Eric dropped to his hands and knees, his muscles twitching uncontrollably as the tail end of Osar’s electric attack coursed through his body. His battlesuit had taken the brunt of the surge, as it was meant to, sending most of the violent energy through its frame, into its boots, and into the road. What had really messed him up was the sharp tip of a chitterer’s narrow secondary leg that had punched through the rigid plates on his own left leg and drawn blood just at the instant that the electric blast had hit.
After the initial release of trapped air from the puncture, sealant gel from built-in vesicles had immediately surrounded the damaged area, but not fast enough to prevent the electricity from Osar’s blast reaming painfully into the breach.
His companions were shouting incomprehensibly over their squad net, a mass of words and noise so loud that Eric had to turn the ability off. The sudden silence was a relief, allowing him to gather what remained of his senses as he struggled to gain control of his damaged body.
“Healing two.” Pig announced, and Eric felt a quick pressurized touch on his lower back followed by a cool, soothing sensation as Pig directed one of the suit’s built-in potion injectors to release their contents.
The relief was short-lived though as a chitin enclosed claw struck his left pauldron.
Eric was flipped over by the strength of the blow, striking the road surface with his backplates and skidding several meters before hitting a crumbling wall and sending a shower of dust particles that glittered and slow-fell around him. With incredible speed the chitterer behemoth was before him, its fighting forelimbs blurring as it struck in rapid succession at Eric’s chest and mid-section. Eric, whose mind was still sluggish and confused, felt hot blood fill his mouth as he bit his lip and did his best to ward off the blows with his arms and forearms, but could do little more. Notification windows flickered at the edge of his vision, quickly shunted away to storage by Pig, probably carrying warnings about the damage he was receiving.
Then Osar crashed into the side of the crab, shield forward, his momentum boosted by the Voidwalker frames jump-jets. The Urgan’s augmented mass cracked the behemoth’s shell upon contact, tilting the monster onto its side and causing sparks to briefly erupt as its metal-encrusted shell scraped against the road surface. Osar was flung back, before using the jump-jets to counteract the force, and was about to press the attack when Serra streaked in, her hammer blazing with white light as she struck it at the crab’s exposed underside.
There was a painful flash of vertical light, and grey dust and small pebbles were blown outward in a circular wave around where Serra was crouched, pulling out the ichor stained hammer from the enlarged crack on the creature’s side. Signaling with a gore-splashed arm, Serra then dived to the side.
A wider, more intense beam of glowing energy punched into the flailing behemoth’s already damaged side, vaporizing everything in its path and splitting the creature into two. The two halves tumbled in different directions, one of them slamming into the dark metal of the Fortress wall while the other skittered with a spray of sparks and ichor into the open Gateway. Eric struggled to lift his head and see, his efforts rewarded by seeing a colorless cloud of aether rise from the half he could see and stream toward him and his team.
Notifications bloomed across his vision before Pig suppressed them all.
The beast was dead.
Bereft of their champion, the few remaining smaller chitterers retreated, leaving their battered opponent’s in possession of the dusty, ruined field.
Osar was the first to arrive at Eric’s side, his armor-clad arms surprisingly gentle as he helped the injured Terran up, giving him support as they staggered towards the Gateway. At the same time Cid rushed over to where Serra was sprawled and then, having shed the remains of his second cannon, helping her to her feet as they followed their companions towards the safety of the Gate lock.
“Your ribs are cracked sir,” Pig announced as Eric crossed the Gate’s threshold. “Stored healing potions are depleted. Minimal chance of complications. I think the battlesuit saved your life, Captain.”
Eric grunted an assent, folding slowly to the floor as the Gate dropped down to cut them off from the shattered wasteland of the Stage. Osar settled down beside him, and Serra and Cid stomped forward. Serra placed a hand on Eric’s left forearm, and Eric saw bands of orange and maroon aether curling out from her arm before fading as they connected with his armored sleeve. Eric gestured for her to wait, then pointed to the ceiling overhead. Serra nodded and sat down, extending her legs before her. Cid was already sprawled out spread-eagled on the floor, breathing deeply as he rested. They all waited, gradually hearing the ambient sounds around them as the atmosphere returned at almost the same rate as the gravity.
