Callsign: Talon (Fueled By Fury #1)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

I jolt awake and nearly gasp, my chest heaving as reality settles around me. My temples ache with the lingering after-effects of sedation. I taste something metallic on my tongue. Residual tranquilizers, probably. Even minimal sedation feels like a freight hauler ran over my skull, but we’re here.

“Vitals are leveling out,” Tabitha announces with crisp efficiency. “Your heart rate’s still riding high, but no signs of jump sickness.”

I wipe the sweat off my brow. “Thanks for the reassurance, T. Always a pleasure to cross star systems using questionable sedation logs.”

She hums. “Better that than letting them see the full scope of what you’re carrying around in that mech, soldier boy. Looks like we’re in one piece, so let’s not whine too loudly.”

I roll my eyes as I unbuckle myself from the small jump-gate couch. We’ve landed in a skeletal outpost on Therasis, a desert planet famed for dust storms and relentless raiding parties. Fine grit coats every surface. Even in the enclosed arrival bay, scorching wind sneaks through vents and cracked-open steel doors.

I step down onto the grated floor, knees still shaky. The facility feels abandoned. An overhead light fixture casts an anemic glow, accentuating a row of decrepit cargo containers. My thoughts drift to Raven One. She’s hidden a short walk away, stowed in the back of an old cargo hauler we managed to charter cheaply. If any local official pokes around, they’ll see a worthless hulk. Behind the camo netting, eight feet of advanced mech technology waits.

I cross the bay and spot a lone figure near a dusty service kiosk. A slender woman with steely eyes and dark hair woven into a neat bun, wearing cargo pants and a sturdy jacket. A small data console is slung over her shoulder, the device flickering with greenish light. That must be Professor Elena Brant, who offered me an absurd sum of credits for a discreet escort across the plains.

“David Wayne?” Her call echoes in the near-empty hangar with a faint note of impatience.

“That’s me.” I cleared my throat. “I guess you’re Professor Brant.”

Brant lifts her chin in a polite nod. “Elena Brant, indeed. Thank you for responding so promptly.” Relief fills her eyes, though she’s trying to suppress it behind a measured tone. “I assume we can move quickly? I’d rather not linger here and risk drawing attention.”

Tabitha’s voice thrums, hushed but brimming with amusement. “She’s direct. I like her already. Let’s see if she’s half as good at paying as she is at frowning.”

I force myself not to smile at Tabitha’s snark. “Yes, we can go,” I tell Brant. “My mech’s stashed outside. We’ll merge with your caravan?”

“Precisely.” Brant gestures toward the hangar exit. “The group’s small. Two cargo trucks, a pair of drivers, and a handful of security drones on autopilot. I’d typically employ a larger team, but…complex politics. Let’s say the sponsor funding my research wants minimal corporate attention. Therefore, you are what I need. Someone who can get me safely to the border outpost without flying a big neon ‘Come Shoot Me’ sign.”

I grunt. “Yeah, I’ve done that dance before.”

As we step out of the structure into the open air, the hot wind slaps me in the face with the distinct tang of desert dust. Our boots crunch on baked ground. The sky is a dull, coppery haze, reflecting the planet’s iron-rich soils. Low ridges lurk in the distance, presumably the route we’ll take to avoid watchful eyes. I can’t shake the prickling sense that invisible rifles are aimed at us from every rocky outcrop.

“You’re certain about that low-profile approach?” Elena asks pointedly, scanning the horizon. “Ironically, those ridges are a favorite nesting spot for raiders.”

Tabitha chimes in before I can speak. “She’s not wrong, David. Doesn’t take a genius to guess those scumbags love big vantage points.”

I tilt my head, half-smiling. “Don’t worry. I trust our big vantage point in Raven One.”

Elena’s brow arches at my casual mention of the mech. “You talk about your machine almost like it’s a partner.”

I barely miss a beat. “In a sense, it is. She—uh it, does a lot of the heavy lifting.”

Tabitha huffs with fond offense. “Sure, pretend it’s all about the mech, Mr. Understatement.”

We approach a pair of waiting cargo trucks, rust-eaten and dented to hell. Two drivers sit in the cabs, anxiously scanning the environment. A short line of security drones hover in the dusty air behind them, each about the size of a large dog, their sensor arrays glowing faintly. From the outside, it looks like a woefully underprepared caravan.

