“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
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
“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
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
When Remian Vin died and faced his Creator, he wept. “God, not like this!” One of the nearby celestial beings spoke. “It is given for man to live and to die. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. It is the natural order.” “But not now! Not like this! I haven’t done anything worthwhile with my life! I’ve been weak from young, always a burden to my family! People have been kind to me yet I’ve done nothing to pay them back! I can’t die like this! I need to do something for them!” “What worth could your life have, if you remained? What would be the point of returning you to such a weak, frail body? Move on, and leave the past behind.” “I’ll… I’ll make it worth something. I don’t know how long I can last, but I want to make it worth something!” “When?” “Today!” Remian gasped, waking up with cold sweat. His heart thumped painfully in his chest, pain wracking his body as he sat up in bed. Was it real? Was it just a drea
Fort Spoas was a town overlooking a steep cliff over a river. With a steep hill on the west side and the desert to the north, all it really needed was a good wall to the south to form a formidably defensible position. As they were coming in for a landing on the desert side of the fort, the passengers gathered near the exit ramp, and one Iron Legionnaire spoke. “Tan, are you a settler?” The archer from the Empire spoke. “No. I am an adventurer.” “But you are planning to stay here, on the Frontier, are you not?” Tan coughed. “I have nowhere else to go. I cannot return.” “Whatever the reasons for you to be here, the Iron Legion would like to hire you as an informant. We need agents to be our eyes and ears here on the Frontier.” “What interest does the Iron Legion have in this place?” Tan asked. “Opportunity. Just like you.” “I’ll do it.” Remian offered. “I’ll be your informant. It is a paid job, isn’t it?” “It is.”
“You’re in luck.” Max grunted as Remian arrived at the Iron Legion camp at the north side of town bordering the desert with only the token and the shirt on his back. “We just happen to have some extra clothes you could use.” He brought out an oddly familiar looking package. Some leathers and furs, a worn-out bow and a quiver half-filled with arrows, and a broken axe… “That… isn’t that Tan’s…?” Remian pointed. “It was.” Max nodded agreeably. “He’s dead. Got into a fight with a local gang boss in the first tavern he came across. We got there in time to get him away, but he died of his injuries. Didn’t last an hour.” Max eyed him. “What happened to you?” “Got robbed.” Remian grimaced. “At least you survived. There’s something to be said for being weak.” Max grunted. “How did you get the shirt?” “Made a new friend.” Remian shrugged. “Even made friends? Huh. You might last quite a while yet.” Max scratched his head. “
“Remian… is that... a Wild on your shoulder?” Max rubbed his eyes as if doubting them.“Uh… long story.” Remian said sheepishly.Max and the cub exchanged glances. The cub grinned cheekily.“Is that… the barbecue thief?!” Max guessed.“Yeah. Animals would die for food.” Remian shrugged.“Well, you’re not giving it any of my food.” Max grouched. “You can do your own trapping from now on, I’ll loan you some traps and you can feed it whatever you catch on your own.”Remian sighed, turned to the cub that was sitting on his left shoulder. “Now look what you’ve done. I officially have to become a trapper.”The cub let out a small, apologetic whine.“Also, you better explain to Markus before he kills your little furball.” Max went on. “We’re actually preparing to kill a lot of Wilds tonight