Much to the delight of the chefs, Vanbrook dropped the fresh crane off in the galley on the way to Jasken's quarters, and was the last member of Talon Squad to arrive at the meeting. Drixen, Kaihla, a female Dromean pilot Vanbrook didn’t recognize, and Chief Engineering Officer Dekken were there, as well. The third pilot was a response to Trikac’s death when they had gone to find the cylinder. Jasken wouldn’t risk undermanning an expedition again.

"Well, that's everyone," said Jasken. He walked over to the desk and tapped the display to reveal a map of the main continent of Hittania.

"This is us," he said, pointing to a blue pip on the map. He drew his finger far over to the west, saying. “This is the crash site. It appears to be at the other side of the basin created by the mountains just east of our position and those just west of the crash site.

"The comm division was able to identify the site just a few hours ago while combing through satellite images flagged by the computer, and when I say they were looking for a needle in a haystack, I am woefully underselling it.

"I’m sending an engineering team, alongside Talon Squad, to the crash site in a cargo shuttle to search for survivors. While there, your second priority is to retrieve the spare parts needed for repairing our ripmed drive, assuming they are still intact. Your third priority is to retrieve any parts that might aid our new allies, a splinter group from the Ramshackle Collective calling themselves the Free Revolutionary Fleet." He paused and looked around at the questioning glances that filled the room.

"This group gave us intel on the great eye that we destroyed. We would have been dead before we knew anything about it otherwise, so we're playing nice." His tone brooked no argument.

"We have no idea what kind of situation you'll face when you get to the crash site, but the terrain appears hilly," said Jasken. "We should be able to land here," he noted as he indicated a flat stretch of land, "and the crash site is just a few miles away, here, on these hills." He pointed to a series of small foothills that jutted up just below the western mountain range.

"Our geologists are curious about the formation of the hills, but collecting that sort of data is our lowest priority. Try to snap a few pictures for them, of course.

"The shuttle leaves in eight hours. Any questions?” Jasken looked around and saw only resolute faces. “Good. Dismissed."

The next eight hours were a blur of packing, checking gear and trying to find time to scarf down a meal or two. During all the bustle, one of the chefs managed to get a hold of Vanbrook and slip him a single roasted crane as an in-flight meal. He smiled at them gratefully and headed into the shuttle.

Once the flight got underway, the biological members of Talon Squad, as well as Dekken and his four engineers, headed off to the cramped cabins to rest. Drixen and Kaihla piloted the craft through the darkening sky while D'Jarric and Doc passed the time with a card game.

The next morning Vanbrook pulled the roast crane from the food storage bin and made an announcement over the shuttle's public comm.

"If everyone with a mouth and stomach, or stomachs, as the case may be, would direct their attention to the tiny counter that serves as our banquet table," announced Vanbrook, "they will see a delectable platter of freshly roasted Hittanian red crane." Vanbrook felt a strange mix of smug self-satisfaction and true altruistic happiness when Reclan scrambled over to see for herself, followed closely by Raivyn, the Dromean pilot, and the engineering team.

In the cockpit, Kaihla looked over her shoulder back towards the promise of fresh game and smiled at Drixen, saying, "I think you can handle this stretch without me." Drixen smiled and kept his eyes on the dials and flight path.

"Just bring me back a bit, if you can," he said.

Like Kwa-Kwa had said, it was a dark poultry, and it had been expertly seasoned with aromatic herbs and salt. There was enough meat for everyone to get a taste, but it felt like a feast after weeks and months of military rations. Though it made for a strange breakfast, the meal put everyone in a good mood for the remaining hours of the flight.

When the shuttle landed, most of the mirth melted away as Talon Squad and the engineering team loaded into their ATUCs and drove off, leaving Drixen and Kaihla to look after the shuttle.

Reclan snapped some pictures with her tablet as they passed by the first of the mounds. Her face looked thoughtful.

"What's up, Rec?" asked Vanbrook. The Dromean shook her head.

