Alpha Strike: [An interstellar Weapon Platform’s Guide to being a Dungeon Core] (Book 2 title)

“…” 

“… …”

“… … …”

“… … … …”

The silence intensified with each passing moment. 

Lian Peng stared at the slime creature only a few dozen feet away. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the inner core’s workings, even this close. Now that he knew to watch for that strange energy, Lian Peng could see small bursts of power. Most of them came and went at such speeds he could count tens of thousands of them every second.

Yet, he knew he was missing a vast majority of them. Occasionally, a larger burst would occur, resulting in new protrusions on the black ‘slimes’ outer surface or some change within. It was easy to understand that the ‘slime’ was being controlled by an outside force, but Lian Peng didn’t know what it meant or what it was doing beyond that. 

After a long moment of no action from the other party, Lian Peng spoke, once more infusing his voice to speak through the void, though not as loudly as before. 

“Please identify yourself, your base world, and your intentions for approaching the Lunar Territory without going through the proper traffic routes. In accordance with the United Pact of Celestial Worlds and the Lunar Charter codes A-3-31, all castaways are protected against charges of illegal entry so long as they surrender to questioning peacefully and answer all questions. If you understand, please present yourself in person; should you be unable to, please ignite an energy beacon so you can be located.”

Well, he said that, but Lian Peng knew things wouldn’t be that simple. Travel through the void was so dangerous the Lunar Scouts used to rescue shipwreck survivors every couple of months — and that was only those that could be found. That had been one of their primary jobs, in fact. Yet, the castaway clause hadn’t been used in over 1,000 years. Not since shipping and travel lanes between the Sisters had been standardized. 

Nowadays, world travel was mostly undertaken by those looking for new opportunities, those pushed out from their homes — by war or forces of nature — and merchants shipping huge amounts of goods to make the trip worth the trouble. They all stuck to the established lanes for safety and to shorten the trip as much as possible, drastically decreasing the number of accidents. When there was an accident, they were far more likely to be picked up by a fellow traveler than a Lunar Scout. 

The only ones who didn’t stick to the lanes were pirates and the fools the pirates hunted. That was the official stance of the Lunar Scouts, at least. The truth was, you’d sometimes hear about this-group-or-that having some secret, hidden base out in the empty void. Most didn’t take those stories seriously; after all, the empty void was… well… empty.

There wasn’t much of anything ‘out’ there that could entice those with the power to reach it. Not even pirates lived in the void itself, having to make frequent trips back to one of the Sisters. Some even had bases hidden in the inner or outer rings of the Youngest Sister. 

Why explore the empty void when the Sisters had so much to offer? 

The chances of this being a ‘simple’ castaway case were… doubtful at best. Of course, those on board had no reason to suspect Lian Peng thought otherwise. He didn’t know what trap they were planning, but the lower they thought his guard was, the better. 

With that in mind, what Lian Peng wasn’t expecting was the ‘slime’s’ outer shell to morph rapidly into the shape of a large ram’s horn. Or rather, what appeared to be a horn on the surface. 

In reality, Lian Peng watched as, inside the horn, additional parts and pieces seemed to pop into existence near-instantly. However, looking carefully, one could clearly see the ‘cells’ rearranging to form the new structure. Now that was interesting. Lian Peng could already think of a thousand potential uses for such a technique. But then something strange happened. 

There was a large pulse of the new energy, and the strange object started vibrating. Through the fabric of space, Lian Peng picked up a sound… the sound of his own voice. Lian Peng stared wide-eyed and beak agape as the thing mimicked his voice perfectly, word for word, repeating what he had just said not a moment ago. As he stood still, speechless, again, there was a pulse of power, and the construct repeated his words, this time at a lower frequency, warping and twisting his words until they were unrecognizable. Lian Peng’s beak slammed shut, an eye twitching. 

Was this… thing… mocking him?! 

How long had it been since he’d lost face like this? Had the good name of the Lunar Scouts fallen so low that some random maybe-pirates could openly mock a Lunar King?! Did they have no fear?! He knew that some whispered behind his back now and again, saying ‘how desperate the Lunar Scouts must be to raise a scholar to Lunar King’; jealous, no doubt. Lunar King Namgil, a man who had been a thorn in his side since their youth, had even once asked — to his face! — if Lian Peng still used his own feathers for quills. 

Lian Peng was sure he still had a box of that foolish man’s teeth somewhere in his office, ready to be carved for his ink. 

Lian Peng smirked at the memory, reigning in his building rage, attempting to remain civil, and speaking once more. This time, though, his voice held a sharp edge that hadn’t been there the last time. 

“Good… sirs… I don’t know what the intentions of this… display might be, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume there is some reasonable explanation. Yet I must warn you, my patience wears thin. If you wish to continue civilly, I’d advise you to hurry and surrender before we’re forced to resort to less civil methods,” he said.

