nan called out to his nephew. "I won't forget this betrayal as long as I live!"
Ullmo'ok didn't look back as more of his facility guards took the servants into 'custody'. Servants that had mysteriously brought along their families to see a perfectly normal mining facility. They all hid smiles as they hurried after Lo'omo'nan, and one signalled eternal affection at Ullmo'ok.
Ullmo'ok watched, listening to his implant.
ATTACK IMMINENT!
ATTACK IMMINENT!
ATTACK IMMINENT!
-------------------------------
Ullmo'ok was strapped into Pleasure & Glory, the datalink plugged in, his feet on the pedals, his hands on the controls. The big Bashmech was vibrating faintly around him, the huge fusion engine at low power. The scaffolding around him was clear, his access ports were closed, his armor ready. The durachrome around the scaffolding made the repair scaffolding look as it was just some kind of material storage towers.
He could hear his gladiators talk to each other. Weeks in the simulators were one thing, but they could hear on the radios that Goliaths were landing vehicles on the planet. That the Terran vessels were engaged in pitched fighting. The UMF and the Kestimet Corporation had already taken massive casualties. Only a few units survived, most of them working carefully with the Terrans. His men were nervous but unafraid.
He was not nervous. He was not afraid.
Instead, he felt something. The way poets described a female's tendrils trembling, the way commercials made tasting their ways sound.
He wondered what it was.
"Hi!" a small voice said in his ear. It was on his personal comlink.
"Clear the channel," Ullmo'ok ordered, doing his best to imitate the Kestimet security jargon he'd picked up being arrested so many times.
"I'm your new friend," the voice said. Ullmo'ok opened his eyes in shock as something tore through his firewalls, through his security, and scanned his entire Bashmech in seconds. "Wow, good job on this. I should hash your security encryption though, you're using an old outdated one that the Precursors already cracked."
"Who are you?" Ullmo'ok asked sharply.
"Oh, I'm your new Warboi. Assinged by Third COSCOM Digital Warfare Command. Either I help you, and you let my friends help your friends..." There was a long pause. "Or V Corps has ordered me to slag your warmechs."
Ullmo'ok thought for a moment. "All right, new friend. I'll warn you, I am here to defend my loyal people. I will not stray far from this area."
"Okie-dokey," The voice answered. "Rehashing now."
His mech went to standby, booted up, shut down everything, then restarted again.
"Rehashed. I updated your systems with the latest IFF and targeting systems. I'm sending my brothers to help your friend," The little voice said.
"What do I call you?" Ullmo'ok wondered aloud.
"Dunno. That's up to you," the voice said. "Oh, V Corps is referring to you as 5th Light Armor Irregulars and limiting your operations to a ten mile radius."
"All right," He thought for a second. One of his friends back in the Core Worlds talked like the computer program. His name had been long, but everyone had shorted it to "Tak" so that they could get a word in edgewise. "I'll call you Tak."
"Tak it is. I have General Trucker on secure comlink. He wants to speak to you."
A General? That was like a military High Most. Curious, Ullmo'ok opened the comlink.
"Fifth LAI? Do you read?" a Terran's rough voice sounded in his ear. Ullmo'ok could hear a nuclear cannon cut loose in the background.
"Yes," Ullmo'ok answered.
"All right. I'm sending you some air defense and point defense units and some warborg infantry. I'll keep those shelters of your locked down and defended, you just worry about any armor units that head your way," Trucker growled. In the background Ullmo'ot heard bellowed orders. "You stay out of our though, you get in my way I'll run you over just like ancient metal."
"Of course. Nothing personal," Ullmo'ok said. He'd seen more than a few black market Terran war TriVids in the past few months.
"Nothing personal," Trucker said. Suddenly the pitch of his voice changed. "Get those UMF areospace fighters out of there, tell them to get that blasted formation tighter or they're going to get raked out of the sky by that mass of Djinn! Tell that dumbass cow he's about to get slaughtered!"
Ullmo'ok knew Trucker was referring to a member of his species, but it did not bother him.
