My vision was blurred, my hands shaking, a ringing in my ears, and it was hard to breathe when we pulled into the refugee point just as dawn was breaking. In the distance the sky glowed with the violence of combat, flashes of atomic weaponry lighting up the dawn, outshining the sun, every few minutes. The ash was thick raining down from the sky, full of heavy metals and worse, my tank's scanners full of fuzz and distortion.

Mal-Kar brought the tank in and lowered it to the ground before turning off the hover fans.

The forward starboard fan made a clanging noise as it slowly wound down.

All three of my faithful crew were staggering as we climbed out of the tank. My vision kept going grey, shot with static, and at first I thought it was my helmet, that perhaps the Terran molycircs had failed.

No.

It was my eyes, my brain.

I stumbled twice before I found myself supported between two Terrans in body armor.

"Easy now, Most High, we've got you," the one on the right said. The first un-synthesized voice I had heard from a Terran. It was soft, gentle, but I still didn't know if it was male or female.

"Need to reload the tank. Go back out," I mumbled. My cast thumped against the tarmac.

"Let's get him to medical. Can you understand what he's saying?" the other one asked.

"He's asking about his tank," the first one answered.

"You're tank's good. The mechanics will have it fixed right up by the time you get done with medical," one promised.

"There's more civilians. They need rescued," I mumbled.

We pushed into the medical tent. I shuddered at the contents. Injured people, some missing limbs, sobbing in pain as Terran doctors, the young filly, and the Matron moved through them, giving medical care where they could.

"Put him in sling seven," one of the Terrans said, pointing.

"There's still more out there. Just give me a stim," I said softly as the Terrans put me in the sling.

The Matron moved up, clicking her tongue in disapproval. She ran the scanner over me and her tendrils curled.

I struggled feebly against the sling, then went limp, exhausted. The front of my lower abdomen burned and ached, I couldn't catch my breath. She attached an IV line to my foreleg and another to my arm, shaking her head the entire time.

A Terran moved up in body armor, stopping next to the Matron. "Diagnosis?"

I expected the Matron to speak out loud, instead she just showed the dataslate to the doctor.

"Just patch me up, I need to get out there," I mumbled, looking up for a moment before looking back down, exhausted.

"You let us worry about that," the doctor said. He reached out and touched the complex device under the bag of simple saline water. It beeped and flashed a few lights. He turned to the Matron. "Tell his men it's just treatment for exhaustion and stimulant overdose."

The Matron nodded and trotted away. The doctor looked at me.

"Your mid-body heart is failing. Another hour and you would have started dying," he said. He put his hand on my armored forehead. "We're going to get you out of that armor, then I'm going to start working."

"There are others more wounded than me," I said, looking over at a HiKruth juvenile missing the legs on his right side. "What about him?"

"He's fine. He needs some regen time or a cloned tissue replacement," the doctor said. "You worry about you, Most High."

I tried to object, but the dark pulled me down.

-------------------

I had expected to be unconscious for days, perhaps weeks, receiving treatment, but I woke up after less than fourteen hours, pulled to wakefulness by the dull roar and echoing rumble of an atomic detonation nearby.

Feelmeenta sat next to my bed, her arm in a sling, a patch covering her eye with black durachrome around the patch. When I raised my head she looked up at me, giving me a pleased expression.

"Welcome back, Most High," she smiled.

My head hurt and my chest felt weird, like it was packed with cotton.

"Get me out of this sling," I said, reaching for the buckles but finding my hands too clumsy and numb to do much more than fumble at the latches.

Feelmeenta shook her head. "No can do. The Terrans were very specific that you spend another six hours in that sling while the quikheal takes hold."

"But the civilians," I started to say.

"Where you led, others have followed," she told me. She put one hand on my paper gown covered flank. "The Terrans are helping with the effort."

The led to me sagging in the sling and beginning to weep.

My failure was complete.

Feelmeenta put her hand on my flank again. "It's OK, Most High. It's OK."

I went to sleep again, the drugs pulling me back under and back to sleep.

---------------

I woke up again, feeling the fuzziness of the anesthetic retreat slightly. My muscles felt better, no longer aching. My joints no longer felt like they were filled with a dull burning fire. My chest and lower abdomen no longer ached and my breathing came easy.

"How are you feeling?" Mal-Kar asked me from where he was sitting on an ammo can next to my sling.

"Better," I said. I swallowed thickly. "Water?"

Mal-Kar nodded, holding up a brown pitcher with a straw in it. "It's citrus flavored. Go slow."

I wanted to gulp it all down. It tasted amazing, better than anything I had ever tasted. The bite of the citrus seemed to clear the thick gummy taste from my mouth, wash away the strange taste of some kind of berry or fruit that I'd never tasted before.