“We’ll ride with the first truck,” Elena explains. “You can deploy your, ah, pilot suit. Sound good?”

“Great,” I confirm. “That junky cargo hauler five rows back is mine. Let me gear up. I’ll meet you in two minutes.”

Elena nods, and tension uncoils in her shoulders as if she’s relieved to have found me. Obviously, she’s worried about more than local bandits. Something in her posture screams bigger forces might be at play. I file the worry away and hurry to my hauler.

Inside, it’s stifling, a hot metal container reeking of grease and stale air. Raven One crouches in the makeshift cargo hold, black plating scuffed from previous missions. My AI nestles within the cockpit, always watchful.

“Tabitha?” I whisper, opening the side panel to power the mech’s systems.

Her voice crackles into focus. “At your service, fearless leader.”

I slip into the harness, anchoring it across my chest. My neural link pulses with a subtle electric flicker as it syncs to the mech’s interface. The cockpit’s HUD flares into existence. “Don’t call me that,” I mutter, though I’m smiling.

She chuckles. “You’ll always be fearless to me, except when sedation protocols are involved.”

I grin. “We survived that jump gate, so hush.”

The system comes alive under my fingertips. Servo readouts glow green, thrusters await input. We’re in good shape. I toy with the railgun’s power feed, verifying a stable charge. “Good. Let’s get this show on the road.”

After easing Raven One upright, I direct it outside, careful not to shred the hauler’s interior. Some of the plating scrapes the container’s edges with a grating squeal, but I step into the open desert with minimal fuss.

I keep the thrusters dialed low to avoid spooking Elena’s drivers. The mech stands roughly eight feet tall, compact by standard war machine measures but imposing enough to make watchers’ eyes widen.

Elena’s expecting me. She confers briefly with her drivers, then waves me over. “I’ll ride in the truck with the other cargo, and we’ll rely on your mech to scout the route. You’ll get tactical backups from my data console AI, Amy. She can patch directly to your feed if you share a comm band.”

I blink. Another AI in the mix. “Sure,” I reply cautiously. “Tabitha can accommodate that.”

“She’d better,” Tabitha confirms in my ear, loud enough that I nearly sputter. “Let’s see how fancy this Amy is.”

Elena fiddles with her handheld device, initiating a short-range signal handshake. A small overlay pops up in my HUD reading AMY LINK ACTIVE.

A new voice, gentle but businesslike, filters into my earpiece. “Greetings, Raven One pilot. My name is Amy. I’m authorized by Dr. Brant to provide route analysis and tactical advisories if needed.”

Tabitha snorts. “Did you read that off a script, Amy?”

She answers calmly. “I’ve been told courtesy helps establish trust. My computations show faster rapport with polite greetings.”

Tabitha counters with a playful lilt. “Sure, but we both know you’re crunching subroutines in the background. Don’t let me distract you.”

I sense Elena eyeing me. I’m basically standing there, mech arms slightly raised as two AIs size each other up. “All right.” I clear my throat. “We set?”

“Set,” Elena calls back, climbing into the lead cargo truck. “We have a three-hour drive if everything’s smooth.”

As the convoy rumbles forward, I pace the perimeter on foot, letting Raven One’s servos handle the uneven ground. The dusty wind whips around me, coating the mech’s plating with a thin layer of grit. My HUD pulses occasional route waypoints that shift in real-time. Amy’s doing, presumably.

“Next time, demand hazard pay for these asses who think caravanning with a skeleton crew is wise,” Tabitha remarks.

I release a short laugh. “Noted. Maybe I should tack it on for every mortar that almost blasts me to bits. I want a bonus.”

Tabitha’s voice brightens. “Deal. Let’s make some idiots regret underestimating us.”

I grin, but I can’t help glancing over the ridgeline. The knowledge that raiding parties thrive out here overshadows the desert's beauty. They might have older mechs or salvaged artillery, enough to cause real damage if we’re not ready.

Elena’s voice crackles through the radio. “Amy’s running predictive route analysis ahead. If we keep to a shallow canyon about two klicks northeast, we’ll avoid the established roads, which are heavily monitored by local militias.”

