First Contact

Chapter 118: (Nemta)

Space was torn apart by the energies being traded back and forth by the two militaries going at one another. An overly clever Most High had used geometry to force the Terran Space Force into close action. The system was one that had no significance, no native intelligent species, and no real reason to fight over it.

The Fleet Most High had chosen it simply because the Terrans were in the system. The fleet had jumped in, deployed the parasite craft, then kept the sun between the Fleet and the Terrans until the Unified Military Fleet could engage the Terrans near the one sole planet in the Green Zone.

The Most High had determined that the Unified Military Fleet task force would engage the Terrans at as close a range as possible.

Which went better for the Terrans than the Most High's troops.

The Most High didn't know, since his flag bridge had been blown to atoms in the first C+ cannon barrage.

Still, the laws of physics were, for the most part, the laws of physics and even the vaunted Terran "pfft, rules are made to broken" approach to physics couldn't protect all their ships and all their personnel. But the Terrans also had the same approach to guns, which was "MOAR DAKKA" apparently.

Which is how Nemta found himself pulling a high G turn, trying to spoof a brace of Terran missiles. Nemta had been a Unified Military Fleet small craft pilot for 20 years, had been locked up by missile targeting systems before.

He just never had one act like the Terran one did.

gitcha gitcha gonna gitcha gonna gitcha hunt kill eat hunt kill eat yum yum gonna gitcha gonna gitcha

scrolled across his communicator feed. All of the missiles were literally panting and growling and snipping at him as they closed in. What kind of crazed being give their missiles the ability to communicate with the target to threaten them?

Nemta kicked in his overburners, his vision going gray and suddenly having a hard time breathing. Nemta rolled, slid under a UMF ship and let the big capital ship eat the brace of missiles instead.

Nemta figured the big capital ship's shields could handle missiles launched from a parasite fighter craft torchship roughly the same size as his.

get da bigboi bigboi bigboi gettum gettum gettum

Instead the missiles blew through the shields, the last three slamming home on the hull, blowing out clouds of fiery debris and molten metal.

Oops, Nemta thought, diving 'down' in relative to the star.

Of course, three other Terran fighter craft locked him up on their targeting systems.

Nemta pulled up hard, feeling something in the frame groan and creak as he did so. He rolled in a corkscrew. One of the enemy fighters lost lock.

The other one hammered him with graser cannon beams. The near hit made armor blow away from the side of his lightly armored fighter craft, forcing his craft up and to the right.

Nemta gritted his teeth, his amputated tail trying to twitch, as he got control of his battered fighter craft again.

All three Terran fighters swept by him, one banking up on a turn, the other two peeling to each side.

Terran craft were faster, turned tighter, were more heavily armed and armored, were longer ranged, and had longer legs than his own craft.

He refused to let despair fill him.

The recall signal sounded on his comm-link and he gave a grimace that passed for a grin.

We've taken over 10% casualties. When are they going to learn that the Terrans aren't going to break off and let us run, they're going to keep hitting at us. it's how they win, you blithering idiots. They don't fight the same people over and over and over, they kill them and then they only have to fight them once, Nemta thought, pulling up and right in a tight loop that he turned into a corkscrew 'down' toward the planet. He was already moving at horrific speeds that even his computers had trouble with.

The same three locked him up.

Nemta knew what they'd do. He'd seen trios of human pilots do it before.

He slammed down again, rolled, pulled back up, and straightened out.

Two of the Terran pilots hammered missiles on either side of where he had been and the third's missiles swept through where he would have been and detonated on the last of Nemta's H2O ice crystal chaff. They also raked the area with energy weapons above and below.

It was a brutally efficient tactic. The only reason he'd survived it was because there was a small gap, a small little 'bobble' but it still put you right back in the firing line.

Nemta dropped his speed and twisted toward the planet. His own weapons could have trouble locking on close to a planet, the magnetosphere interfering with his targeting systems and he hoped that the Terrans suffered the same problems.

The recall notice sounded again but Nemta knew he'd never get close to the fleet. They were already out of sight and the only capital ship capable of picking him up that was anywhere nearby was currently breaking into separate parts under the hammering of the Terran guns.

The three torchships peeled away and Nemta knew they'd decided to go for bigger targets than one Kulkett Class Parasite Fighter.