[Atmospheric re-pressurization ongoing. Gravity at eighty percent normal and increasing in graduated increments.] In a few moments, the air and gravity were back to their normal comfortable-to-humans level, and the four teammates began to stir.
Eric gave a mental command and his battlesuit’s helmet split apart and slid smoothly onto the cowling that guarded his neck, revealing his sweaty face and bloodied mouth. Grimacing in pain, Eric spat out a mouthful of blood before slumping back in exhaustion, the plates of the Voidwalker frame keeping his back tilted at an angle.
“That was a fucking shit-stained fuck-up, Captain!” Eric gave Serra an amused eye-roll as she knelt down at Eric’s side, extending her hand to touch the side of his neck. In a moment a torrent of warm, searing healing aether poured into Eric’s injured body, feeling much different than any healing potion Eric had experienced so far. Not wanting to offend, Eric gritted his teeth and endured the painful, burning surge, noting that the effort was clearly draining to his companion. Serra’s normally brown skin was now paler than usual, its surface covered with a sheen of sweat, which had soaked her hair and made it stand up in dark spiky clumps. “Let’s not do it again.”
“Roger that, Jakobin.” Eric groaned, as much in relief as in pain, as Serra’s uniquely burning healing effect moved through his body, feeling the small cuts and bruises received from the fight being sealed as if being cauterized away and his damaged bones welded painfully together. Thankfully, his injuries were minor enough that Serra was soon finished.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The Terran woman rocked back on her heels, her jaw slack. Eric was about to ask about her healing abilities when he was interrupted.
Announced by a loud chime, Luna’s projected form appeared in front of the group.
[Commander, I estimate that your recent action has reduced the chitterer forces to about half, as well as eliminating one of the colonies more formidable powerhouses.] Luna both looked and sounded pleased, and her bow to Eric and his companions conveyed considerable respect. [I have designated a considerable number of drones to retrieve the chitterer bodies and place them in a spatial chest placed near the Eldehan Gate and guarded by two of my most formidable sec-drones: It is imperative that the Behemoth commanding the colony does not receive its slain minion’s biological components to accelerate its force replenishment.]
“So, we killed off just about fifty percent of the nest?” Cid asked as he walked up, busy wiping off his damp, dark brown hair with a towel. The entire front of the scientist’s suit was covered with sticky chitterer ichor and carapace fragments, all liberally dusted with a thick layer of dull, grey dust. “I don’t think we can survive a repeat of all that.”
Gingerly, and with help from his companions, Eric got to his feet. “Luna, time?”
[It is currently ten AM, Moon Standard, Commander.]
Eric nodded in satisfaction before turning to everyone else. “I have asked Luna to set a standard twenty-four-hour time-frame based on Union standards and nomenclature. Serra and Cid should be familiar with this format, while Osar shouldn’t have much trouble adjusting.”
The big Urgan nodded as everyone looked at him. “Standard Imperial is a twenty-eight-hour day anyway.”
“Good. I suggest you set your internal clocks by it.” Eric ran a hand over his head wearily as he noted everyone’s dirty and disheveled state. “We’re pretty beat right now, so I suggest we clean up, eat, and get some rest before we meet up again in oh-seventeen-hundred?” There were sounds of assent from the others. Osar looked a bit confused for a moment, before Cid leaned close and whispered an explanation to him.
“Excellent, I’ll see you then!” Everyone turned to go, except Osar who Eric noticed glanced at the half-carcass of the chitterer Behemoth. “Osar, please gather up that monster’s body and place it in storage.”
“Yes Primus.” Osar answered after a short pause before he moved towards the body and disappeared it into his ring.
“You have an after-action report for me Pig?” Eric asked softly as he followed his companions through the now-open inner lock door.
“Affirmative, sir,” Pig answered promptly. “And there are pending notifications for you to go through…”
Still talking, they all passed under the inner lock’s gate and moved through the Fortress’ barren corridors toward the Plunderer and a much-needed period of recovery.
[…which means the Behemoth you killed was at most an underling of the truly huge one that rules the colony.] Eric and his three companions were gathered inside one of the smaller meeting rooms abord the Plunderer, hearing the latest reports gathered by Luna’s scout drones. [Most of the surviving chitterers have now gathered within the vicinity of the leader, which should mean an easier approach to the area.]
