Building Zoids in a World of Titans

Rhian's explanation of how she'd gotten into the Iron Mule was making Alex's head throb.

He pressed his fingers against his temples and rubbed slow circles there. She'd wedged herself between supply crates like she was playing hide-and-seek. No lock, no seal, no barrier that a determined ten-year-old couldn't bypass by simply being small and stubborn.

"I need to tighten the security on the Mule," he muttered. "If a kid can get in there, anyone could. That's not a risk I'm willing to carry."

He dropped his hand and looked at her. She was still fidgeting with the hem of her tunic, that gap-toothed half-smile on her face like she'd accomplished something clever rather than something that could've gotten her killed.

"And you," he added, pointing at her. "We're going to have a talk about what 'stowing away' actually means. After I figure out how to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Rhian's smile widened until it threatened to split her face in two.

Alex turned toward Ziya, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "What do we do about this?"

"I can talk!" Rhian chirped, bouncing on her toes.

Alex held up a hand without looking at her. "The adults are talking, Rhian."

Her smile collapsed into a pout so pronounced it could've been registered as a structural defect. She crossed her arms and slumped against the nearest crate with all the theatrical weight a nearly-eleven-year-old could muster.

Ziya adjusted her goggles, the corner of her mouth twitching. "It's fine. We take her with us."

Alex blinked. "What?"

"Taking her back means turning around. Burning at least three days of travel, plus the fuel cost for the return trip." Ziya's tone was measured, analytical. The voice she used when the numbers were already settled. "And having decent company on a long haul isn't nothing. She's already proven she can keep quiet when it matters."

"I kept super quiet," Rhian said. "The Arosaurer even liked me."

Alex stared at Ziya. Then at Rhian. Then back at Ziya.

He sighed. The kind of sigh that came from somewhere deep in his chest, the kind that meant he'd already lost the argument before it started.

"Fine. You're staying."

Rhian exploded off the crate. "YES!"

She threw her arms around his waist before he could react, squeezing with a strength that was frankly unreasonable for someone her size. Alex stood rigid, hands hovering at his sides, unsure what to do with the small human latched onto him.

Ziya watched, arms crossed, something soft and unreadable flickering across her expression before she turned toward the cab.

"We should get moving if we want to find a place to rest before dark."

* * *

They found the clearing an hour before dusk.

It sat in a pocket of stillness where the forest thinned, ancient trees pulling back like giants making room for something smaller. The ground was soft with moss, springy underfoot, and the air carried the sharp green scent of crushed ferns where the Iron Mule had rolled through. A stream babbled somewhere nearby, its voice low and constant beneath the rustle of leaves settling into evening.

Alex killed the engine and sat for a moment, listening. No Titan tremors. No distant calls. Just the quiet.

"We stop here," he said.

They worked without needing to discuss it. Alex hauled the portable firepit from the Mule's undercarriage while Ziya unpacked the field rations and a dented cooking pot that had seen better days. Rhian gathered sticks and dry moss with the efficiency of someone who'd done it a hundred times before, piling them in the firepit like she was building a nest.

The fire caught on the third try. Flames licked up through the kindling, popping and hissing, throwing orange light across their faces as the sky darkened to indigo behind the treeline.

Ziya heated water and stirred in dried vegetables and salted meat, the smell of it filling the clearing. Rich and warm and almost enough to make Alex realize he hadn't eaten since morning.

They sat around the fire, bowls in hand, the heat pressing against their faces. The meal was simple. Thin broth, chewy meat, vegetables that had long since lost any claim to freshness. But it was hot, and it was real, and after a full day of travel, it tasted like the best thing Alex had ever eaten.

Rhian ate like she'd been starving for a week, which — given that she'd been surviving on dried meat in the cargo bay for two days — wasn't far from the truth. She scraped the bottom of her bowl with the spoon, chasing the last drops of broth, then looked up at Alex with an expression of pure, unrepentant satisfaction.

"That was so good," she announced, as if she hadn't just eaten frontier rations that tasted like salted cardboard.

Alex stared at her. "You're complimenting my cooking?"

"I'm complimenting Ziya's cooking." Rhian glanced at Ziya. "You made it, right?"

Ziya shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I stirred a pot. That's the extent of it."

"Still counts." Rhian set her bowl down and patted her stomach with both hands. "Best meal I've had in days."

"You've been eating dried meat from a ration tin," Alex said. "For two days. In a cargo bay."

"Exactly." Rhian leaned back on her hands, tilting her face toward the stars beginning to prick through the darkening sky. "Context matters, Alex."

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

"She's got you there," Ziya said.

Alex looked down at his own half-eaten bowl and shook his head slowly. "I just cannot win an argument with a ten-year-old."

"Nearly eleven," Rhian corrected, without opening her eyes.

Nearly eleven. Right. That changed everything, apparently.

The fire crackled between them, and for a moment, the quiet didn't feel heavy. It just felt like the three of them, sitting in the dark, full and warm and still moving forward.

The fire had burned low, and Rhian was fighting to keep her eyes open, leaning against a supply crate with her flour-sack bandolier clutched to her chest like a pillow. Ziya was packing the last of the cooking gear, her movements quiet and methodical. Alex was about to suggest they call it a night when the Liger Zero moved.

It was subtle at first. A shift in the flatbed's weight as the Zoid's frame tensed, servos humming with sudden alertness. Then the canopy snapped open, and the Liger launched itself off the Iron Mule, landing in the clearing with a heavy thud that shook the ground.

"RROOOO-AAARRR-GHRRR!"

The roar split the night, raw and urgent, nothing like the controlled sounds Alex had heard from the Zoid before. The Liger's mane vents crackled with blue-white light, its golden claws digging into the soft earth as it stared into the forest.

"What's wrong?" Alex called, already on his feet, reaching for the Z-Bracer on his wrist.

The Liger didn't answer. Its head was locked on the treeline, body coiled, every line of its frame screaming danger.

Ziya moved to Rhian's side, one arm pulling the girl behind her. "Alex—"

He saw it.

Deep in the darkness between the trees, pairs of red eyes opened. Dozens of them. Glowing like embers in the black, unblinking, spreading through the forest like a slow tide of fire.

They weren't moving yet. They were just watching.

Alex's hand tightened on the Z-Bracer. His voice came out low and steady, the command cadence he'd learned in combat.

"Get inside the Mule. Now!"

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