Est wraps her remaining tendrils tightly across the robotic form of my 'shell. Gelly, with more care than he shows for most tasks, carefully lifts her tentacles up off the ground. The light gravity of this world, less than both my home world and the station, makes the task trivial.

Drev quickly slides a door, salvage from one of the soon to be atomized farmhouses, underneath the woozy soldier. We lower her down onto it, evincing only muted groans from Est. She shows remarkable self-control, or perhaps Zek might be responsible. I suspect drugs, given the slackness of her pedipalps and overall disconnect she displays.

The barely lucid soldier doesn't resist as her comrades strap her in place. When she's secure Gelly and two soldiers lift her from the ground. Everyone else spreads out around them, weapons pointed outward from the loosely circular formation. At Bruen's signal they set off at a quick march.

I inform the Ship-Father that the ground team has begun their withdrawal, and he smiles.

"Finally. Marta, let the Matron know." He turns to address Vren, back at his duty station. "I want your people to put together a little goodwill package. Get the video from Mos Denn, edit it to make the Squivers look good. If you have any problems, Marta's well trained to help, but I need her keeping Matron Bell happy."

Vren nods and grabs a tablet. I transfer the appropriate data files to it for him while he stands up. The silver trim on his purple armor gleams as he turns to leave the command room. No doubt in search of a quiet place to call Teah. She remains on Kalibern, on medical leave.

An alarmed cry from Don Wikna, down on Honus, draws my attention back to the dronefeather. A large force of tribals is converging with the team, only just now visible to the flying drone's mechanical senses.

Bruen shouts a series of orders to his command. They lower the wounded Est to the ground and form two lines in front of her. Wikna hangs back behind the impromptu formation as well. I switch to controlling Minn, and from its place in the second line I watch as the enemy draws closer.

Furious, Gelly yells, "There's a chief with 'em!"

Yes, the blubbery form is just barely visible in the back of the oncoming tribe. Behind bodies of many colors and forms, the glowing marks upon its yellow flesh makes it stand out from the menagerie of its thralls. The horrible maw in its lower torso snaps and drools as the thing croons its awful double noted cry.

"Fire!"

At Bruen's order, those of us in the second row begin shooting. As many bodies as there are coming at us, every shot is a hit. Even Drev, wielding a rifle recovered from an abandoned farm, scores many lethal hits with his antiquated firearm. Aliens drop, torn or burning, and more rush forth to take their place.

We retreat slowly, buying time before the advantage of range is completely lost. Wikna drags the wounded soldier with Zek's aid, keeping her from being trampled. The enemy wounded receive no such consideration. Their tribemates make no effort to avoid their fallen. From above, the dronefeather records images of the chieftain snatching up a dying Ilvaran up and stuffing the orange scaled being into its maw.

Our ammunition runs out, one weapon at a time, until only Gelly remains firing. The remaining tribals, at least fifty of the savages, scream their chief's rage as they finally get within claw's reach of us.

We holster our guns and draw our melee weapons even as the front row begins stabbing. So many are the enemy that they flow around the sharp and deadly wall of spears like an incoming tide. I have Minn step to intercept a short red skinned creature before it could sink its long fangs into Wikna.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

They close around my robot's leg instead and snap. The thing's eyes widen from the pain, but it doesn't let go. Clumsily, I flail at it with the 'shell's ungainly arms. Minn's left fist crushes the thick skull of the savage with industrial force.

Its body falls twitching to the ground. Behind it another with twice the height awaits. Standing a half ubit taller than Gelly, this creature's fang filled mouth opens and it screeches in rage. It snaps at Minn and the 'shell is too slow to dodge. I'm helpless to stop the enraged alien from latching onto my robot and ripping one of its arms free in a shower of sparks and hydraulic fluid.

It grabs the other arm and begins to yank. The pressure snaps one of the struts at Minn's shoulder, but the pain that the creature wishes to inflict does not manifest. It wastes its efforts on cruelty, tormenting a device that only moves because of arcane physics and mechanical mastery. Another support tears loose.

Suddenly the thing gasps. Its hands fall limply from Minn's mangled form before it drops to the ground. Drev pulls free his spear and turns to fight another tribal.

I force Minn to stand but its balance is badly impaired. Looking around, I can see that we're surrounded. The chief, an especially large specimen covered in thick scars, lumbers closer until it towers over the cluster of defenders. It roars in its bestial double pitched language and the surrounding tribe presses even harder. Organic runes glow upon the creature's unhealthy yellow hide.

A soldier falls and is dragged back. His fellows try but fail to wrest him from the grasp of the tribals but dare not risk their own lives for one that is already as good as dead. The captured soldier bleeds blue from a deep gash in his carapace that he is not likely to survive. The many limbs of the tribe push their captive to the chief. The soldier dies bravely, never crying out as the monster bites into him.

An explosion from Minn's side pushes everyone away. From above, I see that the spear Bruen holds smokes in his tendrils and stands over the dismembered corpse of a particularly tough-skinned tribal. The tip of his spear is gone and cracks run through the runed head. Its glow becomes dangerously dark. Bruen heaves it into the mass of enemy bodies before the unstable reaction can occur.

The detonation clears a large area by sending bodies both living and dead high into the air.

"This way!" Bruen shouts into the ringing stillness of the aftermath. Bodies and limbs rain down upon the stunned tribe. The soldiers follow him as he rushes into the opening. A severed claw bounces from Minn's shoulder.

Behind them Zek and Wikna drag the babbling Est through the gore. I try to make Minn follow, but it is too damaged. It can only limp slowly behind the others.

The tribe recovers as the last of the bloody chunks fall. The chief roars again and they rush after us. The furthest are over a hundred ubits away and gaining distance. Closest is Minn and they close upon the damaged 'shell quickly. It too is passed back to feed the ravenous chieftain.

Through cracked lenses I watch as the mechanical body is stuffed into the gaping mouth of the monstrous chieftain. It crunches down, hard. Wires sever and struts snap in half. This is just how my sister, the original Minn, had perished.

I watch from above as it stuffs the rest of the destroyed device into its uncaring maw. From the dronefeather's cameras I'm able to see the moment that the canister of phrool stink bursts. Tribals fall writhing to the ground even before the cloud of irritant can reach them.

A body falls close enough to brush its long snout against one of Wikna's taloned feet. She kicks it away and keeps dragging.

The maddened chieftain claws bloody craters in its own flesh, screaming in rage and pain. Gibbets of fatty flesh fly through the air. I switch the dronefeather's designated target to Wikna, and the mechanical creature flies off. Burbling screams echo across the fields, but each scream is weaker until the last can only be described as a dying gasp.

"Horrible way to die," comments Jim.

"Indeed," I respond and pause the display. "They're loading into the shuttles now."

"Good. Nett, get ready. Drop those things as soon as our people are out of the atmosphere."

"Understood, sir," replies the Second Operative grimly. "Dropping now."

I switch the display to a view of the planet from above. First one, then another giant flash of light ripples across a tiny portion of the plains. Both shuttles are visible as they fly over the explosion as black dots upon the white bubble.

"Tonn, they're going to need you at the hangar," commands Jim. "And stop by the officers' lounge on your way. They'll be happier to see you if you bring them a reward for their hard work, I think."

"Yessir," replies the medic with a reserved smile.