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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Spooker0 on 2025-04-07 19:43:47+00:00.
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65 Critical Mass I
The Frontline, Znos-4-C
POV: Mgnistr, Znosian Dominion Marines (Rank: Four Whiskers)
The first sign of friendly losses Mgnistr saw as they drove towards the temporary frontline was not from the effects of the nuclear weapon detonated by the predators. Rather, they took a break at an improvised resupply station about a dozen kilometers away from the front, where she observed a large gathering of abandoned vehicles less than a hundred meters from the converted tanker that was now transferring fuel to her troop carrier.
She squinted at the pile of twisted metal and frowned. “How did they get those?” she asked the three whiskers supply officer in charge of the fuel point.
He didn’t even bother to follow her pointed claw. “Our field artillery battalion? Well… former field artillery battalion. Flying machines and the enemy’s own light precision artillery,” he replied casually. “They have a lot of those. Not a good week to be in artillery. Or logistics.”
Mgnistr did a double take at him. “Logistics like you?”
“Like me. And you too at the moment, Four Whiskers, since you’re standing right next to me,” he replied dryly. “We’re their favorite. Most of my company has already rejoined the Prophecy. And if you don’t hurry up with the refueling, you will too. If— when they find us important enough to send one of their guided shells at us.”
She saw a million small holes through the barely recognizable steel barrel of a former Znosian artillery piece. “One of their shells did that?!”
“Yup. We call it metal rain. One shell, and it pokes those holes in everything within a couple hundred meters. That’s the one for if you’re more important than the flying machine swarms.”
She nodded. “I’ve heard about those.”
“Yeah. My own four whiskers rejoined the Prophecy from one of those… not two kilometers from here.” He pointed in the direction of the enemy beachhead. “Nobody came back from that supply convoy.”
She quickly muttered a prayer for the fallen — she’d been doing a lot of that lately — then asked, “Is it really that bad?”
“Bad? You haven’t seen bad yet. They’re attriting our logistics at an unsustainable rate. If we don’t overrun them in one or two more days, our Marines are going to need to start hopping towards their position on their paws.”
“What are they even doing on this planet?” Mgnistr asked idly. “I thought they’re supposed to be trying to get rid of us on some of the predators’ old planets all the way out there.”
The supply officer shrugged. “No idea what they’re doing, but I hear they’re digging.”
“Digging? Like digging in? In their positions?”
“More than that. Some of our people back at temporary headquarters said that they can detect constant shaking in the soil, like if they’re making tunnels. Whatever they’re doing, the predators are moving a lot of dirt over there.”
Mgnistr contemplated it for a few seconds, but nothing came up. “What do you suppose that means?”
“No idea. They bred me to deliver fuel, not think about soil.”
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Mgnistr’s troop transport stopped again, another few kilometers in. They’d thrown a track, and the fix took two hours: more than an hour just digging the heavy vehicle out of the mud-ash mix. She noted in the back of her mind that the radioactive nuclear fallout they were now breathing in was probably not great for their long-term health. Then again, neither were the predators on their planet. She decided those were far more likely to kill her first.
By the time they were finished and got moving again, Mgnistr determined from her communicator that they were near their division command point, which had surprisingly moved all the way up here. She ordered her crew to drive towards it. “That way,” she pointed. “I want to see what’s going on.”
Entering a lightly forested area, they arrived at a bizarre sight.
Six friendly vehicles and their crews were parked up next to what appeared to be an alien equivalent of a Longclaw behind a thick dirt mound. The front and left side of its hull were heavily scarred from battle damage. Its reactive armor tiles were missing. Its barrel was bent and perforated. And pieces of its tracks were scattered over the forest floor near it. A small squad was behind it, carefully examining its insides from the open rear hatch, led by a young-looking officer.
Very young-looking.
Mgnistr dismounted and hopped over to the group on her tired paws.
They looked up at her. One of the group — another barely-adult five whiskers, acknowledged her presence. “Nice of you to join us, Four Whiskers.”
