Krum-Bahk fell to one knee, fighting the psychic attack that threatened to turn him into a mindless killing machine. His mind went back to his childhood, where his grandfather, a Krauqian sage, had taught him all he could. Krum-Bahk was not psychically gifted, but one didn’t have to be to fight off a psychic attack. The key was to focus on something beyond the self, rather than try to wrest control from the attacker or counter them directly. He concentrated on his surroundings, trying to anchor himself to reality.
He saw the dark hallway, the dim lights, and his squadmates. Grepk was on his knees, his hands on his helmet, trying to fight the attack. Fenyn was faring little better, and Keshri was launching herself at her struggling squadmate, claws extended. The sight of the attack drew Krum-Bahk back to reality. He reached out and grabbed the small, powerful Talpidarian before she could do too much damage, hurling her as far as he could manage. She rolled to a stop a little way down the hall.
When she stood up, her eyes locked unto the cultist, who was standing with his eyes closed and hands outstretched, a faint smile on his lips. He opened his eyes in terror as he sensed Keshri’s intentions, but it was too late. She fell on him, her claws reaching out, her lips peeled back in a snarl. He was dead before the two hit the ground.
As the psychic died, his influence over the squad died, too. They shook themselves off one at a time. Krum-Bahk was the first to come to, and he immediately saw to Fenyn. The Human had a deep gouge in the toughened fabric between the shoulder and upper arm. Krum-Bahk applied a strip of bandage to the wound then sealed the armor with an aerosol gel designed for the task. Fenyn nodded in approval and stood up.
Grepk held a hand against his helmet, steadying himself against a wall. Keshri stood up and turned back to Krum-Bahk, her eyes narrowing.
"Did you… throw me?"
Krum-Bahk looked around, as if expecting to find an excuse written on the walls. Then Keshri noticed the fresh repair on Fenyn’s armor.
“Fen!” she shouted, remembering what she’d done in her rage. “Are you okay!?”
“Ah, don’t flatter yourself,” said the Marine, shrugging with a smirk. “Your claws got through the joint of the armor but hardly scratched me. No worries.”
“All squads, this is Grepk,” said the squad leader over the comms. “We have made contact with the cult. Be advised that we may be dealing with some powerful psychics.”
He stepped past the dead cultist.
“Good work, rookie. That was quick thinking, especially given the circumstances. C’mon, squad, we’ve got a lot more floors to clear.”
***
Raivyn was already standing in Jasken’s office with Doc and D’Jarric when Vanbrook and Reclan joined them. Reclan looked dejected, probably because she’d had her heart set on trying out the local delicacies before Jasken had called them back from the leave they were supposed to be on for the next twelve hours.
“I’m sorry to cut your leave short,” said Jasken, addressing the squad. “But something’s come up. The mayor of Tra-Kirakna has requested our help with a problem he’s been dealing with, and has asked for Talon Squad specifically.”
Raivyn bristled. She didn’t answer to the mayor of Tra-Kirakna, and she wasn’t interested in doing their bidding.
“Evidently a giant sea slug has taken up residence in the ruins below the cliffs,” continued Jasken. “These slugs are destructive and dangerous. Not only does the slug pose a risk to civilians, it’s also destroying an important cultural landmark.”
“We’re not the local police,” said Raivyn. “Much less local animal control.”
Jasken shot her a stern, questioning look. “No, but we are here. And this is an important issue. Let’s be good guests and help the mayor out, alright?”
Raivyn nodded, her serious expression an unreadable mask.
“I’m assuming we’re not just going to dump a big bag of salt on this bad boy?” asked Vanbrook.
“No,” replied Jasken, smoothing his mustache. “From what I understand, it’s going to be a bit more difficult than that. A local guide is going to help you reach the ruins. She’ll also be explaining more about the specifics of the problem. Providence shine on your mission.”
Talon Squad filtered out of Jasken’s office and made their way to their ATUC hovercraft.
“Well, maybe you’ll get to try some local seafood yet, Rec,” said Vanbrook, a twinkle in his eye. “Ever had sea slug before?”
Reclan shot him a dirty look and kept moving.
***
Darvik ambled through the outskirts of Tra-Kirakna, making his way up a hill overlooking the naval yard. He had only arrived on world a few hours ago and it had taken him some time to get hold of a rifle. He’d bought one cheaply and quietly from an unscrupulous Raki fisherman. It was a small, survival-style rifle, with a folding stock and bare-bones construction, making it easier to carry through town without raising any eyebrows. Evidently the locals often carried them when out on the water to fend off pirates and sea creatures.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The top of the hill was flat, and Darvik knelt down behind a rock on the edge of the hilltop and watched the base for activity. It was a long wait, but Darvik didn’t have anywhere else to be. He nursed a flask of tepid, tasteless alcohol while he watched. The wait was worth it when he saw the ATUC coming out of the Wingspan’s main hangar. There was no guarantee Vanbrook would be in it, but special squads were known for using the vehicles.
Looking through the rifle’s small scope, he saw Vanbrook come into focus, sitting in the back of the open-air vehicle. His heart beat fast as he waited for a clean shot. He’d likely only get one, since the driver would take off as soon as the first bullet hit, and the road they were on would take them within a hundred yards or so of Darvik’s position at its closest point. He waited impatiently, licking his lips and squirming. Then the moment came. He let out a breath, and the world was suddenly spinning. Something had hit him.
