Raivyn dove behind a supply crate as a hailstorm of lead and lasers ripped through the air where she'd just been standing. The Ramshackle Collective had decided this world belonged to them, even though Raivyn's squad had landed about a week before, starting the hard work of settling the planet for the Griffon Republic. But pirates didn’t often care about little things like the International Galactic Code.

Peering out around the ruined crate, Raivyn counted ten Collective troops. With their hulking, rusted bodies and crimson overcoats they were an intimidating force, but nothing she couldn't handle. She concentrated on the nearest robot, focusing in on the electronic network that served as its brain. Digital minds were much harder to control, but she was good at what she did. 

Raivyn  strained, reaching out with telepathic waves, also known as T-waves, to probe for weaknesses in the robot’s mind. The brutal headache her efforts had earned her gave way to an endorphin rush as the psychic attack pierced the robot's mental defenses, granting her full control over her enemy’s actions.

Turning to its fellow androids, the hypnotized robot unleashed an unexpected barrage on its comrades, wiping out three fellow soldiers in a brutally efficient sweep of laserfire. The remaining robots turned on their erstwhile companion in panic. 

Taking advantage of the interruption, Vanbrook leapt over Raivyn's head, plunging his sword into the back of the hypnotized robot's neck, riding it to the ground, somersaulting to his feet, and scrapping one of the remaining robots with a well-aimed blast from his pistol, a high-caliber hand cannon of a revolver.

"I wasn't done with that one!" called Raivyn. Vanbrook smirked over his shoulder at her even as he activated an energy buckler to deflect an incoming ax. 

Two robots heads' exploded in quick succession as D'Jarric fired a bolt of golden energy from each of his hands. 

Vanbrook blocked another blow and countered with a sword strike that ended another Robot. He slammed a boot into the chest of one of the remaining pirates, causing them to stumble into their companion.

"Two left, who wants 'em?" Vanbrook growled. 

Raivyn waited for the right moment, reaching out again with telepathic waves, this time to manipulate objects rather than minds. She focused the waves around the two remaining robot’s bodies, where they hovered like claws ready to grasp their prey. When the moment came she grabbed the robots and pulled them together with her mind, lining up their heads from D'Jarric's vantage point. A well-placed beam tore through both. Vanbrook activated his buckler to avoid being showered in circuitry and motor oil.

"Ah, teamwork," he said, swinging his arm to shake the mess from his shield. "Nice." 

Raivyn stood there staring at him, a fist on her hip and a scowl on her face. Her black hair was mostly pulled back in a military style bun, but a few locks always seemed to escape, hanging over her fair features and adding to that strange aura of danger Vanbrook always sensed about her. The swordsman chuckled.

"You really upset I took out the bot you were puppeteering?"

"So what if I am? I could have taken more out before you rushed in to take the glory." Raivyn stared at Vanbrook. Unabashed, he smiled back broadly, his dark eyes as full of mischief as ever. He was the perfect swordsman; broad, long limbed, cool as ice and sharp as a tack in combat. And he was the dumbest person she'd ever met. 

"I thought I stole all the glory with my impeccable aim," declared D'Jarric, never one to be left out of some good banter. Vanbrook took the bait, like he always did.

"Yes, standing back and shooting the enemy from halfway across the camp. Truly heroic." 

"Ah, not so!" retorted D'Jarric, "from halfway across the galaxy." His glowing golden face grinned wide.

"Of course. Because this form before us is not D'Jarric, but the avatar thereof," said Vanbrook in mock reverence, "For the great D'Jarric is a force, a being of pure energy, the Prince of Solaris Maginite, residing in the star he calls home and kingdom." An excessively flourished bow concluded Vanbrook's remarks.

"So you do listen," said the electromagnetic being with a good natured grin. His armor was physically there, as was the golden energy that stood inside it in humanoid shape, but D'Jarric himself was many light-years away, swirling in the fiery atmosphere of Solaris Maginite.

"I think it's time we reached out to the Admiral," interjected Raivyn, "The Ramshackle Collective is here. I know we've been anticipating an attack, but that was only a scouting party, and the intel they gathered likely got to their fleet before we destroyed them. If we allow them to get settled here there could be a protracted conflict for the planet."

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"You're right, as ever," Vanbrook said with a nod. "We'll get the mess cleaned up out here; go ahead and make the call."

Raivyn left the wreckage of the fight on the edge of the camp, walking by the ruined supply crates, their small sleeping tents and the much larger mess tent on her way to the antenna-covered modular shack that served as their comm center. She called up to the Wingspan, the fleet’s flagship carrier, which was hovering somewhere above them. The connection was a static-ridden mess, as the massive iron deposits on the planet caused electromagnetic interference. A few adjustments got her a decent connection and Admiral Jasken’s face emerged from the static.

