Hours later the crew sat at their favorite table at the Soft Watch. Drinks were on the house tonight for the establishment’s saviors. Gondo slumped in his usual seat, his head and parts of his body wrapped in bandages. The medical droids had been able to patch him up, but he would be needing some new skin in the coming days. He grimaced at the thought of the painful accelerated regrowth process he would undergo over the next few days and downed a shot of bourbon.
The rest of the victorious Casters joined them. A few of the local mech pilots had even showed up to be grilled by the techier Casters about their rigs. Cheers were raised to the valorous, toasts were celebrated for the dead. The atmosphere was one of beleaguered merriment.
Jasper sat at the table with them. Like Gondo she had sustained heavy injuries, but modern medical technology was truly remarkable. Bones would be mended and organs would heal. The conflux of micro mechanics and biology had led to some amazing advancements in triage and battle medicine.
“Although I shouldn’t, another round barkeep.” Jasper slurred to the eagerly waiting server orbiting their table. The server tapped on a pad and drinks descended from the high ceiling, floating down to their table.
The aftermath of any battle was a giddy affair. The adrenaline from the incursion had left everyone buzzing, and everyone excitedly rehashed the greatest and most dangerous moments of the conflict.
“I had no idea what you’d been planning Ignasius,” Lowell said holding a sloshing draft, “When that giant robot started coming together, I couldn’t help but hear the Transformers theme play in my head!”
Ignasius had activated his inebriation mode and laughed, his light almost lidded and tan colored. “Quite a maiden voyage for the old girl, I think she handled swimmingly all things considered.” he said.
Jasper laughed and slapped him on the back of his chassis. Her hand recoiled at the impact and she scowled, then stood.
“Hail the victorious dead!” she bellowed, and the revelers around her stood and replied, “HAIL!”
She drank and then collapsed back into her chair.
Lowell put down their drink and leaned over to Jasper. “I won’t say I was surprised to see you had joined with Ourobouros, how long have you been operating with them?” they asked.
“A few years now, Calcio and I joined up at the same time. Moriah recruited us both,” she replied.
A bitter pang hit Gondo’s heart at the mention of his parted friend. “I still wish I had been able to do more for him,” he said.
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“You already have Gondo,” Jasper said. “If it wasn’t for you and your crew a lot of us might not be here today.”
They shared more cheers, finished too many drinks, then finally departed. The Glaive was set to auto-drive and zipped them home in stealth mode. The three offloaded drunkenly from the jet.
“That really was something today,” Lowell said to Gondo as they ambled to their individual quarters.
“I feel like I got crushed by a giant plastic Clayface,” he laughed, “Thanks for saving my life again today,” and then stumbled off to his bed.
...
When they awoke, they convened at the meeting table, now returned to its regular ambiance. Lowell had blessedly turned on medical monitoring before they retired, so they had been hooked to an IV full of electrolytes, salts and antioxidants, and looked refreshed.
Gondo unfortunately was still worse for the wear. Medbots had spent all night patching him up, now his hangover was replaced by a pharmaceutical numbness. His skin itched and burned as it regrew.
Ignasius left the battle scars and bullet holes on his war frame, he said it looked cool. He had returned to his normal steel grey chassis and was scanning the feeds.
Reinforcements had been sent to the bunker where Krueger and his matrix had been controlling the Golem. They found it hastily abandoned and empty.
Lowell had funneled a huge chunk of the proceeds from their last haul to the recovery effort.
“Typical. ‘Ourobouros Leads Deadly Terrorist Attack in Lower Hotep’ seems to be the headline today,” he said.
The only real reason to review the mainstream news these days was to learn what not to believe. Through history humankind had cycled through its glory days and dark ages. Times when misinformation was marketed as fact. Sadly, the current era was such a one. The educated and informed had their ways of finding the truth, and the poor backward masses choked down whatever their oligarchs decided. It was disgusting.
Gondo shifted the holo to a feed from a frontline mech soldier. This guy was wearing a cranial patch the whole time and you could buy the battle experience to relive it in your own living room.
The trio got down to the business of analyzing the incursion. Everyone was extremely impressed with Ignasius new creation, even though it was quickly defeated. He had more upgrades planned. The Glaive also had an impressive performance, and Lowell was given credit for saving the day. The main topic of discussion was Gondo’s battle application of the Moonshield.
He had of course been wearing his cranial patch and a bevy of monitoring equipment. That data would be thoroughly researched.
“I could never have imagined this result,” Lowell said. “Just glancing through the readouts, I can see that your power readings are off the charts.” The screen was showing a close up of Gondo punching into the Golem’s torso. “Short lived but incredibly effective. I tested the Moonshield on myself and had no effects, I should have thought to try it on you in a waking state. Obviously, the catalyst is psychic energy.”
“I can still feel the power,” Gondo said, looking down at his bandaged fists. “Next time we face Krueger you can bet he’ll be ready for it.”
“Indeed,” Ignasius said. “I believe we’re about due for a training montage!” with a twinkle in his light.
