Whatever it is that you want to hear from me, I won't give you.

I know that you work for the political activist foundation pushing for war into the Terran Tomb Worlds.

You speak of the Terrans themselves being gone, thus their words are ripe for the picking. Undefended except for automated systems. Unable to resist the might of the Concordiant.

You, like everyone else who are banging the war drums, all conviently forget of the other member species of the Terran Confederacy of Aligned Systems.

Thirty-two years ago I faced the Treana'ad War Hordes.

They will defend the Terran Tomb Worlds.

And any of our people you send there will die, as almost all of us did. - Survivor the Flowers Among Leaves system assault.

You think you're tough because you've beaten everyone that came before. Tough enough that you can take on the Solarian Hegemony?

Do you know who the Solarians have beaten but allowed to remain under their own rulership?

No, of course you do not.

Because they wiped them out, dusted and planetcracked their worlds, novasparked their suns. They left no evidence of their foes.

There are no former enemies of the Solarian Hegemony ruling their own star nations left to ask how t hey were beaten.

The closest you will find are the Mantid and the Treana'ad. Allies of the Solarians.

You cannot find enemies of the Solarians to gather critical intelligence on the Solarians for one simple reason.

Because the Solarians wiped them from existence. - High Clanmaster Ym'rklak, speaking against the decision to attack Solarian Space, 1273 PG

Isn't that cute. You took over three other interstellar organizations and now think you're the baddest boy on the block because now you have twenty-two extra worlds.

You just attacked a United Systems colonist convoy. You killed and/or ate the beings on board. You gleefully broadcast what you have done. You then attacked the world they were going to join their brethren upon and did the same.

Now you think that you, with your fifty-one systems, are ready to take on the Terrans.

My Brother in the Digital Omnimessiah's eyes, I have but one question for you.

What are you people called? For I wish to record your name so that future historians know you existed.

Because, when the Terrans are done with you, even the light of your star will be extinguished. -- Treana'ad Scholar Kil'LokYawk, to his captors. Species unknown - Extinct. 2853 PG

The wind made an eerie moaning noise as it wound through the city, blowing debris along empty streets that were strewn with cars, rags, and other flotsam and jetsam. Skyrakers creaked, some loudly, their battlesteel and endosteel superstructures designed to sway in the wind and vibrate slightly to reduce stress.

The sounds of heavy machinery and the thud thud thud of warmek footsteps were the only sounds aside from the moaning of the wind and the painful groans of the skyrakers.

"Anythis, Wrecker?" the XO, Warboss, asked over the comlink.

"Nothing," Wrecker AKA Ret.lek said. He stopped at an intersection and looked around.

The streets were empty.

"This planet had a population of seventeen billion Terrans," Ret.lek said. "What happened the bodies? There should at least be skeletons."

"Before it shut down the World Engine did casualty recovery," the XO said. "Disease prevention and management protocols. A human body is full of bacteria and viruses that, when dead, can spread massive plagues and diseases."

"Even dead, you hate everyone," Ret.lek chuckled.

The Terran XO nodded with a grin. "We are the malevolent universe's wrath made manifest."

Ret.lek turned and moved down a main boulevard, following an instinct.

"I thought there was only an under strength task force here. Why's the Navy and Space Force still duking it out?" Ret.lek asked. He paused at the corner and leaned forward to look one direction then the other.

"They didn't use to use flashgates in vacuum last conflict and the flashgates were a lot smaller. Apparently they're using big enough ones in orbit and in the stellar system to move entire task forces in," the XO said. "It's like the Slorpies doing the rapid temporal duplication, only they're moving actually existing material and manpower across thirty-three systems."

"And space combat involves too much distance to just throw a nuke through and destroy the shipyards," Ret.lek guessed.

"Right. In vacuum, a flashgate has nearly no signature. If the ships come through unpowered, they get an hour or two of maneuvering and prep before Space Force can microjump onto them. We're wiping them out with minimal casualties, but it looks like they're digging in for a war of attrition," the XO said. "They've got to fighting back in orbit, so nobody has orbital supremacy. They're mainly targeting surveillance sats, so they can open flashgates on the surface without taking an orbital strike."

"Or they're flashgating into the middle of one of our formations so we can't orbital strike their forces," Ret.lek said, remembering the battle that had landed him in the hospital for two weeks.

"Bingo," the XO said. The XO went silent as Ret.lek broke line of sight and the point to point laser commo trail was broken.

