Major General (Formerly Third Great Grand Most High) Ge'ermo'o stood by the holotank, which was displaying the thirty-eight tanks that had been found destroyed with the tag "IT WAS LIKE THAT WHEN WE GOT HERE" on the ground or on the side of the tank. All of them had caught on fire, had thrown tracks, and were showing massive damage.

The turbo-lift doors opened and General Trucker came in, the hiss and wheeze of his cybernetics loud in the silence of the conference room. With him was General Warkrawk, the Commander of the Corps Maintenance. Following quietly was Gunner Second Class Ha'almo'or, who looked nervous to Ge'ermo'o. General NoDra'ak exited the elevator, the robotic legs of his therapy frame clicking on the deck plating.

They silently gathered around, staring at the holotank.

"That's a lot of Confed tax payer money," NoDra'ak chuckled, lighting his cigarette.

"Indeed," General A'armo'o said.

"So who's idea was this? Speak freely," General NoDra'ak said.

There was silence a moment.

NoDra'ak sighed, puffing smoke out around his two remaining footpads. "I'm not interested in laying blame. As a matter of fact, the undeniable evidence there is something seriously wrong with our new 'supertanks' makes me more concerned about the reality that we may be fielding our troops with faulty equipment. That, gentlemen, is how you lose a war."

There was nods.

Ge'ermo'o held up one hand. "It was my idea, General."

NoDra'ak nodded. "Why?"

Ge'ermo'o pointed at the tanks in the holotank. One was showering trails of sparks like an expensive firework display. "I did not trust the tanks."

"That's it?" General Warkrawk asked, reaching up and smoothing her hair. She had a short cowlick at the front that she patted nervously. "You destroyed almost forty tanks because you 'didn't trust them'?"

Ge'ermo'o nodded. "Observational data caused an instinctive dislike to the new machines. Just the simple act of standing in front of one and staring at it during a scheduled precipitation period, to observe how it appears in the rain, made me instinctively distrust it. There was something in my observations that I was not consciously recognizing that made me distrust the machine in the same way as I would distrust sour cud."

Warkrawk nodded, putting her hands behind her back and rocking back and forth on her feet. Ge'ermo'o noticed that it made her shoulders and chest expand impressively as her muscles flexed. She reached out and touched the holotank, working for a moment.

"No footage. Damn," she said.

"A moment," NoDra'ak said. He touched the commo headset he was wearing, his implant not yet replaced. "Get me Planetary Weather Control," he looked at A'armo'o. "Send three of your men to the motorpool, have them stand in front of the tanks and use their retinal links to transmit what they see."

Trucker tapped one of the windows in the holtank, expanding the view. It was currently showing a tank racing down a highway, firing at different angles. It passed under the bridge, paused for a minute or two, then roared out, making a weaving pattern.

"Why does that look familiar?" Trucker mused, staring at it. "I've seen that before."

Ha'almo'or cleared his throat and Trucker looked at him. "Yes?" the burly human asked.

Ha'almo'or stepped forward, touching the holokeys, and brought up the reconstruction view of a tank. It was moving down the same highway, firing its secondary weapons at light Atrekna biological units. It paused under the bridge right before napalm coated the entire freeway. Before the flames completely died away it lunged out from under the bridge, engaging the bigger Atrekna war machines that were still active.

"You're kidding," Trucker said. He overlapped the two images and rewound them.

For the most part, they matched.

Except the new tank was disabled less then three miles from the overpass, fire exploding out of the back deck. The tank that had been engaged in combat raced forward, slamming its forward battlescreen against the side of a large Dwellerspawn. The Dwellerspawn exploded into a shower of thick viscous goo.

"You were reenacting previous engagements?" A'armo'o asked.

"Yes, Most Hi... General," Ha'almo'or said. His cybereyes clicked when he blinked. "In each incident, the tank survived to continue fighting. In our reenactments, the new tanks failed every time just engaging in the maneuvers and weapon firing, without even simulating enemy damage."

NoDra'ak gave a low whistle through the spiracles on his two legs. "That's some damning evidence right there." The big Treana'ad held up his hand. "This is General NoDra'ak. I need precipitation at the following grid coordinate. Heavy rain, heavy overcast, lightning in the clouds," he rattled off the coordinates for the motorpool that the holotank was showing Ge'ermo'o standing in. He carefully read off the date. "I need you to emulate that weather as best as possible."

