In Fal’Herim, there was a silent gloom brooding over the city. Hurried footsteps scurried hastily across the unusually clear roads. Fearful voices spoke in hushed whispers. Doors were shut and windows battered on every street. They hadn’t exactly been keeping the Tide a secret. Word got around pretty fast. By now, the entire city knew there was a mass of Wilds headed their way. A great many decided simply to hunker down and hide under their beds. Tim’s people had gone around urging evacuation, but only about a tenth of the people in the city actually decided to leave. As for the Industrial District associated with Remian, it was all but emptied out. Everyone had gone underground with as much of the equipment as they could squeeze into storage without making things uncomfortable. They had plenty of supplies, and they had sixteen tunnels branching out to exits far from Fal’Herim’s underground. One of them even went out past the desert and into Paleres. “The Tide’s advance party has p
Over at the other main entrance, Song Chen had his hands full. To put it simply, he had the invading Skeletal Serpent by the tail. “WHOAAAA!!!” While his grip was firm enough, Song Chen himself wasn’t all that heavy. The Serpent was currently trying its utmost to throw him off and was flailing its tail every which way. “Keep firing!” the gunners took a few shots, but most of them were afraid of hitting Song Chen by accident, so only the ones with confidence dared squeeze off a round. “Ballista?!” “Almost ready!” the ballista crew yelled back. “Just hold on!” “What else CAN I do?!” Song Chen shot back somewhat crossly while he was being flipped around like an old shoe in a puppy’s mouth. Behind him was the corpse of one Skeletal Serpent. On the left, mercenaries armed with heavy polearms were trying to get in a hit or two. On the right, four heaps of wrecked metal bore mute testimony to the demise of George’s ME-Frame troopers. The most they managed to do before falling apart was b
Meanwhile, at Herb Valley, Vigil was actually getting bored. [Stop fidgeting.] Carrie told Vigil, yawning as she snoozed under the warm afternoon sun. Vigil whined, tail drooping, trying his best to entertain himself by ambushing a hapless flower growing by the side. Carrie rolled her eyes, rolled over, and went on snoozing in the sun. Then, she blinked, and her eyes widened. [What’s that?!] Vigil, gloriously relieved of boredom, looked up excitedly. [It’s an airship! It’s being chased! And it’s crashing down on us!] [Why is an airship crashing on us?!] Carrie protested. On top of that, there were about a hundred Tier 4 flying Wilds chasing it, plus a few Tier 5’s blasting away at it with powerful Psionic or elemental attacks. Holes were being torn in its hull, its envelope, everything. The airship was already falling apart as it tried to flee. [I think that’s one of Remian’s.] Vigil squinted. “Help!” a slightly familiar voice yelled down at the wolfcats. “Tell them to stop hi
Closer and closer they got to that power… Vigil began to sense more and more. His Psionic abilities were churning, going wild, sensing stuff he’d never thought he could sense. He could sense the walls, and the glow of the amber. He could sense the stone under his feet, and the hardness of the rock. He could sense the mist, and the slithering creatures hiding in them. He could sense the still, thick deadliness rolling off the power they were approaching… Except that now he could sense that it wasn’t a power. It was two powers, and they were locked together somehow. One of them was terrifying, and it made Vigil want to run away with his tail tucked between his legs. But the other one… The other one called to him like nothing Vigil had ever known. It was an attraction as great as gravity, a pull stronger than honey-roasted spare ribs, a closeness as familiar to him as his own scent… [This Psionic emanation… I know it. I KNOW it! Somewhere… but what was it…? Who was it…? Why do I feel
After half an hour, Vigil and his friends were exhausted and zonked out, barely able to remain conscious. Shadowflash barked a low laugh, more amused than anything else at their efforts. [All right, you’ve tried your best. Now go call the pack. Who leads it now?] [That would be Mama.] Vigil answered. [Then go call her. Have her bring some of the Elders over.] To that, Vigil could only groan. All the efforts of himself and his friends didn’t seem to do any good at all. The Spectre didn’t even seem to notice. Only Shadowflash held it down, and only Shadowflash seemed to receive any of its attention. That was probably a good thing; had it actually struck out at the little ones directly, they probably wouldn’t survive. Then again, with Shadowflash there, how could it have reached them? The three little cubs made their painstaking journey back up the cliff, sneaking past many a deadly denizen, mentally exhausted from their earlier efforts, but bouyed with the excitement of finding Shad
“You… you’re Shadowflash?!” George stared. “Where have you been?!” [I’ve been locked in Psionic combat with a Spectral Beast.] Shadowflash answered. “Really? It’s been over a year already. Half your Fief thought you were dead.” George said. “And the other half wasn’t sure you were coming back.” [That long…?] Shadowflash blinked. [I thought it felt rather long… but over a year?! Why hasn’t the Earth Lion King sent help? Why did the King not come to my aid?!] “Why would he?” George asked. [It is the sworn duty of all Wilds!] Shadowflash protested. “Does he even know about that Spectral Beast thing you were fighting? Last I checked, nobody knew where you were, not even that King lion fellow.” [I sent word!] Shadowflash protested. [I sent my son Daring to get help…] “Who’s that?” George asked. “I haven’t seen any wolfcat named Daring.” There was a short, but heavy silence. “Shadowflash, I have a lot of questions, but right now my people are in danger. The Tide is really on a ramp
