Stepping out onto the sandy grounds of the Lakeside Airfield, Vanbrook smoothed his mustache, feeling more than a little frustrated. He had not anticipated backtracking to Gateway so soon and didn’t relish the remainder of the trip, either.
“This place is really nice,” said a voice behind him. Lawbine’s voice. “Glad I got a chance to come back so soon.”
Vanbrook ground his teeth. Lawbine’s presence had become unbearable. He’d been managing to get by without decking the man, but everytime he opened his mouth it got a little harder not to.
“Yeah, it’s a lovely world,” answered Raivyn. “But you ought to see Hittania some time.”
That was too much for Vanbrook. On some level, he knew the sentiment was ridiculous, but Hittania belonged to Raivyn and himself.
“So what’s the plan!?” he asked aggressively, failing to mask his anxiety with an innocent question.
“Huh?” asked Raivyn, taken aback by the intensity of the outburst.
“You know,” said Vanbrook, taking it down a couple notches and hoping a sudden calm would paper over his manic question. “The plan. How we’re going to spend our time on Gateway while shields recharge and we take on water. We can’t just sit on our hands, right?”
“Well… sure,” said Raivyn, her one eye narrowing as she knit her brows. “Chief Dekken asked me to check in with Chreep, see if there was anything we could help with. We need to build as much goodwill as possible since we anticipate calling in a lot of favors in the short term.”
“Okay, how about you and I go talk to him, then?” asked Vanbrook.
“We’re all going to go,” said Raivyn with a quick shake of her head. “The six of us. It’s just a short walk over to the lake tower.”
“Maybe we can take a walk around the lake later?” he asked hopefully.
“Van, focus,” said Raivyn. She stole glances at the rest of the squad. Reclan was grimacing, and D’Jarric was smirking, subtle as his expressions could be. Doc had the air of someone deliberately not paying attention. Lawbine’s face was inscrutable. Raivyn flushed, embarrassed by Vanbrook’s odd display. “We can talk about a walk later.”
Vanbrook’s face darkened for a moment, but the frustration gave way to a kind of despairing look and he nodded, turning back towards the lake tower and walking on. Raivyn shook her head and followed.
A short meeting with Chreep later, Talon Squad found themselves loading up the shuttle with supplies and heading for the recently abandoned village the formerly-exiled psychic Shairet had lived in. Chreep had explained that they hoped to make the village into something more than a refuge for the exiled, since their little lakeside village was expanding rapidly due to interplanetary trade. Along with a few Shairet masons and a handful of engineers and laborers from the Blue Griffon Fleet, they flew off to the site ready to break ground. A short flight later, they landed at the site and piled out of the shuttle, walking over to the tree-shaded lakeshore.
“The idea is to build a tower up out of the water, much like the one at Lakeside,” said Kreel, a Shairet mason and psychic who was leading the project. She pointed into the algae-covered lake. “There’s already a large building down below with a few smaller outbuildings. I know this lake is somewhat… shabby, but we called it home for years. Sentimentality aside, it’s the mineral deposits in the swamps to the north that make the place attractive. We hope to use this site as a kind of mining town, and then ship out to other planets via Lakeside. To that end, we want to build a ‘warehouse’ on the surface and-”
“Grools!” shouted one of the other Shairet.
With no further warning, a pack of monstrous creatures lept from the treeline, snarling as they tackled the closest targets to the ground, Vanbrook among them. His world was suddenly a confusion of pain, growls, and snapping teeth. Using one hand to hold the creature back by its throat, he pulled his pistol with the other. However, before he could pull the trigger, an orange ray pierced the beast’s chest and it rolled off of Vanbrook, howling.
Vanbrook scrambled to his feet and assessed the situation. He saw six burly forms with rough, purple skin. They resembled massive, lean rabbits the size of a wolf with sharp, slender claws and the head of an alligator.
He ran over to the closest one, which was attempting to gnaw one of the engineers to death. He drew back his sword when another orange bolt tore through that beast as well. Vanbrook tried to change targets but before he could get a clean shot or slash lined up, an orange bolt would slam into his prey, knocking it off its victim.
In short order, the creatures either lay dead by the lakeshore or ran howling back into the treeline, their attack thwarted. Doc quickly got to work examining and triaging the victims.
“Grools,” said Kreel, shaking her head. “We were able to keep predators such as them at bay when we lived here, scaring them off with a sustained psychic aura. I am surprised they invaded the area so quickly after we left.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Two dead,” reported Doc grimly. “One of our engineers and one Shairet mason. Two others in need of immediate medical assistance. Maybe three, Van?”
“No, I’m alright,” said Vanbrook. “Maybe a few scratches.”
“I’ll get you some universal antibiotic for them, but you’re last on the list,” said Doc.
“Thanks,” said Vanbrook with a chuckle.
“Well well well, Van,” said Lawbine. “Looks like I pulled your fat out of the fryer again.”