Cattle described most of the people Ullmo'ok met before the Terrans arrived.
"Look, 5th, I'll get you a dedicated data-stream and provide what support I can, but... TELL THAT DUMB BASTARD TO ACTIVATE HIS POINT DEFENSE!... but I've got my hands full. I wish you'd have interlocked with us earlier but... JEEZ-SUS SODOMIZING KEE-RICEST WILL SOMEONE KILL THAT THING? ... but I'll interlock you as best I can."
"I understand," Ollmo'ok replied. The sounds behind the Terran's voice and his bellowed commands made something inside Ollmo'ok's soul tingle. He opened a Slender James and chewed on it, filling his mouth with the taste of the greasy meat stick.
"Do your best, Fifth. Trucker out."
"Understood."
In his tank Trucker looked at his EW/EMCOM/Com-tech. "You sure we were talking to an Lanaktallan? He sounded like a damn answering service VI."
His tech nodded. "VI says he was an actual living being with almost 83% certainty."
"Huh," Trucker said, then took his mind back to the battle at hand.
Ullmo'ok was relaxing in his crash couch, keeping his men's moral up, ordering them to sleep in shifts.
Listening to his implant, which Tak was keeping him aware of what was happening as more and more Precursor ships made planetfall.
Nearly two hours later Tak woke him up, the vibration of his Bashmech lulling him to sleep.
"Got Confed troops on the horn, boss. They want to know which warehouses to conceal themselves in," Tak said.
Ullmo'ok rubbed his eyes. "What?"
"General Trucker sent some air defense and pint defense vehicles to keep your area safe. He also sent ammunition trucks and counter-battery artillery units, including radar," Tak answered.
Ullmo'ok closed his eyes, visualizing the layout of the factory with his cybereye. He 'blinked' at the buildings, assigning them. "Tell the leader of the vehicles that the warehouses and vehicle hangers can be destroyed. All of the surface installations can be destroyed. Just defend the shelters."
Tak hummed for a moment. "They say OK. Well, they talk weird. You know, Terran military guys. They all talk funny."
"Wake me up if anything moves funny."
"Oky-Dokey!" Tak said.
Ullmo'ok closed his eyes, going back to sleep.
--------------------------
"BOSS! BOSS! WAKE UP!" Tak yelled.
Ullmo'ok opened his yes, lifting his two upper hands to rub at them. "Yes, Tak?"
"Trucker just signalled. You got a whole bunch of, and I quote, big metal coming your way."
"Wake up the boys," Ullmo'ok said, bringing his big mech up to full readiness. He waited for each of his gladiators. Nearly eighty in all. Even the maintenance crews, led by Krekit checked in. Finally the Terran Confederate Military forces checked in.
Everyone was ready.
"It's time for the Ultimate Show," He said over the 'command channel'.
And put his mech in motion.
-----------------------
V CORPS COMMAND MEMO
Extensive civilian shelters outfitted with psychic shielding arrays at the Kestimet Hoolangenar Mountains Refinery. Estimated numbers of civilians in shelters in excess of 320,000. Area is protected by civilian grade medium warmechs.
8th Infantry has deployed a company of air and point defense units as well as battalion of artillery configured for counter-battery operations.
Support these guys when you can. The leader is a known and MILINT compromised black marketeer, but he's been good to our guys and is taking care of his people.
--General Nodra'ak, V Corps, Commanding
------NOTHING FOLLOWS-----------
KESTIMET INTERNAL MEMO
Lesser High Most Lo'omo'nan and his entire family as well as his servants have been kidnapped by his known law breaker nephew Ullmo'ok, who has seized control of the Hoolangenar Industrial Facility and may be planning on holding it for ransom.
At this time, do not speak to any press agents.
--------------------
3rd ARMOR DIVISION BROADCAST
HERE THEY COME, BOYS!