Ret.lek thought as he moved up to the next intersection. It felt good to be doing a scouting mission, under his own power and decisions, instead of hooked into the massive supercomputer arrays handling almost everyone else's actions.

In open battle, the Enemy stood no chance. Hell, half the time a lot of the troopers, even the power armor jawks, were zoned out or asleep.

Which meant that the Enemy was seeking battles that would break the Battlefield Tactical Network and force the Confederate forces to go to local control.

Which didn't mean the Enemy won. They just managed to inflict a few casualties.

But after two months, it was starting to add up.

The Confederacy was still winning, but Military, Naval, and Defense Intelligence had no idea how deep and wide the Enemy's war material stocks and asset pools were.

For all anyone knew, the Enemy had only lost a fraction of a percentage of their fighting strength.

Which is why atomics and nuclear weapons were now authorized to throw through a flashgate, to at least damage or destroy the gate system.

The XO's big 100 tonne warmek turned the corner, reaching out and slapping down a small repeater on the corner of the building.

"You know, these guys aren't like the Atrekna or the Lanaktallan," Ret.lek mused when the channel came back.

"Right, but what's on your mind?" Warboss asked, turning around and backing up the street, his weapons ready.

"We keep throwing nukes and atomics through the flashgates, right?"

"Right."

"Only one side of the flashgate manifests, correct?"

"Right."

"All right, gimme a second," Ret.lek said. He stopped his mek, opened up a drawing program and drew two lines. He marked the inside of the two lines with A1 and A2, the outside with B1 and B2. He drew another line, marking it A3 and B3 on the opposite sides. He put a set of three stick figures on the A3 side of the third line.

"OK, so, let's say they open two portals instead of one. Only, get this," he drew a horizontal line through one line then connected the line to the other vertical line. "OK, so the bullet train goes through the first flashgate, because it doesn't exist on the B side. It whips out the A side of this one," he tapped the one near the stick figures. "So, we throw a nuke back," He connected a dotted line. "But we didn't see this second portal. Which doesn't matter to the bullet train, because the B side doesn't exist. It goes in this A side, comes out the A side here," he tapped between the two A's. "Then either whips through to detonate, or detonates in between."

"And the nuke or the blast goes through the facing A side and out the second gate, without disturbing the first side because the B side doesn't exist,' the XO said. He took a minute to swear and pinged the other four of the six mek lance. "Everyone hold. Popping a secure drone."

Ret.lek lifted his eyebrows at the fact the XO had stopped the scouting mission and was breaking radio silence.

He leaned around the corner and took a peek, then froze when he saw what was going on in the ground level of a multi-story parking garage that took up roughly eight by two city blocks.

Figures were working, setting up a massive frame and connecting machinery to it. He could see another frame being built only a few car-lengths down. There was two bullet trains on the second level, both with not quite a dozen flatbed cars on them.

There were sparks and Ret.lek saw the lights on the frame come on.

"Uh, Warboss, we've got a problem," Ret.lek said.

It made sense, suddenly. The Enemy was betting that the Terran Confederacy wouldn't do an orbital strike on their own cities.

Except... nobody was alive.

"What?" Warboss asked, without looking up. He grimaced. "How is it you don't understand how it works? Picture two doors facing each other, only the inside side of the doors take you somewhere else and you can walk through the outside doorway without going anywhere because it doesn't exist. Even I understand it!"

Warboss made a face and looked up. "What's up?"

"They're building a flashgate projector inside a parking garage three blocks forward. Looks like they're building them facing each other," Ret.lek said.

"Of course they are, because your overly clever ass had to figure the tactic out, so now the Malevolent Universe is going to show just how much she loves you by ass fucking all of us while she grins at you. Great. Just perfect," the XO swore.

"Ten kiloton atomic would probably shut it all down," Ret.lek said.

The XO shook his head. "No. We can't be sure where the gate's going. We might fire off an atomic and drop it right on ourselves," he said. He looked down. "What? What do you mean it's highly improbable? We've got eyes on Ornislarp Noocracy troops building a set of flashgate frames less than a klick from our position in a parking garage," the XO sighed. "Yes, I'll hold."

Tinny music played across the open channel and LC Norgulk grinned.

"I love this song," he said. "Don't shoot my mek, my pew pew stompy mek, I don't think you understand, that if you shoot my mek, my pew pew stompy mek, I'll rip off your head and shit down your neck."

Someone snickered.

"You know that's not the real words," PV2 Jo'ortketi said, frowning.

"Far as I'm concerned," the LC said, then went back to singing.

The song suddenly cut off.

