Chapter 174

I am incredibly sorry for the long wait.

I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

"An earthquake?"

Teiro had been drifting in the shallow end of sleep when a faint tremor jolted him awake. While the entire facility was constantly hammered by the howling winds of the planet's sandstorms, this vibration was something else entirely.

[“YO, BOSS. YOU AWAKE? WE’VE GOT COMPANY. ESTIMATED ARRIVAL IS ANYWHERE FROM ONE TO FOUR HOURS FROM NOW. SORRY FOR THE VAGUE WINDOW, AS USUAL. I’M SENDING THE ARMORED UNIT OUT TO INTERCEPT. THAT COOL WITH YOU?”]

Alan’s voice crackled through BISHOP, the base’s internal comms. Teiro barked a short "Understood" and practically teleported out of his bed, sprinting from the room without even stopping to put on shoes.

"Ah, Teiro! They’re back!"

He’d barely covered any distance down the hallway when he nearly collided with Marl as she burst out of her own room. Teiro gave a sharp nod to the girl—whose eyes were currently a map of bloodshot veins thanks to chronic sleep deprivation—and grabbed her hand.

"Let’s move!" he shouted, and they took off. Their destination: the Close-Quarters Equipment Room. It housed the gear that was absolutely non-negotiable for the suicidal brawl ahead.

"Do you think they’ll actually commit to a fight this time? Or will they chicken out and retreat like before?" Marl asked, her voice tight with anxiety as they reached the room.

The two of them began the frantic ritual of climbing into their Armed Suits. This was the fourth time in seven days that the enemy had knocked on their door. Each previous time, the WIND had hovered just out of range before mysteriously pulling back.

"Hell if I know, but we have to treat it the same either way," Teiro grunted. "Besides, their sudden caution is creeping me out. It’s weird."

He pulled on the thick Heat-Resistant Suit first, then layered the Armed Suit—a masterpiece of scientific overkill—over it. It didn’t have the raw hydraulic muscle of a heavy-duty Powered Suit, but as far as personal survival went, it was a fortress you could wear. The plating was made of Ivory Metal, the same stuff they used for starship hulls, and the joints were reinforced with flexible Carbon Fiber, better known as Strength Fiber. It was durable enough to ensure that if a car exploded in your face, your limbs would at least stay attached to your torso. It was heat-proof, non-conductive, and even laughed at moderate radiation.

"True," Marl muttered, struggling to shove her massive chest into the unforgiving suit. I’m pretty sure the WIND down here are way more evolved than the ones we dealt with in space.

Teiro caught a glimpse of her struggle out of the corner of his eye and nodded. "Probably. I mean, think about the encounter rates. Up there, the WIND might drift for decades or centuries before hitting a human settlement. Down here? They’re getting into scraps every single week."

"Fair point. I guess NASA was just a convenient training dummy for them..." Marl’s face twisted in a scowl of pure resentment. "Ugh, it makes me so mad. What do they think we are? Toys?"

Teiro offered a sympathetic grunt as he slammed his helmet into place, sealing himself away from the world. A faint hiss signaled the backpack unit coming to life, pumping filtered air into his visor.

"Emotions aren't really their—Whoa! Okay, that was a big one! They’re close!"

The entire base groaned under a massive, earth-shaking rumble.

"That’s the first time the second row of mines has tripped," Marl whispered, staring up at the ceiling like it might collapse at any second.

The shaking was the handiwork of Battleship Plum’s warheads. Marl had rigged them with proximity sensors and buried them in a grid around the base. With the sandstorm making radar about as useful as a screen door on a submarine, the landmines were the only way to track the enemy's progress. They hadn’t been able to lug the heavy Torpedoes down to the surface, but even standard naval warheads were catastrophic when detonated on land.

"If we can just thin the herd a little bit before they get here... Alright! Let's do this!"

Teiro slapped his chest to psych himself up. Thanks to the suit’s Shock Absorbers, the blow felt like a wet noodle hitting a sponge, but it helped clear his head.

"This is Teiro. Lock down the elevator after the last cargo container lands. Raise the Ladder!"

[“UNDERSTOOD, MR. TEIRO. WE WILL BEGIN ASCENDING THE LADDER IN THREE HOURS, IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING THE CONTAINER’S ARRIVAL.”]

"Thanks, Koume," Teiro said. He turned to Marl, who gave him a determined nod. She held out a fist, looking like a mechanical golem in her bulky Armed Suit. "Let’s do this."

"Yeah. Time to earn the paycheck."

Teiro bumped his knuckles against hers with a metallic clack and began sprinting up the emergency stairs leading to the roof.

Sand. Rock. Iron.

That was the view from the top of Ladder Base, which had been reinforced into a makeshift Fortress. The terrain was a jagged mess of erosion and canyons, visible for a few kilometers before the wall of the sandstorm swallowed everything in a beige haze.