“Osar, is there anything else you can tell us about the possible capabilities of that leader Behemoth?” The big Urgan had been strangely subdued ever since their return, and Eric needed to know why before they started another foray against the chitterer hordes.
“Not much else that hasn’t been said before Jad-Os,” Osar said softly, his expression preoccupied as he walked over to the three-dimensional projection Luna had caused to appear on top of the table. As he talked, Osar pointed out the relevant features on the monster. “That armor will be extremely difficult to penetrate and its speed will be exceptional, as fast or even faster than that crab-like one that ambushed us.” The big Urgan then pointed at two orifices beneath the monster’s mouth with his black-nailed index finger. “These projections concern me since they could be capable of shooting something unpleasant.” Then the big man paused and looked at his companions one by one. “As for tactics, all I can recommend is a quick, fast attack meant to deal as much damage as possible in as short a time as possible.”
“What about the smaller creatures?” Serra asked, her gaze intent as she considered the problem.
“We kill the big one and the rest should just be clean-up.” Osar replied dismissively.
“Can we deal enough damage to put it down quickly though?” Eric asked.
“I can probably make something that packed more of a punch than the previous prototypes that I used earlier.” Cid contributed, tugging at his left earlobe. “But the rest of you will have to pin it down so it can’t dodge the shot… I don’t think I can make something strong enough to get off multiple shots in the time available.”
Eric had stressed the point that they needed to deal with the nest quickly, since every minute that passed probably meant more chitterer defenders created.
“Do you think we can hold down the big guy, sir?” Serra asked Eric. “You were the only one that tangled long enough with that crab Behemoth.”
“I’m not sure… I didn’t even manage to make use of any of my abilities.” Eric growled, looking at his hands. “The monster was too fast and too cunning… It even had a sort of psychic attack that clouded your mind and made it difficult to think for a few seconds… unless Osar has anything he hasn’t told us about in that ring he got from Lugthal?”
The big Urgan started at Eric’s words, and a slight flush colored his dark skin. He looked up at Eric, and his eyes were sad.
“I apologize Jad Eric,” Osar said, his voice low and his eyes downcast. “I did not reveal everything that was contained within Lugthal’s ring when we divided the treasures that we had all worked to gain… It was a selfish act, and one that I am truly ashamed of…” The Urgan stopped when Serra’s laughter rang out. Angrily, the big man turned to the woman, only to find that Eric was looking at him with amusement while Cid was staring at him with wide eyes.
“What…?”
“Was that what had you moping around all this time?” Eric asked, a slight smile on his lips.
“I should not have kept the contents of…”
“Shut it, Osar.” Eric interrupted, standing up and placing a hand on the big Urgan’s shoulders. “The ring was yours as well as whatever was in it… do you think we put all we had into the group pile?”
Osar looked from one face to another, seeing nothing but amusement in all of them where he expected anger and disappointment. What was going on?
“Every merc worth a contract knows not to turn over everything they get,” Serra explained after a moment, taking pity at the Urgan’s bewildered look. “S’long as we use them for the good of the team, no one here’s going to begrudge you a few shinies for your own uses.”
“You never requisition just what you need friend Osar,” Cid said as he patted the big Urgan’s arm. “Always ask for half as much again of what is required and keep the surplus for use later.”
“But that’s… I don’t…”
“What the others are trying to tell you my friend, is that all of us kept something from the general pile.” Eric’s smile hardened, as his voice firmed. “However, in the future we will be needing more rules about loot distribution especially if we plan to begin clearing dungeons. For now Osar, be at ease and know that whatever you withheld is yours to keep.”
Osar was stunned for a moment: Clans, raiding groups, and even standard adventurer groups always insisted that all loot was to be given up and divided according to a strict distribution order. Anyone found holding back anything was punished severely and could even be expelled or worse. By Ifni, even the Legion had a separate unit that took care of gathering the loot after every battle, and woe to anyone who was caught keeping any goodies for him- or herself. As an independent hunter and contractor, he had long been accustomed to being given less of the loot than the regular members of the group, and so had developed the habit of squirreling away useful treasures whenever he thought he could get away with the practice.
Looking at the grins of his new companions, Osar for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, felt that maybe he had finally found a group to which he truly belonged.