He listened for a moment. "It'll be twenty to forty minutes," he looked at Ge'ermo'o. "I want to see what you saw through Lanaktallan eyes."

Ge'ermo'o nodded.

NoDra'ak turned to the maintenance commander. "Have the tanks been released for training or testing?"

General Warkrawk shook her head. "No, sir. Just Level One PMCS (Preventive Maintenance Checks & Services) by authorized Green Mantid Technical Specialists who have completed the course. Right now we only have about thirty of them," she turned and looked at Ha'almo'or. "How many of your... well... team... have had that class?"

"All of them, General. We were given access to the eVR course," Ha'almo'or said softly. Ge'ermo'o noted that the other Lanaktallan's voice was hoarse and gravelly. He moved over and got a carafe of dremtilberry juice and brought it to Ha'almo'or, who nodded his head. "Thank you, General."

"Of course," Ge'ermo'o said, nodding.

"Why the flag?" NoDra'ak asked.

"It's the standard of the Fifth Maintenance Brigade," General Warkrawk said. "Pretty famous in our circles. They held an entire planet for two years during the Varakson-Terran Union War. It made me think that it was greenies from Fifth Brigade at first," she glared at Ge'ermo'o. "You stole their guidon."

"I did, General," Ha'almo'or said. "The Mantid Technical Specialists I work with said it might encourage the tank to fight harder and last longer."

Warkrawk sighed, going back to rocking back and forth on her heels.

"So the tanks haven't been ripped apart or put back together. Just Mantid Technical Specialists doing bare bones PMCS?" NoDra'ak asked.

Warkrawk nodded. "Yes, sir. Even then, the amount of faults and gigs were racking up by the dozens on each tank."

"All right, let's take a look at the template," NoDra'ak said. He tapped the keys on the holotank and the creation engine template appeared. He tapped on it and frowned. "That's odd."

"What is, sir?" Warkrawk asked.

"It won't move to exploded view," NoDra'ak said. He carefully typed in his access codes, then tried to take apart the template. The holotank just beeped. "OK. That's weird."

"Let me try, sir," General Warkrawk said. She tapped in her own code and the system beeped. "What? Access denied?" she typed it in again, nice and slow, and tried again.

Same results.

They waited while a security officer came up. The Kobold examined the file and shook his head. "Sorry. It needs Space Force or Army Procurement Command authorization to unlock. The template's new and has a lot of classified weapon and defensive systems as well as the method for fabbing up warsteel mark five."

"So, can it be unlocked?" NoDra'ak asked.

The security officer shook his head. "I'll have to use the needlecast and get authorization."

"Do so," NoDra'ak ordered.

"It's raining, sir," Ha'almo'or said, his hoarse voice soft.

The officers turned to the holotank. Four Lanaktallan tankers were feeding their visual data via their retinal link. Two had cybereyes, the other two did not.

It was silent for a long moment. Lightning flashed, a long series of cascading arcs dancing through the clouds but lighting up the motorpool.

"There," Ge'ermo'o said. "I don't trust them."

Trucker chuckled as one of the Lanaktallan went "Yeah... this is important. Think the General has figured it's fucking raining yet or do we need to get an officer or Most High of Rain and Shitty Weather out in this bullshit rain?" and the other "Psst, your audio is on" followed by "Oh shi... "

"Enlisted. Enlisted never changes," he said, shaking his head. He took out his can of chew and started packing it.

Warkrawk cupped her hand and scooped the video out of the tank, tossing it to another tank. She moved over and rewinding, narrowing her eyes as she leaned forward. "What are you seeing that I don't?" she said softly.

Ha'almo'or trotted up next to her, his hands clasped behind his torso.

The lightning flashed again on the main tank and Trucker suddenly straightened up, wiping his mouth. "Right there!"

"What?" NoDra'ak asked, frowning. "I didn't see anything."

"Rewind it. The lightning," Trucker said.

NoDra'ak rewound it slightly. "What?"

The lightning flashed again and Ge'ermo'o felt the anxious feeling of mistrust and dislike surge.