But that didn't mean he was able to rejoin the fight. His weapons were either gone, damaged, or out of ammunition. Half his controls were dead, his onboard VI was trashed, and he wasn't even sure if there was any ships left that could pick him up.

The planet, though, at least was survivable.

Which was better than his chances in space.

His nav was punching warnings to him but that was it. Just warnings regarding a danger code that Nemta had no idea what to think about.

It didn't matter, though. What mattered was getting down in one piece.

Through the upper layers of the atmosphere the ship shuddered and groaned. Into the actual layers and he was running blind, on instruments that were going crazy due to the atmospheric static. His VI was gone so he couldn't compensate for the atmosphere.

Once he was low enough his proximity warning started going off, telling him that he was getting closer by miles to a physical object.

Without his VI he couldn't recalibrate, but at least he was able to throw the distance up on his retinal link as he kept dropping. He slowed down further and further, dropping down his landing gear and hoping for the best.

Finally he kicked the retros and pulled up, his proximity warning going berserk as he dropped the last few meters to the ground. His ship bumped, tilted, then the engines shut off with a slowly cyclic whine.

Sighing in relief he counted to ten, just like training said, and popped open the opaque canopy. For a minute all he could see was blackness till he remembered to switch his helmet visor to transparent.

It was storming. Thunder, lightning, liquid H2O falling from the sky. Wind whipped at him as he stood up and stretched, reaching back to scratch the stub of his amputated tail. His pilot suit started soaking through immediately and the sound of the rain on his helmet was annoying.

He got out slowly, stopping to check the pilot's survival pack compartment.

The fact it was empty with an inspection date written in paint on the inside of the compartment cover made him laugh. Where the emergency weapon should have been was, again, nothing. It made him laugh, standing in the rain, in his cockpit, realizing he had nothing more than a damaged ship, a flight suit, a helmet, and the planet.

Well, it was time for inspection. It took two kicks to get the ladder to deploy, but it finally did and he climbed down.

He had to admit, he knew nothing about fixing spacecraft, as he walked around the ship, waiting for the lightning to light it up so he could see it. There were carbonized sections of armor, bubbled and peeled armor, melted and rehardened armor. Two of his four engines were obviously damaged with one of them looking like it was only half there. The stubby wings used to mount weapons were either gone or empty.

He didn't know much about fixing space craft, but he was pretty sure that his ship was in very bad shape. It was worse than he'd ever seen it, even after a battle with pirates.

At least the emergency beacon was still there. It took three kicks to it before it started blinking.

Figuring that was the best he could do, he climbed back up into the cockpit and lowered the armored cover.

At least he could get some sleep.

Someone banging on the armored shell for the cockpit woke him up. He blinked a few times before he reached up and triggered the release so it rolled back.

Of course, Nemta thought, staring up.

It was a Terran. A big one. Not the big black metal ones, just one of the big ones. Twice as tall as Menta, three times as wide, and probably ten times the weight. It was wearing that weird uniform that kept changing the colors and patterns only this one had plates one it here and there that interlocked in such a way as to keep the human alive.

"You alive?" The human asked. The voice was synthesized, the Terran obviously using a translator.

"Yes," Nemta said.

"Well, now there's two of us," the human said. He jumped down, making Nemta tense in concern that the Terran was about to kill himself. "Might as well come on down. If I know you're here, the clankers are going to know next."

Clankers? That didn't sound good, Nemta thought to himself.

Nemta slowly climbed out of the cockpit, wishing that the inspectors could have at least left him a pistol. When his feet touched the ground he turned around, looking at the human again.

The human was pulling a rifle off his back and Nemta tensed.

The human tossed Nemta the rifle and Nemta realized it was a Unified Security Council plasma rifle. Modified, but still a familiar weapon.

"Use that if the Clankers try to jump us," the Terran said.

"What about you?" Nemta asked.

"I'm a little better at fighting than you probably are," the Terran answered. "Keep watch for Clankers."

Not quite what I meant, but OK, Nemta thought.

The human moved over to the back of Nemta's ship.

"This thing jumpspace capable?" the Terran asked.

"No. Why?" Nemta asked.

"Because I was hoping you had a jump core," the human said. He had pulled a tool kit around off his back and to the front and was digging into the kit. "Tell me at least your reactor is online."

"Backup only. It's a fusion reactor but I'm almost out of reactor mass," Nemta admitted.

