by Isaac Hooke
The ground around him broke away in clumps. He was operating in Bullet Time, so he knew he was watching the formation of a crater.
And then the ground under his hands broke away as well, and he was drawn backwards.
Brontosaurus grabbed him by the wrists.
The ground underneath the heavy gunner crumbled, and once more Eric was pulled backward, this time with Brontosaurus.
But then Bambi grabbed Brontosaurus’ ankles. She slammed her six legs into the ground, and struggled to hold on; the surface beneath her was slowly breaking away. Her first pair of forelegs had no footing a moment later, and then her second pair lost the ground underneath.
A dispersion bolt launched from somewhere behind her. Tread’s doing.
The bolt struck the black hole, and the incredible suction subsided. Eric, Brontosaurus, and Bambi all dropped into the resultant crater that had formed.
“Eliminate that tank!” Marlborough shouted.
Eric rolled to the side as one of the surviving Dragonworms swooped down upon him and launched a gooey web. It struck the unearthed soil beside him.
Still lying down, he swiveled his plasma and laser rifles into his hands and fired. Dragonworm insides rained down on him, and he rolled out of the way again as the bioweapon hit the ground, landing in the crater beside him.
Brontosaurus took out another Dragonworm that had endured the initial onslaught, while Bambi got a third.
All three of them crawled to the edge of the crater, using the lip as cover. Eric glanced at his map: there were no formations among the Bolt Eaters anymore: the team members were scattered around the crater, ducked behind their shields and firing at the closest tanks or bioweapons. Mostly it was to offer covering fire for Slate and Traps, who were dashing forward to assault the tanks with their Wolverine-style blades.
As Eric watched, Slate dodged the attack from a tentacle—evidently the tank had lowered its energy shield to strike—and then slammed his alien blades home. Eric spotted a dual cannon on the back of that tank, in the middle of those tentacles, and he realized that was the one harboring the black hole device. Eric quickly scanned the remaining alien tanks and confirmed that none of the others had such weapons.
Eric lined up one of the tentacled tanks with his shoulder-mounted energy cannon, intending to distract it from Traps, but before he could fire, a shadow blotted out the sun.
He glanced up: an airship was directly overhead.
Obviously intending to use its tractor beam.
“Move!” Eric said.
He leaped out of the crater along with Brontosaurus, but Bambi was too slow: she had fired her jumpjets, but the tractor beam activated before she left its area of effect, and she froze. A translucent light formed a cylinder all around that area of effect, and Bambi’s front claws protruded from the edges.
Eric leaped at her, grabbing onto those claws. Brontosaurus meanwhile offered covering fire from the ground. Frogger had joined him.
He curled his biceps, straining his servomotors, and that movement, combined with his weight, ripped Bambi free, and they plunged to the ground.
“Concentrate fire on the airship!” Eric said. Its energy shield would be down.
He unleashed several plasma and energy bolts, as did other members of the team, targeting the open hangar bay above. He also fired his laser beam.
The laser impacts drilled small holes into the tractor beam generator, but before the plasma and energy bolts hit, the tractor beam deactivated, and the energy shield kicked in—convex flashes appeared all along the surface of the field where those bolts were absorbed.
“Let’s get a concerted attack against that airship!” Marlborough said. “Fire one spear each!”
Eric deployed his alien blades and aimed his arm upward.
“Now!” Marlborough said.
Eric launched one of the alien spears.
Similar blades launched from across the platoon, and struck the alien shield at the same time. Ten of them were repelled, but the shield fell at that point, and four more penetrated, striking the underside of the airship and sending out sparks in all directions along the hull. One of those spears entered the still open hangar bay, and struck the tractor beam generator. From the way electricity literally engulfed it, Eric thought it had gone offline.
“Cover me!” Bambi activated her jumpjets and ascended toward that hangar bay.
Eric opened fire at the remaining bioweapons in the air, while other Bolt Eaters joined in. Some of them also fired at the alien tanks.
