by Marcus Sloss
The combined explosion rocked the field of battle with a swooshing of energy and a strong gust of air. A few craters dotted the terrain as a billow white cloud rose from the massive explosion.
With numerous enemies stunned, our tanks focused fire on the enemy machines one at a time. The slugfest was heavily in our favor once the TG99s started dropping advancing infantry. The enemy shields were no match for our repetitive blue orbs.
The kerbian commander backed his forces up from the blue portal, those on Earth became desperate to flee our barrages.
I dialed into my command channel. “Eddy, Ulanda, do not let them home. Use your TG99s to block their escape. Teach these ugly assholes this is our home,” I barked with a seething anger. “Jevon you have command.”
“I have command,” Jevon replied. AH1 was off in the distance monitoring the fight.
I went down the tower of AC1. The air controlled my descent until my boots thudded against the ground. Inside the bay, on its back, was Goliath 1. My run to the cranium control section opened a top escape hatch. I ducked into the opening with the hatch sealing behind me.
“Get us out of the air and on the dirt, Goldie. Now!” I ordered, knowing I would get disoriented from the robot sliding out of the hull.
Sure enough, I tumbled as the massive robot flowed out of the hanger with a roll and connected with the rugged terrain perfectly. The knees flexed before they stabilized. I orientated myself to see the battlefield becoming secured. Our forces were nailing the retreating fortresses at the front, causing those behind to slow when their machine became a imploded hulk.
Based on the scene unfolding I sprinted the goliath for the Xgate with Goldie understanding my mental commands. The quick steps reached the shimmering blue before our foes could escape. A single smaller robot was helping wounded fortresses return home. I stepped through the portal.
A few things happened at once. I was teleported beside the liath, a bleep told me there was lower nitrogen here, and I was being fired upon by the massed enemy guarding their side. My reserves were depleting as my shield was smacked with rounds. Before too many rounds could pepper my shielding I wrapped an arm around the other liath’s long neck and leaped home.
We transitioned the blue and crashed into the terrain of the Rockies. Our bodies halted the last of the retreat forces. I hid behind the other body as my tanks reduced the shielding of my opponent. I rolled off the ground to knell over the wounded machine. A few sharp punches and the neck cracked open shutting the machine down. Circuits sparked and hissed angrily at the damage. I spun to face the Xgate with weapon ports open expecting a challenge.
There was none because the enemy commander on that side of the portal seceded the field. With our swift victory, they did not want to stand toe to toe with our forces. The remaining enemies still on Earth were stubborn in their surrender.
“Do not start clearing the fortresses room by room,” I said over the command channel. “AC1 land, we need to load these prizes into the carrier and return them to Point Rubble.”
A few kerbian soldiers were firing out of their disabled vehicles. Their defiance was met by tanks firing back. The defense, and refusal to surrender were useless. The small arms would not even get through the hulls. When AC1 landed bulldozers flooded the fields. Battered, busted, and destroyed fortress tanks were pushed into hangar bays.
I used Goliath 1 to speed up the process of loading the destroyed forts. The goliath whined when it lifted the heavy prizes that I would chuck into the hold without power issues.
I even used the hands to smash some ornery kerbians. My inner demon danced and I smirked when the ugly things went splat. A few shots continued to ring out, but the moment they were in the hanger loading up for another place far away from their home world, the defiance lessoned.
When the process was done AC1 lifted off and went for objective rubble. The next step was taking the remaining kerbians into surrender or death. I wondered if I could simply take them into high altitudes and they would pass out like humans would. Would the Xgate blue coating protect them from a change in atmosphere? I knew the right people to ask for that answer at least. Those damn frustratingly annoying sluggero siblings.
CHAPTER 14
“This is Willis, this is Sally,” the two sluggeros said perfectly in unison from the video screen.
AC1 was on lockdown at the old shopping plaza we now called rubble. The tower lift was disabled and the interior sealed. My army had to pick up the pieces of the battle while also addressing those pesky survivors we crammed into our hold.
