“I told you I should have stayed on stick!” Zenith shouted, running back to the cockpit.

“They didn’t brief us on any planetary defenses, ZT.”

Zenith flew over the pilot’s chair with a practiced leap and grabbed the controls. Ozzy was a capable pilot when needed, but if their lives were on the line she was taking the reins. A tactical feed appeared in the heads-up display of her helmet. No bogies inbound, but multiple projectiles were lighting up the sky.

“Hilde, assessment.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask, darling,” Hilde said, popping onto the HUD. The AI had chosen the avatar of an exuberant, well-dressed infernum, with horns slightly more curved than Hoxley’s.

“A section of the surface is being obscured from sensors by a scrambler, but given the rate of fire and metrics of the projectiles I surmise we are being shot at by four mark-five lightning javelins.”

“Safe bet that the scrambled section is where the research station is,” Zenith said, jerking the controls to the left and narrowly avoiding a blast of radiant plasma.

“Four is too many for us to charge in, ZT,” Ozzy said.

“For you maybe, but I’m not going to risk it in case there’s another surprise waiting for us,” Zenith said, slapping the comms button, “buckle up everyone, I’m taking us in. Hilde, plot a course taking us as close we can get to that station without taking fire. We’ll use the sloop from there. Javelins can’t touch us if we’re close to the ground.”

The Sunrunner trembled as it dove into the atmospheric barrier. Somewhere behind her, Zenith heard plates fall to the ground accompanied by a succinct curse from Hoxley. Motes of obliterating light zipped past the ship with diminishing frequency as she flew out of range. The rattling of descent disappeared with the incoming fire as they neared the planet’s surface. Whatever else may come, no harm would come to the crew while she was in the pilot’s chair.

~*~

Hoxley anxiously fidgeted with the small device on his arm containing his personal shield generator, checking again and again that it was still functioning. The crew had strapped into their seats aboard the sloop and were awaiting contact as Zenith flew them in. The small landing vessel, affectionately named Rockhopper, was slightly more comfortable than a can of fish and equally aromatic. BOB’s visual sensor registered the nervous infernum.

“Your PSG unit is operating within standard perimeters. I inspected it seventy-one hours ago!” BOB said. Whether they were trying to be reassuring or indignant, no one could tell.

“Yea, stop fiddling with your unit,” Odybrix said, smirking.

“I’m not a fighter,” Hoxley said, releasing his death grip on the PSG, “I should be back aboard the ship preparing a victory meal.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Adam said, “I’ve seen you use that weird fire gun. You’re plenty capable.”

“I, uh, yeah. I shoot guns. I know how to do that.”

“And there might be hungry scientists down there who need you to whip up a snack,” Buddy said, without a hint of sarcasm.

Hoxley grew quiet and stared at the cracked vid screen above the door to the cockpit. An arid landscape of rust and slate rushed beneath them under a yellow sky. The atmosphere, according to Xavier, was “mildly corrosive.” This meant two things: you couldn’t breathe it for long without having your lungs look like someone brushed them with a scouring pad and it would eventually eat through the filters on your pressure suit. He felt his jaw click and realized he was grinding his teeth. Just take a breath. We’re going to be fine.

As if given its cue, a distant black dot appeared on the old vid screen and Zenith spoke through their HUD network, “We got incoming.”

The speck on the screen grew arms and legs. A large extension stuck out of its back. The Rockhopper jerked left and Zenith cursed over comms, confirming the mech had a rocket launcher. A series of sharp turns slammed the crew against their harnesses, testing the integrity of the aging restraints. The dull boom of an explosion resounded outside and the vid screen was lit up with the flicker of plasma blasts.

There was a moment of stability when Zenith made a wide turn. Adam seized the chance to disconnect from his harness and dash into the cockpit, operating the single light plasma cannon the sloop had. Bursts of blue light sped toward the approaching mech as he returned fire. The volley intercepted its flight path and was seemingly going to strike it, but the mech spun upward with astonishing agility.

“What the hell is that thing?” Adam asked, “An F2200?”

“Moves like one. Shoots rockets too, but the profile is way bigger,” Zenith said, “a big girl like that shouldn’t do backflips.”

As if in response to confusion, a compartment on the mech’s wrist opened and a cylinder the size of Odybrix sprung into its hand. Blue light erupted from its thrusters as it closed the gap between them. Energy crackled from the object in its hand and coalesced into a colossal blade. Hoxley gripped the tattered cushion of his seat in mortified anticipation of the collision.

