The explosion rang out across the valley gorge, echoing from the walls and easily reaching the convoy. From here, it was conspicuously loud, but from where the action was centered, it was deafening, like a backpack full of plastic explosives just went off.

The Spindlie ceased to exist, chunks of it -at least what hadn’t disintegrated - flew through the air.

Grimly, I watched everything happen in real time even as I rose the general alert status. So far, we’d only ever seen Spindlies alone, but that was unlikely to persist. I was vaguely aware of Richard as he jumped from the ladder, rushing to his own exosuit station beside me.

“How bad?” He asked as his suit snapped into place, connecting to already set hardpoints on his mesh suit under-layer. Alice was sharp on his heels, getting into the next station.

I watched Strauss’ team hit the deck, three spikes that were each two meters long sprouting from the barriers that he’d placed in front of him. Last Call had either clustered around him, or behind Yomar, who stood standing with an energy barrier flickering madly in front of him. One of the spears had pierced through the energy and scattered shavings of metal from his torso armor, nearly a much worse injury.

“What the fucking hell!” Yomar shouted, “How is that allowed?”

“Medic!” Strauss ordered, “We have injuries! Command, we have injuries, possible fatalities! Request immediate assistance!” I heard him over the general communications as well.

I felt a hard knot form in my gut as I looked over to the group of people scattered on the hill side. Team 9 had an individual down, a spike pinning them to the ground through their leg. They were bleeding profusely, and it was hard to imagine that an artery hadn’t been hit.

Team 8, however, was far worse off. Five of their members bore several direct hits, and more closely resembled pin-cushions than people. One of them was still alive, crying and howling in pain with a pair of spikes pinning him half-upright, one through a shoulder and the other through his gut.

The medic moved to him first, Adam Burke, and as I looked through his camera view I watched as he pulled out a slim, short blade. “You’re gonna be alright.” He said, tone dry and clinical as he grasped the man's hands. “Yomar, I need you to hold him up.”

“Right!” The big man shouted back.

“It’s bad.” I finally responded to Richard as his suit’s final preparations were completed. Get out there. You have the countermeasures, right?”

“I do.” He said quickly, Alice on his heels.

“We’ll keep them safe.” Seriousness laced her voice, a hardness as she prepared herself for the worst.

“Go. I’ll be right behind you.” I nodded, flipping over to the general channel, “Strauss, we’re on the way. All other teams, be advised that Gen 2 biotics have been sighted, maintain full awareness.”

Then I switched to Fran and Daniel’s private feed, “Guys, I need you on overwatch. We have Strauss’ side, but be on the lookout for a flank.”

“Got it.” Daniel’s no nonsense reply came up.

“We’ll handle it, focus on helping them.” Fran added quickly, moving into position above the convoy.

The moment the armor encased me, I bolted from Emet, feet tearing chunks of dirt out of the ground as I went. The video feed showed already that Alice and Richard were there, though they were more concerned with watching the area around.

“Thanks for the lookout!” Strauss called, “These things tear through steel like butter, kill them in one go or don’t shoot at all!”

“Don’t forget the grenades we issued,” Richard reminded him, tapping a canister on his side, “Deploy first, then kill them.”

Jeremy shook his head, chagrined. He was about to speak when both he and Alice’s attention snapped back to the down hill, now bearing a few barbs here and there.

Alice chucked a grenade, shouting as she did so, “We’ve got incoming!”

Down the hill, I watched as the first two, then five, and then ten Spindlies wriggled forward out from what had initially only seemed to be a mild rise in the hills, tall grass hiding them. They moved with undulating spikes allowing them to slink in an eerie, but smooth pattern. The grenade exploded, a dense sickly green mist filling the air.

Richard and Alice weren’t the only ones to fire in that moment. Fragments of spikes from impacts scattered across the ground, three exploding from a grenade launcher, explosive arrow, and Strauss own long-range pistol shots. Others were wounded, and after an instant they emitted a high-pitched keening, drawing in air.

The cloud they rested in sank into their bodies somewhat, and the Spindlies jumped into the air, three more perishing before they could do so. Four expanded, performing a similar maneuver as the first.

“Cover!” Jeremy shouted, clustering back behind the shield with Yomar gritting his teeth, expecting to be skewered this time.

The explosion, however, was much more subdued. Half of the Spindlies were intact after the explosion in one large chunk, albeit very dead. Alice and Richard deployed angular barriers, coated with diamond-hard enamel. The impacts still rocked them on their feet, but held firm. The other barriers showed similar results, preventing impacts from digging through.

There were still close calls, though. Denice, the artillery and explosives specialist of Last Call had a gouge in her helmet on the side, and a veritable swarm of startled cursing rolled from her tongue. Team 9, shockingly, had someone who had actually managed to catch one of the spikes in mid air, keeping it from his less well protected stomach.

His face was stark white, though, likely in no small part due to terror.

“I need scouts on outer perimeter!” I shouted out, “Paint targets for artillery, we’re not going anywhere near these damn things if we can help it.”

