Alani Encles did not expect very much out of life. A safe, warm home, good friends and good food was enough to make her happy.
Her people had fled here from the deep Eastern seas, having struggled against Ti’ela-dras and lost too much over the recent years. When even their island started to sink, they followed the call of a distant hope and arrived at a vast land, the likes of which their little oft-flooded islands could never compare. Unlike most places, this wild frontier had plenty of room, enough that they were treated as settlers, not refugees.
It was a dangerous place, to be sure, but the seas were dangerous in their own way too. People learned to swim, to sail, to cope, and to live with the dangers. Never had people ever turned the sea into a friend; she remained mysterious, aloof, and as ruthless as she ever was.
The Wilds, however, proved to be very warm friends once they accepted you. Alani loved lying back on the flank of a bear-sized wolfcat, who
The first subject Remian wanted Alani to learn was language. This included speed reading and flash reading. He also had her start on memory exercises. “The thing about your memory is that it can be cultivated, trained like your muscles.” Remian explained. “There are also some tricks to memorization, like associating what you want to remember with something you couldn’t forget if you tried. It all takes time, so be patient with it.” The third thing he had her study was Observation. This focused on people, their mannerisms and identifying physical traits. “What does all this have to do with starships, in the end?” Alani wanted to know. “Nothing. It has to do with people.” Remian explained. “Most especially your future classmates, or teammates, if you prefer.” “There’s going to be other students, then?” “Other teachers, too.” “Who do you have in mind?” “You’ll meet him tomorrow.” *** Gary did not think he w
Teaching the kids seemed to have sparked a madness in Remian. The craziness only went on farther from there. And no, it wasn’t because he tried all sorts of things trying to play with Eriane before he finally gave up and ended up drawing guns they liked. Eriane simply didn’t like anything else. They had tried dolls, playing house, sports, cards, even fishing. She had no interest in any of that. But anyway. One morning, Phoebe started hearing banging noises and quickly rushed out to find Remian knocking a hole in a bucket. “Why are you poking a hole in the bucket?” Phoebe stared. “For water.” Remian said, as if it all made sense. It did not make sense, to Phoebe. It really didn’t. If he wanted water, the bucket would have helped much more without a hole in it! But even more strangely, Remian started to layer cloth at the bottom of the bucket-with-a-hole. “What are you doing?” Phoebe gaped. “I’m making a water fil
One week later, the Three Orders were officially formed. The Order of Light, the Order of Steel and the Order of Sand started recruiting under their new banners in Three Pines, Kara-Goth and Fal’Herim respectively.With most of their Order fighting the Spectres in the south, the ex-Temple Knights and supporting Priests were based in a massive camp not far from Three Pines. As the Order of Light was formally launched, they began to construct permanent buildings where before they had pitched tents.Led by Darian, two Order of Light Sky Galleons ventured deep into the far south looking for Sky Trees.On top of that, George had the Adventurers at Three Pines seed the fertile heights of that region with Lenisu. Those hills would eventually be covered in Lenisu vines.As Frames became harder and harder to use due to waning mana, more and more residents at Three Pines turned to their Comrades to get around. Wolfcats were an absolute favorite, and it was fa
The day that Remian feared came at last. “So, I understand you’re in charge around here.” A white-whiskered, round man addressed George, looking down at him from a squinting eye and a monocle. “Tell me, boy, where’s the oil at?” George frowned. “Excuse me?” “Black, sticky stuff.” The round man said loudly. “Where’s it at?” George paused, and sent a telepathic message. [Remian, someone’s asking about oil.] [Can you change the subject?] [Nope. He’s very direct about it. I think he came all the way here just to find oil.] [Can you hoax him with fish oil or something?] [He’s asking for the black, sticky stuff. Shall I just point him south and let him face the Spectres?] [No, don’t. Sooner or later, we’ll clear out the Spectres, and then he’ll make a claim on the oil saying he’d fought and faced danger for it. Don’t even give him the opportunity.] [So, basically… we don’t want him getting it?] [We don
Mindy, like Tim, bought her way in, but her 10% shares only cost her 50 million... per year, for 10 years. As for George and Remian, one was going to be the managing administrator, the other was the ‘inventor’ of the Clira. “Fine.” Tim didn’t complain overmuch. 500 million was steep, even for him, but manageable. With a billion lir of pledges in capital, the new Templars Bank started out as a poor knights’ support with intention to introduce the new Clira currency at the end of the year. The main reason for that was to give the Knight Captains (Earth Qi stage) time to make Clira. They weren’t told what it was they were making, and were currently paid in Lir for their efforts at a ratio of 10 lir for a Clira. “Aren’t we overvaluing the Clira a bit? Or overpaying the Knight Captains and above?” George asked. Remian shook his head. “No, because the value of the lir is plummeting. Using the price of an adult’s meal as a measure, the purchasing power of th
The most obvious change to Fal’Herim was that Lynxmice were everywhere. Before, they lurked and watched from the shadows. But now, they ran out freely, playing with the children on the streets, sunbathing on the rooftops, frequenting the shops with their new human Comrades… Oh yes. Remian recognized Comrades when he saw them. Lynxmice sitting on people’s shoulders or helping them fix things in places hard for humans to reach… somehow, over the past week or so, Tim had managed to introduce Comrades to Fal’Herim, even though most of them were Field Lynxmice or Desert Lynxmice. “We’ve taken over everything.” Tim assured Remian. “Underground and above ground alike.” “Yeah, you’ve even taken over the royalty.” Mindy shot Asda a dark look. “Pretty much.” Tim shrugged. The industrial district likewise had undergone huge changes. Tim had brought them underground to protect them during the Beast Tide, and afterward, they decided to stay there.
Time was the deciding factor. Remian’s plans went like this; following the most reliable escape route, they would need a fully functional Warp Gate and a massive evacuation fleet within two hundred years. The Warp Gate alone could take fifty years to construct, depending on the equipment and manpower available in space. That’s right; in space, not on the ground. Something that big could only be constructed in zero-gravity, and would need to be assembled by colonists living in space. An entire generation could be born and grow up their whole lives doing nothing but building that Warp Gate. If they had trouble, or things slowed down, they might need two generations or even three. Why fifty years? Well, getting the materials for the Gate alone could take decades. It would involve mining asteroids, and mining ships could take years to make the trip out, extract the ores, and return. Using ion propulsion, it could take some five years just to make the trip to the asteroid belt. Actually
They split up. Alani, Gary, Jamie and Juni would go to Dragon Lake to scavenge parts, while Isabella and Siti went north to Kara-Goth to procure supplies and find suitable convoys. “Ask Mindy if we could borrow her Kara-Goth workshop and tools. We’ll meet up there.” Alani suggested. “See if you can move the Lockjaw from the docks to the workshop while you’re at it.” The north team didn’t have much trouble. Most of it was math and arguments over spending. Isabella, in charge of logistics, wanted to save as much of the budget as she could. Siti wouldn’t hear of it. “A balanced diet is a must! That’s a basic for health!” “It’s just a weekend…” “It’s a big weekend! The bigger the weekend, the more important it is to keep everyone in good health!” So despite Isabella’s complaints, Siti made sure everyone had more to eat than just biscuit rations. Meat, vegetables, fruit… she bought them all in precise proportions, according to everyone’s he
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