In the end, it didn't even matter. - Chronicle of the Last Days of the VrekNok.Tok Empire

Vuxten wasn't sure what he expected as Casey stood up. No flexing, he just shook out his arms, tilted his head to the right and left, then just stood there.

The crowd started clapping and stomping.

STOMP STOMP CLAP

STOMP STOMP CLAP

All twenty-five robots went into combat stances, their eyes brightening.

The roar of the crowd was a physical thing, mixed with the STOMP STOMP CLAP of the watching troops.

"LETS GET REEEEADY TO RUUUUUUUUMBLE!" the Rigellian female yelled out. "JAWNCONNOR TIME! OOOOOH YEAAAAAAAH!"

The volume of the crowd somehow rose even louder as the Rigellian female ran off the field.

There was a beep and the lights went red. Another beep, they went yellow. A loud buzzer and the lights flashed red before going back to the actinic white of the sodium lights mounted on the portable light set trailers.

Vuxten expected Casey to break into a run, to charge the robots.

Instead he just walked forward, still swinging his arms wide. His sole eye burned bright amber and Vuxten could see hair thin tendrils of purple electricity around his feet when his foot hit the ground.

The robots took five paces, then all broke into a run, spreading out in a curved line with three double ranks in the middle.

One robot reached forward, the robot in front grabbed the rear robots forearms and threw it forward. It sped toward the lone human, reaching out for him.

Casey turned slightly, reached out, grabbed the head as the arms went to either side of him. Before the arms could crush him he knelt down and drove the robot's head into the ground hard enough to shatter it.

The second robot was already flying toward him, in a tight ball. The others were still running forward as the flying robot suddenly unwrapped itself, arms wide, obviously intending on slamming into Casey and wrapping its arms around the human.

Instead Casey took a two quick steps while the robot was still slightly turning, swinging one arm out.

The robot's battlesteel armor shattered like cheap plas as the robot broke in half.

The last flying robot reached Casey, who spun in place, the bare foot shattering the robot into pieces, battlesteel flying out to strike the battlescreens and make them crackled and pop.

The roar of the crowd battered at Vuxten.

The robots converged on Casey and Vuxten gritted his teeth.

He'd seen Casey at work in Heaven.

An open hand slap knocked a robotic head free. A sweeping arm motion broke robotic limbs reaching for him. A kick shattered a robotic thigh. A knee into the robot's midsection caused the armor to shatter and the robot break into multiple pieces.

Vuxten could see the robots landing blows, their kicks blocked by Casey's shin, their punches blocked by forearms or swept aside. Spiked battlesteel fists piston driven as they hammered into the scarred flesh, each impact bringing a flash of purple, but Vuxten couldn't see any damage to the big Terran.

The crowd was roaring. "JAWNCONNOR JAWNCONNOR JAWNCONNOR!"

Usually they survived long enough to swing a single punch before the counter-attack shattered the robot's armor like the battlesteel laminate was cheap macroplas. Casey would reach out and rip chest plate armor away, rip free and arm and beat another robot with the severed arm, smack heads off with a backhand, break a robot's spine with an elbow, or cave in the whole front of the robot with a forearm.

Every move flowed into the next one. Every action was calculated to force a movement that led to the robot being shattered into junk. Vuxten couldn't see any wasted movement, anything that didn't bring around a better position, for the robots to move a certain way, damage or destroy a robot.

The last robot lunged forward, swinging wildly. Vuxten watched Casey slip around the punches, kneeing the robot so it spun. Casey's hand landed on top of the robot's head as his other hand grabbed its shoulder, fingers sinking into the battlesteel armor like it was putty.

Casey ripped the robot's head off and held it over his own head as the body collapsed.

"ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!" Casey roared out.

The crowd cheered back.

Casey heaved the robotic head, the head slamming into the battlescreen and exploding.

Vuxten found himself on his feet cheering as Casey walked back to where he had dropped the black robe and slowly pulled it on. Casey slowly turned, staring at the crowd with one burning amber eyes, then drew the hood up over his head.

The crowd roared their approval as he walked off the field.

"Told you I didn't want to spoil the main event for you, son," Colonel Brett said, exhaling smoke in a long plume.

"Saw him fight during the War on Heaven," Vuxten said, sitting down and accepting the nacrobrew. "What you saw, that was a warm up."

