⫸ [ TIME: 10:00 AETHELGARD STANDARD TIME ]
⫸ [ LOCATION: HORIZON SEEKER – MESS HALL ]
⫸ [ STATUS: RESOURCE EXTRACTION ]
The Horizon Seeker was being cannibalized.
The Mess Hall had once been a place of comfort. It had soft lighting and synthetic wood tables and the smell of recycled coffee. Now it was a demolition site.
Elian stood in the doorway. He watched a squad of Giants tear the room apart.
Grom braced his shoulder against a bulkhead wall panel. He roared. The muscles in his back coiled like steel cables. He pulled.
SCREEEEEECH.
The rivets popped with the sound of gunfire. The wall panel tore free. It exposed the skeletal ribs of the ship and the dark wiring underneath.
"Careful," Elian ordered. His voice synthesizer cut through the noise. "Do not sever the yellow conduits. Those are power lines."
Grom nodded. He tossed the five-hundred-pound slab of titanium alloy onto a pile in the corridor. The floor plates groaned under the weight.
Elian looked at the pile. It was not just scrap. It was the skin of his ship. Every panel they stripped made the hull thinner. Every beam they removed weakened the structural integrity of his only shelter.
◤ RESOURCE ALERT ◢
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
⬢ Hull Integrity: 68%
⬢ Material Stockpile: Sufficient for 40 Pneumatic Pikes and 20 Plate Carriers
⬢ Warning: Continued extraction will compromise the atmospheric seal of the living quarters
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"We don't need comfort," Elian muttered. "We need steel."
He walked over to a pile of table legs. They were made of high-grade aluminum. He needed the fasteners.
He reached down to pick up a small locking screw that had fallen on the floor. It was delicate. It required finesse.
Elian pinched it between his thumb and forefinger.
CRUNCH.
The screw flattened instantly. It turned into a metal pancake.
Elian froze. He stared at his fingers. He hadn't felt the resistance. He hadn't felt the metal yield.
He rubbed his fingertips together. They made a dry rasping sound. The hexagonal scales of his Thermal-Lattice Epidermis were hard as ceramic. They blocked the heat but they also blocked the sensation.
◤ BIOMETRIC DIAGNOSTIC ◢
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
⬢ Nervous System: Optimization Active
⬢ Tactile Sensitivity: Reduced by 45%
⬢ Cause: Dermal Thickening
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
[ Commander. Your fine motor control is calibrated for human skin. ]
[ You are currently operating with the grip strength of a hydraulic press. ]
[ You must consciously throttle your output. ]
Elian dropped the flattened screw. "I can't feel the keys on the fabricator anymore. I have to look to know if I'm touching them."
[ This is the price of evolution. Armor does not feel. ]
Elian clenched his hand into a fist. The scales interlocked with a metallic click.
"Fine," Elian said. "I don't need to feel screws. I need to hold a gun."
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ TIME: 12:30 AETHELGARD STANDARD TIME ]
⫸ [ LOCATION: THE DRILLING FIELDS ]
⫸ [ STATUS: COMBAT TRAINING ]
The fog had burned off. The violet suns beat down on the mud.
One hundred and forty Giants stood in formation. They looked like a wall of grey muscle. They held their new weapons.
The Pneumatic Pike.
It was not a spear. It was a six-foot rod of titanium harvested from the ship's walls. The tip was a hydraulic piston driven by a compressed Aether Crystal shard. When the trigger was pulled the tip punched forward with twenty tons of force.
It was a siege weapon designed for infantry.
Elian stood on a crate. He held his own pike.
"This is not a club," Elian shouted. "Do not swing it. You point. You trigger. You kill."
He demonstrated. He aimed at a boulder the size of a car. He pulled the lever on the shaft.
KA-CHUNK.
The piston fired. The tip slammed into the rock. The boulder cracked down the center and split into two halves.
The Giants gasped. They stepped back.
One warrior in the front row looked at the weapon with suspicion. He was an older giant with scars on his chest where a bone totem used to be.
He dropped the pike.
"No spirit," the warrior grunted. He pointed at the metal. "Dead iron. No blood. No power."
He drew a bone knife. He slashed his own chest. He shouted a challenge. To him strength came from pain and biology not machines.
Grom stepped forward. He looked at the dissenter.
Grom did not speak. He leveled his Pneumatic Pike.
The dissenter roared and charged. He raised his bone knife.
