The Fat Fish continued its ascent when an urgent transmission connected. Captain Demiken accepted the call, and Jela's hologram materialized before him.
"My condolences," Demiken began, unsure how she'd received the casualty reports so quickly.
Jela's expression darkened further. "Your losses were severe?"
"Only thirteen Reapers returned."
A heavy silence followed before Jela spoke again. "The glacial water extraction operation has encountered complications. We're requisitioning your miners with triple pay multipliers."
Demiken's face tightened. "Understood."
In the hangar, Jones clapped Qianlong's shoulder. "Let's get some rest. Surviving is victory enough."
They'd taken only a few steps when the PA system blared:
"Emergency alert: Fat Fish rerouting to support water extraction. All Reapers to standby status. Mechanics commence full diagnostics."
Jones froze. "Of all the rotten luck..."
Qianlong grasped the implication immediately. "No choice then."
Nearby, Aina's grim expression mirrored the other miners' despair. "Rest while you can. We'll need full stamina."
The group dispersed in somber silence—protest was pointless against mandatory recalls.
Aboard the bridge, Quark monitored their approach to the warzone. The glacial mining site had become a slaughterhouse:
- 800+ Sentinels engaged
- 150 escort vessels deployed
- An entire insectoid hive awakened
The crisis stemmed from severed alloy cables on the target iceberg, causing three Reaver ships to nearly capsize before desperate miners stabilized it. Now command demanded reinforcements to re-secure the chains before the hive overran them.
"Three hours to coordinates," Quark reported to the exhausted Demiken. "After that... it's on them."
"Why risk everything for this?" Quark ventured.
Demiken rubbed bloodshot eyes. "Water reserves are critical. The emergency stockpile isn't touchable unless—"
"Unless we're already dead," Quark finished bitterly.
Qianlong strapped into his Reaper as the Fat Fish reached its jump-off point. One by one, the miners launched toward their fifteen-sentinel escort.
Phantom's warning flashed: "Massive insectoid concentrations ahead. Recommend evasion."
"Some paths can't be avoided," Qianlong replied.
"Insufficient data for comprehension."
"You'll understand in time."
Their escort commander's voice crackled through comms: "Maintain formation center. We'll clear the—"
The battle swarm appeared—Spined Flutterers, three-meter acid-spewing horrors with translucent wings. Missile barrages opened a temporary corridor as the convoy plunged forward.
Inside Qianlong's mind, Phantom projected a real-time tactical map. Crimson threat indicators swarmed like locusts.
"Prioritize imminent dangers," Phantom advised as a warning vector highlighted one Flutterer diving toward a panicked miner.
The doomed Reaper's pilot screamed as chitinous limbs hammered its hull, acidic secretions eating through armor.
"Hold position! Don't break ranks!"
But terror overrode training. The miner's erratic maneuvers sent it colliding with two allies—just as a fresh wave of Flutterers descended upon the chaos.