Chapter 0030, Five Minutes of Peace, Part 3

  Ethan ran. His body moved without thought, driven by instinct and raw panic. He vaulted over the rim of the crater, boots slipping on loose gravel as a shriek of tearing metal echoed behind him. The turret never fired; it was silenced before it could scream.

  He looked back once, just enough to see the monster descending.

  The fly was enormous. Its translucent wings moved with a strange, deliberate slowness, barely stirring the air as it hovered over the turret. Long, hooked limbs reached down with surgical intent. With a single crushing motion, the fly pinned the machine beneath its weight, its legs puncturing the chassis like spears through paper. Metal groaned and curled inward. Sparks spat out in protest and died. The creature hung there, suspended like a puppet on invisible strings, its wings pulsing gently. Its head tilted unnaturally, scanning the wreckage, then shifted toward Ethan. It moved without sound at first, just a low vibration that buzzed behind his teeth.

  Then the air shifted, and a wave of heat rolled across the clearing, carrying the stench of scorched resin and sulfur. Ethan ducked low and kept moving. The fly rose again, slowly, its legs pulling free of the ruined turret with chunks of twisted metal still clinging to its limbs.

  CelestOS: Threat trajectory confirmed. Estimated glide speed: 2.3 kilometers per hour. Proximity decreasing. Threat remains airborne.

  Ethan didn’t answer. He was too busy running, his boots pounding the dirt and kicking up ash as he curved away from the forge and toward the ore patch. He could still see it: scattered copper and iron, glowing faintly where the drill had done its work.

  CelestOS: Target shows no signs of fatigue or sensory limits. Continued evasion is advised.

  “You think?” Ethan gasped, his lungs burning.

  The cannon slammed against his side with every stride. It felt heavier now, warm and alive under the pressure of his grip. He didn't know if it would help, but it was all he had. He reached the edge of the drill site and skidded to a stop, nearly falling. The last cache of ore was close. If he could load it into the turret or lure the thing into a trap, maybe he had a chance.

  CelestOS: Resource cache detected. Deploying auxiliary loader. Please refrain from dying while crouching. Emergency retrieval becomes complicated.

  A sleek mechanical arm unfolded from the base of CelestOS’s frame. It extended smoothly past Ethan, fingers snapping into a three-pronged clamp that began scooping hot chunks of ore from the dirt. The pieces hissed and clinked as they vanished into a storage compartment built into her lower chassis. Ethan dropped beside her, shoving his own hands into the glowing fragments. The heat burned through his gloves, but he didn’t stop. Each breath came harder than the last, and his suit whined in protest. His skin was sticky with sweat and dust, but the work kept him moving.

  Another roar echoed across the plain, deeper and closer this time.

  CelestOS: Target distance, one hundred thirty-one meters. Apex lifeform is not slowing.

  “Then we don’t stop.”

  He heaved the sack over his shoulder and staggered upright. The robotic arm retracted with a hiss of hydraulics, CelestOS already turning to follow. Together, they moved across the cracked dirt toward the ruined camp. The twisted silhouette of the turret came into view, bent and blackened. Glass-thread cables flickered between the trees like veins under skin as ash swirled in the air, thick enough to sting his eyes.

  Every breath felt like it scraped his lungs clean, and every step slammed through his thighs like a hammer. But now he could hear them. It wasn't just the Apex; others were joining it, their movements smaller and faster.

  CelestOS: Proximity alert. Lesser lifeforms approaching. Classification, Tier I. Recommend continued forward motion.

  He leapt over a collapsed strut. The weight of the ore sack nearly pulled him down, and he slammed into a leaning support beam, smearing blood across the metal where his arm caught.

  Something moved to his left, fast and low to the ground. A creature darted from the shadows, dog-sized, with jagged bone spurs and red tendrils twitching like wire under its skin. Ethan reacted on instinct, spinning and firing. The alien cannon bucked in his hands with a heavy thump. A pulse of red light surged from the barrel and struck the creature mid-charge, detonating it in a flash of gore and smoke.

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  Ethan stumbled back, his shoulder numb. The cannon pulsed again, hungry for more.

  CelestOS: Vital signs unstable. Biofeedback nearing threshold. Prolonged contact with XenoTech may result in—

  “I don’t care,” Ethan snapped, vaulting a twisted root. “Just keep the gate open.”

  CelestOS: There is no gate.

  “I was being meta… ugh, never mind.”

  Another chittering blur shot from the right. Ethan didn't aim. He pivoted and kicked, catching it mid-lunge and sending it tumbling across the dirt. He had neither the time nor the strength for all of them. He just kept moving, weaving through twisted metal, ducking under a cracked hull plate, and dragging himself into the wreckage perimeter.

  CelestOS: Proximity alert. Hostile lifeforms converging on all sides. Recommend continued forward motion and minimal sarcasm.

