⫸ [ TIME: 06:00 AETHELGARD STANDARD TIME ]
⫸ [ LOCATION: HORIZON SEEKER – EXTERNAL PERIMETER ]
⫸ [ STATUS: MOBILIZATION ]
The suns rose over a broken camp.
Elian stood by the airlock. He checked the straps on his scavenger pack. He checked the charge on The Arbiter Mark-III. The weapon looked different now. The long sniper barrel was gone. In its place was a thick, snub-nosed accelerator assembly. It was ugly. It was brutal. It was designed for close-quarters murder.
But the gun was not the heaviest thing they were carrying.
Behind him Grom and four other Giants were harnessed to a sled.
The sled was made from the curved carapace of a Scuttler Queen. The chitin had a friction coefficient of almost zero on mud. It was the only way to move the cargo.
On the sled sat the Fabricator Core.
It was not the whole machine. Elian had stripped the heavy lead shielding. He had removed the chassis. He had torn out the safety interlocks. What remained was the naked laser-sintering head, the CPU, and the power coupling.
It looked like a dissected metallic brain.
[ Payload Analysis. ]
[ Core Mass: 210 kg. ]
[ Effective Weight (8.5G): 1,785 kg. ]
[ This is the absolute limit of what the squad can drag. ]
"It is heavy," Grom grunted. The leather straps dug into his massive shoulders.
"It is the heart of our revolution," Elian said. "If we lose it, we go back to the Stone Age. If we drop it, it breaks. If we get hit, you shield the machine before you shield me."
Grom nodded. "Machine first. Grom second."
Elian looked at Disciple Lin. She was shivering. She wore a scavenged flight suit that was too big for her. She had tied her hair back with a wire.
"You are the compass," Elian said to her. "Point the way."
Lin pointed South. Toward the jagged peaks that tore the horizon.
"The Throat of the World," she whispered. "The domain of the Golden Crows."
"Move out," Elian commanded.
The squad leaned into the harnesses. The sled groaned. Then it slid.
They left the safety of the crash site. They walked into the fog.
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ TIME: 11:30 AETHELGARD STANDARD TIME ]
⫸ [ LOCATION: SECTOR 4 – THE ASH FLATS ]
⫸ [ STATUS: ENVIRONMENTAL HAZARD ]
The jungle did not end like it had at the Bone Sea. It burned away.
As they climbed in elevation the iron-bark trees became twisted and black. The mud turned into grey sludge. The air grew hot and tasted of sulfur.
By noon they were walking through snow.
But it was not ice. It was white ash falling from the volcanic peaks above.
◤ ENVIRONMENTAL SCAN ◢
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
⬢ Temperature: 45°C (Rising)
⬢ Atmosphere: High Sulfur / Particulate Matter
⬢ Terrain: Unstable Basalt
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
The march was grueling. The Giants were strong but the gravity of the incline was an enemy that never slept. Every step uphill was a battle against physics.
Grom slipped. The sled slid backward. It threatened to crush the warrior behind him.
"Hold!" Elian shouted.
He jammed a metal wedge under the runner. The sled stopped.
"We need mechanical advantage," Elian wheezed. His thermal skin was venting heat furiously but his internal temperature was spiking.
He pointed to a rock formation fifty meters up the slope.
"Run a line to that spire," Elian ordered. "Rig a pulley block. We winch it up."
They spent an hour setting up the tackle. They used the diamond-filament wire from the ship's winch. They hauled the core up fifty meters at a time. It was slow. It was miserable.
Disciple Lin watched them. She was sweating profusely. Her face was pale.
"Why?" she asked. "Why do you struggle with the dead iron? My Ancestors fly over these mountains."
Elian locked the winch. He looked at her.
"Your Ancestors fly because they stole the power from the world," Elian said. "We struggle because we are building our own."
He checked the map.
"A.R.C., where is the thermal vent? We need to recharge the batteries before we hit the Forge."
[ Geothermal signature detected 2 kilometers East. ]
[ However, I am detecting multiple life signs near the vent. ]
[ They are small. Dense. Subterranean. ]
Elian racked the bolt of his railgun.
"The Deep-Kin," he said. "Stay low."