From up high in Goliath 1, I cursed at the tally of seventeen dead. One TG99 exploded with five on board, five infantry octosuits destroyed with three dead, and fourteen TP63s with nine dead. The wounded were not instantly healed. Alive, stable, but hurting nonetheless.
Xgate 232 had gone quiet. All four sides were peaceful as it appeared the conflict was taking a break. Which led me to this conversation I was about to have. My frustration at Willis and Sally could have been immediately fixed if I had not been sick and tired of shopping.
When Perci went down to Xgate 201 to finish our spending I ducked out and played commander during war games. Which a good leader should do in my opinion. Then again, I shouldn’t be charging a hundred foot robot into battle recklessly, so hey, at least I knew my faults. My inner desire for victory had to be sated and the bonus was we got a liath as a prize.
When Perci, Longoria, and Mitchell went down to Xgate 201 they had a fairly simple shopping list. Machines, sluggeros, and scouting hardware. The problem was we were expecting, to only at most, afford one sluggero. When a deal is too good to be true… you should run. Well, I wasn’t there to sound the horn.
Mitchell dialed back to super speedy hover boards instead of mini platforms like the squibbles. The slim profile was enough for him, and laying down flat meant a harder target to hit. This freed up funds for Perci to buy an ever dropping buy it now price for sibling sluggeros. The older sister and brother were not being bought for their price and it seemed the seller was desperate. A non-mated pair meant all sorts of issues for prospective buyers, and they refused to be separated. Perci saw it as a boon because we are not in the breeding sluggero business so who cared if they were siblings.
Everything sounded fine until I was shown the note on the sale. Hostile, irrational, sassy, bossy, and the list kept going for adjectives of an asshole. Generally speaking, assholes are my forte for breaking and reshaping. My officers or NCOs smash assholes into the dirt. That thought made my head tilt. Okay maybe that was no thought out the best way. I shook the mental image to focus on the issue.
These sluggeros weren’t soldiers. When they arrived Perci had great things to say and she mentioned they were happy. That glorious pert attitude wilted when they saw Mansion.
A few minutes later my Gpad was hacked and I got an ear full about how my life was going to be hell for the next season until they were resold. The only saving grace was they had to minimum work six point two hours per standard earth day. After that, they could tell me to bugger off.
Which is why they were so adamant to get me to talk to try to kill time. Over the last five hours, it had become a nauseating game. I had a plan though and now it was time to see if it worked.
“Time starts for work now,” I said and their sour faces were slightly less grumpy. “I need help.”
“Obviously you ingrain. You literally sleep in the mud with animals,” Sally said, her green lips contrasting her to her brother’s pink lips. “We are on the job as required, what do you request?”
“To listen to my offer. I propose granting you freedom from your thousand years on your contract to three earth years,” I said and they blanched. Sluggeros born in captivity were probably never given an option like this. There contracts were so long because the lived insanely long lives naturally. “To sweeten the deal everything you create and sell at the grand market you will get ten percent of. That way you can build a fortress in the sky of your o
wn one day and start a freed sluggero community or something. The main thing is I need you to work more, work hard, and be a part of the team starting today. And I will pay for that in your contract by changing to the terms I just set.”
There were still plenty of sluggero communities that were not subspecies. Perci mentioned the siblings filled her ears with how her race was still mighty with its technology. If only their parents had not been captured and on and on they went. My connection closed. Those little shitheads. I still desired to get a different answer out of them about my kerbians shooting at my hanger walls issue.
My Gpad rang with a call from Willow.
“What’s the plan with these prisoners below? They are recovering and a few started firing turrets at bay doors,” she said with concern in her voice. “They have not consolidated yet at least.”
I dialed into the command net. “Start staging octosuits around AC1. Five minutes we open the doors and kill or force a surrender.”