"I dunno. These don't look… natural. Or, at least, not geological."

"What do you think they are?" he asked.

"Hard to say," Reclan replied, "but we'd better keep our eyes peeled."

Vanbrook nodded.

***

Far overhead, Admiral Stork leapt from his skiff and stomped on to the deck of the Reaper. He turned his head side to side as he walked, his hands behind his back. His long, thin legs absorbed the shock as he walked by, bowing behind him with each step. Grim looked on in loathing.

"Welcome aboard my humble vessel," said Grim, with false enthusiasm, spreading his arms wide.

A smile spread over the sharp features of Stork's face. Some robots had convincing, handsome articulated faces; this wasn't one of them. It was a horrible, clanking, oily facsimile of a face, a strange modification that Stork thought helped him be a better communicator. In reality, it plunged him deep into uncanny valley territory, and his appearance even gave other Robots a vague feeling of uneasiness.

"Happy to be here," said the hideous Admiral, "happy to be here."

"Let's go to my cabin," said Grim. "We can discuss details there."

The tension in the aether was palpable as Stork's crew stared nervously around at Grim's. The various Collective fleets were allied, it was true, but rivalries and infighting were a given.

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"No fighting!" shouted Stork to the deck at large. "We'll have plenty of time for that once there's loot on the line! Ha!"

Grim gave a hearty laugh, but took the words seriously. He half hoped for an excuse to scrap the old bird, but he had a three-gunship fleet that Grim really needed access to. The rest of the crew laughed as well and the tension melted away.

Stork put an arm around Grim as they walked to his quarters and said in a low voice, "And now we talk percentages."

***

Back on the surface, Talon Squad led the way as the passages between the hills became narrower. Rounding a bend, they saw the hulking remains of the Ferryman, partially embedded in a large hill. The ring of airlocks that circled the middle of the rocket lay in twisted, broken pieces around the wreck.

They parked their ATUCs in front of the mound and piled out, gazing up at the wreckage. It was tilted slightly, and the main entrance was on the side of the ship that was sunk into the hill. They checked their comms for interference and found they could get a weak signal to the shuttle, but they couldn't reach Fort Bog Iron.

"Well," said Raivyn,"That could explain why no one called from the wreck. If the ship's main comms were down, personal comms can't cut through the interference." She looked up at the wreck and sighed. "I guess Talon Squad will go ahead first and check it out."

Vanbrook pointed up towards a utility hatch about twenty feet off the ground.

"I guess that's our entry point," he said. "Getting up there isn't too big a deal, but getting parts down from there is gonna be a chore."

Talon Squad readied their climbing gear and began scaling up towards the hatch. Vanbrook reached it first, but was unable to get the door opened.

"Hey, Rec, can you give me a hand with this?" he called down to her.

"Hey, Van, can you let the techie go first when there's a techie thing to deal with?" came the reply.

Vanbrook threw up his hands in defeat and let his line slide some, dropping out of the way.

Reclan fiddled with the door for a while, noticed that the frame had been bent in the crash, and rifled through her tool bag for a telescopic pry bar.

"Oh, real sophisticated approach, 'techie'!" called Vanbrook.

D'Jarric chuckled. Reclan rolled her eyes and jammed the pry bar into the gap between the door and frame. With an effort, Reclan managed to break the door free. There was a horrible screech, followed by a deafening clank and a soberingly long and hollow echo.

One by one, Talon Squad filed into the wreck. Every step they took echoed off into the gloom of the dark, cavernous ship. D’Jarric lit himself up, brightening the room considerably, but leaving shadows in the corners and behind the pieces of once-humming equipment, now silent.

“Doc and Reclan,” said Raivyn, quietly. “You spent some time on the Ferryman. One of you want to lead the way?”

“I spent all my time in the medical wing,” shrugged Doc.

“I know where we are, plus I’ve got the schematics on my tablet, of course,” whispered Reclan. “The parts really aren’t far from here. The hatch we came into should be the utility hatch, it’s just below the parts storage room, which is just below the fab shop. But, um, why are we whispering?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Raivyn, “but something’s off. I don’t like it.”