The airship was attempting to move out of the way, so Bambi missed the hangar bay and landed on the hull. She clambered along the surface like a fast-moving spider, having her foot magnetization adjustments down to an art, and reached the bay shortly; its doors were closing, but she pulled herself inside before they shut.
“Bambi, careful!” Eric said.
“You know you love me when I do brave shit like this,” Bambi said.
“No, actually, I never knew you to be reckless…” Eric said.
“I’m not reckless,” Bambi said. “I know what I’m doing.”
And then her signal cut off.
The hangar bay doors bulged, and two spears thrust forth from inside. Electrical sparks passed outward. More bulges, and finally the material buckled, and Bambi’s tail appeared. The hole enlarged, until her Crab peeked through. On its back was a Cicada wearing collection gloves. She held a spear in hand, and promptly slotted it into the tail, so that she had three prongs once more. Then she waved.
“Tread, launch a black hole in here,” Bambi ordered.
“It’ll take a few secs to get into position,” Tread said.
“Sex,” Bambi commented. “I like that word. In the meantime, I’ll gather up the spears that got through!”
Her Crab clambered onto the hull and began racing to the locations where the different spears protruded. When she reached each one, she leaned to the side in her Cicada, pried the spear free, and then hurled it toward one of the tanks below. Sometimes she’d strike a weakened energy shield, piercing through it and the tank beyond. Other times, her blade would glance off, or the tank would swerve out of the way.
Tread launched a bolt from his black hole weapon.
“Damn it, still have one left.” Bambi rushed to the final spear and pried it free, not bothering to aim it at an alien tank, and simply letting it fall.
The bolt entered the tear in the hangar bay, and a black hole formed.
The airship began to implode.
Bambi released the hull. She fell away just as it collapsed underneath her.
None of the tanks fired any dispersion bolts—confirming that there were indeed none left with black hole weapons.
When the airship vanished from existence, Tread fired a few dispersion bolts and the tear in reality faded.
Bambi hit the ground.
“See, told you I wasn’t reckless,” she said.
And then an energy beam hit her Crab in the head from behind, and melted that part of her crab away.
She collapsed.
“Bambi!” Eric rushed to her, as did Crusher.
Eric released several energy bolts at the tank that had done this; Frogger rushed it with his remaining alien blade, and pierced the shield. Frogger was swatted aside by a tentacle, but then Slate went in and finished the job.
Crusher lifted the mech, revealing where Bambi’s Cicada had been pinned underneath.
“Hey guys,” she said sheepishly, scrambling to her feet. She examined the headless Crab. “Hm, guess my mech is out of action for the next little while.”
Eric nodded, relieved.
“Target the next airship!” Marlborough shouted.
Another airship was coming overhead. None of the bioweapons were left.
Eric held his shield toward the tanks to protect himself from their incoming beams. He wasn’t paying much attention to them—he was focusing on the airship—and he’d just have to hope none of those beams managed to pene
trate the holes in his shield.
“I only want ten spears this time,” Marlborough said. “That’s the magic number. Any more than that, and we’ll just lose spears. Tread, you’re going to fire an instant later.”
Eric aimed his spear at the airship and waited for Marlborough to give the order.
“Now!” Marlborough said.
Ten of the Bolt Eaters, including Eric, launched their remaining spears. The blades all bounced away from the force field.
Eric fired his laser to confirm that it was down, and he was able to create a dark spot on the hull.
“Shield is down!” he announced.
But Tread had already fired the black hole bolt, and even though the airship’s hangar bay wasn’t open, with the shield down, the bolt was able to reach the hull. A pinch in reality formed on the surface, and the vessel began to implode.
It only took a short time for the ship to implode, and when it was gone, Tread fired the necessary dispersion bolts.
The other two airships promptly fled away to the north.
“That’s right, run away, bitches!” Slate said. “Can’t handle real men, huh?”
“And women,” Crusher said.