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ TIME: 13:00 AETHELGARD STANDARD TIME ]
⫸ [ LOCATION: THE VENT ]
⫸ [ STATUS: FIRST CONTACT ]
They crested a ridge of black obsidian. Below them lay a natural amphitheater.
In the center a fissure in the earth spewed a jet of superheated steam. The ground around it glowed dull red.
Gathered around the vent were six figures.
They were not human.
They were Homo-Subterranus.
They stood four feet tall but they were nearly as wide as they were high. Their biology was a direct response to the 8.5G gravity. They were compact. Dense.
They wore heavy suits made of black iron plates bolted directly into their skin. Their eyes were covered by thick quartz goggles. They held pickaxes that looked like they weighed a ton.
◤ TARGET ANALYSIS ◢
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
⬢ Subject: Deep-Kin (Worker Caste)
⬢ Mass: 150 kg (Estimated)
⬢ Armor: Natural Dermal Plating + Iron Alloy
⬢ Threat: Medium (Melee)
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"They are mining the sulfur," Elian whispered.
He saw carts filled with yellow crystals. The Deep-Kin moved with a slow, grinding purpose. They were strong. He watched one lift a boulder the size of a microwave and toss it aside like foam.
"We need that vent," Elian said. "We need to talk to them."
"Talk?" Lin hissed. "They hate surface-dwellers. They will kill us."
"We have Giants," Elian said. "We have the bigger stick."
He stood up.
"Grom. With me. Leave the sled."
Elian walked down the slope. He kept The Arbiter lowered but ready. Grom flanked him.
A loose rock clattered down the slope.
The Deep-Kin froze.
They turned in unison. Their movements were not jerky. They were hydraulic.
They saw the Giant. They saw the Grey Demon.
They didn't scream. They didn't run.
They formed a phalanx. They slammed their shields together. It was a practiced military maneuver.
A leader stepped forward. His armor was etched with gold runes. He pointed a heavy iron gauntlet at Elian.
He spoke. It sounded like rocks grinding in a crusher.
"GHA-KULL. RAK-THUN."
"A.R.C., translate."
[ Processing linguistic patterns... ]
[ Root Language: Terrestrial Germanic / Geo-Dialect. ]
[ Translation: "Soft-Flesh. Go back. Or become ash." ]
Elian tapped his synthesizer.
"I SEEK THE FORGE. I SEEK THE VOID-STEEL."
The Leader laughed. It was a deep, resonant rumble.
He slammed his pickaxe into the ground. A pulse of heat rippled through the earth. The steam vent flared.
The Leader channeled the Aether through the earth. He was an Earth-Mage.
"THE METAL IS NOT FOR SLAVES," the Leader roared. "DIE."
He swung his pickaxe. A jagged spike of rock erupted from the ground beneath Elian's feet.
Elian didn't dodge. He had calculated the vector.
He activated his boots. He stepped onto the rising spike. He rode it up.
He leveled The Arbiter Mark-III.
"Diplomacy failed," Elian said.
He didn't shoot the Dwarf. He shot the ground in front of the phalanx.
BOOM.
The snub-nosed railgun fired a Concussive Slug. It hit the basalt floor.
The impact didn't just crack the rock. It sent a shockwave through the solid ground.
To creatures that relied on seismic sense, it was like a flashbang.
The Deep-Kin staggered. They clutched their helmets. Their formation broke.
"Grom! Subdue! Do not kill!"
Grom charged.
He was three times their height. He hit the line like a wrecking ball.
He didn't use his pike. He used his shield. He slammed the Leader backward.
The Leader flew ten meters. He hit the canyon wall. CRUNCH.
He tried to stand up.
Elian was there.
Elian placed the barrel of the railgun against the Leader's helmet. The cooling vents hissed.
"YIELD."
The Leader looked at the weapon. He looked at the Giant. He looked at Elian's blue, alien eyes.
He dropped his pickaxe.
"Yield," the Leader grumbled.
Elian stepped back.
"Good," Elian said. "I don't want your life. I want to make a trade."
He pointed to the Fabricator sled at the top of the ridge.
"I have a machine that eats rock and spits iron. You have Void-Steel. We are going to do business."
The Leader looked at the sled. He tilted his head.
"A machine... that eats rock?"
Elian smiled beneath his visor.
"Let me show you the future, Master Dwarf."
[END OF CHAPTER 20]