An attack upon one of us is an attack upon us all.

  You attacked everyone.

  If you want, you can scream 'not the face' because at least it will be funny.

  To us. - Searches for Ways of Peace, Mantid diplomat, answering an Ornislarp request for a cease fire.

  72 HOURS INTO OPERATION TATTERED WHIMSY

  Pan'nikk woke up, grabbing at his pillow, rolling in his sleep so he was sitting up, straddling his blanket, his hands locked on the pillow, choking it, lifting it up to slam it back down on the bed.

  "Hey! Wake up!" someone snapped below him, kicking the bottom of his bunk.

  That snapped him out of it.

  "You all right?" the voice was quieter.

  "Nightmare. Just a nightmare," Pan'nikk said.

  "Yeah. You'll get those. When the op is over, don't skimp on Mental Health. You don't want to be a psych casualty," the voice said. "I was pretty fucked up after Clownface."

  "Why?" Pan'nikk asked, throwing his legs over the side and sitting up.

  There was silence for a moment. There was a light, distant tapping that he knew was just artillery spikes dropping and bouncing off the armor of the mobile firebase.

  "I don't know you well enough," the voice said, the tone gray and dead.

  The finality in it let Pan'nikk know that the other soldier wasn't interested in talking.

  Pan'nikk got down, grabbing one of the stretchy leotards and staring at it for a moment. He glanced at where the other troops were sleeping and saw they all had the curtains pulled shut to protect them from shrapnel, chemical weapons, radiation, biological weapons, and other hazards. Shrugging, he went through the other curtain, through the sonic fresher (which always made his ears feel weird), then got dressed. As a power armor pilot he didn't have jewelry, watches, or anything else.

  If he'd been wearing even ID tags when that nuke had hit, the tags and the necklace would have been driven into his body and possibly killed him.

  Then through the curtain and into the little mess hall.

  As he crossed he saw three of the big Terran power armor pilots from second platoon were sitting at the table watching a hologram that was making weird noises. They kept laughing every few seconds.

  Pan'nikk sat down and started eating.

  "Go, little guy, go," one of the Terran said.

  There was a squeaking noise and the Terran's laughed.

  "All that effort to roll over," another said.

  "Looks like you last R&R," the first said.

  All three laughed.

  Pan'nikk wondered what they were watching. He figured it was probably some combat footage or something suitably violent.

  "Man, you can tell how tiring it is being that little," another one said as Pan'nikk finished up his meal.

  All three laughed. "He looks like me during HUD class in AIT," one said.

  One chuckled. "He has no idea, does he?"

  Another shook his head. "Nope."

  Pan'nikk tapped the table to get rid of his dirty dishes.

  "What are you watching?" he asked, more to be socialable than to really find out.

  "Babies. Come look," one of the Terrans, who had half a face worth the scars.

  Nervous, Pan'nikk went over and sat down. He had to admit he was concerned that it would be video of terrible things happening to infants.

  Instead there was a fat looking infant Terran sitting upright, blinking slowly. The baby suddenly started leaning over until it was laying on the floor with its eyes shut. A deep purring/buzzing noise happened as the whole thing went grayscale with the word "WASTED!" appearing in dark red letters.

  The three Terrans laughed.

  Another baby appeared. This one had a face covered in cake, cake on its hands. It was chewing with its mouth opened and cake was falling out. Its eyes were closed. It suddenly leaned forward so its forehead went into the cake.

  "WASTED!"

  The Terrans laughed.

  The next was a sleeping baby that was notable in how tiny and fragile it looked to Pan'nikk. It was pinkish, with a blue fabric cap, and wrapped in a blanket with Charlie Moo Moo on it. The infant opened its eyes, stretched, yawned, then smiled and closed its eyes again.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  WASTED!

  "You know he just took a big shit, right?" one said. "That's why he's smiling."

  "Hey, I'm not going to judge him. At his size, its an accomplishment," another said.

  "Hey, it's tough being that little. Taking a crap is like one of us running a ten mile," the third laughed.

  Pan'nikk watched, unsure of why it was so funny. He hadn't seen many podlings, to be honest. He might have seen them in the mall or at events, but for the most part, he'd joined the military as soon as possible and the Telkan Marines didn't issue out families unless the Marine requested it.

  The whole thing was just infants falling asleep, but the Terran troops found it funny. Pan'nikk saw the "MWR Section 5th Brigade" stamp in the lower left.

  After that was a bunch of clips of babies tasting ice cream or cotton candy or cake or frosting and the Terrans laughed every time.

  Pan'nikk had to admit, he didn't get it.

  After a bit he excused himself, got up, and headed back to put on his armor.

  The green mantids were behind the console, flickering phasic holograms between their antenna.

  After a moment one of the green mantids reached out and touched a pad on the console.

  "What?" the speaker asked.

  "I'm ready to armor up," he said.

  There was silence.

  "You are not scheduled to return to combat operations for three more hours," the console said. "Your combat engineer is still in the infirmary. Find something to do."

  "But I want my armor," Pan'nikk said.

  "Armor is undergoing heavy maintenance. Pressure sleeve is cracked. Kinetic shock gel has crystallization. Zero point reactors have base cracking," the console said.

  A panel slid open and a claw extended out holding a bottle of baby oil, a reflective belt and a jock strap.

  "Here."

  "Man, fuck you guys," Pan'nikk said, turning around.

  There was chittering laughter.

  He went back in and back to the mess. The Terrans were standing up.

  "What happened?" one of them asked.

  "My armor's still in maintenance for the next three hours," Pan'nikk said.