"Aw," the LC said, looking sad.

The XO looked down for a moment. "What do you mean predictive analysis says it's statistically impossible for them to be building a flashgate inside a parking garage, inside a Terran Tomb World city? We're looking right at it."

There was silence a moment.

"I don't care what the predictive analysis division says. It's right there," the XO said. He snorted. "If we engage it, any weapon fire might backwash. They're setting up the exact dual gate system I sent you ten minutes ago."

"Let me get this straight. Your analysis and intelligence division, backed up by a heavy cruiser's worth the interlocked supercomputer arrays, have literally said: 'On the Fringe Worlds? In the Terran Sector? In a Dead Hand System? On a Tomb World? In a Mausoleum City? In a Parking Garage?' and then decided that the statistical probability is too low to be meaningful?"

The XO looked shocked for a moment, then his face hardened.

"This is why people beat you up in the E-Club bathroom," the Terran snarled, then called whoever was on the other line a racial slur, then cut the channel.

"All right, they say continue on our scouting mission and reminded us to follow the course that NAVINT and MILINT uploaded to us because it is, and I quote 'the most optimum scouting course The System could devise' and we're just mekjawk dipshits," the XO snarled.

Ret.lek checked and saw the route led right to the parking garage before taking a right.

"Sir, if I step out around the corner, they're going to see me," Ret.lek said. He extended his hand and turned on one of his fist cams, looking around the corner.

A bullet-train whipped out of a flashgate, across the parking garage, crossing the other gate without vanishing, then disappeared.

"Aaand they're using the subway tunnels," Ret.lek sighed. "That explains the bullet trains."

"The mag-lev system is down in the bedrock and criss-crosses the planet," PV2 Jo'ortketi said.

"How do you know?" the XO asked.

PV2 Jo'ortketi pointed at the holosign next to him.

GET YOUR METRO PASS READY! FAST FUN AND FREE! HIGH SPEED COUNTER-GRAV BULLET TRAIN SUBWAY! IF YOU WERE ON BOARD, YOU'D BE HOME BY NOW!

"Oh, Daxin stab my eyes. This is bullshit," the XO snapped. "Did you get it on recording?"

Ret.lek nodded and tossed it to the XO. "Here."

"Let me try again," the XO said. "Keep the feed open, watch the gates."

Ret.lek tuned out the XO arguing with MI, instead just watched as four more bullet trains exited the gate and whipped forward to vanish into the tunnels. They were moving fast enough to get a hundred or more cars with the engines.

With another curse, two racial slurs, and another curse, the XO cut the feed.

"Predictive analysis suggests they're just moving logistics, despite the fact half those cars had warmeks and tanks on them," the Terran snarled. "We're ordered to continue our scouting mission."

The XO punched his open palm. "Oh, we're supposed to follow the scouting route but not engage any Noocracy troops."

Ret.lek shook his head. "As soon as I step out, they're going to see me and they've got dug in fighting positions with heavy weapons."

"Anything dangerous?" the XO asked, checking the monitor he was showing the data Ret.lek was streaming.

"Looks like a rapid fire 250mm rail gun on the third story," Ret.lek said.

"Resolution is for shit. Can't make out details," LC Norgulk complained.

The com-link crackled. "Scout Team Sigma-Niner-One-Two, continue on mission," some genius from Division Operations Command ordered. "Adhere to ROE."

Ret.lek rolled his eyes as the XO moved up.

"OK, we're the heavies and the slowest. We're not supposed to engage first, only return fire, and break contact as soon as possible," the XO said.

"Right," LC Norgulk said.

Ret.lek just nodded.

"So, Wrecker and I will step out. That'll draw fire. But before that, the rest of the lance breaks left and right, goes up three blocks to flank the parking garage. When we draw fire, you guys step out and support us," the XO said.

The LC nodded. "Sounds good." He gave the orders and headed south with another mek.

"Ready, Wrecker?" the XO asked.

"Yeah, lemme load my warbois and..." he trailed off. "Hang on."

The XO raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Those flashgates, we know that radiation, light, and electromagnetic pulses can get through. Electronics can travel through without losing signal, right?" Ret.lek said, typing quickly.

"Otherwise the magtak system would break loose and the cars would go everywhere," the XO said.

"Right, so..." Ret.lek started.

"Warboss, we've got problems," the LC suddenly said.

"What?" the XO asked, holding up two fingers to signal Ret.lek to wait.