“Raivyn,” he said briskly, “you’re not due to report in for another four hours. What’s the situation?”

“It’s the Ramshackle Collective, sir,” she answered gravely. “A small scouting party just attacked our location. We managed to wipe them out but there’s bound to be more of them.”

Jasken smoothed his mustache in thought as he listened to Raivyn's story. The young psychic was as disciplined as she was gifted, standing with perfect military poise as she delivered news of the Ramshackle Collective's arrival on Hittania. 

Not everyone on Talon Squad was so disciplined. Last update he got, most of the screen was covered by Vanbrook's boots, which he had propped up on the desk. The lack of structure was by design; the Talon Squad was one of the Republic’s specialist squads; small, tight-knit teams based on complementary skills and specialties outside of the typical military structure. They were required to wear the blue, white, and black colors and the winged lion's head emblem of the Griffon Republic, but other than that they had free reign on gear and equipment. Jasken wasn't a fan of the program. That wasn't important at the moment, though.

"Thank you, Raivyn. As rich in iron and other metals as Hittania is, it was only a matter of time before we had competition. No doubt there is a sizable Ramshackle fleet sharing the skies with us somewhere. We'll be lucky if those pirates are the only faction we have to contend with."

Raivyn cracked a dry smile. "When have we ever been lucky?" 

Jasken’s face remained stony as ever, and he curtly nodded his acknowledgment and moved on. "However, the Ramshackle Collective is typically more interested in salvaging and commandeering existing tech, not mining raw materials. Do we have any indication of ancient tech on Hittania?"

Raivyn shook her head.

"No, sir. But it's very possible. The whole planet is mineral rich. There could be abandoned mines anywhere on the surface. Obviously there was no beacon indicating a claim until we set one up, but until we fully map the surface there's no telling what ruins may be out there. It's possible the Collective knows something we don't."

The beacons. Jasken sighed internally. They were the International Galactic Code’s accepted method of claiming an uninhabited world, but they also painted a target on a burgeoning settlement when they were first set up.

"The satellite network isn't fully functional yet, but we'll be scanning for Ramshackle presence in the skies and on the ground. Keep me up on any developments."

"Will do, Admiral."

"Jasken out."

Raivyn walked from the communications tent to the combination mess hall, war room, and lounge that constituted the heart of the squad's camp.

"No, no," Reclan was saying, her crimson crest of feathers flattened and her teeth snapping in an expression of contempt. "It's not like I had any new toys I've been saying need field testing for months." The words were thick with accusation and sarcasm. 

"C'mon, Rec," said Vanbrook, gesturing to a table covered in circuits, tools and notes scrawled on napkins. "Are your 'toys' even ready to go?"

D'Jarric, who was leaning against the doorframe, got Raivyn up to speed.  

"Reclan's upset we scrapped those Collective goons without her." 

"Am I part of Talon Squad or not?" she crowed. 

"Unruffle your feathers, Reclan," Raivyn said sternly. "Of course you're part of the squad. That little skirmish was over before it started."

"Well," said a voice from the corner of the room, "let me know if anyone needs medical attention, otherwise I will gladly sit here awaiting my moment to shine." Doc Manford, the team's resident Robot and medic. He had his nose in a book as usual, though Raivyn couldn't tell from here whether it was a medical textbook, a philosophical treatise or one of his murder mysteries.

"Well, Doc, we're all fine, but you're up for lookout duty in ten, so don't get too comfy. We also need to check out where those pirates came from. DJ, did you and Van find anything while cleaning up?"

Theoretically, the squad had no leader. In reality, if someone didn't take charge nothing happened. Van had his moments, and tended to be looked to for tactical advice during combat. D'Jarric was some kind of royalty, as Raivyn understood it, but he more or less appeared to be here for fun and didn't often tap into the natural leadership skills he possessed. That left Reclan and Doc, and there wasn't enough leadership material between the two of them to fill a thimble. That left Raivyn to pick up the pieces.

Van was staring into the reflective steel surface of a food storage unit, ruffling his unkempt, vaguely military haircut. Evidently feeling it was satisfactorily tousled, he turned to Raivyn.

"Yeah, robo-footprints leading into the woods. Seems like a good bet they had a transport just out of sight, maybe a stealth hovercraft or something.  If so we'll be able to find where the scouts dismounted and started hoofing it, but anyone left with the hovercraft probably left as soon as their buddies got wasted, and hovercraft don't leave a trail."

Vanbrook scratched his chin, looking sidelong at Reclan, and added, "I'll take Rec along to check it out, since she's itching for something to do."

"I'll need fifteen minutes," said Reclan excitedly. She looked at the disassembled drones on the table. "Um, better make it twenty."

Vanbrook laughed and went off to prep for a short hike.