---General Trucker, Commande
The Terran was a big warborg, two tons of anodized black warsteel, heavy weapons hidden inside his chassis and the magnetic power-inductors the size of Ullmo'ok's hand covered with a thin layer of armorplas, with an 8 pierced by an upright arrow marking both of his shoulders. His face shield was open, letting Ullmo'ok see the Terran's biological face that had been attached to a warsteel skull. While other Lanaktallan's might have been distressed by the cyborg it didn't bother Ullmo'ok at all. The Terran was one of Ullmo'ok's loyal customers over the last weeks the Terrans had been deploying their war material and getting ready for a possible Precursor attack.
"You might want to get off the planet soon, Ullmo'ok," the Terran said. It took a sip of narcobrew. "Good stuff."
"My appreciation of your enjoyment," Ullmo'ok answered, nodding. He liked Terran physical body language much better than he liked crest and tendril signals. "Why would I want to leave?"
The Terran sighed. "There's Imps in the Oort Cloud and that can only mean one thing."
"Precursors are coming," Ullmo'ok guessed. The big Terran nodded. "You advise me to flee?"
The Terran warborg slowly nodded. "It's going to get ugly, friend. The Precursors are going to come at this system with everything they can shake loose. Its an important extraction and refinery system," The warborg paused. "They're going to come straight at this facility."
Ullmo'ok nodded again. "That sounds logical. My uncle has sent some of CorpSec out here, some with heavy vehicles as CorpSec designates them. To protect this refinery from any rivals he says but I believed it to try to protect from any of my Bashmech pilots going rogue."
"The CorpSec vehicles won't last fifteen seconds against Precursor machines," the Terran answered.
"I have seen my Bashmech list them as light civilian defense vehicles," Ullmo'ok answered. He lifted his hands in an approximation of a shrug. "My Bashmech is a civilian version, I can only imagine what the Precursor machines must be like and even then I am probably under-imagining them."
The Warborg nodded. "I faced off against some Precursors a few centuries ago. Not this brand, the other types, and they're a serious opponent. They don't stop and they linger to kill every living thing. To top it off, friend, they view your species as deserving to be wiped out."
Ullmo'ok shook his head. "I will not leave my loyal workers. They work hard for me, they fight harder."
The warborg sighed. "All right. Look, saying this is in the gray. I can probably get away with it because you're technically a CEO and a community leader. Nobody else outside of TERCONFEDMIL knows this yet."
"One moment," Ullmo'ok said. He used his implant to turn off any surveillance devices, clear the surrounding rooms, and lock the doors. The big warborg nodded at the sound of the mag-locks engaging. "Go ahead."
"These things use psychic assault arrays. We don't mind that much, we're highly resistant to such things, but I don't know how your people will react," the warborg said. "They come at you, there going to hit you with a psychic assault then slaughter your people while they're still alive and screaming."
Ullmo'ok thought a moment. "Is there a way for non-Terrans to protect themselves from this psychic assault?"
The warborg nodded. "Sure. Most of the Treana'ad officers have psychic shield implants, most vehicles have them, we've even got portable ones to protect camps and bases."
Ullmo'ok nodded. "Thank you for the information. It is most helpful. Can you guess at how long until the Precursors arrive?"
"Days? Weeks? With Imps in the Oort Cloud, we're being recon'd. It's not if they get here, it's when they get here," The warborg said. He stood up. "I should get back before I'm missed."
Ullmo'ok nodded, thinking carefully. He unlocked the door and ordered that the warborg be comp'd tonight's entertainment.
Psychic shielding, eh? The Terrans seem to have it commonly installed, that means they have it in abundance, he thought to himself. He signaled to the facilities computer to send two of his employees to him. One a structural engineer responsible for keeping the mine operational, the other a refinery expert.
They arrived quickly, both smelling of stim-sticks but they both had the obvious shakes from taking a quiksober. Ullmo'ot soothed their fears, handing them bottles of Terran narcobeer after he twisted the caps off. He turned down the music, then locked the doors.
"Honored Jumina'at," Ullmo'ok addressed the refinery master. The other being nervously signalled he was paying attention. "The humans call it warsteel, can we create and work it?"
The other Lanaktallan shook his heavy head. "No, honored Ullmo'ok. We can craft it but it immediately hardens and cannot be worked."