  One nodded. "That's what happens when you ride scout armor through a nuke, Sergeant."

  "Doesn't change the fact I don't want to sit around," Pan'nikk said.

  "Do some VR training, read a book, or take a nap," another said. He shrugged. "Three hours, you can hit the narco-brew and then just hit the inhaler."

  "No thanks," Pan'nikk said.

  "Good luck with whatever you decide, Sergeant," the last one through the door said.

  Pan'nikk just sat and glared at the table.

  0-0-0-0-0

  "SHIT SHIT SHIT!" Pan'nikk yelled, jinking hard. His engineer cranked the power to the grav anchor and locked the knee, ankle, and hock on the armor to that Pan'nikk didn't get his leg torn off by sheer force.

  The tank round gave a high pitched scream as it missed him by less than five feet.

  His battlescreen was down, his heat was up, and he'd been cut off again because Regimental Intelligence had wanted him to go out and take a look at some graviton signatures that weren't showing up on overhead drones.

  The robotic combat armor units had good camouflage and were now putting the hate on Pan'nikk as he ran for it.

  He slid to a stop and the missiles went by in a flash, the smart systems in them starting to bank them around for another try only to slam into the side of the building.

  --follow line-- 2209 said.

  The line was a jump. He just did it, throwing himself into the air. The armor's systems made him roll in midair before he hit the side of a building, landing on the ferrocrete and not the macroplas.

  --GO--

  He jumped with the other line, gaining altitude and distance.

  One of the big bots flushed a whole missile pack at him right as he jumped.

  --chaff--

  whumph

  --flares--

  The tic tic tic tic filled his helmet.

  --decoys--

  thump thump thump

  The grenade launcher fired a grenade in front on a short .5 second fuze, the chaff confused the incoming missiles sensors, making Pan'nikk vanish in an opaque cloud. The flares burned through the chaff and the missiles streaked in, detonating on them. The grenade launcher spit out three decoy drones and the last of the missiles.

  He hit on the side of the building.

  He didn't need to be told to jump again.

  He threw up in his helmet as the armor did a tight double summersault.

  --hold breath--

  Pan'nikk followed the directions.

  The air pressure inside his armor spiked. His face shield opened.

  The vomit was sucked out, the high pressure inside the armor trying to equalize with the lower pressure exterior.

  The shield closed and the rest was cleaned off by the electrostatic systems.

  Pan'nikk kept jumping.

  --trying reboot treefrog-- 2209 said.

  He threw himself through drywall and plas walls, the interior construction shattering as two tons of warsteel blasted into it at nearly thirty miles an hour.

  Missiles and rockets started slamming into the building behind him as he ran through the walls and twice jumped up through the flooring.

  "I'M JUST A FUCKING SCOUT! HOLY SHIT!" he threw himself out the window, tucking up and rolling, coming out with computer assistance and hurtling through the windows. He hit something a little too solid and richoceted.

  "Hey, boss!" Treefrog said happily.

  ATOMIC ATOMIC ATOMIC

  "No, wait!" Treefrog said.

  Treefrog's icon dropped into a box that folded up and dropped away.

  "Running running running," Pan'nikk said.

  "Pan'nikk, goddamn it, pull back!" he heard scratchy over the quantum systems.

  "ON MY..."

  Everything went white.

  The kinetic shock hit him like a hammer as the building disintegrated around him.

  He pulled in his arms and legs, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling up his knees. His visor went down.

  --s^& adaf&-- came across the link.

  He bounced off something and went sideways. He knew he was in a flat spin but 2209 had locked his joints as soon as he'd gotten into the aerial safety position. His faceshield shattered then it looked like frost in front of his face. He gagged for a second and a tube was shoved up his nose.

  He hit something hard, pain flared on his left side then went numb. He hit something else and then it was like he was suspended, not moving. He saw the icon go on for his system going to full stealth on his cybereye.

  --cord cord cord-- appeared.

  The hard light parachute cracked into existence and even with the pressure sleeve it felt like his gonads were being crushed. He was aware his joints were locked. He could taste grit and burnt metal on his tongue and lips.

  --steering let nanites work-- 2209 said.

  He felt a pinch over his kidneys and knew it was the heplocs going to work.

  He closed his eyes as the tingling spread from his lower back and up his spine. He felt odd. Like he was laying on a too soft bed and sinking into the warmth while someone pushed warm air into his face.

  "Hey, boss," Treefrog sounded slightly subdued. "How ya doing?"

  "Not sure," Pan'nikk said. "Sleepy." He coughed, or tried to. "Chest tight."

  "We're inside the debris cloud. Looks like 2209 is steering us to our own lines," Treefrog said. "Oooh, those combat robots just hit third platoon and are getting torn apart."

  --firing medical beacon-- 2209 said.

  "Medical beacon?" Pan'nikk asked.

  --dont go into shock-- 2209 said.

  "Administering synthetics. Boss, stay with us," Treefrog said.

  "Mmm ohkay"

  --2.2km-- 2209 put. --signal back--

  Another tube jammed into him, wiggling down his throat.

  He didn't feel like someone was squeezing his chest.

  --incoming medevac--

  "Just keep breathing, boss. Me and 2209 will take care of you," Treefrog said.

  There was a clank and he was aware of movement.

  MEDICAL OVERRIDE appeared on his retina link.

  He got suddenly sleepy.

  0-0-0-0-0

  He woke up, trying to reach above him and grab a girder to slow his fall.

  Instead, he just yanked against the cuffs on one side.

  After a moment a russet mantid appeared.

  "Welcome back."

  shit

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