Tabitha tuts. “Militias or black-market cutthroats? Same difference. We’ll follow your lead, Professor.”

Hours slip by in cautious progression. The trucks rumble across the dusty flats, occasionally lurching around rocky outcroppings. My heart keeps a steady beat, though adrenaline flickers whenever the wind changes pitch.

Elena radios from time to time, verifying the path. “Amy’s registering an odd spike in temperature about half a kilometer away. Could be a desert vent or engine heat from something hidden behind the dunes.”

“Probably the second one,” Tabitha mutters. “We’ll keep an eye out.”

I shift Raven One sideways, scanning with the built-in sensor suite. The readouts highlight a faint heat signature close to an outcropping. Feels too small to be a full mech. Possibly a buggy. I keep quiet about it, for now, wanting to confirm.

I glimpse movement on a high ridge, something scuttling away from direct line of sight. My gut clenches. Might be a bandit scout about to warn his pals.

Elena calls again, voice taut. “Any sign of trouble?”

I exhale slowly. “Not sure yet. Something’s up there, but it hasn’t engaged.”

Her sniff indicates she senses the tension, too. She doesn’t press it. Instead, I hear her conferring with her drivers, telling them to stay close and keep the trucks moving.

Tabitha’s busy tapping into local frequencies, searching for suspicious chatter. “Got a partial. Someone’s referencing a small caravan, discussing inbound cargo. They could be describing us. Hard to confirm.”

“Terrific,” I mutter. “Keep an eye out.”

The next hour passes in relative quiet, though my nerves are wound tight. We navigate through a tangle of boulders towering overhead like jagged teeth. The terrain is tricky enough for stable vehicles, let alone a mech, but Raven One’s thrusters help with short bursts across the crumbly ground.

Then, a mortar shell whistles overhead, punching into a rocky ledge near the front cargo truck. The resulting blast showers us in stone fragments.

“Mortar fire!” Tabitha yells. “Bank left before they dial in the next shot!”

My muscles tense. “Bank left, got it.” I jam the controls, pivoting the mech in a crouch-boost that sends me skidding around a dune. A second mortar round hits the ground behind me, kicking up a thick plume of dust.

The truck screeches to a halt. Elena’s voice is frantic on comms. “We’re pinned if we can’t move. Single mortar shell can rip straight through our cargo bed.”

“Understood,” I bark, heart pounding. “Anyone see the mortar’s origin?”

Amy pipes up in a calm, robotic tone. “Projectile arc suggests a position atop the southwestern ridge. Range approximately four hundred meters.”

Tabitha’s quick to layer data into my display. “Azimuth locked. We can muzzle that thing if we move up the hillside.”

“Trucks, stay behind that cluster of boulders!” I yell into the radio. “Professor, keep your heads down and run internal power only. We’ll handle the mortar.”

My pulse hammers as I lurch Raven One forward, bounding across the swirling dust. Another mortar whistles overhead, colliding with the desert floor behind me in a bone-rattling explosion. Shrapnel pings off my mech’s plating, but no critical damage.

Tabitha’s voice is urgent. “We’ve got movement on the right. Two mechs, at least, busted frames. Possibly scavenged from old battlefields.”

I turn to see them crest the ridge, each nine or ten feet tall, a patchwork of rusted metal. The first raises a shoulder-mounted cannon. The second brandishes what looks like a plasma lance.

“Focus, David,” Tabitha urges. “We can’t let them double-team you while the mortar crew keeps lobbing shells.”

I grit my teeth. One problem at a time. I adjust my railgun’s targeting overlay and pick the first mech, the one with the cannon. “Vanguard, give me predictive arcs.”

Instantly, my HUD floods with ballistic lines. I squeeze off a shot. The railgun hums, flaring as a tungsten slug slams into the bandit mech’s torso. Sparks jump from its dented plating. The pilot attempts to swerve, but the impact forces it backward, sending it staggering.

“Nice,” Tabitha crows. “One down, or at least halfway.”

The second mech lunges, its plasma lance powering up with a high-pitched whine. No time to reload a second rail shot. I pivot sideways, letting the lance plunge into the sand beside me. The ground sizzles like it’s doused in acid.