“Nope,” Zenith said.

“Holy f-,”

The expletive got halfway out of Odybrix’ mouth before the Rockhopper wrenched to the left and narrowly avoided an unexpected window installation. The maneuvers—or more accurately, G-Force torture—that followed, made Hoxley glad that he hadn’t eaten. That feeling quickly evaporated into concern that he had missed his last meal when he saw the mech soaring toward them. The roar of thrusters drowned the screams and alarms, but the zap of the light plasma cannon intermittently pierced the din—Adam didn’t stop shooting.

The jarring movements came less frequently and the sloop began accelerating. The mech fired hot plasma in their direction but didn’t spare another rocket. After a few seconds, it broke off pursuit and flew back toward the research station. Hoxley released his stranglehold on the seat.

“-fuck!” Odybrix concluded.

“Everyone alright back there? We’re going to go ahead and keep our distance from whatever that is,” Zenith said.

“That has to be a military prototype,” Adam said, “not RC. I would have heard about giant beam blades.”

Adam popped an image of the mech onto the vid screen. The design evoked the word “slick.” The smooth angles of its body and limbs lacked the characteristic form-over-fashion design of most mechs. No performance issues arose despite the apparent focus on aesthetics. If anything, it was faster and deadlier than most of its counterparts.

Its power was intimidating, but something else set Hoxley on edge. It wasn’t the mounted rocket platform or plasma cannon, it was what was the feeling being evoked. A creeping unease skittered up his back and clutched at his chest. Whatever was in the mech felt like something plucked from his nightmares.

~*~

“This is a lovely planet,” Buddy said unsarcastically, kicking up clouds of dust as she marched across the barren landscape.

“This?” Adam asked, sweeping an arm out to confirm they were talking about the same ball of dirt, “it’s corrosive and devoid of life.”

“Quit describing BOB and his coffee,” Odybrix said.

“How dare you!” BOB chimed, pleasantly, “Your tongue is obviously defective.”

“I didn’t say I don’t like the coffee.”

“She consumes 2.5 liters of your beverage on average per day,” Jim said, “it is reasonable to assert she enjoys the coffee.”

Buddy continued as if the conversation had not shifted away from the planet, “It’s a lovely shade of red. And it has so many bumps and ridges.”

Zenith landed the sloop far enough away from the station to feel comfortable that the mech wouldn’t find them. From there, they would use the planet’s natural topography to conceal their approach. It was safe to assume they could only be detected visually due to whatever was scrambling their scanners. The downside was that they couldn’t communicate with the Sunrunner until the interference was dealt with. Moreover, their short-range comms became pretty spotty the further they moved from each other.

Buddy considered the clandestine hike a delightful change of pace from life aboard a spacecraft. It was, to her severely limited recollection, the first time she had been on a planet. She had overheard bits of conversation about life planet side, specifically a halfling man saying he would kiss the ground when he finally got back to Hearthlight. She wasn’t in a position to kiss this planet without consequence, but otherwise, the experience was living up to the hype: open spaces, great exercise, colourful atmosphere, it was great.

The threat of violence soured the experience a little, but violence seemed inevitable given all she had seen at this point. She just had to take the good with the bad. The bad, to her pleasant surprise, had decided to leave. Adam yanked her into a crouched position as a small spacecraft flew into the sky. Lagging behind was the mech they were avoiding. When it was out of sight, Adam released his grip and a collection of sighs blew in over the short-range comms. Zenith climbed the nearest ridge, pulled out an L57 Longshot Sniper Rifle—Buddy wasn’t sure how she knew the weapon—and looked down the scope. 

“Looks like they left a drop ship and a small unit behind,” Zenith said, “gear makes me think mercs. Also, they’re ransacking the place. Are we going to engage?”

“Fuck yes we’re going to engage,” Odybrix said, “I was going to steal that stuff. Wait, they don’t have blue stripes on their forearms, do they?”

“Nope.”

“Good,” the halfling said, lowering her head and bringing her arms to her chest. A faint pink glow surrounded her body and motes of dust blew away from her feet. The rest of the crew took the cue to activate their more conventional forms of shielding. Blue matrices flickered across their pressure suits and disappeared as the personal shield generators activated. Buddy, unfamiliar with the device, was about to ask if the shields were malfunctioning but felt a comfortable thrum vibrating her pressure suit and decided the PSGs were working.