"You use water, right?" the human asked. He had the maintenance hatch off and was looking at the internal spaces as he stripped away aerogel insulation. He reached in and pulled out one of the heavy duty batteries for a laser weapon that no longer existed. The battery case was blistered and burned away. The human sniffed at it, licked the carbonized part and drew back.

"Capacitance gel? Hot damn!" the human said. He held up the battery. "I need this."

"Um, all right," Nemta said.

He watched in shock as the human slammed the battery twice and when the capacitance gel began leaking out the human began scooping it up with two fingers and eating eat. Once it stopped leaking he broke it open and began eating it like pudding.

"Oh man, still charged. This is delicious," the human said. He pulled out another battery that was scorched and damaged, putting it in his backpack. "First battery I've found that the gel hasn't evaporated out of or not been rotted," the human said.

"Um, congratulations?" Nemta said. The human finally started tearing more pieces out, putting them in the backpack, including the small backup fusion generator that Nemta knew weighed nearly a quarter ton.

"Glad those batteries were there. I couldn't have lifted it so easily," the human said. The human turned to Nemta, who was staring in shock.

"Let's get back to camp before the Clankers show up," the human said. "If you need me to, I can carry you."

"No, thank you. I will wait with my ship. My emergency beacon will help my people find me," Nemta said.

"Your emergency beacon is going to bring down some of the bigger Clankers. They'll take the risk of running into me in hopes that you have intact materials," the human said. "Disable it before we go or by the time we get back the Clankers will have stripped this thing."

Nemta sighed. He wasn't sure whether or not to believe the human, but he'd just watched the human eat several handfuls of superconductor wiring, the gel from two batteries, and some heavy metals that the human washed down with organic hydraulic fluid. He climbed up and disconnected the beacon.

"Yeah, I can't hear it now. We'll be good. Follow me, I'll go slow," the human said. "You'll need to keep your faceplate closed and run on filtered air till we get to the camp. Trust me."

Is it just me or is the human bigger somehow? Nemta asked himself.

The human mumbled and hummed to itself as they walked through the chilly night. Nemta noticed a lot of the trees and bushes were short, or looked weird. They began passing disabled Precursor vehicles, damaged Terran vehicles, and destroyed Corporate Security vehicles. Everything was covered in brush and vines.

I don't remember there being any settlements here in the briefing, Nemta thought to himself.

Finally the 'camp' revealed itself to be an entryway between two massive Precursor tanks.

There were a handful of huts around an open fire that had a round object bigger than Nemta or even the human in the middle of the fire. Sitting around the fire were close to two dozen beings.

All of them neo-sapients or Near-Civilized, like Nemta himself.

Except the two little green mantids. One was missing a leg and one antenna, the other was missing a bladearm and an eye.

"Welcome to Camp Dustup," one of the neo-sapients, a Hamaroosa, said, standing up. It bowed, an odd gesture for it to make. The Hamaroosa looked at the human. "Does the ship have a jump core?"

The human shook his head, taking the massive backpack off his back. "No, but I'm going to recover what I can from it. If 821 and 303 will come with me, we can get a lot off of it," the human looked embarrassed. "I got really hungry and ate some of it."

The Hamaroosa nodded slowly, rubbing its tail. "You have been hungry for a long time, Terry. Was it things we will need?"

The human, Terry, shook his head. "No. Damaged wiring and batteries and a few swallows of hydraulic fluid."

One of the others laughed. "We might bring the ship in just to keep you fed, friend Terry. You look much refreshed."

The human nodded. He sat down and held his hands out to the fire.

The Hamaroosa moved up to Nemta.

"Welcome to our camp. If you choose to live here, you must abide by the simple rule that we are all in this together," the Hamaroosa said.

Nemta nodded slowly, looking around. The huts were made of sections of armor carefully welded together.

"How long have you all been here?" Nemta asked.

"Just over a year," the Hamaroosa said. She smiled widely. "But, if your ship contains the right parts, say, a working reactor, we may be able to leave soon."

"How?" Nemta asked.

The Hamaroosa pointed at the big round metal object that fire was built around.

"That. A Terran heavy main battle tank nano-forge," the Hamaroosa smiled. She pointed at the two green mantis men. "And them. Terran engineers."

She pointed at the Terran. "And Terry."

The mantid missing a leg came limping up with a set of belts attached to a a case with blinking light on it. Icons flashed above its head as the Hamaroosan looked at it.