"What hyperalloy can we create that we can work with the tools available?" Ullmo'ok asked.
"Terran endosteel. We had the templates and industrial fabrication specifications," the refinery master said.
"Turn ten percent of our output to endosteel production. Keep it off the books. Offer triple-pay for anyone willing to work off the books shifts to produce it," Ullmo'ok said.
"As you wish, High Most," Jumina'at said.
"One another thing, Jumina'at," Ullmo'ok said. The subordinate looked nervous. "You have family on planet?"
"Yes, Most High," he answered.
"Bring them in. I will have vacation time authorized for them. Use one of the empty Executive Villas for them. Bring all of them," Ullmo'ok ordered.
Jumina'at didn't ask why, just nodded. Every one of Ullmo'ok's idea has enriched him vastly and Jumina'at had ceased asking questions. He accepted his dismissal and left, Ullmo'ot locking the door again behind him.
"Za'almooint?" Ullmo'ok turned to the master engineer.
She nodded, still looking miserable from the quiksober shot. "Yes, High Most?" She stared at the male's robotic eye, fascinated by it. Supposedly Lanaktallan's were 'too advanced' to accept cybernetic prosthetics, but the eye had been there for weeks without problems.
Ullmo'ok used his personal holotank, a Terran version with excellent resolution and fidelity, to put up a map of one of the played out mines that wormed beneath the worker habs and the executive villas. "I want you to build shelters beneath these structures, in these mines, with fast access ports that can then be sealed and camouflaged until rescue can arrive."
The female Lanaktallan nodded slowly, getting up and moving around the holotank. "Shelters for how many people, High Most?"
"All of them. Plus another 10% redundancy, no, make it 20% redundancy and provide atmospheric, power, and food dispenser backups," Ullmo'ok ordered. "Triple pay for all who work on this. I want it done as soon as possible."
"As you will," she answered. "Will that be all?"
Ullmo'ok shook his head. "No, I have one other set of orders," he stated. He moved the scan to a set of played out mines a mile away. It had a large entry-cavern.
She curled her tendrils in confusion but waited.
"I want you to move all our spare parts, all our spare repair equipment, for the Bashmechs to this spot. We're going to be going back to cargo-mech fights for a little bit," he said. "Build these hollow buildings out of durachrome. Make sure the repair scaffolding is finished first."
"Which do I prioritize?"
"Concealed repair bays first, moving the parts second. I'll have different crews get the cargomech's ready to fight."
"Your customers won't like that," she warned.
"I'll play it up as a celebration of some type, offer reduced fees, that will quiet them," He said. He thought for a moment. "Send in Krekit. Personally, no datalink or com."
Za'almooint nodded and left, finding the Puntimat mechanic drinking narcobrew and puffing on a narcostick in one of the lounges, a pile of script, chits, and rations in front of him.
"Sober up, the High Most wants you right now," Za'almooint said.
The little Puntimat nodded, ordering a quiksober and getting up. He injected it into his arm as he hustled to where he knew The Boss would be watching the fights. When he went in he heard the door lock behind him and worried that The Boss knew that he'd been skimming money off the repair fees being charged the fighters.
"Sit, Honored High Mechanic," Ullmo'ok said, motioning at the comfortable seats. Krekit sat down, nervous, noting the unholstered needler pistol on the holotank. Ullmo'ok cracked open two Terran narcobeers and handed the little furry lizard one.
Krekit watched as Ullmo'ok brought up the schematics for his own Bashmech.
"Assign your less skilled techs to brining the cargomechs back up to fighting status," Ullmo'ok stated. "Your best techs will have an assignment soon. They'll be making modifications to our Bashmechs."
"What kind?" Krekit asked, feeling a tingle of excitement.
"Right now, I'm not sure. Just have your men go over the technical documents for the Bashmechs and start doing eVR training from the datachips in the manuals. Even the stuff like a ruptured reactor shield," Ullmo'ok ordered. He handed another beer to the little fuzzy lizard. "Triple pay."
