Predictably, the overall winner of the Tournament was Ghurki’elle, who ended with a score of 3 wins 0 losses, practically trampling all the competition present. He didn’t seem satisfied and kept asking where Darian went, and didn’t seem to believe anyone who told him that Darian had been arrested…
Surprisingly, Kae-Taur came away with 1 wins and 2 losses. He beat Wushuang after a difficult fight, and then when he faced Zhao Feng, he didn’t have enough time to recover, was unable to perform at his best and was suppressed to the end.
Zhao Feng himself showed an unusual ferocity in the finals, often making daring strikes at the risk of his own safety, and seemed to be on the verge of going berserk. Incredibly, he made a last-minute breakthrough just before his duel with Kae-Taur and vented all his jealous fury on the unsuspecting opponent. His final score was also 1 win, 2 losses.
The reason for that was because he forfeited the duel with Wushuang. For whatever
The Tuskan in question turned out to be Kanasu-eeroo of the Walrus Tribe, the younger cousin of Mansu-eeroo. “Frankly speaking, I just want to do business.” Kanasu said. “Set up shop and buy some land locally… you know, the usual.” Xiao Yan squinted. “Buy land, you say? And what would your purposes in that be?” “Commercial.” Kanasu spread his flippers openly. “Agricultural. Industrial. Even residential.” “You want to build shops, farms, factories and houses?” “In short, yes. Trust me, when my shop opens, you’ll be happy I did.” “What exactly do you intend to plant, build and sell?” Kanasu-eeroo eyed her for a bit and sighed. “This isn’t going to be quick and easy, is it?” “I want details.” Xiao Yan said firmly. “Well, first I want to build a house for myself, a warehouse and a shop.” “What’s wrong with the houses and shops here?” George asked. “Too primitive. I want all the modern Tuskan convenie
The days passed, and soon it came time for the Tuskans to leave. By then, Remian had returned to see them off, while leaving most of the fleet and forces to escort whatever survivors they could to safety. Ghurki’elle was severely disappointed at not being able to duel Darian again. Tournament or no Tournament, he wanted a rematch. “I have decided!” He proclaimed. “We will stop by again on our return trip! At that time, I will confront him once more!” After the Tournament and ensuing festivities, the Tuskans prepared to leave. They began trading in earnest, mostly buying foodstuffs and plants native to Sorrel II. Some of the younger ones wanted to extend their stay, and even hunt Undead for mana, but their elders disagreed; they had a schedule to keep, and were not permitted to remain. The sole exception was Kanasu-eeroo, whose stay at Sorrel II was something of a Clan trial in regards to his business abilities. Also, he was tasked with overseeing the
In the end, Tim refused to lend Remian any money. He paid the entire bill for the Autofactory schematics and licensing himself, registering it under the name of the ‘Sorrelian Migration’. This was the first time Remian and his people were officially referred to as such. As for the tuition fees for Alani, Gary, Siti, Isabella, Jamie and Juni… Remian paid those, but Tim privately informed those very beneficiaries and suggested they pay him back one day. It seemed to Tim that it was unfair of everybody to let Remian pay all the bills. In any case, since the Autofactory licensing was done under the name of the Sorrelian Migration, Tim and Fal’herim could also use them. He immediately called together his staff and ordered the upgrading of all their industrial districts segment by segment. According to his plans, it would take three years and result in a total of 215 Autofactories, each one a towering hulk capable of producing goods entirely automated, though they would ne
Three days later, small Undead critters began rising all across the Wildlands and the Endless Desert. From frogs to vengeful rabbits, the recently-dead Tier 1s crawled out of the ground and started biting ankles and tails of living Wilds everywhere. Having had their water sanctified and blessed by the members and temporary volunteer (or paid, or forced, etc) disciples of the Order of Light, the settlements of Fal’herim, Kara-Goth, Craggy Falls, Three Pines and associated managed to avoid such cases occurring within their boundaries (or indeed anywhere within a meter of their water pipes or sprinkled walls). By that time, every village, town, mining outpost and farm had enough time to raise walls and fences around their perimeters and sprinkle blessed water on them. While not likely to keep out a full-fledged Tier 5 zombie, they were definitely able to ward off pesky Tier 1 Undead critters. Tim especially made it a point to send out the children of Fal’herim to go squ
“Remian?” “Yes, Phoebe?” “We’re going to get even busier soon, aren’t we?” “Yeah. The Undead Infestation is only getting started. It’s going to get a lot stronger before it fades out.” “How long would it be before it fades out?” “No idea. Could be a few years. Could be a hundred years.” “I can’t wait that long.” Phoebe sighed. “What’s the matter?” “I want a holiday.” There was a long pause. “You’re right. We can’t wait. You’ve been working hard for a long time and it’s only going to get worse soon. You need a break and you need it now, before Tier 3’s start appearing and a lot more people need emergency treatment.” “Remian, if you also wanted a break, you could have just said so. There’s no need to make up an excuse.” Remian didn’t answer her. What could he say? That he didn’t actually want a break? That what he really wanted was Conglomerate tech and a battle-hardened legion of Mechs? Bu
“Thank you for your purchase.” Kanasu-eeroo bowed. “Do let me know if there’s anything else special that you need in these trying times. You might be surprised when you see my selection of weapons and armor.” “Speaking of trying times, Kanasu, you don’t seem especially worried about the Undead.” Remian paused, a sudden thought occurring. “This drone car… was this what you were relying on to get away if you had to?” “Oh, no, that’s just a product I made for fun.” Kanasu shook his head. “If I needed to get away in a hurry, I could just call my servants to retrieve me.” “Your servants?” “Yes, my personal Star Galleon remains in orbit along with some of my household servants. Do not worry. I will never lack for anything or suffer.” Kanasu assured him. P-personal Star Galleon?! “Speaking of Star Galleons, are you aware of our salvage efforts on the Meorin starships in orbit?” “Yes. It is a most profitable venture, I believe.” “Could
Farther north from Kara-Goth, Fal’herim was fortifying every town and city, including the farming settlements on the flood plains. Their productivity and construction speed was stunning, evidence of the efficiency of having everybody in the entire country being subordinate to just one man. While probably not a healthy style for the long run, in a crisis situation like this, having crucial decisions made without question got a lot of things done much more easily than endless committee debates or second-guessing. It wasn’t to say that Tim lacked or ignored advice. In fact it was more likely he had a horde of advisors all clamoring to prove their worth. But it did mean that every safeguard had a direct affect on his personal property and benefits (because every city, town and house was directly owned by him, and every human worked for him), so it was to his best, personal interest that he save as much as he could, sometimes in disregard for an advisor’s opinions. For in
On the other hand, even if Sior’s people didn’t burn the world down, if things got out of hand, it was most likely that the Quarin would. Initially, they set a deadline of one month before they started their Cleansing, but since the Portal was sealed, they called it off and sent an Inspection Team instead. That Team would arrive in a week, along with the fleet that was going to perform the Cleansing. In other words, if the Inspection Team felt it was necessary, the Cleansing could still happen. The Draconian Dominion could stop it. Sorrel was technically now their territory, since the Quarin abandoned it ages ago. But on this matter, it seemed they were entirely agreeable to covering the world in fire; the main Draconian compound was underground, they could stock up on untold heaps of supplies, and hunker down while the surface burned. Afterwards, they’d just come out and have the whole world to themselves, at least until Grandpa Dras and the Dominion fleet came by to pick t
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