Admiral Grim adjusted the red overcoat that hung over his massive metal frame as he watched the reports from the exploratory attacks come in. Of note was the fact that they were being led by the Wingspan, Admiral Jasken’s carrier. That could prove interesting. He would have liked to have avoided confronting the Republic, but they had stumbled upon the planet he’d been searching for, which saved him the trouble of doing so himself. The Republic didn’t yet know what secrets “Hittania,” as they’d dubbed it, held, and he hoped he might be able to chase them off before they discovered that they were not the first visitors here.
He stroked his “beard,” a decorative set of thick chains that hung from his wide metal chin below his skull-like faceplate. The Griffon Republic was putting up a stiffer resistance than anticipated. Any future attacks would have to use much greater force. Still, they had learned what they set out to learn, and the gunships were very pleased to report that the rear-facing stealth missile system they’d installed had taken down Textbook, an infamous Republic pilot. One less boogieman to spook the Collective frontliners was a good thing. What he’d really liked to have seen was Jasken’s head on a platter, but taking down an ace like Textbook was a huge bonus in itself. However, they had taken more damage to the guns than Grim was comfortable with. It had been too long since he’d made an example of someone and the crew was getting lazy. He turned to the small team of tacticians and tech support behind him.
“Splatter, why is it that the attacks were not simultaneous?” Grim’s tone was imperious and threatening.
“It’s the interference from the iron deposits, Admiral,” answered a small, mousy robot. “They’re interfering with comms and making coordination difficult.”
Grim walked over, put his hand on his subordinate’s shoulder and leaned in dangerously close, his skeletal visage inches from Splatter’s.
“Difficult, or impossible? There is a difference, Splatter. Mistakes like this cost lives.” From the reports, Grim didn’t believe it made a huge difference, but it was as nice an excuse as any he could think of.
“Difficult, sir. If I had thought of it ahead of time I could have-”
“Can you think of someone on your staff that would have thought ahead? Perhaps Crush. She seems competent.”
“I am, sir,” said a feminine robot. “I have a few thoughts on how to fix the communications issues, and some other ways to streamline the department besides.”
“Uh, sir?” The nature of Splatter’s inquiry was never fully explored, as Grim’s iron hand shot out and smashed the housing that made up his outer torso. His fingers dug into the body cavity with the follow through. With a sound of rending metal and popping wires, Grim tore Spatter’s core out and crushed it in his fist. A robot's core represented their essential being. Made of a rare, naturally formed crystal, only cores had the complex crystalline structure that allowed robots to be sapient beings rather than mindless automatons. Without his core, Spatter was little more than a small pile of scrap.
If Crush had a face made of flesh, she might have smiled. She had been feeding Splatter bad ideas and letting him take the credit ever since she got this assignment. He was an idiot, a drag on the Collective, and a perfect stepping stone.
“Take this scrap to the workshop,” snapped the Admiral. “Maybe some of these parts can be utilized in repairing our gunship.”
A couple larger robots came forward and started carrying the body away.
“Wait a second,” commanded Grim. He stepped over and tore Splatter’s head from his shoulders. “I’ve been needing a paper weight for my desk.”
***
On the other side of the planet, Vanbrook and Reclan were heading out into the sun-dappled, vine-covered temperate forests that surrounded Talon Squad’s base camp, watching a flock of red cranes fly overhead in the morning sky. Reclan slapped a mosquito-like insect off her dark olive scales, too annoyed to take in the natural beauty all around her.
The low-lying forests covered a large portion of Hittania’s surface. Rivers flowed off the volcanic mountain ranges to the east and pooled in the forested, swampy lowlands of the world’s dominant continent, creating massive deposits of quality bog iron right there for the taking. The planet was unusually iron-rich and many other forms of iron could be found throughout the planet, but the orange-hued deposits that appeared throughout the swamps and the gray-purple, hematite-rich mountains were the most evident to the naked eye.
Following the Robot’s tracks, the two squadmates soon found an end to them.
“Like I figured,” said Vanbrook. “They hid where the trees were thick enough to give them cover and then took off when their buddies got scrapped.”
“So you took me along for a wild goose chase,” Reclan retorted. “Thanks.”
“No, I took you out here because you needed to get off your butt and do something to clear your head. Will you just take it down a few notches?” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking for the right words.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“Look, I get it. You’re the newest member of the squad and you’re eager to prove yourself. You will. Reclan, I’ve known you since you were an egg, for goodness’ sake. I wouldn’t have recommended you for the squad if I didn’t think you’d be a valuable part of it. But believe me when I say you’re gonna wear out your welcome real quick if you don’t stop whining like a baby at every imagined slight, okay?”
Reclan blinked. Van had this weird way of seeming aloof and uncaring swashbuckler only to thrust, parry, and feint his way through every emotional defense one could muster with people skills that rivaled his swordplay.
“Fine,” sighed Reclan. “I’ll try and be a team player.”
Eager to change the subject, she decided to antagonize her old friend a little.
“So, how about we talk about your issues of the heart? Only seems fair. When are you gonna get serious about Raivyn?”
It was Vanbrook’s turn to blink.