"System's warning me I'm leaving the boundary of the mission zone and is threatening with turning over operational control to BATACOPS," LC Norgulk said. "We can't go a full block in either direction. Looks like a recent update to our mission operation profile."

"That pencil necked little clicking gecko Blevan cock sucker," the XO swore. "Gonna make a pair of boots out of the little lizard fuck when we get out of here. All right, come on back, we'll do this the hard way."

"Hang on," Ret.lek said, still working. He looked up. "Gimme ninety seconds for the warboi hashbrown to finish frying, then another two minutes for the eggs to finish cooking, and we'll show them a new trick."

"Oh Digital Omnimessiah preserve us, a private with a plan," Norgulk said.

"Screamer missiles loaded up with EM warfare warbois?" the XO asked.

"Fire them through the gates. Every time when we faced the Atrekna, when they'd jump and have a unit in two places at once, warbois would go crazy and chew their their data fences," Ret.lek said. "The flashgates should do the same. Any redundancy error checks should be already on the fritz. I just gotta add something."

"What?" the XO asked, watching Ret.lek dig his dog-tag chain out of his shirt. "What's on that?"

"Memento," Ret.lek said. He flicked the bottom off of a medallion, revealing a dataspike. He plugged it into his mek. "It's from my habber gang days."

The XO just nodded slowly.

It took close to two minutes and the help of his greenies, but the software got baked into the warboi green eggs and hash. His greenies flashed the data over to the other meks and the other meks started frying up warboi hashes.

"Ready," Ret.lek said.

"Everyone ready?" the XO asked. "We'll come out, fire the screamers, run the full EMCOM bandwidth with warboi leashes, see what happens while we all go for our targets."

"They're gonna be shooting at us," Corporal Danzler said.

"Then shoot back, dumbass," the XO said. He lifted the arms of his 100 tonne Geist and made a pumping motion. "Let's do this."

Ret.lek took two fast steps out into the boulevard, turned and leveled his PPC's, even as his SRM launcher covers snapped open and he fired a full two dozen screamer and flasher EW missiles at the parking garage. The XO stepped out next to him, doing the same.

His battlescreens cracked into existence, ripping the facing and macroplas windows out of the skyraker on his left. The XO's battlescreen tore apart the facing of the building on the left.

The heavy man made lighting from the PPCs boomed out, slamming into the 250mm railgun emplacements, shattering the ferrocrete the forward bunker was made out of and sending it exploding out into the street. He caught something good and the whole backside of one of the railgun emplacements exploded, lifting the bottom of the next story upward in a soft bow.

The whole section collapsed and Ret.lek saw the heavy support beams below puff out ferrocrete dust as cracks appeared up and down the beams.

The screamers lanced out, the warbois shrieking in excitement. They saw dozens, thousands of open ports, doubled ports, and ports where the defenses were suffering cyclic errors.

A pair of bullet trains whipped out and into the tunnels, moving at over 500 mph.

Which might have well been standing still to the electronic reflexes of the warbois, who shrieked with joy and jumped to the open ports on the rail cars, the cargo, even the engines. They were smart enough to hunker down or sneak silently through the datalines, easily avoiding the laughingly simple Noocracy ECM warfare programs.

They vanished into the tunnels and were gone, licking their chops at what might be at the other end of the train ride.

Others saw open ports on the other side of the flashgate and jumped. The other saw nothing but waving grain but steered the missile through anyway.

Reappearing hundreds of miles away, shrieking that they wanted attention.

Ret.lek didn't know any of it.

He was stomping forward, ignoring the rush of heat, and pounding the Noocracy position with heavy weapons. His autocannon's reloader whined after he put a long burst across the fifth story, the heavy shells flashing out and blowing apart the support columns.

The rest of the lance was adding their own firepower, striking the leading edge of the parking garage structure's levels, hitting the support columns.

For a moment, the Noocracy troops thought that maybe the Confeds just had really shitty aim and were grateful.

Then, with a slow groan, the parking garage started to collapse, pancaking down, the upper levels first, each level slamming into the next, adding that level's weight to the next impact.

Dust billowed out, making the battlescreens snarl and flare.

OPERATIONS PLAN UPDATING flashed on Ret.lek's screen.

The ROE suddenly updated.

"Oh, now we're allowed to engage the enemy without being fired on first. How magnaminous of that jumped up little garden gecko fuck," the XO snarled. He took a deep breath and exhaled. "Let's get a move on, ladies."

Everyone nodded and sent their machines moving forward.

Is it weird I was hoping a kaiju would jump out? Ret.lek wondered to himself.