“Women,” Slate said. “That’s funny.”
“Shut it, before I cave in that tin can you call a head,” Crusher said.
The Bolt Eaters eliminated the remaining tentacled tanks in short order—those that still had their spears rushed them, while the others offered covering fire.
And then it was done: there were no more enemies to target.
“Well, that was entertaining,” Slate said. “Nothing like destroying a few airships and their alien pets to brighten up one’s day.”
“Look at the maps!” Traps said. “All messed up! It says we’re at the same point in the forest where the aliens picked us up. Next to the rift!”
“That’s the problem when traveling aboard a craft equipped with inertialess drives,” Eagleeye said. “Our accelerometers don’t work.”
Eric glanced at the overhead map. It was true. The immediate area had been overwritten by data from the surrounding plains, but beyond it, the map showed the forested regions the team had mapped after leaving the rift. He recognized the eastern route they had explored, which traveled out onto the plains before looping back to come in from the north. Everything else was black. Definitely incorrect.
Eric activated his repair swarm and designated one of the tank wreckages as his material source. His damaged leg servomotors were grinding loudly, so he decided to devote most of the drones to repairing his ankle, knee, and hip servomotors first, along with other damage he had taken during the fight.
Mickey sat his mech down on the ground.
“I know I’m a robot, but that was exhausting,” Mickey said. “Mentally, if not physically. Especially considering the news about that map. This whole operation was for nothing. How are we going to get back now? I just want to spend the next few years in VR.”
“No time to think about that,” Marlborough said. “Because you see, there’s no rest for the weary. Gather up your spears. See those mountains to the east, in the distance? The Banthar are going to be looking for us real quick… I want to be hidden inside those mountains before the hour is out.”
7
Eric jettisoned from his Devastator, and retrieved the collection gloves from his storage compartment. With his Cicada unit, he collected two of the spears that littered the ground from the previous attack, and slotted them both into his forearm while the drones continued their repairs.
“Wolverine returns,” Frogger commented. He was carrying two spears back to his own mech.
“That’s getting old,” Eric said.
“I suppose it is,” Frogger told him. “Maybe we need to come up with a new name.”
“Well, those tanks could be Dr. Octopus’s,” Eric said.
“Terrible name,” Slate said. “Considering we’re not up on your bitch-like pop culture.”
“I kind of feel like Spiderman with these blades,” Mickey said. “At least, when I deploy them. It’s almost like launching a web.”
“We’ll stick with Wolverine metaphors for now,” Frogger said.
The remaining members of the team retrieved their spears, some of which protruded from the wreckages of the alien tanks.
Bambi stood before her downed mech. She’d deployed the repair drones from the storage compartment, and they were working on restoring the melted head section. The drones utilized materials from a nearby alien tank, sparing her own. That material couldn’t have been too exotic; otherwise the drones would have had trouble melting it down.
“Who’s going to drag my Crab while it undergoes repairs?” Bambi said.
“Girl, you got crabs?” Slate asked.
“Yeah,” Bambi said. “Got a steel comb?”
“I don’t need no steel comb,” Slate said. “Today’s your lucky day: I’ll comb my dick over your pussy, and that’s the only combing you’ll ever need again.”
“You’re lucky my mech is currently disabled,” Bambi said. “Or you might find yourself castrated.”
“Ooo Bambi, I love it when you talk dirty,” Slate said. “But in case you hadn’t noticed, I got no dick.”
“Oh, I noticed,” Bambi said. “Nor balls, either. Very symbolic of the so-called ‘man’ you are.”
“Hey, don’t be focusing your efforts on insulting me in my machine form,” Slate said. “Because none of us got any genitalia. Even you, in case you forgot to peek between your legs this morning. But hey, you should see me in VR. Then my girl, you’ll realize what an amazing specimen I am.”