My army adjusted to my orders. Tanks carrying infantry suits deposited their riders. Shield walls were formed up over a few minutes. Right before I was about to order the assault my Gpad was overridden. I knew somewhere Perci was screaming in rage.
“Two years, fifteen percent, twelve Earth hours a day. We pick where we sleep, and we build us, as in all of this Bastion community a proper home. Not in the sky to start,” Willis offered.
“I can give you two years, but you only sleep for four hours. Make it sixteen hours of work a day and we have a deal at twelve percent,” I countered.
“Two years, fifteen hours, fourteen percent.”
“Deal,” I said, tapping my translator. I pulled up the contract Perci attached to me and altered the agreement. They accepted and it was that simple. I had hopefully reduced the incoming sassy attitude. “I want to take AC1 into the air and make the occupants pass out. Will that work?”
“No. The film in their lungs will convert to… they are high oxygen breathers, not that it matters. You need to storm the survivors I am afraid. When, and a big if to when, we have the right materials and manufacturing, I could make sleeping bombs. Not anytime soon. We are scouring the databases now to -”
“Hold that thought,” I said and muted the conversation. I connect to the command chat. A part of me was sad I would not be fighting the good fight down below. “Open AC1 doors. Storm the survivors, kill or contract if they surrender.”
The doors flopped open. I patched into the infantry octosuit of Mclain to watch the combat. The enemy had a little fight in them. The belching white of working cannons smacked into shields. Mclain jumped in front of an orb to save his soldier’s weakening shield. Another leaped ahead of him. The return fire silenced the cannon in time. A few idiotic masked kerbians charged forward to die a glorious death in battle. The octosuits granted their wishes swiftly.
Around fifty kerbian soldiers walked out with weapons down and arms held wide. My Gpad gave an alert.
‘What terms are we enforcing?’ - Mclain
‘Moving to you, secure the hanger and remove all weapons from the area.’ - Cap
When I left to go down the tube my Gpad rang before I could shoot down the goliath.
“Go for Cap.”
“One of those boarzar aliens stepped out with hands up. The drone is picking up that he is asking for the dead bodies for protein,” Jevon said with gruffness. “Eric, those words - they trigger times I wish we never shared.”
“Yeah, those poor Iranians. Have him brought to me please,” I ordered before saying, “Cap out.”
My descent down the tube was pleasant in its brevity. A few moments of quiet in the storm of being a commander. I walked out of the boot to see Bensen waiting for me. The moment I was out he went into Goliath 1. As the mighty structure walked away I stepped up the ramp to AC1.
The scene was different, yeah, different worked here. A group of octosuits surrounded two sections of helmetless aliens. The key thing that immediately jumped out was there were kerbians standing grumpily with anger. And to the other side was the bigger group of around thirty-five clumped together that consisted of a ten foot tall gray alien. Their head was purple with freckled dots of black, a single eye encompassed the enlarged head. The species reminded me of a puroon only much larger, a single eye, and with muscles. They had thrown some form of disguise suits into a pile. I was sure I would find out why soon enough. I went to kerbians first.
“Who is your leader?” I asked the nasty looking humanoids. The double jaw opened to hiss at me. I held on to my violence for now. There was a diplomat inside my little black heart somewhere. “Hiss at me again and you die. Which of you is the leader.”
There was no response. Hmm… A large muscled gray alien approached from the other group.
“They will talk through me if that is acceptable?” the new species said. I input jevian as the species name. Ralph as the individual.
“And why won’t they communicate with me directly?” I asked, in agitation. I folded my bulging arms wish the kerbians would make a move.
“Your stature for one. The fact you’re human is the next. This faction of the Koovorin Nation rolls over humans in the open. Defensively it’s more of a fair fight. They are ashamed and expected to see the svorin inside your tanks and mecha,” Ralph said, pointing at the octosuit. “The svorin have eight legs after all and use similar blue weapons. We told them that it was dense nitrogen and not corrosive plasma but they refused to listen to slave soldiers.”