Receiving no less than nine urgent petitions from as many different nations, the Dragon Emperor smiled as he stood upon the observation deck of the most powerful airship in the world. “It’s about time.” Around him, six hundred battle cruisers of the Dragon Empire loaded troops on their decks. Dragon-forged steel rang in the hands of draconian warriors. But rather than inspect his forces, he turned to his aides. “Any movement from Ecclesia?” “They haven’t picked a side, my liege. Our people say they are worried about spending mana.” “What of Libertaria?” “They seem to favor Ashdale.” “Hmm.” The Dragon Emperor tapped his fingers together thoughtfully. The tapping sounded like metal on metal. “Does Libertaria even have enough mana to join the war? I thought they barely had a few million green.” “Most of their vehicles use steam power, my liege.” “Steam power!” the Dragon Emperor snorted. “What good is hot water against magic? They are only good for those trains of theirs and they
“They want WHAT?!” Remian coughed into the communications crystal. On the other side, George sighed. “Well, they say they just want to use Kara-Goth as a secure base, and they’re asking for our cooperation and aid, but I think in the end, they just want mana. If we can give them mana, they might just go away.” Remian coughed again. “That’s never going to happen. George, if you give them mana, they’re going to keep coming back for more.” “Really? I mean, we don’t really have much anyway, and we need all we have for our airships. Speaking of which, we might be about to run short… think you could scrounge up another mana mine?” “I haven’t felt any mana around here, or around Kara-Goth. If I had, we’d have dug it up by now.” Remian frowned. “With the war going on, can they even spare an airship to come all this way?” “The Tide has hit the northern continent, I heard. In other words, everyone’s too busy fighting Wilds to fight each other. I think the world war is on hold until the Wild
Somewhere along the line, he’d lost consciousness. George only realized it when he woke up to a splitting headache. “Ow.” He groaned. “What... where...?” “We’re on the way back to Sorrel.” Grace told him, appearing by his bedside. And it was a bedside, he realized. He seemed to be in the Kara’s Medical Bay. “I’m sorry. We had to retreat.” “Our... people?” George managed. “The HAC Troopers made it back. The Mechs... did not.” Grace paused. “We have the refugees though. And the Robotic Assembly Plant for Mining Drones. That’s all they managed to grab.” George slurred. “Mech pilots?” “Alive, if battered.” “Good. Alive is good.” George sighed. “This... didn’t go so well.” “Hey, at least we got the guys we were trying to save, and some machinery on top of that. You might say it was a success. A costly one, but a success.” “Casualties?” George asked. “Plenty of injuries to go around, but no deaths. So far.” Grace paused. “Some of the really badly injured might change that before lo
“Were these really the best you could do?” George asked, eyeing the six hulking figures in front of him hesitantly. “Mmm.” Juni grunted. In front of them were six brand new Mechs. 2nd Generation products, they were armored weapons platforms on legs, with jumpjets for the signature ‘jumps’ that earned their generation the nickname, ‘Jumpers’. Or were they? George wasn’t entirely sure. When he looked at them, they really looked more like 1st Generation Walker-types. Those Jump Jets seemed to be an afterthought, an added equipment haphazardly strapped to their backs. “Would they really work right?” Juni shrugged. Given the time and materials he had to work with, George supposed he couldn’t expect better. He had only just received 2nd Gen tech. Until now, he’d been working with 1st Gen expectations and schematics. One of these Mechs seemed a bit worn, evidence that it had been built quite some time ago, and only recently been modified for George’s requests. “Fusion Cell for power, Pu
It turned out that they also needed to acquire salvage rights to haul away ‘scrap metal’. Fortunately, that was a simple affair now that they had local currency. 50 USD and the matter was done. Grant, being the nearest specialist on matters of scrap to their location, graciously offered to transport their ‘scrap’ directly to their vessel out of sheer goodwill. Finally Benny and Sam went to try out the barbecued skewers. At Grant’s recommendation, though, they didn’t go to the Starport roadside stall. They ended up at another roadside stall run by a ‘foreign refugee’ someplace downtown not too far from Grant’s workshop. There, each skewer was loaded with rows of thick, juicy beef sausages, and only cost 20 USD for 10. Benny stretched. “Not bad for our first day. We’ve got three days here, don’t we? But we’ve already got half of what we wanted.” “What’s the other half?” Sam asked. “Technical manuals on engineering, power and propulsion. Tech, basically.” Benny yawned. However, whe