"You need to put that on. 303 is right," the Hamaroosan said.

Nemta picked up it, looking at it. It was heavy and vibrated. "What is it?"

"It'll jam your life signs, keep the Clankers from detecting you if they get close. It also jams your implant from broadcasting or receiving so they can't find you that way," the Hamaroosa said. She moved her tunic slightly to show that she was wearing one. "It's based off of something Terry's got built in."

"Oh," Nemta put it on. It felt weird, made his back teeth itch. He yawned and shook his head.

"You are undoubtably tired," The Hamaroosa said. She pointed at one of the welded together shelters. "You may have that one. We will build another more suited to you later."

The two green mantises were climbing up Terry's armored clothing, perching on his back.

Nemta exclaimed in shock when they both slid armor covered bladearms into his back.

The human, Terry, turned around and looked, his right arm coming up and his hand cocking back.

"Easy, easy, friend. Friend Terry has ports in his back just for that. Do not be alarmed," the Hamaroosa chuckled. "Warn yourself by the fire if you feel the need."

Nemta moved over to the fire, feeling more than a little tired. The fight, the landing, all of it had used up a lot of energy and he was starting to feel it.

"Shevassti," one of the lizard folk around the fire said. "Welcome to Camp Dustup," it chuckled. "Don't worry, you will get used to the strangeness."

Nemta shook his head as Terry and the two numbered insectoids left the camp. "I cannot see how."

"I thought the same thing," another being said. "After a year, nothing surprises me any longer."

"Hopefully we will leave soon," A third added.

"How? How will we leave?" Nemta asked. He pointed at the round metal object in the middle of the fire. "And if this is so important, why do you have a fire built around it?"

Shevassti chuckled again, then rubbed his throat over a scar. "It needs to be heated up. They don't work well if they're cold. It will need power and then to do something that the mantids call 'recycle and deslush' and then we can prepare to leave."

Nemta shook his head. "But how?"

Shevassti reached over to the pile of sticks and threw one on the fire.

"It's a nano-forge. The Terrans use them to make things. We're going to use it to get out of here."

Nemta frowned, staring at the big black metal sphere. "But how? Are you just going to make a spaceship?"

The beings around the circle laughed, shaking their heads.

"No, friend. We're going to make the parts to make a spaceship," the Hamaroosa said, limping over to him. "If we have the power, if Terry and the Mantid friends can find the raw materials, we'll make a countergrav array, a jumpdrive, a jumpcore, and fly to a neutral world."

Nemta shook his head. "Jumpdrives and jumpcores require massive factories."

The Hamaroosa pointed at the sphere. "That is a Class VIII nano-forge, usually installed in Terran main battle tanks. It is a massive factory."

"Then why haven't you left already?" Nemta asked.

"It requires a lot of power. More than the small power sources we have found in the wreckage around us," another being said.

"And we only found Friend Terry and his mantids a month ago," another said.

One Nemta couldn't see on the other side of the sphere laughed. "And that was the strangest thing ever. Finding what looked like a Terran mummy and two green mantis engineers wearing emergency stasis belts."

"No stranger than watching the Mantids shock Friend Terry with a laser cannon capacitor and then having him drink superlubricants and eat superconductors," another laughed.

"Do all humans do such things?" Nemta asked. "I saw him eat the gel from a capacitor."

"Just the ones like Friend Terry," Another, this one concealed by the fire and smoke, said softly.

"What do you mean?" Nemta asked.

"Friend Terry is a cyborg. What the Terrans call a 'heavy assault infantry - man-size' cyborg," the Hamaroosa said. She leaned heavily on a stick and sighed in comfort.

"But don't cyborgs go mad? The melding of machine into their nervous system driving them insane with pain and confusion?" Nemta asked.

One of the beings around the fire laughed, others picked it up, and Nemta felt slightly offended.

"What is so funny?" Nemta demanded.

The Hamaroosa leaned on her cane and smiled gently. "We thought the same until we found Friend Terry. That's when we understood."

"Understood what?" Nemta asked.

"We all are, the universe is, the Terrans are, all mad," she paused, her smile changing as she slowly bared her teeth and her eyes got wider. "Everything is. It's the hidden truth of the universe, and you must be mad to understand it if you wish to survive."

Nemta felt his blood run cold as he looked around at the other survivors.

Their eyes all glittered and glowed in the firelight.

Nemta was suddenly very much afraid.

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