“So do I just kill them and be done with it?” I asked with a shrug.
Ralph gave a jolly laughter and his large singular eye rolled back to join he arch of joy. “Their clan will trade for them back and if not the Koovorin council will. Both tend to readily exchange warriors below market value. That leads to the important question, what do you want? With that said, if you do not want to swap these warriors for something and instead want to convert them, you should expect resistance. They are rewarded if they return back on golden day for free.”
“We will get to that, I guess I need to understand who I would be trading with. You mention a nation, a council, and a faction. Which ones are you sworn to whom?” I asked, walking over to the wreckage to inspect the ruined fortress tanks. Soldiers were sorting the working items from the junk. Ralph followed me over to watch the process.
“We are purchased warriors and hold no allegiance to the kerbians, their faction, the council or the Koovorin nation,” Ralph said sternly. “Hence why I am so open with you. My contract goes to you should you claim it.”
“Well, what about you? Will they trade you back?” I asked and he shrugged.
Ralph used his extra-long thumb to indicate the other jevians. “We still have three years left on our contract even with fighting. We tried to raid another species and lost. When we surrendered it was death or conversion. We converted and were sold to the kerbians who constantly pillaged to buff their forces. A vicious cycle that occasionally sees defeat. They’re the… hmm, this faction wars a lot. Our families will never see us again because we are fodder to them. Half my tribe was lost due to our commanders decisions.”
I grunted while clenching my jaw. My gaze shot out of AC1 to see Mitchell racing forward on his hover device with the boarzar. The odd duo slowed before gliding up with the sled sagging; the platform barely hovering over the spring flowers. Mitchell hopped off first allowing the boarzar to step forward with a nod and bow of sorts.
“I am Snarltooth,” Snarltooth said and I gazed at Mitchell holding in a chuckle. Snarltusk would have worked better. “Our kind has faced a bitter four-year winter. We are desperate for food and unfortunately, we have very little to trade with.”
My arms folded across my chest while we listened to the being’s plight. Oh, I guess that was it.
“Hmm. What can you trade? I have more than these dead kerbians and jevians. One moment. Hey, Ralph, is either of your dead sacred or revered?” I asked. Ralph shook his head no. “Worth anything in trade to the kerbian
leaders?”
Again another no shake. A finger went up before Ralph said, “Do you wish to speak of the bodies with this alien or have me tell you about understanding the kerbian leaders?”
“Go ahead I am sure Snarltooth won’t mind waiting a few minutes,” I replied.
“It is important you understand there is the council, which is a myriad of species in a city with thousands of species. A mega city where a collective haven has been established.”
“Understood, this guy's uncle is not in charge of the city. His warring faction maybe,” I said and that placated Ralph. I shouted over my shoulder, “Strip the dead, load a sled attached to a TP-63!” I shifted to look at Snarltooth. “Either that feeds my hungry ramoths or you offer me a trade. I am a simple man, not in need of much. What is your planet like?”
“Caked in thick unforgiving snow, we will return to four years of warmth here soon. We manage, just normally we can sneak out and secure items for food trading. The last month has been rough with a blizzard for the ages. We are getting dire,” Snarltooth said sadly. His long snouted faced tucked into his chin. I could see his hunger pains and even his stomach rumbled. “We can grant you access to study our planet, we can give you some manual labor assuming we increase our protein intake to justify the work.”
I nodded as if I needed either. “I appreciate you coming to me the way you have Snarltooth. I am normally greeted by people looking to kill and not trade. This would make two trading portals for this gate and that makes me happy. In exchange for our hostilities earlier I will let you use my vehicle and sled to get these bodies home,” I said and he gave an excited snort. “Ah, not too excited. The vehicle and the sled come back.”
There was a loud grunt. “Understood, we will use it sparingly. I would not want to lead great warriors to my home. With your permission?” Snarltooth said, pointing at the loaded bodies.
