Far away from Hittania, Prime Minister Skritka stood on the dais in the auditorium of the Major House. “As it has been more than a week since we have heard from the Blue Griffon Fleet, may we please have a motion from the Expansion Committee to send a rescue fleet to Hittania?”
Trekna stood up. “The Expansion Committee does not believe that to be necessary.”
Skritka stared daggers at the smug Raki.
“According to protocols, it’s time to send a rescue fleet,” the Prime Minister said coolly.
“No, according to protocols it’s not too early to send someone,” responded Trekna. “There is no law that says we must.”
“In that case, I will be sending a diplomatic envoy,” said Skritka. Trekna balked.
“What!?” he cried incredulously.
“A diplomatic envoy,” said Skritka, keeping the smirk off his face as he said it. “As Prime Minister, I have the authority to send a diplomatic envoy to any world, belt, nation, or region that is part of the Republic. Hittania is rightfully claimed by the Republic, and I am sending an envoy to it.”
“This is a waste of resources!” shouted Trekna.
“Take it up with the Ethics Committee,” said Skritka, “but I am within my authority.” Trekna stomped out of the room, and Skritka allowed himself a small smile. He was able to close the meeting down shortly, and went straight to the Executor’s office.
Executor Grak-Yurp, who kept his office in the basement of Griffon Keep, was an unassuming, shrewd Krauqian with slick, gray-green skin and the typical short beard of tendrils found on males of his species. Though it was by no means a secret that he oversaw the executive functions of the Republic, he was not a political figure, per se. Executors were appointed for ten year terms by the Major House and approved by the minor house. Grak-Yurp was in the middle of his third consecutive term, toiling away in obscurity by design. He sat behind his desk, a single, filled-out form the only object resting on it.
“Prime Minister, what does my head of state need today?” Skritka was never certain if that phrase was meant to sound respectful, or if Grak-Yurp was calling him a puppet.
“I need a diplomatic envoy sent to Hittania,” said the Prime Minister firmly, “and I need it fast-tracked.”
“Sadly,” said the Krauqian, stroking his beard thoughtfully, “the light cruisers typically sent for this kind of mission are all otherwise engaged in a training exercise, announced just moments before you arrived, actually.
“However, there is a single destroyer, the Halberd, whose drills were canceled within the same time frame. Of course, you’d have to sign a waiver to send a military vessel on a diplomatic mission, one much like this here.” He indicated the lone piece of paper on his desk.
“And look at that. It’s already filled out. Just sign here.” He indicated the space and winked at Skritka, who signed the paper immediately.
***
Back on Hittania, just outside the wreck of the Ferryman, Reclan had just finished loading the survivors into the ATUCs. Some of them had started to groan and move around as Doc treated their bite wounds and other minor injuries, but none of them were fully conscious. Just then, Vanbrook called. His voice was fuzzy and distant over the comms.
“Hey, buddy, we’ve got problems here. We aren’t making much progress, but from the sound of things we’ve got some bugs digging through one of the side tunnels. Raivyn’s trying to hold them back by collapsing more dirt into the tunnel but I don’t know how long that will hold them.”
“Oh, boy,” said Reclan. “Okay, keep it up, we’re on our way.” She looked at the daystar, which had passed its peak for the day and started moving towards the horizon.
“Dekken,” she said, looking to the chief engineer. “Load up your crew and get your ATUC back to the shuttle. You’ve got the most crucial parts and the bulk of the survivors. Just lend us some basic digging equipment and let us worry about the ramp and anything else you need to leave behind. Oh - ” she said, grabbing the plasma cutter she’d modified, “ - here’s your cutter back awhile, as well.”
Dekken looked askance at the tool, with its hastily bolted extension and film of centipede slime.
“You know what? You can keep that,” he said.
“Oh, you sure?” asked Reclan.
“Yeah, I’ll see to the paperwork to make it official, but consider that Talon Squad property. My gift to you for helping get our folks back.” Reclan smiled appreciatively.
The engineers were soon off and Reclan, D’Jarric, and Doc headed back into the wreck with shovels and a two-foot-tall earth moving drone that resembled a miniature backhoe.
“We’re on our way,” said Reclan over the comms.
“Good,” said Vanbrook, scrambling to get rocks and dirt moved out of the way. Raivyn continued trying to further obstruct the tunnel the centipedes were digging out.
