Pillar World by Linda Andrews

Author:Linda Andrews [Andrews, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The Second Book in the Founders' War
Published: 2015-02-25T19:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Groat handed the last of his injured crew to the medics. Three hours after the convoy skirmish and his men were finally being evacuated.

The air reeked of singed armor and flesh. Bodily fluids made the deck slippery, but the medic carried the legless Scraptor effortlessly up the ramp. The engines of the triage vessel sputtered and coughed. Rust pimpled the peeling paint of the interior. Wounded lay on the grated deck for the lack of beds.

A new recruit in pink armor raised his severed claw. "We'll make them pay, won't we, Fleet Commander?"

Tridit clomped to a stop beside Groat. Soot stained his silver armor. "The Humans will pay, and pay, and pay. We will work them into extinction."

Worked to death was too easy. Groat had other plans. "The strongest, we will hunt for sport."

A muffled cheer drowned out the moaning of his crew.

It did nothing to stoke the bloodlust that should be stirring in the breast of every Scraptor. They needed more. Groat would give them more. It was his duty as their leader. "Every year, we will lengthen the time it takes for our prey to die, increasing their suffering. Every year, someone will be rewarded with the best armor the Founders have to offer."

Groat raised his second-in-command's humanoid arm, displaying the latest in Scraptor protection.

A clamor of pounding fists and boots blasted from the triage ship. Even the medics stomped their feet in approval.

"New armor! New armor!" The chanting drowned out the groaning of the closing ramp.

Groat wrestled the airlock door closed. Metal screamed as he pushed it in place. Smoke billowed along the ceiling. Red emergency lights bathed the dented walls and chipped paint.

Tridit waited by the second door. "Do you think the Commerce Board will authorize the expenditure for the prize?"

"They'd better." Stepping back, Groat massaged his forearm under his armor. When had his old armor become so itchy? "They'd better triple the budget if they want to win this war."

Groat would see to it that the Founders suffered for every delay and slow payment. His contact had come through this time. He would do so the next time. And the next, until the Scraptor Army became invincible.

"I hope our new ship is ready soon." Tridit sealed the second airlock door.

Inside the bay, the clamps released the triage ship with a pop. The engines bathed them in orange as the burners pushed the vessel away from the dreadnaught.

"This old rust bucket served us well." But more so in Groat's grandfather's time. A new era was dawning and Groat planned to make it a glorious one for the Scraptors.

"She died well." Tridit thumped on the bulkhead. A ceiling tile sprang free. It spun around hitting his eyestalk. The optic ball popped out and dinged the wall. Crouching, he swung his claw after it. The ball rolled over the pinscher then dropped toward the ground. He brought up his humanoid hand, letting the ball dance over his fingers.

Laughter chugged up Groat's throat. "Your first war wound, my friend.

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