The thing simply bobbed in the void for a silent moment before once more parroting his words back to him. 

Lian Peng’s frown deepened. 

Again, it used his own voice, but this time the words came out jumbled and random, mixing parts of both speeches in a totally incoherent mess. Had the wreck broken them? Were the people behind these objects insane? Driven mad by their months of isolation in the empty void? Or was it all just some ploy to get under his skin? 

Well, it worked… 

“ENOUGH!” Lian Peng roared.

Azure flames erupted from his eyes as he swung a wing, a ripple of Celestial Energy sending the ‘slime’ careening back toward the waiting cluster. Lian Peng’s eyes sharpened, and his chest swelled, the ‘crown’ of flames atop his head shifting from a light blue to a brilliant glowing azure. 

“Fine! You want to do this the hard way? We’ll do it the hard way! Be you mad or just foolish, I don’t care anymore. I’m bringing you in for questioning whether you like it or not!” Lian Peng said as his power swelled around him.

———————————————— 

Alpha directed a drone to dodge another flaming laser from the obviously furious chicken. 

Was it something I said? 

… Okay, that was a rhetorical question… of course it wasn’t! Alpha had followed the first contact communication protocol to the T!

Well, okay, not exactly to the letter. But how was he supposed to know the chicken would get peeved with him?! Most of the time, sapient species could recognize an attempt at communication. He could at least build a rudimentary lexicon if he kept the other side talking long enough. The Federation had perfected such techniques millennia ago, though it helped that they’d kept records of various languages from various sapient species throughout the First and Second Federation eras. 

If the sapient species — or their descendants — on a new planet were in the Third Federation’s database, they likely used a language that at least somewhat, if vaguely, resembled something they had on record. But not all species communicated in the same way, either. Some, like the Elderon, one of the core species of the Federation, were biologically telepathic and didn’t even have a native spoken tongue. Some used lights or large amounts of physical movement. 

For those with no record to build on, things were more… frustrating. 

That said, he was supposed to have a support staff for this kind of thing! They hadn’t let him near the translation software since he’d got into the code and changed his proper title from ‘Star Conquer’ to ’High Lord Alpha, King of the Quacks.’

He’d thought it was funny, but apparently, official peace talks and coronation ceremonies broadcast to a third of the known galaxy weren’t the ‘time or place for puns.’ BAH! 

While Alpha was ruminating on the nature of first contact and the inherent lack of humor in a galactic-spanning bureaucracy, a literal ghostly sword — 60 meters long and made of fire — cleaved through two of the drones. Both drone’s fusion batteries promptly ignited into glorious, fiery white orbs. 

Alpha’s processors froze for a microsecond. 

How the hell did that even work?! The thing had just appeared out of nowhere. Why was it shaped like a sword, of all things?! If he was honest with himself, Alpha was tempted to switch off his logic processors at this point. 

No matter; he’d kicked the hornet’s nest, but that was fine by Alpha. He wasn’t built for this diplomacy stuff, anyway! Literally! 

Alpha turned his focus back to the drones and had them form small rail pistols. These small caliber weapons weren’t designed for actual combat, as they were meant for dealing with hull parasites or fleshy boarders. They couldn’t penetrate even civilian-rated hull armor, but they packed enough punch

to ruin most biological sapients’ day.

The AI watched as the chicken’s eyes narrowed, and it vanished just as half a dozen lines of tracer fire cut through the space it had just occupied. It reappeared next to one of the offending drones, which was promptly reduced to fragments. 

Huh? Don’t tell me the chicken can [Fold Skip], too! 

No… No, that wasn’t it. There had been no spatial warp, no energy signal, nothing. Suspicious of what he’d just seen, Alpha replayed the scene from his memory bank, this time at a lower speed. The chicken hadn’t skipped; it had physically ‘moved’ several dozen kilometers in the blink of an eye, so fast that his current reference frame hadn’t been able to even see it. A biological chicken had just accelerated from a standstill to several times the speed of sound, then stopped on a dime in less time than it took the creature to draw a breath. Was that even possible? 

It didn’t matter if it was some funky organic tech or if the chicken had some of the best augmentations available — that was just insane! Sure, some elite Federation soldiers could do it under the right conditions; he’d seen the general pull something similar off at least twice. But a chicken?! Someone had to be screwing with him at this point. 

Alpha cranked his temporal reference frames as high as possible without causing more damage; he’d have to take this fight far more seriously than before. It was then he saw what he’d been missing in his hubris. The chicken was ‘dancing’ across the battlefield with grace and precision that impressed even Alpha, striking out with blazing swings of fiery wings. The lasers, it seemed, weren’t real lasers but flaming feathers thrown with such speed and force that they might as well have been. 