“Don’t need to be told twice,” I heard Patrick from the Iron-Chariot’s team speak, “We’re geared up, Reaper. Ready to bring the rain.”

‘He’s fast,’ I appreciated that, “Good. Alright everyone, we’re closing circle, we’re barely halfway to Damond and they’re already rolling out the welcome mat.”

I heard a collection of chuckles in the face of the grim reality of the situation. I reached the flank with Strauss, surveying the carnage with my own eyes, “Jeremy, can your team move?”

He stood, doing a quick check on the situation. He turned to me and nodded, “We can. What do you need?”

‘The weave is strong with these ones,’ Wolvey mirrored my appreciation, “Get Team 8 and 9 situated back in the bunks, we’re running Legion only until we have a better handle on what we’re looking at here. I want to tag your scout with Alice and Richard for firing and the rest of you on point defense with me.”

“Sounds good,” He stated, his second in command, the sniper Allendra, came up beside him.

“Team 8 might be put back in, but Team 9…” I glanced to the casualties on the field, “Well, I can only apologize to you for allowing them on the field.”

Allendra cringed at that, “That… They knew what they signed up for.”

“Even so,” I turned to Jeremy, “This is on me. Not you.”

He smiled, a cocky, crooked grin, “You’re the boss, but that doesn’t make me some officer. We’re all in this boat together, and if it’s got holes, it’s on all of us to fix ‘em.”

It took me a second to process that, but I nodded, and chuckled, “So it seems. See you soon, Strauss.”

“Likewise, Reaper,” he held out his fist as we passed, and I gave it a solid tap in camaraderie. At the very least, I was grateful that Jeremy Strauss wasn’t concerned about the ladder, and seemed to be far more interested in doing what we needed to do.

Yomar jogged back over to me, “I’ll follow you for now, Strauss isn’t gonna need me for medic detail.”

I nodded, “Good to have you watching my back.”

“Good to have you back in action,” He laughed, “I was beginning to believe you’d really kicked it.”

I shook my head as we moved back into position in the convoy, “Likewise.”

He gave a light chuckle, and as we moved, I noted that his power armor was quite lithe. It had what appeared almost to be fur around the shoulders and neck, framing the armor, but for what purpose I couldn’t imagine. His helmet bore tusks and forward facing horns, his armor in general appearing more bestial than not.

It matched the man, though it seemed he still had a penchant for melee weapons. The claws were one example, but he also bore several gently ‘S’ shaped metal objects on his sides, stacked in large clusters. Idly, I wondered what they were.

We both looked up in time to see another Spindlie emerging from the tall grass, and without hesitation he threw two of the half meter long devices. They flared red and seemed to hiss in the air, spinning rapidly. Plasma axe-heads flared at either crux of the ‘S’ shape, and as they hit the biotic, I couldn’t help but marvel at them.

They carved straight through the spikes and the core, both just barely off center on their own, but together the center of mass fell apart in two smoking halves. Instead of inflating, it simply sagged and spluttered for a second and then went utterly still.

“That’s one way to do it,” He spoke, “Kill it all at once.”

“If you can hit it, and hit it hard enough.” I grimaced, “Definitely Legion only for a while.”

After a few minutes, we began to hear earth-shaking explosions, some distant, some closer. Invariably, each impact of a shell further down the valley had an answering retort, or sometimes several of them.

“We have a lot of clusters coming up,” I heard Sammy, Last Call’s Scout, speak.

“This side too,” Another scout spoke up, one that I wasn’t personally familiar with. They were checking the flanks, but it appeared that the Spindlies wouldn’t move unless prey neared, regardless of the noise we made.

In a way, these Gen 2 biotics seemed to be fairly easy to manage if you could kill them at range or fast enough, however there were still problems. Some of them wouldn’t activate with the Scouts passing them, only responding with the larger groups like our own coming close.

That made the point-team job perhaps the most dangerous, as the biotics would be primed when we were near them.

For the most part, it was going well, but there were accidents.

One of the other teams hadn’t managed to kill their Spindlie fast enough, and it had detonated. They were fortunate that there weren’t any fatalities, but three of their members would be down for a while, two of them with painful gut injuries, and the third with a leg injury. That same accident resulted in one of the Convoy vehicles staggering forward, one of the middle axels having been damaged, and several holes now located throughout. The only upside was that the battery unit wasn’t damaged, and so long as the engine and drive shaft were running, it would work well enough. The trucks were colloquially referred to as Ogre’s for their pretty bodies and lovely demeanors anyways.

Which was to say they were hideous anyways and refused to die, requiring to very nearly literally be gutted to stop operating.

It was a great convoy truck, and yet another reason why I was glad for creating the R&D division.

As darkness crept upon us, though, we decided it would be for the best to call the advance. People needed to get out and stretch their legs a bit, and so we had the Ogre’s form up in a relatively flat area. Sensors and auto turrets were set out at 25 meter distances, hopefully more than capable of killing anything that came at us in the night.