Vanbrook was very fuzzy on the details of what happened next. The comment was like a spike through his brain that short circuited his ability to reason. He turned and swung, catching Lawbine across the jaw with his saber’s handguard. The gunslinger stumbled back, tripping and falling to the ground, where he stared up at Vanbrook with murder in his eyes. Vanbrook stepped back, relenting, but Lawbine stood up and charged. Throwing down his sword and gun before the incident took an even darker turn, Vanbrook crouched into a fighting stance as Lawbine tumbled into him. The slick ground of the lakeshore slipped out from under Vanbrook’s feet and he fell square on his back, grunting as the air left his lungs. The two fighters tumbled in the mud for a moment before something grabbed each of them by the shoulders and tugged them skyward. Vanbrook’s fighting fire left him immediately when he realized he was staring into the infuriated eye of Raivyn, suspended in midair next to Lawbine, held in place by her telekinetic powers. He sighed heavily and hung his head.
***
Skritka paced his office fretfully, waiting for his next update. It was always the same. They couldn’t see anything yet. His comm rang, and he scrambled to answer it.
“What do you have?” he asked.
“Nothing yet, sir,” answered Administrator Sta-Kwi.
Skritka sighed. Something had to change. With the deep scouting team unable to get close enough for real time data, they were totally in the dark as to what the enemy was up to. After a quick goodbye to Sta-Kwi, he reached out to Grak-Yurp.
The Executor answered immediately. “Yes, Prime Minister?”
“Executor,” said Skritka. “We can’t keep operating under all these unknowns. What are our options here?”
“We have been looking at outfitting ships with guarded generators, based on the Marines’ ability to utilize their suits after the disruptor ray froze the Gladius’ systems. With the right EM shielding around the generators, we believe we can either restart a ship’s systems immediately or, if we’re lucky, avoid having them shut down at all.”
“Excellent, how soon can a military fleet be fitted with these shields?” asked Skritka.
“Less than a week,” said Grak-Yurp.
“Okay,” said Skritka thoughtfully. “Less than a week to decide whether to risk sending them to meet the foe.”
“We have little choice,” warned Grak-Yurp. “It is a risk indeed, but a risk we can’t afford not to take.”
Skritka sighed, pushing his spectacles up his snout resignedly. “You’re right, of course. I’ll start trying to warm the Houses up to the idea.”
***
The Wabulubans had only taken minor losses in the Cornucopia War, but claimed they were still rebuilding their Navy and couldn't spare troops to bolster Griffonia’s defenses. The PIC had all but laughed Dekken down when he approached them. The Hrudukites were willing to offer material support but understandably didn't want to risk their fledgling Navy on the myriads of unknowns. The next call was to Crush and the FRF.
Of course, the Prime Minister was reaching out to the various nations and factions as well, but the idea was that the Blue Griffon Fleet had some weight to throw around both as a diplomatic entity and military brothers-in-arms.
But that weight belonged to former-Admiral Jasken, or maybe Admiral Hunt, not to Chief Engineer Dekken.
Crush answered the call, and Dekken had to force himself to put on a show of confidence rather than let his self-doubt shine through. He’d never dealt with her directly.
“Admiral Crush, how have you been?” he asked, his antennae turned up in what he hoped was a warm smile.
“In the week or so since you were here on Cradle?” she asked. “Fine, Admiral…”
“Dekken,” he answered. “And it’s actually Chief Engineer. I’m, uh, acting as admiral for the time being.”
“Chief Engineer Dekken, then,” said Crush. “I take it the rumors are true concerning Admiral Hunt?”
“I’m not sure what you’ve heard but I am not at liberty to discuss that matter,” said Dekken.
“Very diplomatic,” said Crush with a nod. She seemed sincere, as far as Dekken could tell, though the compliment felt back-handed. “So, why did you reach out? I take it this is related to the invasion of Griffonia.”
“It’s not an invasion yet, unless you know something I don’t,” said Dekken. “But yes, we’re looking to put together a coalition in the name of deterrence.”
“And if deterrence fails?” asked Crush, her blue eyes narrowing somewhat.
“I do not mean to suggest there is no risk involved, Admiral,” said Dekken, waving a hand as if to clear away the misunderstanding.
“Of course,” said Crush. “I will not make any promises without consulting my people and, of course, the King and Queen. The fate of the FRF and the people of Cradle are linked now; perhaps they always were.
“But I will tell you what I told your Prime Minister: the Griffon Republic–the Blue Griffon Fleet in particular–are the oldest and dearest allies of the Free Revolutionary Fleet. We will stand by you if trouble comes your way. Also, I suggested he revisit Republic’s policy on not hiring mercenaries.”
Dekken felt his body relax, unaware of how tense he’d been. “Thank you, Admiral, that’s gratif-”
An explosion rocked the bridge and a flash cast the entire room in stark reds for a split second. Dekken stumbled, regaining his balance and running to the window closest to the blast. Looking down on the rest of the ship from the bridge tower he saw that, though the Wingspan appeared to be unharmed, the Vahsing was a pile of smoldering rubble.
“Chief Engineer? Are you alright?” asked Crush.
“I- uh- yes! But I will have to call you later, Admiral,” he answered.
“Good luck with… whatever has happened,” said Crush, ending the call herself.
“Triflin!” shouted Dekken into his comms. “I want to know what just happened. Get any footage you can of aether-traffic above our location. As soon as you have that running I want a direct comm line with Lord Wyven. Engineering, I want you over at the Vahsing immediately to coordinate search-and-rescue operations. Drixen, scramble fighters and get up and scout the skies immediately.”
“Right away, sir,” said Drixen. “Am I looking for anything or anyone in particular?”
Dekken’s stalked eyes angled in a dangerous look. “Lady Rewna.”