War for the Iron Planet

Chapter 10: To the North

It came as a kind of relief when Jasken called Vanbrook and the others up to the Wingspan. The base had become too crowded lately. The command-tent-mess-hall-living-room didn't feel like home anymore. As soon as he'd gotten through decontamination he gave Reclan a call on her comm.

"Van! Welcome aboard."

"Ha, thanks. Where you at?"

"I can't meet up right now. I'm on my way from my psych eval, which I nailed, I'm sure, to my physical. Maybe you and the others can watch from that creepy window Jasken will be standing in? I don't know the rules."

Asking a sailor for directions, they headed that way. Jasken waved them into the room. Doc Manford was already standing with him.

"Your squadmate is tougher than she lets on," said Jasken. "I'm curious to see how this goes."

In the room below, Reclan walked through a doorway, holding something in her hand. Talking to the medic administering the test, she casually slipped the object onto her amputated leg. It was a prosthetic foot.

"Ha!" snorted Doc. "So that's what she's been working on."

Relcan proceeded to jog, run, lift, climb and swim like Van had never seen her do before. He was a bit shocked.

"That's that," declared Jasken. "We'll have to take a look at the numbers and see where we land."

Vanbrook was convinced he was just following protocol. There was no way she hadn't just put a lot of competent athletes to shame. And he couldn't imagine she hadn't passed her psych eval. He walked down the steps to congratulate her, the others following along.

"Alright," he said, "the squad is back together! What do you guys say we hit the galley?"

"I'm not hungry," said D'Jarric.

"You don't eat," said Van.

"Now that you mention it, I'm not hungry, either," said Doc.

"We'll get you a nice can of oil then," said Van.

"That's an ugly stereotype. Robots don't drink oil. Well. Some models do," said Doc. Then, after a pause, "I don't drink oil."

Raivyn rolled her eyes and nodded to Reclan, who led the way to the galley.

***

At the Astralbian's newly-held position by the pit, Traelby paced before the stretched membrane that served as a screen. The bioluminescent film behind it began to glow and the chromatophores in the membrane rippled in a rainbow of colors.

The pigments settled into an image of Lord Raelik. The eye above the membrane that served as Traelby's camera flashed green once and he knew he was transmitting.

"Lord," he bowed, "this site is useless to us. Any information regarding the Cornucopian Cluster was removed, either by the Republic or the Collective."

"I assumed that would be the case," Raelik said dismissively. "The true value is that we now have territory we won in battle against an entrenched force. That gives us political cover to claim ownership of the planet."

"Either way I am wasted here," crowed Traelby.

"Agreed. I'm calling you back to the mother tree. I have a much more pressing assignment for you. Brynel will be taking command of this encampment."

"Brynel is a fool."

"And holding this encampment is a fool's errand. But watch your mouth, Traelby -ears are easy to grow." With that old Astralbian proverb, Raelik ended the transmission.