I slam Raven One’s forearm into the bandit mech’s midsection, a jarring strike that rattles my cockpit. Then, I engage the thruster for a half-second boost, ramming the bandit mech off balance. It teeters sideways, sending up a spray of dust.

“Mortar’s reloading,” Tabitha warns. “We need to silence that artillery or your caravan is toast.”

“Working on it,” I grunt. I wedge the mech’s knee into the enemy pilot’s midsection, hoping to disable key servos or power conduits. A clang echoes as rusted plating buckles. The pilot tries to swing the plasma lance up again, but I wrest it aside. My railgun cycles with a mechanical whir, giving me enough time to aim an up-close shot.

I fire. The slug tears through the bandit mech’s chest, and the lance sputters. The damaged machine slumps to the sand.

“Two down,” Tabitha reports, breathless with adrenaline. “Now for the mortar.”

I spin, scanning the ridgeline. The mortar crew must see me coming because they lob a fresh shell that lands dangerously near the trucks. Elena shrieks something over the open channel. Rock shrapnel clatters off metal.

“Tabitha, route me up there, fast,” I instruct through gritted teeth.

“Boost thrusters over that short ravine. Be mindful of the loose scree,” she instructs.

I let the mech charge forward, bounding up a steep slope that jets me onto a ledge. Sand slides beneath my metal boots. Over the crest, I spot a ragtag mortar emplacement, a rusted tube on a tripod with two bandits frantically adjusting angles. They’re not in mechs, only wearing scrap armor. They see me and freeze.

“Time to shut you down,” I hiss. My pulse rages. I fire a short-range blast from Raven One’s integrated pulse cannon, scattering the mortar and its operators in a bright burst. A wave of dust erupts, forcing me to shield the cockpit visor.

When the grit settles, the mortar is wrecked, the bandits lying prone amid twisted metal. One stumbles to his feet and tries to run. I swing the mech’s arm to block him. No sense in letting him regroup. He has the sense to surrender, dropping to his knees, hands overhead.

I blow out a shaky breath. “Mortar’s neutralized. Let’s see if the caravan’s intact.”

On cue, Elena’s voice crackles. “We’re alive,” she replies raggedly. “Tires are shredded on the lead truck, but we can fix that. Minimal casualties. Thank you, David.”

“On my way,” I call, thrusters whining as I descend the ridge. My heart’s still pounding. The ambush felt like it lasted an eternity but was over in minutes.

Elena and her drivers are already out, checking the truck’s damage. The second truck is still functional. The security drones buzz overhead, having contributed little but paint-scraping bravado. Relief sags her posture as she flips through her data console.

“Casualty check. Nobody dead, only a few cuts,” she reports. She glances at me with something like wonder. “You took down multiple mechs and a mortar squad. Are you sure you’re…” She stops and re-evaluates. “No. You are that good.”

I chuckle. “We had a few close calls.”

“It’s impressive.” Her voice trembles from the adrenaline. “Your mech is small, but the way you respond to threats is wholly different than the usual merc you find out here. I guess that’s why your name popped up in certain circles.”

Inside my earpiece, Tabitha preens. “Tell her it’s all thanks to my brilliant AI prowess.”

Elena squares her shoulders, glancing from me to the shattered canyon. “Anyway, we’ll patch the tires. Let’s press on. We’re not far from the border outpost.”

Time feels like a fever dream as we fix the damage. The drivers work quickly. I stay mounted in Raven One, scanning the horizon for other bandits. The air is still except for the occasional hot gust.

After repairs wrap, the convoy picks up speed, anxious to leave the ambush site behind. Tabitha and Amy keep cross-checking the route, anticipating any pincer maneuvers. But apparently, we’ve done enough damage that none of the local warlords want round two.

Within an hour, craggy ridges give way to a more open plain. In the shimmering distance is the outline of a small, fortress-like structure. The border outpost. We approach with caution, but no hostility meets us. Instead, a guard waves us through, likely expecting Elena’s arrival.

“This is it,” Elena announces, relief flooding her tone. “We did it.”

The trucks rumble to a stop near the outpost gates, rusted, thick metal slabs with an old Federation crest peeled half-off. I step from the cockpit, letting Raven One rest. My thighs tremble with tension.