Colonel Brett nodded. "Last week he took on four men in power armor. They lasted just over ninety-seconds before he'd destroyed the power armor," the big Treana'ad laughed. "One of the pilots was knocked goofy, but other than that, he didn't injure them."

Vuxten looked around. "You're allowing this?"

The Treana'ad nodded. "All the way up to General Du.Seelie," the big bug grabbed another nacrobrew and knocked the cap off with his cybernetic bladearm before taking a long pull from it. He belched and looked at Vuxten. "Better to have the rowdies out here fighting and drinking then hitting the Conex brothel than off post, getting drunk, fighting, trying to find someone to fuck, and burning down the town."

Colonel Brett made a motion with his cyberbladearm to encompass the entire field and the crowd that was cheering on an autonomous battlebot competition between two greenie groups.

"These men have not only seen the elephant, they've ridden it, screwed it, and left it with child. Their adrenals and dopamine systems are, to use a Terran phase, blown the fuck out," he shook his head. "The same beings who are fighting out there or cheering on their best friend getting his face smashed in are the same ones watching the early morning episodes of The Kind One or The Happy Neighborhood in the Day Room."

Vuxten nodded.

"Give them outlets for their instincts, their energy, their aggression that doesn't have them knife-fighting outside the NCO Club or getting into shootouts with the civilian law enforcement," Colonel Brett said. The big insect shrugged. "It's the age-old problem. You select for high aggression, moderate impulse control, then train them to be lethal and hone their aggression, then expect them to all behave like good little civvies until the war is on."

The big insect shrugged again. "Some species have tried cryo-stasis. Other species, like mine and the Mantid, bred a warrior caste. Still others try various solutions, none of which are that good."

He pointed out at the field where two power armor troops were fighting hard light holograms.

"The Confederate Armed Services lets this happen. It lets the ones too clever for their own good get into 'trouble'," he made air quotes. "If something goes down, well, this was all off the books and vaguely illegal anyway. Command just turns the other way for anything that isn't too bad, the grunts stay aggressive, and everyone but the reclamation yard workers are happy."

Vuxten nodded slowly. Beside him, Tut'el listened silently, soaking up the older officer's words.

"You started on Telkan, correct?" Colonel Brett asked. "Under General Tik-Tak, right?"

Vuxten just nodded.

"Ol' Tik-Tak, he had his fingers in everything. He let a whole thing like this get run by a Lanaktallan gangster, saved him the trouble of having to 'arrange' it himself," Colonel Brett said. He gave a slight laugh. "Man could bury two expended pistol shells in the dirt and pull out a Madame-Three-Eighteen an hour later."

Vuxten just chuckled and nodded along.

Colonel Brett checked his implant and nodded, standing up and draining away the last of the bottle before dropping it in the trash can.

"Let's go check on your man, Colonel," Brett said.

Vuxten was aware of the two law enforcement officers behind him as he and Tut'el followed the big Treana'ad officer through the crowd, which was cheering on two dozen Grodds engaged in a battle royale, wearing only loincloths.

It was out back of the mek yard, between two partially destroyed Steiner Class scout meks, that they found Casey. He was sitting on an empty crate that had held low-explosive missile warheads, drinking a fizzypop and watching the action in the ring. Peel sat just to the side, leaned back on a cargo net, one mammary exposed and a tiny human holding onto it with closed eyes and a slightly grump expression visible on the side of its face.

His face brightened and he smiled as Vuxten walked up with the Colonel.

Casey stood up, shaking Brett's hand.

"Colonel," Casey said.

"Casey," Brett answered.

"Colonel," Casey said, shaking Vuxten's hand. "Congratulations on the promotion. Gone far since we were trying to figure out how to bust open the Great Gobbler's shell."

Vuxten smiled. "That we have."

"Lieutenant," Casey said, shaking the MP's hand.

"Casey," the LT said, not looking surprised that Casey knew his rank.

"Mister Mysterio," Casey said, shaking the CID officer's hand.

The CID officer laughed. "Cathal."

Casey waved at the boxes. "Cop a squat, gentlemen," he said. He pointed at Peel. "That's my wife, Peel, and our daughter, Hashna."

Colonel Brett moved up and gently reached down with his biological bladearm, caressing the baby's cheek gently. "Little one," he said softly. He looked up. "They're always so cute, human children."