Krekit nodded, hustling out of the room.
Ullmo'ok opened his personal encrypted datalink address book, going over the various link addresses he had amassed. There, there was some contacts there were even at the Mechbash Arena.
He ordered in comely male and female members of all races, had them dress scandalously, then had his "office" arranged for effect. He then went out and took part in an "unscheduled match" to get that feeling again.
He needed his edge to meet with the beings he needed to meet with.
------------------------------
Uncle Lo'omo'nan;
I invite you to inspect the mines in a week or two. Please bring my aunt and my cousins, I have missed them dearly. I promise you won't be disappointed in what I wish to show you.
----Ullmo'ok
------------------------------
The Terran officer got out of the heavy cargo truck, walking toward where Ullmo'ok sat on the foot of his Bashmech, feeling the machine vibrate with power and menace. The Terran officer glanced up once then nodded before moving up to Ullmo'ok. The big Terran held out one crushing primate gripper and when Ullmo'ok shook it the primate increased the pressure, staring in Ullmo'ok's eyes.
Ullmo'ok held the stare, refusing to show any pain.
Pain was life.
The Terran officer nodded, grudgingly, and released Ullmo'ok's hand. Ullmo'ok ignored the pain of crushed muscle and bruised bone, the balloon-like feeling of swelling.
It was just pain.
"I got what you wanted. Psychic shielding for warmechs, updated molycirc packs, everything but warboi hashes. Even got you training eVR progs for your simulators. Uses the latest battle data we've got against the Precursor machines," the Terran said. "What do you have for me?"
"Here," the Lanaktallan said, motioning. Two Puntimat's ran forward each carrying a chip box. The idea had startled Ullmo'ok, it was simple, so easily done, and apparently brought in massive amounts of credits, chits, payment, and customers.
The first one was opened and the Terran removed one of the chips, checking it. The fifteen seconds was unlocked, the rest behind, surprisingly enough, civilian grade Terran cryptography. The Terran turned it off and put it back in the box. "Full eVR?" he asked. "That's important."
Ullmo'ok nodded. "That one's just sex," he opened the second case. "This one, my friend, will be your big money maker."
"Oh? Why? What do you have there?" the Terran asked.
"Everything from slowly eating a meal while sitting naked outside in the rain to feeling low power heated blowers drying one's fur to a slow kiss between two lovers. Urinating after the bladder has gotten excessively full, the first drink of water after going a full day without, the feel of an infant's soft fur or scales or skin beneath your warm hand. The gain was turned up to maximum, as broad spectrum as my techs could make it," Ullmo'ot said. He lifted his upper lip in the best approximation of a human smile as he could make. "Before you tell me that's worthless compared to xenospecies sex, let me tell you, a warborg offered me a year's pay for the eVR of a female Puntimat finishing a long run on a treadmill then carefully and slowing washing with shampoo beneath a stream of warm water before blow drying her fur slowly."
The Terran narrowed his eyes. He'd dealt with Lanaktallan before, but had never seen one who was so focused, almost predatory for an herbivore species that might, occasionally, eat meat. He thought for a moment, trying to decide if he could bluff this one or maybe apply a little bit of good old intimidation.
Ullmo'ok knew what the other was thinking. He pulled out a long thin stick of spiced and treated meat, something he saw the Terrans enjoy, slowly unwrapping the Slender James, and beginning to chew on the stick, coiling his feeding tendrils in pleasure. When he knew he had the Terrans attention he reached down and patted the gigantic foot of the "Pleasure & Glory" with his lower left hand.
The Terran quickly changed his opinion. He had been warned by the person who had put him on this nice bit of graft that this Lanaktallan was different but he hadn't believed it until he watched the way the Lanaktallan was not enjoying the meat stick but knew what kind of effect it had and was relishing every little bit of the transaction.
"All right. Deal," The Terran said. "Parts, ammunition, repair vehicles, the whole nine yards."