The mercenaries were less observant than their super-mech friend. The crew snuck up to the north wall of the facility without being noticed. Zenith decided to stay back on a ridge and call out their movements. Adam reassured the crew that the operation could be quick and clean if they maintained the element of surprise. They just had to scale the wall and pick off the combatants one by one.

Buddy volunteered to go first. Dr. Jim had said she was pretty fit, so maybe she was good at this sort of thing. She took a running start and, to her surprise, found the agility to sprint up the wall. She moved so fast that she overshot the top by her entire body length. Levitating in the brief hang time she spotted an HVAC block and determined it would be a good hiding spot for the crew. She caught the edge of the wall, pulled herself up effortlessly, and motioned for the others.

BOB was next. The small box bot climbed astonishingly well. It anchored itself by deploying a knife from a hidden compartment and jabbing it into the wall, then used its little robot legs to kick itself up. It was kind of adorable. Certainly the cutest thing Buddy could remember. 

Light flickered around Odybrix as she leapt over the wall in a single bound. Jim methodically pulled himself up as if he were engaging in a casual hobby and not assaulting a building full of hostile mercenaries. The trouble came when Hoxley was about halfway up the wall. Buddy didn’t see it, but there was a wincingly audible “Wuaah,” followed by a wincingly audible thud. Odybrix muttered a quick chain of expletives before Zenith’s broken voice came in over comms.

“…been made…approaching…chain gun.”

Buddy ran to the wall and a bullet zipped over her head as Zenith laid down cover fire. A familiar rev came from behind, crescendoing into the rapid tat tat tat of chain gun fire that swept out toward Zenith’s position. Below, Hoxley picked himself up with a groan, Adam then picked up Hoxley and hurled him upward with extraordinary strength. Hoxley’s limbs flailed frantically as he flew toward Buddy and she—despite several panicked slaps to the face—managed to pull him over the ledge.

The research station was U-shaped with a two-tiered roof. The higher portion was ringed by landing lights and had at least one ramp leading up to it. Two figures in hodgepodge battle gear crested the landing pad snapping off shots from their battle rifles. Adam sprung over the wall and whipped a slab of machinery off his back. The device unfolded with a quick series of cracks, taking the form of an M50 Mag Rail. Buddy once again recognized the weapon.

A heavy slug of laser-cut metal slammed into a mercenary’s helmet, shredding the faceplate and the contents it failed to protect. His companion stumbled at the sight of the violence and tumbled down the ramp. BOB half shuffled half ran to the fallen combatant. A panel slid open on his chassis and a metal appendage popped out holding a vibration knife. The mercenary rolled to his feet and BOB repeatedly jackhammered the blade into his thighs and crotch. 

The violence was punctuated with an intense thunk thunk thunk, as the chain gun tore holes into BOB’s side. Buddy spun out from cover, clocking the gunner, a dwarf by their height, and an infernum with a laser pistol. The infernum dropped his gun and collapsed holding the sides of his head. Odybrix stood next to Buddy holding out a glowing hand. The chain gun fire turned toward them and Buddy instinctively reached for the laser pistol at her hip.

~*~

She was sitting at a table in a dark room, rolling a black chip over her fingers. She didn’t know she could do that. Two figures sat at her right and left, each without eyes or mouths. A third sat in front of her. This one had a face. He was a dwarf man—red speckled nose, black hair, a scar above his left eyebrow. He smiled at her as he revealed a hand of cards and stretched out his arms to collect a pile of chips in the middle of the table.

“You forgot one,” she said in a voice that wasn’t her own.

The dwarf paused and she flicked the chip into the air. Her body moved with a speed she didn’t think was possible. She drew two laser pistols, blasting holes in the heads of the faceless men at her sides, and fired both guns again. The shots took the dwarf in the forehead and chest just before the chip landed on the table with a click.

~*~

Buddy opened her eyes. She was standing on the roof of the research facility again. A dwarf with a smoking hole in his forehead stood in front of her, surprise flash frozen on his face. He collapsed over the chain gun a moment later. Bursts of gunfire rattled off around her as her allies cleaned up the remainder of their foes. She quietly walked over to a corpse and picked up another laser pistol.