Relcan quietly made her way to the ladder that led out of the utility room, easing the hatch open and peering into the dark with her flashlight. When she looked back down at the others, her scales were a paler shade of green.

“Yeah, something’s off alright,” she said. “And I think I know why nobody called from the Ferryman. There’s blood all over the place up here.”

“Well, we better get up there and check it out, then,” said Vanbrook. He started toward the ladder, forcing Reclan to climb up ahead of him. They came up into the parts room. There were neatly stacked, safely stowed packages filling the shelves that lined the walls, and an elevator on the far side of the room for lifting parts. The ladder continued up to the next level, and the hatch was open. And the floor was slick with blood.

“Looks like it could be from the crash,” suggested Vanbrook. “Somebody was down here, got hurt, and was taken up top somewhere by the survivors.”

“I’d like to see some evidence that there are some survivors,” said Raivyn.

“Reclan, how about you and Doc sort through these boxes, find the pieces we need, and work out how to get them down to the ATUCs. D’Jarric, Vanbrook, and I will head up further into the ship and see what we can find.”

D’Jarric, acting as their lightsource, went first, climbing up the ladder and into the fab shop.

“More blood,” he said, “and some shotgun shells.” As he stooped to pick up a shell, there was a BANG that echoed violently in the small room and buckshot hit the wall behind the space D’Jarric had just been standing.

Vanbrook swung up into the room and had a gun on the shooter almost immediately. The shooter threw down the shotgun, trembling.

“Thought you were… one of them, y’know? But they don’t walk… or talk. Or glow. Doesn’t make sense, doesn’t make sense…” he drifted off, hardly paying them any notice. He was a Talipidarian male, wild eyed and scruffy, and wearing a torn Republic uniform.

“One of who?” asked D’Jarric calmly.

“ARE YOU CRAZY!” the man shouted. “They’ll hear… they’ll hear and they’ll be here…”

There was a silence that made Vanbrook feel like he couldn’t breathe. Then came a horrible rending noise, and a pitch-black, segmented body dropped from a ceiling vent, feelers writhing, fangs outstretched. Vanbrook fired at it, but the rounds bounced off. The madman was caught in the pincer-like mouth of the black centipede and the two disappeared into the ceiling together, the man screaming as they went.

***

Outside, the engineering team was sorting through the cranes, rails, and lifts they had crammed into their ATUC to make sure they were ready for any crates or parts Talon Squad brought back. Night was falling, so they called that project good and pulled out their tents.

"Should we head back to the shuttle?" asked one of the engineers, a Talpadarian female named Frit.

Dekken shrugged his shoulders, an impressive look for the spiny, armored Raki, and said, "Nah. I don't want to leave Talon Squad. We will definitely need to sleep in shifts, though."

One of the engineers was having difficulty setting a tent up by one of the mound-like hills.

"All that schooling, and I can't figure out a simple pop-up tent," he grumbled.

He didn't notice the sleek, black shape that emerged from the little hill and scurried towards him. Dekken turned just in time to shout.

"Look out!" he cried, but it was too late. The engineer was in the six-foot-long centipede's fangs and being dragged back into the hill.

"They're nests," said Frit in horror. “They're not hills, they're nests!"

The remaining engineers panicked, grouping up between the ATUCs and the wreck of the Ferryman. Centipedes began emerging from the mounds at a sickening rate, surrounding them. They all shouldered their rifles and fired on the oncoming horde, but very few bullets found the gaps between the hard armored plates of the monsters. Dekken looked ruefully at the open air ATUCs. They offered no shelter, but Dekken grabbed his tool belt out of instinct and slung it around his waist. If he had to fight, he wasn't doing it without tools.

"Climb!" he shouted, "Climb for your lives!" He fired another volley into the centipedes, looking over his shoulder to make sure everyone else had a good start climbing before he followed, the closest centipede only a few yards away.