Over the next hour, the digging drone moved over a ton of earth, and the others all used shovels to clear the loose dirt away. Raivyn and Vanbrook could hear them digging now, but the sounds of the centipedes were getting closer, too. Vanbrook imagined he could hear faint hisses and clicks as well as the scraping of armored limbs and mouthparts.
When the drone’s bucket finally broke through on the upper part of the cave in, all of Talon Squad broke into a cheer. The drone kept working, slowly opening up a hole big enough for Raivyn to fit through.
Just then, the pile of dirt keeping the centipedes out burst open, and a hissing monstrosity scurried out. Vanbrook leapt forward and pinned it to the ground with his saber, only to have two more wriggle through the hole.
“Go!” he screamed to Raivyn, firing a round into each of the emerging centipedes with his revolver. She obliged, scrambling through the hole and joining the rest of Talon Squad. The hole the centipedes were emerging from was growing much quicker than the hole the drone was digging. Vanbrook could no longer kill the centipedes fast enough to keep them at bay, and he was nearly overrun.
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“I’M COMING THROUGH, NOW OR NEVER!” he shouted, turning and running towards the hole. The drone pulled back, and Vanbrook dove through, his shoulders getting caught as he tried to shimmy through. He wriggled forward, anticipating a bite at any moment, but a glowing yellow hand grabbed his and pulled with confident, constant force. He popped out of the hole like a cork from a bottle, landing in a heap in front of D’Jarric.
The Solaran smiled, then shot a beam of energy at the newly-cleared hole, bringing another shower of clay down and sealing the centipedes in once again.
“That won’t take them long to get through,” he said, turning. “We’d best get going.”
They ran up the corridor, scrambled down the ladders and bounded down the ramp, piling into the ATUC. The sun was low in the sky.
“We ought to wait for the drone,” said Reclan. “It’s gonna take a bit to get down the ladders.” She looked around and saw centipedes starting to emerge from their nests in the evening sun.
“Nevermind,” she said hastily. “We can live without it.”
With a chorus of hissing, a wave of centipedes who had dug through the cave-in burst from the wreck.
“Go, GO, GOOO!” said Vanbrook, but the centipedes had already begun to box them in.
“Can we run them over?” asked Reclan.
Massive forms started to emerge, one from each of the mounds. They were like the other centipedes, but twice as long and with fangs three times as big.
“Huh,” said Doc indifferently. “Those must be the soldiers. I guess we didn’t see any before because they guard the main entrances.”
“Great! Nice to know, I guess!” shouted Reclan angrily.
Raivyn drove the ATUC into one of the crowds gathered between the mounds of the nest, blocking their exit. Centipedes whipped their heads up, snapping at the squad, most of whom were hanging onto the side of the ATUC, with the unconscious survivors taking up most of the space. She backed out of the melee, just as one of the soldier centipedes lunged towards them. Doc warded it off with a shot from his rifle, blowing off one of its fangs and causing it to hiss in pain.
“Drixen, this is Rai. We’re overrun and need air support,” Raivyn shouted into her comm.
“Raivyn, this is Drixen! We’re airborne in ten seconds, hang in there!”
Vanbrook had gotten fairly good at aiming for the centipedes’ eyes with the point of his saber, and Reclan had figured out how to wield her plasma blade with one hand while hanging from the ATUC. Doc fired energy bolts from his rifle into the horde as quickly as he could. D’Jarric did what he could with one arm as Raivyn focused on driving.
Vanbrook stabbed a soldier centipede in its eye, trying to drive the blade into the monster’s brain. The blade went deep and the centipede reared its head, throwing Vanbrook from the ATUC.
“Man overboard!” shouted Reclan, pointing to the swordsman.
Vanbrook activated his energy buckler and pulled his revolver. He fired two shots into the underbelly of the soldier that still had his sword embedded in its head. Before the dying centipede’s head hit the ground he had pulled his saber out and turned to slice another centipede into two pieces.
Raivyn swung the ATUC around to try to get to Vanbrook before he was torn to pieces. He jumped back onto the rail of the ATUC’s cargo hold, but in vain. The centipedes had completely boxed them in, and all they could do was fight for as long as their strength and ammunition lasted.
Just then, a rumble sounded from the heavens and two energy cannons began firing. One of the hills was flattened by a barrage of cannon fire, showering Talon Squad in fine dirt and small stones.
“Woohoo!” shouted Drixen, turning in the air to make another pass with the shuttle, “Ugh, these things are disgusting.”