Alpha had to take a minute and reevaluate the threat. Whatever this ‘chicken’ really was, it wasn’t just some kind of scout drone sent to check him out. No, this was a warrior sent to contain a potential threat… or neutralize it. 

Alpha took physical control of the drones, sending two dozen [Bot-flies] out as well. They wouldn’t be able to do much, but the enemy didn’t know that, and they were perfect as a distraction. For the AI had snuck a ‘surprise’ in with the swarm — one he’d prepared special when he thought it was just a simple scout drone. The swarm of [Bot-flies] entered the fray as a unit, nimbly dodging both flaming feathers and rail pistol rounds as they chased and harassed the chicken. 

They couldn’t do much more than bump into the bird, as their wigglers were roughly the same size, but it was apparent the constant harassment was wearing on the creature. Suddenly, a new player in the game appeared from the shadow of one [Bot-fly]. 

The silver, watermelon-sized drone was similar in appearance to the [Bot-flies], which were little more than featureless metal orbs. If one looked close enough, though, they could see it was made of four separate sections. It had hidden behind the approaching [Bot-fly] as the other drone approached the chicken. It only became visible after the first drone was forcibly knocked away by a wing slap. The chicken’s eyes widened, and it tried to dodge, but it was too late. 

In a fraction of a second, the [Skyfisher] drone’s sections jettisoned, revealing and expanding a 100-meter-wide net of glowing metal. The chicken ‘blinked’ once more, appearing to vanish, but was instantly caught by the expanding net as the four separate sections of the [Skyfisher] twisted and turned, entrapping their prey. 

[Skyfishers] were specialized anti-air drones and one of the Federation’s most widely used pieces of military hardware. They were also the general’s favorite. 

Based on a simple concept, the [Skyfisher] was really four drones in one, connected by a large, modular net. When stored, it was the size of a watermelon and weighed no more than one. But once deployed, it could stretch out large nets of various types and uses. It could capture enemy drones without damage, deter wildlife, and disable enemy aircraft if used properly. 

One of the most effective uses of the drone was for airspace denial. A few hundred deployed drones could stretch their nets over a massive area, locking it down. Specially designed explosives could even be attached at nodes for extra oomph. And because of their small size and near-invisible footprint, enemy aircraft often never saw them before they started tumbling out of the sky. 

The net-type Alpha used was rated for capturing mecha and similar mobile armors, like his own TAWP frame. It was heat-and-cut-resistant while being super elastic and sticky. Heavy armor units hit with this net were effectively out of the fight until someone could free them. In fact, the [Skyfisher] drone was so effective at neutralizing heavy armor and other drones that they were often more common on the battlefield than actual combat drones. 

[Skyfishers] were expensive, nanite-wise, though — more so for specialty nets like this one, with far more moving parts and specialty hardware than a standard drone of the same size. After all, they had the downside of being a ‘single-shot pistol,’ meaning if the enemy dodged or escaped, there was nothing more that the drone could do. But when you could field thousands at a time, what did that matter? Not that he had thousands of them, of course. Once he got a proper nanite factory up, they wouldn’t be so taxing to create, but as it stood now, this had been a gamble. 

The original plan had been to capture the ‘drone’ and see if he could hack into its systems. If he was lucky, he might steal some data or install a virus that he could use to hack into their systems when it returned to base. The whole ‘surprise! I’m a chicken!’ thing had thrown that plan out the window. That didn’t mean he didn’t have options, though. Whether this ‘chicken’ was a sapient soldier sent to check on him, or a type of remote-controlled bioweapon, he doubted whoever was back on the moon wouldn’t want it back. 

All good First Contact started with some kind of blackmail or hostage exchange. That was Alpha’s motto, and he was sticking to it.

If everything went how he wanted, he might make out with more than he’d originally planned. 

Alpha maneuvered the drones around the blue metallic ball of netting and anchored it with towlines. As the drones tugged their prize closer to the wreck, Alpha exited his hiding place and moved into position to receive his ‘guest.’ He’d have to secure it himself, since the drones didn’t have the dexterity necessary to get it into place. 

The TAWP stood on the hull’s surface, as Alpha watched the ball ‘pulse’ a few times, growing and shrinking as its contents struggled against the materials. Good luck with that! The net was made of specially designed polymer alloys containing quite a few organic EEs. It was strong enough to contain a struggling, top-of-the-line mech suit; even the TAWP couldn’t break free quickly. Hell, General Haldorðr had struggled against it during testing, and that was a man who’d torn apart military-grade mecha with his bare hands during his soldiering days. 

It took a specialized team with specialized tools to extract a captured target properly, and… and…

Why was it expanding?

And… glowing… 

And… oh no… not again…

He wished the Author could think of a better scene transition already… 

Alpha scrambled for cover as the world was enveloped by azure flames.