“Hey, just because she’s literally the only Human woman on the planet doesn’t mean I have to be interested in her. Besides, I’m still getting over Eanale.”
“The last girl you courted was named Yndina.”
“Yeah, which ended because I wasn’t over Eanale.”
“Tell me one significant detail about Eanale’s life. Parents’ names? Home planet? Years served in the Navy?”
“Not the point.”
“Look, all I’m saying is, pick a side; are you a heartbreaker or are you heartbroken?”
Van stared at his feathered reptilian friend. She could be a serious nuisance sometimes. Thankfully, their comms buzzed just then.
“Van, you out there?” inquired Raivyn through crackling static.
“Hey, Raivyn!” said Reclan. “We were just talking about you.”
Van kicked Reclan in the shin, glad she didn’t return the favor since her clawed feet might sever his leg in two.
“Yeah,” he said into the radio, “nothing much to report. As suspected, they must have used a hover vehicle and they’re long gone. Looks like they came from the north, but that’s about all I can say for sure.”
“Well, we’ve got other issues. Looks like a pilot crash-landed up that way. Drixen. Goes by Textbook when he’s flying.”
“Huh. Yeah, I’ve heard the name. Bigshot ace pilot. Do we know if he made it?”
“No, we don’t. They lost his fighter’s signal to EM interference and if he’s tried to make comms contact, he hasn’t been able to. He’s somewhere up north, but we don’t have an exact location. Jasken wants us to check it out. We'll be quicker since we’re already clayside. Hurry back, we’ll have the ATUC loaded up and ready by the time you get here.”
“Alright. We’re on our way back.”
***
Hundreds of miles to the north, Drixen woke up with a start. He was still strapped into the cockpit and right side up, but even from in here he could tell the damage to his poor, beloved fighter was extensive. Moving around some to check himself over, he was pleased to find all his limbs were in place and functional.
Trying the comms, all Drixen heard was static. After a few minutes of fiddling with no results, he sighed resignedly and figured he’d better set up a camp, probably towards the woods. The pit he’d seen on the mountain-facing side of the field didn’t look like a place to go exploring alone, though he’d make sure he noted it when he got in contact with the Wingspan.
He pulled the release and the canopy popped up a few inches and jammed. Groaning, he reached for the small tool box by his seat and pulled out a pry bar. Slipping it into the opening, he gave it a violent wrench and the springs designed to open the canopy were released suddenly. The hinge gave way and the whole canopy went flying through the air, landing with a crunch somewhere behind the fighter. Drixen shook his head, unbuckled himself and crawled out to get a survey of his surroundings. His boots made an unhappy squelching sound as they hit the ground. He groaned.
The boggy field he was in was a great place to land but not a great place to set up camp. Grabbing the detachable comms system, tool box, and emergency supplies from the cockpit, he started high-stepping his way through the squelching mud. Looking forlornly at his crushed fighter, he glanced at the setting sun and marched over to the edge of the woods in search of a sheltered spot that wasn’t too marshy.
About a hundred yards from the wreck he found a raised grassy area on the edge of the forest. It was just big enough for him to lay down with his supplies, so he laid out a small bed roll and tried to find the best place for all the gear. Just as was settled in and ready to start fiddling with the radio again, he heard a snort coming from the woods.
Turning slowly, Drixen locked eyes with a brawny reptilian biped with a body like a gorilla and the tusked snout of a boar.
“Easy, buddy, easy…”
But the boar ape was not feeling easy. He was, in fact, very hungry and omnivorous.
“You sapient?” Drixen asked, holding his hands up, palms forward in the universal gesture of “I mean no harm, can we talk this out?” Unfortunately for Drixen, it was not sapient and had no interest or, for that matter, concept of talking anything out. As far as it was able to form thoughts behind its mean, close-set, beady eyes, they were something along the lines of “This creature is new. I wonder what it tastes like.”
With that on its mind, the boar ape roared and charged. Drixen dropped down and pulled the small raygun he carried from his boot. Searing energy shot from the antenna-like muzzle of the gun, causing the ape to dodge to the side. The bolt grazed the beast’s side, doing little to slow it down but enraging it greatly.
Turning back towards Drixen, it swung a massive clawed hand at the pilot, slicing through his shirt and leaving three long wounds in his chest and shoulder. Drixen cried out in pain, but brought around his gun hand to put a bolt right into the beast’s chest. The rage in its eyes turned to a grimace of pain and it collapsed, dead.
Drixen collapsed as well, falling onto his now-bloodied sleeping mat. Feeling woozy from blood loss, he grabbed the bandages from his supplies and began wrapping the wounds to the best of his abilities. The bandages were infused with antiseptic and painkillers, instantly taking the edge off and making him feel drowsy. He hoped that’d keep him alive and reasonably comfortable until help came. If help came. He’d have to try and get the comms to work soon, but right now he needed rest. The adrenaline was wearing off and he was exhausted.
As he closed his eyes, he heard movement from deeper in the woods. His eyes snapped open and he looked out to see a dozen pairs of mean, close-set beady eyes in the darkening forest. Drixen took a deep breath and gripped his raygun tightly.