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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/micktalian on 2025-05-10 18:02:48+00:00.
Part 118 The love between birds (Part 1) (Part 116)
Back when Viscountess Tarki Gebron Dreyuk first met Binko Hrevroch Shlin, it was like something out of a fairy-tale. She was being held hostage as part of some rather intense negotiations over resource rights between her family’s business and a semi-legitimate Luphimbic cartel. He kicked down the door, armor shining and guns blazing, to free her from her dastardly captives. The Viscountess was so smitten, completely transfixed on her knight in shining armor, that she didn’t even notice the Nishnabe warrior at his side until the trio were halfway through making their escape back to Binko’s ship. The long feuds between Xi Xi and Ko Ko Krokes be damned, these two were in love from the moment they met. That was about two and half years ago. In that time the pair of Krokes have been almost completely inseparable. After an adventurous courtship where Tarki learned to co-pilot Binko’s shuttle, including becoming a crack shot with the weapons systems, the pair sealed their union with a dance through the skies of StarMoon Station.
The dance the mismatched Kroke couple were currently performing over the skies of a world full of long forgotten ruins was different from their wedding in almost every regard. Instead of their bare feathers exposed to the rushing air while they locked their feet-talons together, they sat in the cockpit of Binko’s shuttle with their hand-claws glued to the controls. While their love remains just as strong as it ever has been, they focused all their attention purely on supporting the human man who had helped bring them together. As Binko controlled his shuttle’s flight path as if it were an extension of his body, Tarki manned the weapons and fired upon the Hekuiv’trula warforms swarming Tens’s mech. When the alert sounded aboard Karintha’s Dagger and every single support and recovery shuttle was ordered to provide assistance, Tarki and Binko were the first to launch. Though they knew Tens didn’t really need the help, they would be on station to provide it anyways.
In the fifteen minutes it took to enter the combat zone, Tens had already vanquished dozens of the small and medium sized Hekuiv’trula warforms. Unlike automatons’ early attacks or any encounter at the previous mission locations, this assault seemed tactical. There was a plan being enacted by some sort of central intelligence. That much was undeniable. Whatever was controlling these warforms had learned from the skirmishes over the past couple days. And while it had accurately identified Tens as the most pressing threat, that wasn’t enough to give any sort of advantage. Even the least skilled members of the Order of Falling Angels were proving to be far superior to any logical projections. If the central control node had directed all of its available resources into overwhelming Tens, then it may have had a chance to best him. However, in order to attempt an immediate and overwhelming victory, it attacked all twenty-two BDs spread across hundreds of kilometers at the same time.
“He must know that he isn’t beating those primitive ape accusations by swinging a giant club around like that.” Tarki’s joke immediately received a chuckle from her husband. “Top of the line combat walker aside, of course.”
“Oh, you know Tens…” With the holographic projectors in Binko’s cockpit creating the illusion that the pair of Krokes weren’t protected by multiple layers of meter thick armor panels, the avian man could easily judge the direction of incoming fire and maneuver accordingly. “I’m surprised he hasn’t started ripping the limbs from those machines and using them as weapons.”
“I’m counting at least sixty more hostiles, so he’s got plenty of time to go full monkey mode.”
“And another twenty more just emerged from that hole over there. I’m going to come around and could you please lay down some suppressive fire, my love.”
“Of course, my sweet. Though… I think Tens would be upset if I did much more than delay them.” As Tarki shot a quick glance towards the Nishnabe mech, even her eagle-like eyes had trouble keeping up with his movements. “I haven’t seen him have this much fun since we provided air support for that assault against the Chigagorian stronghold world last year.”
“Oh yeah! He’s having a great time! So, uh, just take out the smaller ones. Those aren’t even worth Tens’s time. And is it just me or do some of those canine contraptions look newer than the others?c
“Now that you mention it… I think you may be on to something with that…” It took Tarki a split second to modify her targeting sights to include more detailed data. “The scans are showing wildly different ages. Most are between fifty and two hundred million years old. But there’s also a few that might be brand new. They aren’t even showing signs of oxidation or grime.”
“That would mean…” Just as quickly as his wife was able to verify his suspicions, Binko had created an open but still highly encrypted comms channel to every mech on the planet, Singularity Entity 139-621, and the command bridge of Karintha’s Dagger. “High Cloud-0 to everyone, Angel-0 is currently engaged with recently produced hostile units. Use wide spectrum scans to verify estimated production time frames of all hostiles and ensure all networked data is being sent to Guiding Light for analysis. I need confirmation of Hekuiv’trula warform ages from all areas and a trace on the hostile control signal.”
“Guiding Light to High Cloud-0, request received.” A barely noticeable layer of static slightly muffled Sub-Admiral Haervria’s voice as she responded after a few seconds. “We are seeing an EM pattern matching Hekuiv’trula control signals originating from a position roughly a hundred and forty kilometers to the North of Angel-0. Scan data from Angel units shows that warforms to the South of your location are older and fewer in number the further away. All units call out conditions and any requests for aid.”
Over the next few minutes, all of the Qui’ztar mech operators began announcing the fact that each and every one of them were having the time of their lives. Though a few of the voices that came through were a bit muffled, the Hekuiv’trula control signal acting like a form of full spectrum jammer, their enthusiastic excitement was crystal clear. There were even a few of the honor guards positioned furthest to the South who almost sounded a bit disappointed with the fact they had fewer enemies to vanquish. Nula, despite having the least amount of combat experience, declared she had nearly wiped out the fifty-warform wave that had crashed over her position. When it was finally Captain Marzima’s turn, she refused any aid but offered thanks to 139’s for providing a shield wall to keep the inhabitants of the Tall Spires Village safe while she defended them from well over a hundred of Hekuiv’trula’s war machines. However, when Tens spoke up, there was something unnervingly calm and nearly mechanical about his response.
“Angel-0, situation under control. No help needed. Eighty-seven confirmed kills. Give me fifteen minutes to finish cleaning up then send me the approximate signal source. I’ll finish this before anyone gets hurt.”
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The general categories for sapient species development are simply early, mid, late, and Ascended. While some GCC Sociologists regularly argue for a more complex system, one which denotes particular steps along the path to eventually breaking the speed of light barrier, the debates over exact definitions always end in a stalemate. For example, when those original hundred and fifty humans were abducted from the North-Eastern Woodlands of North America around eleven-hundred and fifty years ago, they were immediately recognized as being mid development. Twentieth century Earth, should it have been visited by extraterrestrials then, would have been considered late development. At the other far end of the spectrum, the chameleon-raptors helplessly watching the battle between the Order of Falling Angels and the Hekuiv’trula unfold would undoubtedly be early development.
Grompcha’s species is so young that they had never constructed permanent shelters, intentionally planted a crop for harvest, or even settled upon any sort of concrete system of understanding worldly events. The young scout hadn’t grown up hearing stories of gods controlling the weather, the rise and fall of the sun, or any sort of explanation as to why the metal beasts hated her people so much that they sought total extermination. Rather, Grompcha’s childhood had been filled with practical lessons to ensure her survival. It didn’t matter why the weather could suddenly change, only how to identify the signs that it would. Things like their origins as a species, the how and why behind the metal beasts, or the nature of the universe were exclusively discussed by those with enough lived experience to make logical judgements. When Grompcha had witnessed the world with her own eyes, gained…
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