Grom didn't move his feet. He waited. When the dissenter was in range Grom pulled the trigger.
KA-CHUNK.
The piston hit the dissenter in the chest.
It didn't cut him. It hit him with the kinetic energy of a speeding truck. The dissenter was lifted off his feet. He flew backward five meters. He landed in the mud wheezing. His ribs were cracked. The fight was over in one second.
Grom looked at the army. He raised the pike.
"IRON," Grom bellowed. "STRONGER THAN BONE."
The Giants looked at the weapon with new eyes. It was not dead. It was efficient. They picked up their pikes.
"Form ranks!" Elian ordered.
The training began.
It was a disaster.
The Giants were used to brawling. They didn't know how to march. They tripped over each other.
CRACK.
A giant in the third row accidentally triggered his pike. The piston fired into the leg of the giant in front of him.
The victim screamed. His femur shattered. He collapsed into the mud howling.
"Medic!" Elian shouted. "A.R.C., scan the injury."
[ Compound fracture. Severe tissue damage. ]
[ They lack trigger discipline. They treat the mechanism like a handle. ]
Elian ran to the injured giant. He injected a dose of Scuttler-Serum into the leg to stop the bleeding.
"Lock the safety!" Elian screamed at the squad. "Do not touch the lever until you see the enemy!"
He looked at the chaotic mass of giants. They were strong but they were clumsy. They were dangerous to themselves.
"This is going to take weeks," Elian wiped sweat from his forehead. "We don't have weeks."
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ TIME: 16:00 AETHELGARD STANDARD TIME ]
⫸ [ STATUS: LOGISTICS CHECK ]
The training stopped not because of fatigue but because of hunger.
A giant army requires massive caloric intake. They had eaten the dead Scuttlers. They had eaten the dead Warlord. Now the larder was empty.
The Giants sat in the mud looking at Elian. They were loyal but they were starving.
"A.R.C.," Elian said. "Inventory."
◤ LOGISTICS REPORT ◢
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
⬢ Biomass: 0%
⬢ Water: Sufficient (Rain Catchers)
⬢ Morale: Dropping
⬢ Warning: Starvation will lead to rebellion in 48 hours
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"An army marches on its stomach," Elian muttered.
He called Grom.
"We hunt," Elian said. "Take Squad Alpha. Ten pikes. Go to the river."
Grom looked at the jungle. "River has... Long-Teeth. Big."
"Good," Elian said. "Big means more meat. Use the pikes. Test them."
Grom nodded. He gathered ten of the biggest warriors. They moved out into the fog. Their metal armor clanked softly. They looked like a futuristic kill-squad in a prehistoric world.
Elian watched them go. He hoped the weapons wouldn't jam. He hoped they wouldn't shoot each other.
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ TIME: 18:00 AETHELGARD STANDARD TIME ]
⫸ [ LOCATION: SENSOR ARRAY ]
⫸ [ STATUS: THREAT DETECTION ]
Elian sat on the roof of the ship. He was repairing a damaged sensor dish.
The ground shook.
It was faint. A vibration in his boots.
Thump... Thump... Thump.
It was rhythmic. It was heavy.
"A.R.C.," Elian said. "Is that Grom returning?"
[ Negative. The seismic signature is too massive. ]
[ Triangulating source... ]
A hologram appeared in Elian's HUD.
Five kilometers to the North.
◤ THREAT DETECTED ◢
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
⬢ Subject: Target-Alpha (The Titan Ape)
⬢ Mass: 15,000 kg
⬢ Vector: South-Bound
⬢ Cause: Seismic Attraction
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
[ The vibrations from the Reactor and the Pneumatic Pikes are traveling through the bedrock. ]
[ We rang the dinner bell Commander. ]
[ The Apex Predator is coming to investigate the noise. ]
Elian looked at the North. He couldn't see the Titan through the trees but he could feel it. The magnetic fog swirled as if displaced by a massive body.
"We aren't ready," Elian whispered. "We barely have a wall."
[ Calculate Probability of Victory against Titan Class: 0.00%. ]
[ Recommendation: Silence. Shut down the reactor. Hide. ]
"I can't shut down the reactor," Elian said. "If I cut the power the Fabricator stops. The defense grid dies. And Alara's pod loses its backup stability."
He gripped The Arbiter.
"We have to divert it."
[END OF CHAPTER 13]