I was only allowed three swallows before Mal-Kar pulled it back.

"How... how long?" I asked.

"Twenty hours," he told me. "The humans, the Terrans, have landed in force. They're driving the Precursors back across all fronts. Most High A'armo'o has ordered the Great Herd to interlock with the Terrans until further notice," he wiped his hands on the paper jumpsuit he wore over his mechanic's coveralls. "We're seeing less deserters."

"That's good," I said. I blinked, aware that only four of my eyes seemed to work.

Mal-Kar shrugged. "Means anyone not willing to fight is dead, ran away, or the officers got neural prods."

The doctor pushed in, the Matron looking around him. Again, I was struck how a Terran could be taller than me yet give the impression of being short and squat, despite the fact that he was lean enough to remind me of the knives carried by the bangers in the hab I'd grown up in.

"Good, you're awake. Your neural scans look good, but lets check for memory loss or any other neural defects," the doctor said.

The testing took only a few minutes. A few passes with a scanner, a few questions, looking into all four of my eyes and my ears and up my nose. He tested my feeding tendril response, nodding slowly.

"All right, I'm going to turn on your two new eyes. They're Terran cybernetics, but they've been proven to work just fine for your people," he said. "They'll feel weird."

"Do we have time for me to be able to use the eyes?" I asked.

"Shouldn't take more than an hour or so for them to fully synch up. Most of the work was done while you were asleep," he said.

"Doctor..." the Matron said.

"I know. Just a few more minutes, I'd like to have his implants working," the doctor said.

My vision suddenly came back on my left rear arc. The logo "SYNTEK CYBERNETIC DIVISION" popped up then faded.

"Blink for me," he said. I did so and he nodded. "Focus on Nurse Cha'apehl," he said, pointing at the Matron. I did so. "OK, follow the light," he moved a light around. "All right. It's a non-cosmetic version. You can get it replaced by a cosmetic version or bioware implant later," he straightened up. "He can be released afterwards," he told the Matron. "Send him in."

The Matron nodded and Mal-Kar stood up.

"I should go," my faithful crewman said.

"Please, stay," I said, reaching out and grabbing his hand. I could see the shiny skin around my arm, where fur had not grown back, had replaced the surface burns on my arm.

Mal-Kar sat down.

The curtain parted and Great Grand Most High A'armo'o entered the tent. He was wearing his jeweled and ornate sash and flank covering, both festooned with awards, ribbons, recognition. His pistol on his belt was inlaid with precious metals and gems. His jewelry was shined and polished.

I felt my lip curl in disgust at the obvious finery he was prancing about in.

"You have seen the dark side, Gunner Ha'almo'or," he said. He tapped his chest. "They disgust you now, do they not?"

"They do," I admitted, and hung my head, embarrassed that I'd felt such a thing, dared to judge someone so very much my superior.

Most High A'armo'o leaned forward and whispered to me conspiratorially. "They disgust me too."

I felt my tendrils curl in embarrassment.

"Do you know why I am here?" he asked me.

Mal-Kar rubbed my newly healed forearm with his hand.

"No, Great Grand Most High," I answered, staring at the floor. "To place me back under arrest and remand me to LawSec?"

There was silence for a long moment.

"I have fought across the continent for three days, Ha'almo'or," he said solemnly. "Do you know how many civilians I directly saved in those three days?"

I shook my head. "No."

"None."

I looked up and Most High A'armo'o put his hand on my paper gown covered chest, holding my gaze with his own.

"I, and my men, fought as hard as we could," he said. "Would you like to hear what I told my men, all of the tankers of the Great Herd still surviving, upon the second day?"

I nodded, my mouth dry. I swallowed thickly and Mal-Kar held up the pitcher. I gratefully drank as Most High A'armo'o placed a datacube down on the medical tray and tapped the top, activating the built in holoprojector.

Most High A'armo'o's face appeared. It was covered in sweat, his hair was matted and wet, his eyes were red with exhaustion.

"I know you are tired, men," he said. "You may be feeling that we are throwing our lives away for nothing, but nothing could be further from the truth than that feeling of despair," A'armo'o said.

I looked up and Great Grand Most High of Armor A'armo'o motioned to the cube, bringing my attention to it.

"If they get past us, get into the city at our back, then everything Gunner Ha'almo'or has done is for naught! The lemurs are coming with fire and wrath and I am confident they will join our fight against these terrible machines for, like us, they are the living! Every hour, every minute, we hold, is another child, another man, another woman, that Ha'almo'or can rescue and seal away in the shelters he has created and defended with nobody but mechanics and clerks armed with whatever castoffs he could scavenge!"

His volume rose even higher.