"Thank you, sir," Casey said, sitting back down.

"You won the Regiment Morale, Welfare, and Recreation Fund quite a bit of doss, Casey," Colonel Brett said.

"Always happy to help," Casey smiled.

Vuxten sat with the others, chatting about mostly nothing, sometimes commenting on the matches going on. Peel finished feeding the infant, then burped it, then held it close while it slept, taking part in the conversation.

When the matches ended and everyone started to drift apart, Vuxten moved over to Casey.

"Come to my office during lunch on Monday," he said.

Casey looked up. "Should I bring my sidearm?" he asked, only half-joking.

"No. Just wanted to talk with you about something," Vuxten said.

Casey nodded.

They said goodnight to one another and Vuxten walked with the others back.

-----

If it ain't raining, it ain't training - Confederate Military Wisdom

The day was miserable. Chilly wind that kept switching direction, rain that couldn't make up its mind if it was heavy or just misty, heavily overcast.

Vuxten sat, staring out the window, and watched as a platoon of dogbois ran by in PT gear.

The three spaced firm knocks at the door came exactly at 1135 hours.

"Enter," Vuxten called out, spinning his chair around and moving closer to the desk.

Casey came in, wearing his ACU's. He moved to the front of the desk, exactly a pace away, and saluted. Vuxten returned the salute and waved at the chairs.

"Grab a cup of caff or a fizzystim, then take a seat," Vuxten said.

"Thank you, sir," Casey said. He moved over and grabbed a self-chilling fizzystim, cracking it open and watching the condensation form. He sat down and took a drink, waiting.

Vuxten thought for second.

"I noticed that Confed hasn't figured out your orders yet," Vuxten said. "Neither has the Telkan Marine Corps, since you're assigned to us."

Casey shrugged. "I figured they'd get around to it."

"I want you to come to Telkan with me," Vuxten said.

Casey frowned. "All right," he said slowly.

"You and Peel both," Vuxten said. He reached out and tapped a pair of manila folders. "I've reviewed the unredacted sections of your records, I've seen you both in action. I want you to come back to Telkan with me."

"Why?" Casey asked.

Vuxten sighed. "They're making me the XO of the training cadre," he said. "We've also got the Primary Leadership Development Course - Telkan, on planet, as well as the Telkan Intelligence Service training center."

Casey just nodded.

"I'm not asking you take command or anything like that," Vuxten said. "I've watched you in action. I've seen you at work. You've got a thousand years of leadership under your belt and either you're a born leader or you've become an excellent one over the centuries."

"Thank you, sir," Casey said.

"Peel has been everything from SAR to Operations Analysis to Operational Emergency Guidance," Vuxten said. "Highly rated, excellent NCOERs, taught at the Confederate Military Intelligence Institute on Terra itself."

Casey just nodded.

"I want you and Peel both as instructors. Classroom and practical," Vuxten said. "With Terra gone, and the Terran Xenocide Event, my people have to defend themselves. We have to learn to not only defend ourselves, but others."

Casey just nodded again.

"I'm pretty sure you're cleared for garrison duty, and a tour in TRADOC is something that the Telkan people would appreciate," Vuxten said. He waited a moment. "I'm not going to force you."

Casey chuckled. "Not often an officer says 'please' to lower enlisted slime like me," he smiled.

"Well?" Vuxten asked.

Casey nodded. "I can't speak for Peel, but if she's in, so am I. If she says she's in if I am, then I'm in," Casey said. He shook his head, smiling. "A few years out of armor, training boots, might be just the thing I need."

"I thought you'd like to watch your baby get older just like I want to watch my podlings grow up," Vuxten said.

Casey smiled. "We're family men now," he said.

Vuxten nodded. "And too many years in service to go running off to the nearest fight with an erection, a gut full of Bingo Cola, and a gun in our hand."

Casey laughed. "All right. You talked me into it." He stood up. "I'll let Peel know, get her opinion, then you can talk to her. She'll let you know if we're in or out."

Vuxten nodded, standing up. He shook Casey's hand.

"Give 471 my regards," Casey said.

"Tickle the baby for me," Vuxten answered.

When the big Terran left Vuxten slowly turned his chair around and stared at the rain outside.

Is it weird that battle and war are easy, it's peace-time that's hard?