“Tell me about it!” said Reclan.
“Okay,” said Drixen. “The hill I’m blasting flat is the landing zone. After this volley, get there, and be ready to board!”
He passed overhead again, blasting the same area and clearing it of centipedes. Raivyn gunned it for the opening, and the shuttle banked in, cargo ramp down, ready for the ATUC to drive up it. The maneuver should have been impossible in the clunky shuttle, but Drixen had managed it. Raivyn pressed the accelerator to its maximum and shot into the cargo hold, slamming the brakes just in time to keep from crashing into the engineer’s ATUC.
One of the soldier centipedes crawled up the ramp as Kaihla hit the button to shut the ramp. It closed on the centipede as it clamped its fangs at Vanbrook, still hanging on to the back of the ATUC. Vanbrook held his ground as the door squeezed shut, decapitating the monster. The shuttle shot into the air, loaded with survivors and spare parts. Talon Squad, the engineers and the pilots cheered loudly and shot off across the continent.
The mood was still festive as Raivyn walked boldly up to Drixen, took him by the shoulders and said, “thank you,” smiling into his eyes and planting a tender kiss on his cheek. She pulled back and looked into his eyes again, face flush with anticipation, wondering if he’d be looking for another kiss. Drixen’s eyes went wide and his face turned red. Kaihla coughed into her hand. Raivyn turned to her, eyes widening. Kaihla gave her a smile, the kind of smile that didn’t reach the eyes and radiated murderous intent.
“You haven’t told them yet, eh, Textbook?” said the pilot, turning her glare on Drixen. Raivyn was feeling extremely small at the moment.
“It’s- uh- been a busy day,” he said, then, trying to muster a smile continued, “but last night, Kaihla agreed to marry me. We’re engaged!”
Raivyn forced a smile, while all she wanted to do was shrivel up cry herself to death from sheer embarrassment. She didn’t even realize the two were a couple, though it seemed obvious in retrospect. “Congratulations. I’m so excited for you two. Awesome.”
The Dromean pilot snickered. Raivyn walked quickly back to the cargo hold and into one of the small cabins, shutting the door. The remaining members of Talon Squad looked around at one another, trading shrugs.
“Yeah,” said Vanbrook. “Congratulations! We had no idea you two were even courting.”
“We’re very private people,” said Kaihla. The smile she shot at Vanbrook wasn’t much warmer than the one she’d given Raivyn.
“Well then, we won’t talk about it anymore,” said Vanbrook, holding her gaze and returning her a much more friendly smile.
“Uh,” said Reclan, looking around for a more pleasant subject, “Doc, um… how are our patients?”
“Awkward. I mean awful. I mean fine,” said the robot.
The rest of the trip was a whirlwind of activity, as the survivors began waking up under Doc’s care. The transition was rough. Everyone either rose groggily and wandered around, zombie-like, until their senses slowly returned, or woke up suddenly, screaming, as if coming out of a nightmare.
The engineering team, made whole again, exchanged hugs and laughter once the immediate terror had dissipated. Even the madman who had shot at D’Jarric came to his senses.
“My name is Brynot,” he said, walking up to D’Jarric with an outstretched hand. D’Jarric took it and gave it a firm shake.
“D’Jarric,” he said, indicating himself.
“I- I’m so sorry for the way you found me. I wasn’t in my right mind,” he said, breaking his eyes away from the Solaran’s.
“I might have shot at me too, in your situation,” said D’Jarric with a chuckle. The man brightened up some.
“I was the quartermaster on the Ferryman. Hopefully there’ll be some work for me onboard the Wingspan when we get back up to the ship.”
Realization dawned on D’Jarric. Those who were waking up had no idea what they were heading back into. He nodded to Brynot and turned to Doc.
“Is everyone awake?” he asked the Robot.
“Yup. Awake and coming to their senses. Had to give a few of them a dose of tranquilizer to keep them from tearing the ship apart, but we’re good now.”
D’Jarric stood at the entrance to the cockpit and addressed the ragged crowd that milled around in the shuttle. He brought them up to speed on the situation they found themselves in, most importantly that the Wingspan was grounded and unable to communicate with the Republic. Their faces fell, but the general attitude was one of sober resolve.
“We’ll take the fight to that so-called ‘kingdom,’” said Brynot. “Then they’ll see the danger of a wounded griffon!” The overfilled shuttle shook with the cheer that went up.
D’Jarric smiled.