First Contact Fallout by Aer-ki Jyr (best non fiction books to read txt) 📕

7

Tu’vac lay on the floor of the tent, his mind locked in a loop that would not break. His body was not taut, for there was no malfunction there. It was just waiting for his brain to do something other than hold position, so it appeared he was sleeping when in fact he was awake and trying to rethink the same thought over and over again without it coming to conclusion.

That’s where his conscious mind was, but his subconscious was still functioning and he was aware of what was happening around him. He couldn’t use Pefbar, but he could hear the sound of weaponsfire, feel the pounding of the ground every time the healer took a step outside, and he could see the inside of the tent through his open eyes that would not move off one spot.

He could also feel when a Dre’mo’don shot burned through the tent wall and hit him in the back just above his tail. The pain, combined with what part of his combat reflexes were not locked down, jolted him out of his mind freeze as two more shots came through and hit him in the torso.

Tu’vac reached for…something. Some psionic that wasn’t there that he needed, pushing against the barrier in his mind that would not relent, then as a fourth shot hit him in the chest as he rolled up to his feet he lashed out at the blockage in his mind. Rage more than purpose, spite over logic. It was his enemy as much as those shooting at him, and he had to destroy it.

He pushed hard, in as many was as he could, not understanding what he was doing but doing everything he could on instinct. It felt like the pressure in his body was building to a point it would pop his head off…then something did pop. The pressure flowed up and into his head, with Tu’vac falling back to the floor in exhaustion as a 5th shot came through and hit him just above the knee. All were tearing away flesh from his body, but he had so much mass a single shot could not kill him unless it hit him in the eye socket or other vulnerable spot.

Tu’vac crashed down, his head hitting the floor externally while internally a cool sensation moved from the base of his spine up through his brain eating away at the blocks gradually, as if it were a chunk of ice melting away. His body felt like it was deflating in the process, but he didn’t fight it. He pushed harder, making it melt faster…until the last bit in his mind disappeared and he passed out.

More shots came through the tent, a few of which hit him and drew more purple blood leaking down out of the cauterized wounds, then suddenly he woke, not knowing where he was or what was happening.

He stood up, his Pefbar pushing out beyond the tent to see what was there as another shot came through and hit him in his left hip. The Era’tran snarled, realizing he was not armored yet in the middle of battle, and activated his Nakane, catching the next two shots on his biologically generated shields as he stormed out the closed door and into the dim jungle undergrowth just before a portion of that canopy was blown apart as aerial fire fell down on the infantry that were taking shots at him.

He did not recognize them, but there was a wounded female Era’tran on the ground to his left with one arm missing…and laying beside her was that arm with a damaged weapon still attached to it. Further off was a downed Zen’zat, and the weaponsfire coming into the jungle from above was originating from a Zen’zat gunship…which made who was friend and foe here clear.

His body was weak beyond measure, and he did not remember how it had gotten so, but he was within range of a good portion of the scattering infantry that focused their firepower on him while taking cover behind various trees…but they couldn’t hide from his Pefbar, and with a thought three of them were lifted off their feet and pulled out into the air and towards him. Two he brought forward into his claws, which glowed to life cherry red and slashed through their armor as if it were nothing more than clothing. The third he threw to the ground in front of him and smashed underneath his left foot, not caring for the gouges the broken armor made in his flesh as it cracked under the pressure.

Weak armor. Zen’zat armor would have held against that, so he didn’t have to add any attack afterwards, for the occupant was now mashed gore. The Era’tran ground him in more as he launched himself into an awkward run as he reached out into the attackers’ minds to get a feel for them, only to be surprised when he found them vulnerable. These were not infantry capable of taking down an Era’tran, let alone a Hakja.

He felled dozens of them in one attack, rendering them unconscious then pulling their loose weaponry from them through the air and wadding it up in ball that he crunched down into a sphere, then he opened his mouth and out came a plume of plasma that melted the weapons beyond repair. He tossed the molten bits to the side, starting a small fire where they hit dry brush, but the rest of the infantry did not take the hint and continued to fire at him.

His bioshields would not last forever, and they were underpowered to start with. He did not know what had happened to him, but his combat fitness was shot. He took a moment to try and remember, but was distracted as a much larger ship flew overhead and began