“Black Fang, you are cleared for docking. Follow the designated path and welcome to Trifer, colony of the Uber States.” Benny stood on the observation deck of the Black Fang below the bridge, listening to the conversation between the comms officer and the dock authorities. He eyed the massive sprawl of structures and smoke emitted below and wondered. “This is what they call a ‘small’ colony?” The colony was bigger than Craggy Falls, Kara-Goth and Nightshade City put together. “Just how many people live here?” Benny asked next. “According to our sensors, about half a million.” The bridge crew told him. Okay, that was less than the human population of the Sorrelian Migration, which, after including the Cumin survivors, was over 800,000. They shared the sensor feed with Benny, Sam and Foxy. Looking at the scope, Benny realized that most of the colony below consisted of machinery and robots. Furthermore, what he saw on the surface wasn’t even half the colony. The entire complex went
That evening, Benny and Sam left with Tim’s battle group, headed for the nearest Uber States outpost with medicine in the cargo holds. This left only one freight galleon to ferry materials and regretful space miners from the surface to Sky Haven. “It’s going too slow.” Remian decided. “I need to call Raven.” With Mindy busy trading across star systems, Raven had inherited (bought over) her airship fleet and company on the surface. They built more gunships and scout ships than freighters these days, mainly focused on providing recon and fire support to ground forces fighting Undead. But it was those freighters Remian needed now, the bigger the better. “We need them refitted for extreme high altitudes, as high as they can go.” Remian explained. “Also we need them spaceworthy, at least up to low orbit.” “You want our airship freighters to fly into space?!” Raven spluttered. “Yes, but not on their own. I want them to haul cargo and passengers as high up as they can. Around 30km woul
“Relax, I’m not asking you to build them from scratch. You’ll need to remodel a Galleon and a trio of our current Dropships. We do want proper Mech Carriers in the future, but for now, we need to deploy urgently, so we’ll just remodel what we have.” Ermine brought up some projections. “The Mechs in question are going to be Light Walkers, designed and built by J-Armory. Juni’s had a workable prototype for a long time, but it’s never been needed until now. Live testing is scheduled to start in three days. They’re powered by Fusion Cells, the kind that looks like dustbins, so you won’t need to worry about fuel lines, just cell-swapping. You won’t need to worry about replacing the He3 in the Fusion Cells either; spent cells will be sent back to J-Armory for recycling or refueling or whatever it is they do. Same goes for the weapons; Jamie’s J-Arsenal will handle maintenance and replacement and all that. The ship only needs to carry the Mechs, deploy them, and run basic maintenance. Repai
They met online the next day. Remian opted out, letting them handle it. Upon bringing up the subject of the Woofers’ request for more aid across different planets… Ermine snorted. “I refuse.” “What?” George stared. “I refuse to help them.” Ermine said stoutly. “I know that you guys all have some sort of savior syndrome, and it’s something that Remian seemed to have passed down from the very beginning, the sort of meddlesome hero complex that has you all trying to save the world at personal cost, but I’m no hero. I’m Tau, and we’re practical survivalists. We simply can’t afford to go around saving everybody. We need all our strength and resources to save ourselves. As for the Woofers, as a collective, they are a Class 5 Star Civilization, a whole class more advanced and stronger than us. They have their own governments and their own fleets. Let the Woofers help the Woofers.” Xiao Yan cut in. “As you say, they are a Class 5 Star Civilization. Since you’re talking about praticality, t
“Go, go, go!” green light flared in the bay of the Dropship as the floor fell away. George and twelve other figures were unceremoniously dumped on the ground nine feet below. They landed with heavy impacts. George staggered, realizing the gravity on this world was at least twice what he was accumstomed to back home. For a moment, he regretted leaving his Frame back on the ship, but they were here to clear the bandits out from a city center, meaning tight spaces, narrow access points, and needing to take care to avoid civilian casualties. Or at least, that was the plan. George and his squad had been deposited on the outskirts of the city, at the very border of a suburban district. “Incoming!” someone yelled. George crouched as something exploded; the ground shook and chunks of dirt flew through the air. “Get to cover! Return fire!” George called, even though he wasn’t entirely sure where the attackers were, exactly. The guys diving behind nearby garages and a public toilet clued hi
Quite predictably, the first of those calls to reach Sorrel II was from their dear friends, the Woofers. Three Paws explained it. [This is from Kelso III. It’s an agrarian world, roughly eighty hours’ flight from here for our fleet. Local gang bosses have titled themselves warlords and suppressed the citizenry with brute force. They take whatever they want, and demand whatever payment they like, on pain of death or torture. Local law enforcement has been completely overrun and even planetary militia couldn’t save the settlements under their control. The best our local paws could do is contain the situation and prevent it from getting worse.] Remian sipped hot coffee. Eighty hours flight for the Woofers Fleet should mean a bit less than seventy for the Tau fleet. “That’s rough. But what’s the point of calling us here to tell us this?” [We can help them. Just one division of your fleet could make a huge difference against these local gangs.] At the moment, the Sorrelian fleet consist