  The forge came into view, its smelting tray still extended. The turret stood nearby, motionless, its barrel locked forward, empty and waiting. Ethan collapsed against the forge frame, gasping.

  CelestOS: Raw material detected. Deploying loader arm. Please remain clear of intake mechanisms to avoid dismemberment.

  A sleek mechanical arm extended from her chassis, clamping onto the sack at Ethan’s side. It lifted the ore and dumped it into the tray. The hatch slammed shut with a heavy clang. Heat surged as the furnace roared to life, flames flickering behind the vents. Ethan stumbled upright and staggered toward the turret.

  “Come on. Don’t let me down.”

  He yanked open the ammo feed panel. The internals were intact and the loader was fine. It just needed ingots.

  CelestOS: Auto-Turret status: functional. Ammunition depleted. Copper ingots required to restore firing capacity. Please wait.

  The forge hissed as the first ingots rolled out, still glowing orange. Ethan snatched them up, one after the other, and fed them into the turret’s slot. The loader snapped shut.

  CelestOS: Ammunition input received. Restoring active targeting. Threat prioritization enabled.

  The turret’s barrel twitched as its servos reactivated with a low, grinding hum. Behind him, the wind changed, growing thick and heavy with heat and pressure.

  The Apex was coming.

  The turret core lit orange. Internal servos clicked and snapped into place, pushing hot metal through reinforced joints. The barrel rose slowly and painfully, like a corpse sitting up after burial. Ethan didn't wait to see if it would finish. He turned toward the horizon as the Apex emerged from the smoke.

  It moved like a nightmare underwater, each step slow but vast. The ground shuddered with every footfall. Red resin pulsed beneath its blackened shell like veins of magma, and thick tendrils dangled from its limbs, swaying as it walked. Its head split open down the middle, revealing rows of pale grinding plates before sealing again with a wet, deliberate clap.

  CelestOS: Apex lifeform approaching effective range. Auto-Turret functionality at sixty-one percent. Turret currently offline.

  Ethan glanced at the turret. Its barrel was still rising. “I thought it was just out of ammo,” he snapped. “Why is it moving like it’s hungover?”

  CelestOS: Tier I Auto-Turret models include a mandatory sixty-second calibration cooldown after ammunition is loaded. This ensures optimal targeting accuracy and user safety. Upgrade to Tier II or higher to reduce cooldown latency.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  CelestOS: Celestitech is never kidding. Please consult your user manual for feature comparisons.

  Ethan turned back toward the advancing horror and lifted the cannon. The weapon groaned in his grip, not feeling entirely mechanical. Tendrils flexed along its spine, and the grip pulsed like cartilage beneath his fingers. He didn’t know how it worked or what it used for fuel. He only knew it was heating up fast.

  CelestOS: Foreign weapon core temperature nearing unstable threshold. Prolonged usage may result in detonation. Legal disclaimer: no warranty available for unauthorized xeno-integration.

  “Yeah, no shit,” Ethan muttered. “Still better than another survey.”

  He planted his feet, aimed center mass, and squeezed.

  THUMP.

  The blast struck the Apex in the chest. A flash of red light and a blast of heat ignited the resin, which then peeled away. But the creature didn’t stop. A fresh layer of plating bubbled up from beneath the burn, sealing over like cooling lava. Ethan fired again. This time the recoil nearly dislocated his shoulder. The cannon kicked hard, twisting him sideways. He crashed into the side of a scorched crate, caught himself, and fired again before the weapon spasmed in his hands. The Apex reeled, but only drifted back a few meters.

  Its wings flared wide. Chitin shimmered like stained glass, catching the firelight in fractured patterns. It floated forward with deliberate grace, limbs dangling, its mass suspended by an unnatural lift that made no sound. The creature’s head split open vertically again, revealing rows of pale grinding plates before it shut with a sickening clap.

  Ethan stood frozen until the beam fired. A lance of red energy screamed from its mouth, carving a molten groove through the dirt that missed his foot by inches.

  "Okay!" he shouted. "We pissed it off!"

  CelestOS: Auto-Turret functionality at ninety-four percent. Estimated engagement in eight seconds. Maintain evasive maneuvers.

  Ethan bolted, not away, but wide to the side. He cut through the wreckage, trying to draw the Apex off-course. He ducked around the remains of the smelter crate, vaulted a rusted fuel barrel, and sprinted into open ground. The Apex drifted after him, slow but relentless, its head tracking every movement. The cannon in his hands began to vibrate uncontrollably as resin vents along the barrel glowed with pulsing red light. The grip scorched through his glove. Something inside the weapon was building, growing unstable.

  CelestOS: Caution. Exotic weapon at overload threshold. Immediate disposal recommended to prevent complete molecular compromise.

  "Working on it!"

  Ethan spun mid-sprint and hurled the cannon straight at the creature’s open maw. Then he dropped to the dirt and slid behind a slab of torn hull metal.

  The cannon struck the Apex in the chest.