"There!" Trucker paused it and rewound a hundred frames, the slowly moved it back at 1/1000th speed. "THERE!" Trucker paused it.

Smokey No tapped his fingers on the recovery frame. "What?"

"The lightning."

Warkrawk came over and peered at it. "What?"

"Where? Here?" NoDra'ak touched the lightning bolts flickering off a few miles away, lighting up the clouds.

"And here," Trucker said. He touched the front of the tank. "See, you can see the reflection of the lightning on the hull. It looks like it's off the water, but it's not. It's off the Double-Ewe-Emm-Five."

"OK. So it's reflecting the light from the lightning bolts. So?" NoDra'ak asked.

"WM5 has a slight gloss to it," Warkrawk said, shaking her head. "It's going to reflect."

Trucker gave a frustrated sound. "Look at the lightning," he said, touching the clouds in the distance.

"OK," Warkrawk said.

"See, it's perfectly reflected here," Trucker said, running his finger along the bow of the tank.

"So?" Warkrawk asked.

"It's reflecting the light from lightning behind it! Enraged Phillip's rusty ballsack, look at it," Trucker snapped. He reached up and rubbed between his eyes. "Sorry. Headache."

"I'm accustomed to humans," Warkrawk smiled. She shook her head. "You're right. There's no way that lightning should be being reflected by the bow. The angle's wrong."

NoDra'ak touched his comlink. "They can go in now."

"Damn, that's subtle," Warkrawk said. She turned to Ge'ermo'o. "Good catch. Sharp observation there."

Ge'ermo'o nodded.

"Yeeeah, that's weird," NoDra'ak said. He shook his head. "Any word on unlocking this template?"

The kobold nodded. "Authorization is coming through now."

The kobold moved up and typed a code out on the holokeys, then stepped back as the template beeped.

"Thank you, Colonel," NoDra'ak said.

"Of course, sir," the kobold said, moving to the far side of the room.

The exploded view filled the tank. Trucker, A'armo'o, and NoDra'ak slowly moved around the holotank, looking over the massive armored vehicle.

"I don't see anything obvious," NoDra'ak said.

"Neither do I," A'armo'o said.

Trucker frowned, staring at it. "Get a couple mechanics up here," he said.

"You have the General," A'armo'o said.

"No, not an officer. I want enlisted. I want at least two that have been busted in rank for drinking and fighting and one with a record of insubordination," Trucker said.

A'armo'o shook his head. "We do not have those types in the Great Herd. Our discipline and punishment systems wash out those who would indulge in such things."

Ge'ermo'o trotted forward, holding up his hand. "I recommend these men. This Tnvaru right here has twice been arrested for black marketeering just on this planet alone."

General A'armo'o raised his eyebrows, something he had practiced long and hard to do. "More of your men, loyal one?"

"Yes, General," Ge'ermo'o said. "You told me to put together a staff to examine the changes our people, our troops, would go through. I was very selective. I have read many lemur leadership biographies and manuals and I have observed that often you might find what they call 'diamonds in the rough' if one is attentive."

General A'armo'o glanced at NoDra'ak, who was pointedly lighting a cigarette. When he saw that A'armo'o wouldn't stop looking at him, he sighed.

"Some of the best combat soldiers and soldiers best suited for their jobs aren't the type that are going to be in a staff meeting with me," NoDra'ak said. He poked his cigarette toward Trucker. "I'm amazed every time this C-DAT manages to park his car without running over a Girl Scout lemonade stand."

"Hardy-har-har," Trucker said, still looking at the wireframe model of the tank. He stepped back and shook his head, twiddling his fingers on the keyboard. "How did that pass by testing?"

"What?" NoDra'ak asked.

"There are eight treads, each two feet wide. The bow is fifty feet wide. That's sixteen feet of track to offset the ground pressure of a thousand tons," Trucker said. "That's not all. The treads are only a half-inch thick of WM5, with quarter-inch linchpins."

"Phillips frozen balls," Warkrawk swore, leaning forward. "There's the track problem."

"Explain it?" NoDra'ak asked.

Ha'almo'or stepped forward. "Ground pressure and road wheel pressure on the tracks themselves. The tracks are insufficiently wide to offset the weight of the tank, and they are insufficiently thick to support the weight of the tank as applied by the roadwheels."