Disoriented, Darvik struck out of pure instinct, hitting a large Human male in the jaw. Things started to click into place as he studied the scene around him. The man who had tackled him reeling away, struck by the butt of Darvik’s rifle. Darvik noticed a Krauqian male crouched behind the man and realized his attacker was not alone. He swung his rifle to shoot the Krauqian, but the Human had recovered and tried to wrestle the rifle away from him, giving the Krauqian time to draw a silenced pistol. Darvik wrenched on the rifle, dragging the man between his body and the gun, giving himself a moment to breathe.
The two black-clad assailants weren’t dressed right to be Navy, they certainly didn’t look like local law enforcement, and they apparently wanted to take him alive. As far as he was concerned, that was to his advantage. He wouldn’t pull any punches. He roared and charged forward, pushing the two attackers into one another. He took one hand off the rifle, pulled his knife and stabbed the Human. The man lost his grip on the rifle and fell, clutching the wound in his side. Now Darvik could swing the rifle up without interference.
His mind told his body to do just that, but his body didn’t respond. He felt the Krauqian’s telepathic fingers gripping his mind. He gritted his teeth and struggled to bring the gun up anyway. It moved, slowly and shakily.
You’re a strong one, aren’t you? said a voice in his mind. The telepathic attack was redoubled, and pain shot into Darvik’s mind. The rifle was soon forgotten and the world went black.
***
Vanbrook sat in the back of the ATUC, enjoying the warmth as they bounced down the road that led to one of the dome’s exits. The doors were wide open this time of year, though it could be closed and sealed the moment a storm or super tide threatened the city. Though the atmosphere was generally the same within and without the dome, Vanbrook couldn’t help but feel that the salty sea breeze that caressed his face felt freer somehow after they passed through the door.
A series of switchbacks took them down to an ornate stone building and an empty parking lot. A tall, thin Raki female with a hunting rifle slung over her shoulder leaned against the doorway to the building. When the ATUC was parked, she waved and walked over.
“You must be Talon Squad, eh?” she said in the hissing, clacking accent of a native Kiraknan. While it was possible for the crustacean species to learn to speak Talpaertan, the Griffon Republic’s common language, it was difficult. Most who lived on Kirakna would learn to understand and write Talpaertan, but few bothered to train their mouthparts and vocal chords to make the sounds needed to speak it.
“Yes, ma’am.” said Raivyn coldly. “I’m Raivyn. This is D’Jarric, Reclan, Vanbrook, and Doc Manford,” she said, indicating each in turn.
“And I’m Trelik,” said the Raki. “I’m the head park ranger here. And apparently the only ranger who understands the job.” She huffed, wriggling her antennae in annoyance, then continued.
“Honestly, I’m embarrassed to be talking to you. When the slug first emerged, I tried to round up the rangers to take it out, but no one wanted any parts of it. The park here is little more than a tourist attraction.
The buildings we’re hiking to are little more than the sheds of the old city; low-lying, stone buildings like the one behind me, designed to be abandoned during floods and then still be standing when everyone came back out. The rangers are more worried about littering and graffiti than hunting killer beasts. The Mayor knew you guys were heading out this way, and figured you could take care of it.”
Raivyn’s face lightened a bit at the explanation. At least Trelik had a good head on her shoulders.
“None of us can choose what our superiors order us to do, right?” she said.
“Guess not,” answered Trelik. “And it’s an honor to work with you, to be sure.”
Vanbrook nodded. "Tell us about the slugs, then. What have we gotten ourselves dragged into?"
"For starters, it's slug, singular, not slugs, plural, thank the Progenitor," answered the ranger. "Sometimes they gather in groups, but this one appears to be solitary. What you need to understand about Kiraknan giant sea slugs is that they have more in common with the average apex predator than they do with a typical sea slug.
"We're looking at a globular, worm-like creature strutting around on ten poorly-defined limbs that are more extensions of its muscular underbelly than true feet. It's around eight feet high at the shoulder, and its mouth is a circular maw of grinding, tearing teeth, dripping with acidic saliva. It can move quicker than you'd expect, so keep your guard up.
"The one that's made its home here is looking to build a nest, which it will make out of stone. If it can't find stones it likes, it will break down larger stones with its saliva, which is why the ruins are in danger."
"Huh," said Vanbrook. "So a salt shaker won't do the trick?"
"No," said the ranger with a chuckle, "but if you've got one, bring it along. Giant sea slug is a bit of a delicacy, and I'm absolutely frying up some steaks."
Vanbrook and Reclan exchanged intrigued looks.
"Also, small to medium caliber rounds aren't going to have much impact on the slug,” noted Trelik. “As much for our sake as the slug’s, we want a quick, clean kill. Aim for the head, right under the eye stalks, with high caliber rounds or energy weapons. I've got a big game rifle for just these sorts of occasions.
"Reclan, you're a drone pilot, correct?"
"Yeah, you want a bird's eye view of the ruins?" asked the Dromean.
"Exactly," said Treki. "Alright, let's get to it."