"For all of your careers you have done things, followed orders, that you wondered if they were honorable! Now you know why you are wrapped in battlesteel! THIS, this moment RIGHT HERE, is why you were born," he bellowed out. "Fight, and gouge one more minute from the Precursors cold metal claws for Gunner Ha'almo'or and his loyal troops! Give him the time to rescue one more colt, one more calf, one more filly! Buy him that time, and you will not die in vain! I will be by your side and together we will form a bulwark between the Precursors and those Gunner Ha'almo'or fights to save even if we must do so with our destroyed tanks and !"

The cube winked out and I found myself crying.

"That speech rallied my men, enabled us to push them back from the cities," he said. "I lost ten thousand tanks, each full of the finest Lanaktallan to ever trot across tarmac, but we pushed them back."

He was silent for a moment, staring at me.

"I am proud to call you brother, Gunner Ha'almo'or," he said softly. "I must return to my tank. The battle still rages on, despite the addition of the Terran's might it is still in doubt."

I nodded, still weeping. He moved to the door, then paused. "Someday, I hope, you can look back at these dark days with pride."

And he was gone.

I sat for a long moment after the doctor and Matron left. Eventually I wiped my eyes and looked at Mal-Kar. "Help me out of the sling."

He didn't question, didn't protest, just helped me untangle myself from the medical instruments and the sling. He let me lean on him for a moment as the anesthetic beam and nanites suddenly cut off and my leg began to ache.

I dressed slowly, putting on my vest, sash, and flank covering, then peeked out the flap of the fabric 'walls' that made up my little recovery area.

Just the wounded.

So many of them.

I trotted out, head held up high, acting as if I had no business within the recovery tent. When we exited I exhaled in relief.

My first breath of the outside air carried the bitter tang and metallic taste of the last several days.

Mal-Kar followed me as I moved through the tents that had gone up while I had been asleep, following me as we headed for where the vehicle were. Terrans ran every which way, sometimes calling out to one another, many of them carrying objects or dragging cables as they worked.

My tank sat on the tarmac, in a parking space, surrounded by other tanks.

I had gotten eight steps when a Fifth Most High Tank Commander confronted me.

"Where is your tank, trooper?" he asked me, his tendrils limp and exhausted. "We return to battle soon, the Precursors are massing for another assault in hopes of pulling the Terrans away from the manufacturing machines."

"There, Most High," I said, pointing at my tank.

He looked it over with his side eyes, still keeping me in his vision. I could see my tank, knew he could see it as clearly as me.

"GREAT HERD EMERGENCY SERVICES" was spray painted on the side in blue paint. The armor was patched with beaded welds. The barrel was discolored from being fired so often. The hoverskirts were patched, the plasma guns replaced by Terran kinetic weapons.

"Identify yourself," he ordered.

"Gunnery Assistant Fifteenth Class Ha'almo'or," I said, drawing myself up and saluting.

He stared at me for a long time, something I didn't recognize passing through his eyes. He moved aside, making a motion with his hands for me to continue on toward my tank. I got five steps away when he called out my name. Not my rank, just my name. I stopped, turning to look at him.

"My mother was among those you have saved, Gunner Ha'almo'or," he said slowly. "I will never forget that you saved her despite the way the Great Herd dishonored you."

"You, and her, are welcome, Most High," I said.

Karelesh waved from where they were sitting on the cupola of the tank, chewing on a ration bar. I nodded, moving up and pressing the touch-plate to lower the back deck.

"Round up your crew, alert the grav lifter crews and the bus crews," I said.

Mal-Kar nodded and jogged away.

"We going back out?" Lu'ucilu'u asked from her place at the EW console when I clattered in, my cast thumping on the deck.

"The Precursors are intending on attacking the city again," I told her.

Karelesh dropped inside the tank, still chewing on his ration bar. His hands quickly went over the controls and I felt the tank start to vibrate as the fans spun up to speed.

I put my face to the sight and toggled the power. I was carrying XM-3821 plasma cannon rounds, the two letters letting me know I was carrying Terran ordnance. The status came back at 87% after I triggered a burst of air through the chamber to clear the debris.

After a few minutes Feelmeenta let me know the others were ready to go.

Eight other tanks would be joining us, as would two platoons of Terran Light Powered Infantry and a squad of Telkan Marine Infantry. Feelmeenta let me know that we had air support and artillery support, via the Terrans, should we need it.

It made me feel better as we moved back into the burning city. The thick smoke blocked normal vision, even created interference for the tank's sensors.

It didn't block out the wailing that could be heard even through the thick armor of the tank.

Undeterred, we drove into the city anyway, the Goodboi's and Simbas bounding along beside us.

There were more to save.

--Excerpt From: We Were the Lanaktallan of the Atomic Hooves, a Memoir.