Elena rushes over, a data console clutched to her chest. The desert wind whips strands of her hair free from the neat bun. “You’ve earned your fee, David. And my gratitude.” She’s breathing hard, still not fully recovered from the ambush. “I can’t emphasize enough how crucial it was to arrive intact.”

She smiles. “I have to say, your approach to dealing with threats is borderline graceful. You handle that mech like a natural extension of your body.”

I rub the back of my neck as heat rises to my cheeks. “Thanks. My team, Tabitha included, makes it look easy.” There’s a beat of satisfaction in knowing the scrawny pilot is proving countless doubters wrong.

Elena’s eyes flicker with curiosity at the mention of Tabitha, but she doesn’t pry further. Instead, she extends a gloved hand. “It’s been a pleasure, truly. I’ll make contact if I ever need discreet transport again. Federation or Kessara oversight can be stifling for my…well, AI research.”

I meet her gaze. “I appreciate it.”

She dips her head, then approaches an official in a drab uniform who’s hurrying through the outpost’s heavy gates, probably ready to finalize whatever she’s come for. By the time Elena’s out of earshot, Tabitha sighs in my ear.

“You do realize we’ve made an impression on her,” she comments. “She’ll talk about us to her sponsor or AI research colleagues. Word spreads.”

“Let it spread,” I murmur, stepping back against Raven One’s leg. My limbs are shaky, exhaustion clawing at me now that the fight’s over. “As long as it leads to well-paid contracts that let me keep building. Honestly, it felt good to handle the mortar fiasco the way we did.”

Because with every mission, every scuffle, I’m proving my scrawny frame and so-called meltdown-prone contraptions can stand up to anything. Tabitha, reading my mind as usual, offers a hum of approval.

Professor Brant reappears a few moments later, face lit with cautious excitement. “We’re set.” She taps her data console. “Here, let me transfer your pay now. A premium for the near-death mortar experience.”

My wrist comm buzzes as the funds flow in. Even after my share goes to equipment and overhead, it’s a decent windfall. Enough to keep the lights on in that dusty hangar on Valis and finance a few expansions for Raven One.

“Thank you,” I tell her sincerely. “Glad we pulled it off without a single casualty.”

“Yes,” Elena responds breathily. “I know how easily that can go sideways.” She closes her console and steps closer. “You saved me from a lot of heartbreak, and not only me. My AI research might help fix a broken system one day. I won’t forget your help.”

She offers a final handshake, then signals her drivers to unload their cargo. It seems heavier than I realized, equipment crates for some ongoing project. Possibly next-gen AI tasks.

Tabitha’s tone flares with pride. “We did it again, David. We might be unstoppable.”

I laugh, adrenaline still simmering in my veins. “I guess so.”

As the midday sun beats down, I sense we’re done here. The border outpost is a testament to crossing lines. Literal, political, personal. For me, it’s one more step forward. Another mission to cement my name, the scrawny nobody who’s proving that cunning can outgun recklessness.

Elena pulls away with her trucks, vanishing behind the outpost’s inner gates. She lifts a hand in parting. “Until next time, David Wayne.”

I nod. “Stay safe, Professor.”

Then I climb back into Raven One, letting Tabitha power up the thrusters. We have miles to go before we find a suitable jump gate hub for the return trip. Plus, I need to be mindful of local officials. These sedation logs I’m forging can only hold so much scrutiny.

“Ready?” Tabitha asks, the warmth in her voice calming my nerves.

I draw a breath, staring out at the seemingly endless desert. The grit in the air tastes like possibility. “Ready. We proved ourselves again, T. Let’s keep building on that.”

She chuckles. “Where to next, fearless leader?”

I allow myself a grin. “Wherever the next big job calls us, I guess. One mortar fiasco at a time.”

As I guide Raven One across the dusty plain, I can’t shake the small thrill that blossoms in my chest. If I, a lanky pilot no one expected to survive, can face down scavenged mechs and mortar shells, maybe there isn’t a warlord, corporate stooge, or bandit in the Velstyn System we can’t outsmart. I’m carving out a name to impress those who once dismissed me.

Therasis behind me, bank account newly flush, and an AI researcher singing the praises of Talon? Yeah, I’ll take that as a success. For once, I let myself bask in it.