“Oh, I have seen you in VR, many times, and I’m not impressed,” Bambi said. “In fact, seeing as that’s where most of your pride seems to originate, perhaps I’ll focus my efforts on hacking your VR. Virtually castrating your avatar will be much more pleasurable than anything I could do to you in the real world. Especially if those changes were permanent.”
“Don’t you dare go touching my custom designed avatar,” Slate said. “I spent hours perfecting my dick, getting it just right.”
“You would,” Eagleeye said.
“That’s right, take her side,” Slate said. “Just like the pussy boy you are.”
“At least I don’t live on a diet of soy,” Eagleeye said.
“Bitch, that the best insult you can come up with?” Slate said. “Considering you know I don’t eat no food?”
“Oh, you eat food,” Eagleeye said. “And the base ingredient in all of it is soy.”
“I don’t get it,” Hicks said. “What’s wrong with soy?”
“And we have the prototypical soy boy in the house,” Slate said, pointing at Hicks.
“Increases estrogen,” Tread said. “Or something.”
Everyone had finished restoring their spears by then, and the Cicadas all loaded into their mech units.
“Back to my question, who’s going to drag my unit?” Bambi asked.
“I’ll do it,” Eric said. He went to the Crab and grabbed the tail, sliding the tip over one shoulder—the shoulder opposite his energy cannon.
“I’ll help,” Crusher said. “Least I can do for my sister.”
“You’re more than sisters, last I heard,” Slate said, his voice oozing sexual insinuation.
“That’s right.” Crusher grabbed one of the Crab’s hind legs and lifted it over her shoulder. Then she held up one hand, formed a V shape, and moved her head toward it, as if licking.
“Ooo!” Slate said. “I knew it!”
Crusher lowered her hand, wrapped it around the leg, and then pulled. Eric did the same, so that they dragged Bambi forward together. His legs creaked in protest, as they still suffered damage from the leap out of the airship: the repairs were ongoing.
“Careful!” Bambi told Crusher. “Don’t pull too hard or you’ll damage the leg. I don’t want to have to repair that, too.”
“I’ll treat it as if it was my own mech,” Crusher said.
Bambi watched them for a moment, and when she was satisfied that Eric and Crusher were handling her mech gently enough, she leaped onto the Crab’s carapace. Rather hard, at that: as if she was allowed to damage it, but no one else.
“What about the tank?” Bambi said. “I’ll need the spare parts. Or the materials, at least.”
“You’ll be able to leech off the tanks we bring with us.” Marlborough turned toward the other mechs. “I want the rest of you to drag one tank behind you, each. Some of the metal is obviously compatible with our drones, considering they’re melting them down well enough for her Crab. Use them for repairs. And Frogger, distribute the blueprints of those emitters you came up with back in the forest. It’s time to hide our signatures from the Banthar.”
“Finally!” Frogger said.
“Yes,” Marlborough said. “Now that we have the materials, we’re not going to waste them.”
“Unless of course the emitters don’t actually work,” Dickson said. “In which case, we’re up the proverbial fecal creek.”
“Leave it to the staff sergeant to come up with an euphemism like up the proverbial fecal creek,” Slate said. “Sheesh. And I thought mine were bad.”
“Should we harvest the black hole cannon from the alien tank?” Crusher said.
Brontosaurus went to the tank in question. “Looks like they got smart, and started installing self destructing weapons.” He ripped the cannon away and revealed what was left of it: a melted husk. He squeezed, shattering it; the particles floated away on the breeze.
“Speaking of black hole cannons,” Tread said. “Mine took some damage back there. One of those damn tanks hit it… looks like I can’t use the cannon anymore.”
“That’s too bad,” Dickson said. “That was our most powerful weapon.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” Tread said. “I’d try to repair it, but I have no idea where to start. This alien tech is all a black box to us.”
“That is indeed unfortunate,” Marlborough said. “But there’s nothing we can do about it. Let’s move. Pick a tank!”
The mechs began dragging the wreckages of different tentacled tanks, and they headed toward the mountains to the east.