So far, we rarely encountered groups with only eight to ten biotics at the most. Wolves had utterly disappeared, though, and I felt a foreboding that I couldn’t quite express. I restlessly patrolled the impromptu wall of vehicles, thinking over everything that I’d seen in the day.

What was wrong with the situation?

The biotics were disorganized, and threw themselves away. There were a lot of them, and while it would be odd to have a biotic that destroyed itself, I suppose there were all types out there. As a Gen 2 biotic, though, they were supposed to be modifying their environment to suit them. If anything, the tall grass had been the only part of the environment to help them, and there were plenty of areas with low grass, or none at all. Yet the Spindlies would sit there, contracted little black balls that would respond only when a presence came close.

“Can’t sleep? Or night shift?” I turned to the source of the voice, a brown haired man with a squared jaw holding a container out to me.

“Thanks,” I took it with a nod, looking thoughtfully out to the dark, my helmet currently off as I considered my thoughts. “Little of both. I don’t need much sleep anymore.”

Patrick nodded, “Looks like you’re more like a mech yourself,” He said, “what do your elven eyes see?”

I snorted, “Damn, that’s an old movie now.” With a shake of my head, “But nothing yet. Being made of biosteel does have its perks.”

The big man, well muscled and heavier set than even Daniel, sat down on top of the Ogre that I was pacing on. “Y’know, I was considering looking up cybernetic augmentations.”

“Oh?” I turned my gaze to him, “Wasn’t keen on it?”

“Complicated,” he answered, “On the one hand, I really like mechs. On the other hand, my Ma’ would bend me over her knee if she found out I swapped my real bits for anything else if I didn’t need too.”

I nodded, “Fair. I wouldn’t personally recommend going full mech. Bio-steel, if we can make better use of it, can actually be used to step backwards to full and regular tissue.”

“No shit?” He looked up with surprise, “So, you can go back to looking like a regular person someday?”

I was silent that that, considering the topic.

“For most people, is it?” He frowned, “Sorry if that’s a touchy subject.”

I shrugged, “It is what it is. Better than being dead, though.” I sat down and looked up at the stars. There were several moments where the only noise that accompanied us was the low murmur of conversations in the background, and the crinkle of plastic as Patrick ate out of a foil bag. He held the bag out, and I wordlessly pulled out a few chips.

“It’s weird. I mean, I knew we weren’t alone in the universe after the biotics showed, but hearing about a bunch of other people up there that have dealt with the same thing?” A glimmer in his eyes as he looked at the stars caught my attention, “It’s something else. I dunno, inspiring?”

“Hmm…” I considered that, thinking of the many different races I’d seen in the Council. Now that I think about it, it was impressive, there were people who had won against the biotics on their worlds, who fought back even still, and managed to carve out their own lives in the Galaxy. I smiled, “Yeah, I guess it is, isn’t it?”

He chuckled, leaning back a bit more.

“Why’d you choose mechs, anyways?” I turned my attention to him, “It seems to me that an all mech team might be a little difficult to logistics around.”

He laughed, “You’re damn right on that. But… honestly it was between mechs or power armors. It was your friend’s mech that got us, though. Daniel - that guys mech is a beast.”

I nodded at that, “That it is. I hear you guys have made some interesting advances, too.”

“Yeah. It’s not done yet, but we’re trying to formalize some archetypes. The big hitch right now is the carrier.” He shook his head and perplexedly glared at his hands, “I just can’t get the damn thing to work right.”

“Carrier?” I frowned, “What’s wrong with it?”

“The damn drones never function right. I think we don’t have the computer power to get them to do everything we need them to do. They’re pretty complex, meant to be like their own exo-suits, only not needing people to pilot. But, turns out, that’s pretty hard to get to move on its own without going crazy on computer space.”

“That’s not a bad idea though,” I murmured, “Maybe R&D can take a look later.”

“Maybe if you asked ‘em,” he shoved another bit of food in his mouth, “I tried to convince them, and they thought I was just on some sci-fi kick and didn’t want to devote resources onto what they viewed as too expensive.”

I frowned at that, “Hmm… we’ll see then. Do you have it with you?”

He looked up with some surprise, “Yeah, yeah we do.”

“Show me.” I said, “I’ll take a look, I know a thing or two about computers.” I chuckled, tapping my head.

Beaming enthusiasm, he said, “That’s the spirit! I’ll make a mech fanatic outta you yet!”

‘This one is obsessed with his strands,’ Wolvey mused, ‘Perhaps he’s a few strings short of a full rope.’

‘Passion is the father of invention, temperance the mother,’ I replied, ‘We’ll see if there’s really something there or not. I don’t have anything else to do anyways.’

‘It was getting boring looking at the twinkling things and darkness.’ The voice seemed a bit more into the concept than it let on.

The rest of the night, I went through the mechs available, hearing no occasion where the turrets engaged at all.

One thing I was certain of by the end of the tour, though, was that Patrick Bentley was fanatical about mechs. I’d learned more about them in four hours than I’d ever expected too.

But I came away with some very useful kernels of knowledge, and with a new possible plan to increase our speed and reliability of scouting.. Tomorrow would be quite interesting.