"Excellent, buddy," Lanaktallan said. He whistled, another Terran skill he'd spend days mastering. Puntimat worker ran forward while others drove cargo trucks up. Lanaktallan shook the other being's hand, and this time he squeezed as hard as possible, staring into the human's eyes, tilting his head so his side-cybereye was part of the stare.
The Terran, Major Taktaven, Delta Company, 108th Military Intelligence (Rangers) (Detached), smiled back. "Pleasure doing business with you."
--------------------------
Krekit looked up from where he was crouched behind Ullmo'ok's fighting cradle, the panel behind the cradle removed. The little Punitmat had a firmware analyzer in his hand and had an expression of satisfaction on his face.
"Well, we know what those interfaces we could never figure out are actually for now," Krekit said. "The psychic shielding booted up just fine, went through diagnostics, then stayed stable during your entire match."
Ullmo'ok nodded. "And the shielding inside the shelters?" he asked.
"Four days of constant activation and now we've got the right analytics and wavelengths to protect everyone," Krekit said. He used his tools to start reattaching the covers over the dense molycirc bricks. "The shelters are complete, they're being furnished and stocked as we speak."
"All right, outfit the rest of the Bashmechs with the psychic shielding," Ullmo'ok ordered.
Krekit hesitated a moment. "Honored Most High Ullmo'ok?" he asked.
"Yes, loyal one?" Ullmo'ok asked, stroking the controls to Pleasure & Glory like some men stroked their sleeping wife's hip, the same far away look on his face.
"The Precursors are coming, aren't they?" Krekit asked.
"Yes. They are."
"Do you intend on fighting them?" Krekit asked.
"Do defend all of my loyal employees? Of course," Ullmo'ok said. "Your wife pulled a knife from my back and repaired my lung. Your daughter works hard to make sure the coin-girls and joyboys are all healthy and have thumpmen nearby. How could I not defend you?"
Krekit nodded. "My men, they have spoken. We will hide in the cavern and repair any damage we can."
"That pleases me to know," Ullmo'ok said.
And he meant it.
---------------------------
Lo'omo'nan exited his vehicle, moving over to where his nephew was dressed appropriately for once, surrounded by well dressed syncophants and underlings like a proper Lanaktallan should be. Lo'omo'nan's wife and children exited the limo, looking around with parts disgust at being at a refinery/mining location/manufacturing facility, parts pleasure at seeing Ullmo'ok so improved.
They all oohed and aahed appreciatively during the tour. Lo'omo'nan noticed that beings came to his nephew frequently with updates, forms to be signed, introductions.
They were moving outside, preparing to leave, when Lo'omo'nan saw his nephew suddenly jerk upright and put his hand against the elaborate datalink on his temple and blink all four eyes.
"Repeat that," Ullmo'ok snapped. The authority and urgent focus in the two words made Lo'omo'nan and his family draw back from the young male Lanaktallan in slight fear. There was a second and Ullmo'ok took his hand from his implant, blinking his eyes, including the ugly looking cybertic one, and gave a reassuring gesture. Lo'omo'nan saw Tukna'rn security officers jogging toward them, holding weapons.
"Sorry, my apologies," Ullmo'ok said. He gestured toward the Executive Villas and made a motion. "Please, before you fly out, at least enjoy some refreshments."
"I'm sorry, Honored Nephew, we don't have the time," Lo'omo'nan answered, suddenly feeling nervous. "Perhaps another day."
Ullmo'ok sighed and looked at his uncle, slowly drawing a needler from a holster he kept beneath his pouch. The Tukna'rn security men leveled their weapons at Lo'omo'nan's Lanaktallan guards and then disarmed them.
"I'm sorry, aunt, uncle, cousins, but I'm afraid that my words were not a request. It is an insistence," Ullmo'on said, his voice violent sounding and menacing.
It reminded Lo'omo'nan of how stressed Terran's sounded.
"Ullo, dear? What do you mean, darling one?" Lo'omo'nan's wife asked, hugging herself in fear.
"I am sorry, most beloved aunt, but you must quickly come with my men. I will be remaining here," Ullmo'ok said. He stared at his aunt. "Do remember, though, that I do care deeply for all of you."