"What he said," Trucker added, spitting in his bottle. "That explains the multiple track failures."

"Aaaaand the linchpins are of endosteel, not WM5 or battlesteel," Warkrawk said. "Those are going to sheer the minute you put stress on them."

"High angle turns produce failure quite a bit," Ha'almo'or said. He ducked his head and moved back.

"I could bend those linchpins with my bare hands," Warkrawk muttered.

"Said the six time Divisional body building champion," NoDra'ak chuckled.

"Does the mount for the TC's aux fail?" Warkrawk asked.

"Every time, less than ninety seconds of fire," Ha'almo'or said. He sipped at the carafe.

"That's because the retaining pin is duraplas. The M318 is a warsteel mark zero alpha frame, the locking hubs for the tank are WM5. It rocks back and forth and cuts right through the duraplas like a pair of sheers," Warkrawk muttered. "This thing isn't combat ready. It isn't combat ready at all."

The turbolift opened and a group of troops came in.

"That was quick," NoDra'ak said after they were introduced.

"I made the estimation that you would want to speak with them," Ge'ermo'o said. "They are part of my maintenance team."

"All right. We're going to pull this thing apart. If you spot anything weird, or get a weird feeling, or just get a dislike for something, annotated it and call it out," NoDra'ak said. He slapped his one hand against his remaining bladearm. "Let's get to work."

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

Three days had passed. The number of defects was in the tens of thousands. From wiring harnesses that belonged on other vehicles being used even though they had to be spliced or had loose connectors to substandard materials in critical systems to systems that took up space but were either stuffing or were not connected to anything.

Ge'ermo'o finished looking at the file he had loaded into his implant. It had taken him nearly two days to track down the relevant information, but he had finally gotten it.

"How did this pass by the trials boards?" Warkrawk snapped.

Ge'ermo'o had noticed that she had become more and more annoyed as time went on.

"This goes beyond bribery. This is just... just... I've never seen anything like it," Trucker said.

"Can it be fixed?" NoDra'ak asked.

Warkrawk shook her head. "No. Not in this state. The main gun blows out the bearings and gearing on the precision aiming system. The shock absorbers for the main gun are from a striker's nosegun and half less than a third of the recoil absorbtion they need."

"It's fucked," a Tnvaru by the name of Tchackna said.

Ge'ermo'o trotted forward. "May I ask a question?"

"Of course," A'armo'o stated, looking at his subordinate.

Ge'ermo'o tapped the template file, bringing it up and shrinking it back into a file folder. He tapped the name.

XM415 Main Battle Tank A0017300212

He tapped the number.

"This signifies that this is a primary proof of concept template," Ge'ermo'o said, tapping the A0. "This signifies it is an experimental model," he tapped the XM. "Four one five is used as a code for nondeployable equipment undergoing testing."

Warkrawk inhaled sharply and clenched her hands, making her forearm muscles stand out.

"Are we sure this is the right file for the creation engines?" Ge'ermo'o asked.

Trucker stared and made a low growling noise. NoDra'ak went perfectly still. Warkrawk hissed slightly.

"This file designation states that it is the template to be used to ensure all parts fit within the proposed physical design of the tank's frame as well as the frame parts being able to handle the weight of the armor and equipment," he tapped the 002 section. "This states that this proof of concept runoff is to ensure that the physical tank will match with such things as dropcradles and mobile repair units," Ge'ermo'o said. He tapped the '12' at the end. "This states it is a immobile proof of concept version."

Warkrawk moved over and banged her head against the wall, muttering profanity to herself.

The Telkan mechanic burst out with several sharp barks of laughter.

"You have to be kidding me," NoDra'ak said. He looked at Warkrawk. "When you're done denting the wall, contact Command and inform them that may have sent us the wrong file by mistake."

"Stupid stupid stupid," Warkrawk muttered. She straightened up. "I'll get right on it."

"How did we miss it?" Trucker asked.

"Naming and nomenclature standards underwent a security change last year," Ge'ermo'o stated. He tapped his datalink. "The information is usually only needed at procurement, design, and testing levels. It was not disseminated to field units."

"Good catch," A'armo'o said, patting Ge'ermo'o on the shoulder.

"Of course, sir," Ge'ermo'o said.

After all, wasn't he a most observant and attentive officer?