"Alan! Talk to me. That last shake?"

Teiro ran over to the observation post where Alan was squinting into the gloom. He reached into a Weapon Container sitting on the floor and yanked out two rifles, tossing one to Marl and checking the action on the other.

"Koume’s math says there’s a 94.5% chance that was the Second Minefield," Alan grumbled, shrugging his shoulders. "It’s them, no doubt. Dammit, if we’d had just a few more days, I could’ve turned this place into a real deathtrap."

Teiro slung the rifle over his shoulder. "Look at the bright side. We got seven days. Let's be grateful for that."

"Yeah... suppose so. But who am I supposed to be thanking, Boss? God? The universe?"

"Hmm, let’s see..."

Teiro looked over at the mechanical genius who had spent the last week working herself into a coma. She was the lynchpin of the entire defense plan.

"For starters, let’s thank the Big-Breasted Goddess. Without Marl, we wouldn’t have finished half of this."

"The kid, huh?" Alan let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah, that works. She’s a beauty as long as she keeps her mouth shut. I’m with you on that."

The two men shared a quiet laugh over their private comms channel, feeling very smug.

"What are you two idiots whispering about? If you’ve got something to say, say it to my—TEIRO!"

The world buckled again. But this time, it wasn't just a sound. Beyond the curtain of the sandstorm, a gargantuan wall of dust was billowing toward them. Even without his helmet’s zoom, it was terrifyingly close.

"They're here! Everyone, Condition One Battle Stations!" Teiro roared into the wide-area channel. "Dump the descending container immediately! Cut the Ladder loose!"

The weapons in that container were going to be scrap metal, but they couldn't risk a WIND hitching a ride up the cable.

[“CONTAINER DISCARDED. PREDICTED IMPACT IS 1,200 METERS SOUTHWEST OF THE BASE. IMPACT IS NEGLIGIBLE. CABLE ASCENT INITIATED.”]

Koume’s voice remained perfectly detached. Teiro looked up just in time to see the magnetic couplings snap open.

"You don't see that every day," Teiro muttered, watching the cable fly free. "What a rare sight—WOAAAAAGH!?"

Teiro threw himself flat as the massive cable, whipped by the gale-force winds, lashed across the roof like a titan’s whip. It whistled inches over his head. He scrambled to grab the railing of the watchtower, watching the shadow of the cable vanish upward into the clouds.

The cable might be light, but that docking head is a solid block of iron! I almost died the world's most pathetic death! Dammit!

As Teiro cursed Koume’s mechanical efficiency under his breath, several soldiers ran up and gave him a shaky salute.

"We’ve got contact with the Armored Unit! They engaged fifteen minutes ago and are currently in a running skirmish. We’ve lost four tanks. They can't get an accurate count on the enemy... President, with all due respect, now is not the time to be playing around on the floor!"

"I wasn't playing! I was... never mind. Thanks for the report. So, 'unknown numbers' means what I think it means?"

"Yes, sir. The canyon is literally overflowing. It’s like a river of iron. They said it's easier to calculate the enemy's total mass in tons than it is to count individuals."

"Gross. That’s way too many. It makes the twice-yearly otaku festival look like a private dinner party," Teiro groaned. Actually, wait, those crowds are pretty legendary too. Maybe it’s a tie. "What about the Canyon Blockade Operation?"

"Failure, sir. We successfully collapsed the cliff walls, but they just climbed over the rubble in minutes. They’re using each other as literal stepping stones. They don't care how many of their own they crush."

"Expected, but still a bummer. Think they can scale the base walls?"

"No idea, sir. We’re about to find out."

"Great. Fantastic. Get back to your posts." Teiro turned back to his two companions. Alan just gave a grim grunt, while Marl looked out at the massive experimental structures she had spent the week building around the base.

"I’m telling you now... there is zero guarantee those are going to work," Marl said, her voice trembling.

Teiro looked at the structures and gave her a cocky wink.

"Marl, when have we ever had a guarantee? Besides, if your work doesn't do the trick, then honestly, we were all doomed anyway."

It was meant to be comforting, but it was also the objective truth. Without her Gift, these defenses wouldn't even exist.

"Hehe. Well, when you put it that way, I feel a lot better. Thanks." Marl braced herself. "Here they come. Positions, everyone!"

In the distance, the horizon turned black.

A tide of shifting iron was rolling toward them, ignoring the plumes of tank fire and the brilliant flashes of landmine detonations. It moved slowly, inexorably, and with a terrifying, singular purpose.

Work is still chaotic, but I’m doing my best to keep the updates coming.

Also, thank you to everyone who mentioned they bought the print version of the book! I really appreciate the support!