The guards barked and motioned and Lo'omo'nan and his family began moving.
As they clattered away, their hoofs clumping on the tarmac, Lo'omo'nan called out to his nephew. "I won't forget this betrayal as long as I live!"
Ullmo'ok didn't look back as more of his facility guards took the servants into 'custody'. Servants that had mysteriously brought along their families to see a perfectly normal mining facility. They all hid smiles as they hurried after Lo'omo'nan, and one signalled eternal affection at Ullmo'ok.
Ullmo'ok watched, listening to his implant.
ATTACK IMMINENT!
ATTACK IMMINENT!
ATTACK IMMINENT!
-------------------------------
Ullmo'ok was strapped into Pleasure & Glory, the datalink plugged in, his feet on the pedals, his hands on the controls. The big Bashmech was vibrating faintly around him, the huge fusion engine at low power. The scaffolding around him was clear, his access ports were closed, his armor ready. The durachrome around the scaffolding made the repair scaffolding look as it was just some kind of material storage towers.
He could hear his gladiators talk to each other. Weeks in the simulators were one thing, but they could hear on the radios that Goliaths were landing vehicles on the planet. That the Terran vessels were engaged in pitched fighting. The UMF and the Kestimet Corporation had already taken massive casualties. Only a few units survived, most of them working carefully with the Terrans. His men were nervous but unafraid.
He was not nervous. He was not afraid.
Instead, he felt something. The way poets described a female's tendrils trembling, the way commercials made tasting their ways sound.
He wondered what it was.
"Hi!" a small voice said in his ear. It was on his personal comlink.
"Clear the channel," Ullmo'ok ordered, doing his best to imitate the Kestimet security jargon he'd picked up being arrested so many times.
"I'm your new friend," the voice said. Ullmo'ok opened his eyes in shock as something tore through his firewalls, through his security, and scanned his entire Bashmech in seconds. "Wow, good job on this. I should hash your security encryption though, you're using an old outdated one that the Precursors already cracked."
"Who are you?" Ullmo'ok asked sharply.
"Oh, I'm your new Warboi. Assinged by Third COSCOM Digital Warfare Command. Either I help you, and you let my friends help your friends..." There was a long pause. "Or V Corps has ordered me to slag your warmechs."
Ullmo'ok thought for a moment. "All right, new friend. I'll warn you, I am here to defend my loyal people. I will not stray far from this area."
"Okie-dokey," The voice answered. "Rehashing now."
His mech went to standby, booted up, shut down everything, then restarted again.
"Rehashed. I updated your systems with the latest IFF and targeting systems. I'm sending my brothers to help your friend," The little voice said.
"What do I call you?" Ullmo'ok wondered aloud.
"Dunno. That's up to you," the voice said. "Oh, V Corps is referring to you as 5th Light Armor Irregulars and limiting your operations to a ten mile radius."
"All right," He thought for a second. One of his friends back in the Core Worlds talked like the computer program. His name had been long, but everyone had shorted it to "Tak" so that they could get a word in edgewise. "I'll call you Tak."
"Tak it is. I have General Trucker on secure comlink. He wants to speak to you."
A General? That was like a military High Most. Curious, Ullmo'ok opened the comlink.
"Fifth LAI? Do you read?" a Terran's rough voice sounded in his ear. Ullmo'ok could hear a nuclear cannon cut loose in the background.
"Yes," Ullmo'ok answered.
"All right. I'm sending you some air defense and point defense units and some warborg infantry. I'll keep those shelters of your locked down and defended, you just worry about any armor units that head your way," Trucker growled. In the background Ullmo'ot heard bellowed orders. "You stay out of our though, you get in my way I'll run you over just like ancient metal."
"Of course. Nothing personal," Ullmo'ok said. He'd seen more than a few black market Terran war TriVids in the past few months.
"Nothing personal," Trucker said. Suddenly the pitch of his voice changed. "Get those UMF areospace fighters out of there, tell them to get that blasted formation tighter or they're going to get raked out of the sky by that mass of Djinn! Tell that dumbass cow he's about to get slaughtered!"