“What’s going on here?” she asked, some excitement creeping into her voice. Finally, some signs of the battle.
“We overran this position earlier today,” the commanding officer said as he stepped out from the enemy vehicle. “Great Predator Longclaw.”
“Did we get many of them?” she asked in awe, her eyes searching around for more signs of the battle. She glanced at his nametag and insignia. “We just got here… Seven Whiskers Spazglu.”
“We got this one, and another small group of lightly armored vehicles further into the forest.” Spazglu pointed a claw north. “Anti-armor missile carriers, it seemed. Their mobile mortar carriers got away.”
“Any prisoners?”
“None.” Spazglu sighed. “They weren’t even crewed by any… living thing. Just machinery. One of our squads made the mistake of moving up and thinking about capturing the crew of one of the vehicles that had been heavily damaged.”
She winced. The new instructions and recent training they’d got made it clear that the only dead Great Predator was one you personally put a bullet in — twice. It looked like not everyone got that training.
“A squad of predator combat robots came out guns ready. They liquidated the whole squad, got picked up by another transport, and then they retreated further north into the forest,” he continued. “No one should be making that mistake again.”
She pointed at the wreck. “This one too?”
“Not this one.” He shook his head. “No. This Longclaw was scuttled by the predators themselves.”
“Scuttled?!”
“Yeah, look again.” He gestured toward the blackened interiors. “See? There was a fire inside. We didn’t do that. No shell penetrations as far as I can tell. Their vehicles are built to be hardy. We must have immobilized it — tore off the tracks. Then, its crew sabotaged and abandoned it when we got close.”
Surprised at his insight, Mgnistr took another look at his face. He was about as tall as average, but the youthful look of his face betrayed his age. He was surely just a hatchling. “Wait. How old are you?”
If the non-sequitur caught Spazglu by surprise, he did not show it. Most likely, it was not the first time he’d been asked that question recently. “Eleven months.”
“Eleven months old?!”
“Yeah.”
Mgnistr asked, “And you are a…”
“Battalion— no, division commander now that ours died. Your division commander actually.” He pointed at her unit patch. “But most of the division is now missing or destroyed anyway.”
“Eleven months old division commander?!” she exclaimed.
Spazglu shrugged. “I was blessed by the Prophecy.”
“I’d never heard of someone as blessed as you,” Mgnistr said after a while.
“Or perhaps cursed,” he sighed sadly.
“With all due respect, Seven Whiskers. I take full responsibility for any—”
“No offense taken, Four Whiskers,” he interrupted her. “I get that question a lot.”
“Yes, sir. What is our directive, Seven Whiskers?”
“We’ve spent most of the armored assets we brought up here. And with that last nuclear strike disrupting our coordination, I doubt we can push further today. We should take a break and defend our current position.” Spazglu turned his head to the setting Znosian star at the horizon. “And hope we can survive the night.”
“We still have our night vision equipment,” Mgnistr offered. “We can mount an attack.”
“Whatever night optics we have, the Great Predators have better, I’m sure,” Spazglu replied. “And night time is not good for the offense. The enemy will be waiting for us, or worse, perhaps they are gathering for a night counterattack of their own right now. We should prepare for that instead.”
Mgnistr scratched her whiskers, once again impressed by his insight or… “Is that from your Digital Guide?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Ours died before the predators even landed. That is my assessment based on my training and… limited experience. Why? Do you have a better idea?”
“No— no, of course not, Seven Whiskers,” she said hurriedly, bowing in respect for his rank. “My squad will dig in for the night, as you directed.”
Mgnistr hopped back to her squad vehicle and ordered them to dig the troop carrier under the dense foliage. She knew that if the predators wanted her dead, being so close to the new division commander, she was dead anyway. But training and bred instinct did not go away easily. They did as they were ordered.
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As dusk fell, she heard some commotion near the other vehicles. Curious, Mgnistr hopped over from her squad.
A new vehicle had joined Spazglu’s original six, another troop carrier like hers. But this one was a completely unarmored one with an open to…
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