Building Zoids in a World of Titans

Alex stepped out of Harsk's office and pulled the communicator from his belt. He thumbed the channel selector until he reached Veridia's frequency, then pressed the transmit button.

"Stonehand's Supply. This is Alex. Borin or Ziya, if you're there, pick up."

Static hissed for a moment. Then Ziya's voice came through, clear and precise.

"Alex? Is everything alright? You just left."

"Everything's fine. I've got a situation here." He leaned against the wall of the corridor, keeping his voice low. "Guildmaster Harsk has a commission for me. Razorjaw nest, queen variant. It's sitting on a Vita-Alloy deposit he wants cleared."

"A queen variant?" Ziya's tone shifted immediately. "How large is the pack?"

"Big enough that Harsk won't send his own people in. He's offering two hundred kilos of Vita-Alloy and sixty thousand Sols."

A pause. Then Borin's voice boomed through the speaker, loud enough that Alex had to hold the communicator away from his ear.

"TWO HUNDRED KILOS? Lad, that's enough to build a small army of those machines! You take that job and don't you dare come back without it!"

"I'm taking it," Alex said. "But it means I'll be delayed. Two, maybe three days. The nest is a half-day's travel from here, and I'll need time to scout it before I engage."

"Two or three days," Ziya repeated. "Alex, a queen variant with a full pack — that's not a simple culling job. You'll need to be careful."

"I know."

"Careful doesn't mean cautious," Borin cut in. "Careful means you come back in one piece. That machine of yours is impressive, but it's not invincible. You saw what that Liger did to the Arosaurer."

Alex touched the pendant at his chest. "I know, Borin. I'll be careful."

"Good. And Alex?" Ziya's voice softened slightly. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I'll try."

"That's not reassuring."

"It's the best I can offer."

Ziya sighed. "Fine. Keep us updated. And Alex — that Vita-Alloy had better be worth it."

"It will be."

He ended the transmission and slipped the communicator back into his belt. Two or three days. He'd need to move fast.

Harsk appeared at the end of the corridor and jerked his thumb toward the main hall. "Your perimeter team is waiting. Come on."

Alex followed Harsk into the main hall of Fort Caldera, where four Wardens stood waiting near a rugged transport vehicle. They wore mismatched but well-maintained gear — the kind that had been repaired a dozen times rather than replaced. These weren't fresh recruits. The way they stood, loose but alert, told Alex they'd been working together long enough to move as a single unit without needing to think about it.

The leader stepped forward. He was a compact man with a shaved head and a scar that ran from his left ear to his jaw. His armor bore the dents of real combat, the kind you couldn't fake.

"Warden Alex. I'm Dace. This is Mira, Torren, and Kess." He pointed to each in turn. Mira was tall and lean, with her dark hair pulled back tight and a long rifle slung across her back. Torren was broad-shouldered, arms crossed, watching Alex with open curiosity. Kess was the youngest of the four, maybe Alex's age, with a mop of unruly brown hair and a grin that looked like it got her into regular trouble.

"We're called Houndstooth," Dace said. "Been running together for six years. Eastern frontier, mostly. Nasty work."

"Alex," he said. "Rank 7. Salvager and, apparently, Zoid pilot."

"Zoid?" Torren uncrossed his arms, his gaze drifting past Alex toward the hangar where the Lanstag waited. "That's what you call that machine out there?"

"That's what it is."

"Because I've been staring at it for twenty minutes," Torren continued, "and I still can't figure out what I'm looking at. It looks like a Titan, but it moves wrong. Too clean. Too fast."

"It's not a Titan," Alex said. "It's built from Titan parts, but the frame, the weapons, the control systems — all mechanical. I pilot it directly. Think of it as a machine shaped like a Titan, powered by a Titan's core."

Mira stepped forward, her eyes narrowing with professional interest. "You built it yourself?"

"Every bolt."

"With what funding?"

"Salvage. Five years of it. And a very patient shopkeeper."

Kess let out a low whistle. "Five years. I can't keep a canteen for five months without losing it."

"Your canteen has a hole in it," Dace said flatly.

"That's not the point."

Dace turned back to Alex, his expression shifting to something more serious. "Harsk briefed us on the situation. Queen Razorjaw, pack of twenty or more, nest built over a Vita-Alloy deposit. He said you'd be leading the engagement."

"I wouldn't say leading," Alex said. "I'm handling the queen. Your team handles the pack and keeps them off my flanks. That's the job."

Dace studied him for a moment. "Fair enough. But I need to know how this works in the field. Who gives the orders when things go sideways?"

Alex met his gaze. "You handle your team. I handle the Lanstag. I'll follow your lead on pack movements and positioning — that's your expertise. But when it comes to engaging the queen, I make my own calls. If I need to break formation or change the plan mid-fight, I will."

Torren raised an eyebrow. "Independent action on a joint op. That's a good way to get people killed."

"It's a good way to get people killed if we're not talking to each other," Alex said. "I'm not going to sit in a comms chain and wait for permission while the queen burrows into a tunnel. You know your team. I know my machine. We coordinate, but we don't bottleneck."

Dace exchanged a glance with Mira. She gave a small nod.

"Agreed," Dace said. "We'll run it clean. Callouts, no surprises. If you're breaking left, I need to know before you're already moving."

"You'll have it."

"Good." Dace checked the chrono on his wrist. "When can you move?"

Alex didn't hesitate. "I'm ready now. The Lanstag's fueled, armed, and the systems are green. I've been sitting in that hangar for twenty minutes doing nothing."

Kess grinned. "I like him already."

"Then let's move," Dace said. He turned to his team. "Standard loadout. Mira, long cover. Torren, close support. Kess, flank watch. I'm on comms and coordination. We roll in five."

The four Wardens moved toward the transport vehicle with the efficiency of people who'd done this a hundred times. Gear was checked, weapons were slung, and within minutes the engine rumbled to life.

Alex walked back to the hangar. The Lanstag stood waiting, its golden antlers catching the light from the overhead lamps. He climbed the leg, settled into the cockpit, and sealed the canopy. The VR display bloomed to life around him, painting the hangar in crisp detail.

The transport pulled out first, kicking up dust. Alex brought the Lanstag online, the core humming with a deep, resonant thrum that he felt in his chest. He guided the machine forward, its hooves striking the ground with a steady, powerful rhythm.

The transport led the way, and the Lanstag followed close behind, a silver shadow trailing across the eastern plains toward the Razorjaw nest.

Advance chapters on my p@tR$0n/Najicablitz.

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