Ullmo'ok knew Trucker was referring to a member of his species, but it did not bother him.
Cattle described most of the people Ullmo'ok met before the Terrans arrived.
"Look, 5th, I'll get you a dedicated data-stream and provide what support I can, but... TELL THAT DUMB BASTARD TO ACTIVATE HIS POINT DEFENSE!... but I've got my hands full. I wish you'd have interlocked with us earlier but... JEEZ-SUS SODOMIZING KEE-RICEST WILL SOMEONE KILL THAT THING? ... but I'll interlock you as best I can."
"I understand," Ollmo'ok replied. The sounds behind the Terran's voice and his bellowed commands made something inside Ollmo'ok's soul tingle. He opened a Slender James and chewed on it, filling his mouth with the taste of the greasy meat stick.
"Do your best, Fifth. Trucker out."
"Understood."
In his tank Trucker looked at his EW/EMCOM/Com-tech. "You sure we were talking to an Lanaktallan? He sounded like a damn answering service VI."
His tech nodded. "VI says he was an actual living being with almost 83% certainty."
"Huh," Trucker said, then took his mind back to the battle at hand.
Ullmo'ok was relaxing in his crash couch, keeping his men's moral up, ordering them to sleep in shifts.
Listening to his implant, which Tak was keeping him aware of what was happening as more and more Precursor ships made planetfall.
Nearly two hours later Tak woke him up, the vibration of his Bashmech lulling him to sleep.
"Got Confed troops on the horn, boss. They want to know which warehouses to conceal themselves in," Tak said.
Ullmo'ok rubbed his eyes. "What?"
"General Trucker sent some air defense and pint defense vehicles to keep your area safe. He also sent ammunition trucks and counter-battery artillery units, including radar," Tak answered.
Ullmo'ok closed his eyes, visualizing the layout of the factory with his cybereye. He 'blinked' at the buildings, assigning them. "Tell the leader of the vehicles that the warehouses and vehicle hangers can be destroyed. All of the surface installations can be destroyed. Just defend the shelters."
Tak hummed for a moment. "They say OK. Well, they talk weird. You know, Terran military guys. They all talk funny."
"Wake me up if anything moves funny."
"Oky-Dokey!" Tak said.
Ullmo'ok closed his eyes, going back to sleep.
--------------------------
"BOSS! BOSS! WAKE UP!" Tak yelled.
Ullmo'ok opened his yes, lifting his two upper hands to rub at them. "Yes, Tak?"
"Trucker just signalled. You got a whole bunch of, and I quote, big metal coming your way."
"Wake up the boys," Ullmo'ok said, bringing his big mech up to full readiness. He waited for each of his gladiators. Nearly eighty in all. Even the maintenance crews, led by Krekit checked in. Finally the Terran Confederate Military forces checked in.
Everyone was ready.
"It's time for the Ultimate Show," He said over the 'command channel'.
And put his mech in motion.
-----------------------
V CORPS COMMAND MEMO
Extensive civilian shelters outfitted with psychic shielding arrays at the Kestimet Hoolangenar Mountains Refinery. Estimated numbers of civilians in shelters in excess of 320,000. Area is protected by civilian grade medium warmechs.
8th Infantry has deployed a company of air and point defense units as well as battalion of artillery configured for counter-battery operations.
Support these guys when you can. The leader is a known and MILINT compromised black marketeer, but he's been good to our guys and is taking care of his people.
--General Nodra'ak, V Corps, Commanding
------NOTHING FOLLOWS-----------
KESTIMET INTERNAL MEMO
Lesser High Most Lo'omo'nan and his entire family as well as his servants have been kidnapped by his known law breaker nephew Ullmo'ok, who has seized control of the Hoolangenar Industrial Facility and may be planning on holding it for ransom.
At this time, do not speak to any press agents.
--------------------
3rd ARMOR DIVISION BROADCAST
HERE THEY COME, BOYS!
---General Trucker, Commande
