Drifting to an Alien Planet for a Slow Life After a Mutual Kill with the Enemy - Chapter 10

The morning mist lay on the river like a thin layer of salt. The tree canopy hadn’t quite woken up, and dewdrops dripped from the leaf veins, falling one by one into the slow-moving water.
Uranus’s foot pressed into the muddy riverbank, its weight settling gently, causing only the smallest of ripples. The gravity inversion system was running on its lowest setting, which made Uranus significantly lighter—a necessary trick to avoid leaving obvious tracks as it moved.
Inside the cockpit, the ecological density map projected onto the curved screen blinked softly. Large green life signs rose and fell like a breath, but just ahead, around the river bend, a pale, unnatural gap appeared—like someone had violently ripped up a patch of the forest floor.
“Something’s definitely wrong here,” Lysander said, zooming in on the local curve. “It’s not a seasonal migration; the life-sign distribution looks like it’s been scooped clean.”
“Analysis confirmed,” Uranus reported, its voice calm and close. “Node density is low at the bottom, and energy flow is shifted high. We suspect unusual consumption by an apex predator. Confirmed a mutated serpentine individual. We’ve tagged it L-4X–09–S-Type-01-EX-01.”
“Any normal L-4X–09–S-Type-01 models nearby?” Lysander asked.
“None. We have thermal footage showing L-4X–09–S-Type-01-EX-01 preying on other L-4X–09–S-Type-01 individuals.” Uranus played a clip of the massive snake hunting its own kind.
“Well, I don’t need a biology degree to see that this EX-01 is destroying the local ecosystem.” Lysander settled back into his seat, feeling the conductive fibers align with his spine. “Decision made: we take it out before the environment totally collapses. Besides, I need a proper gauge of the local wildlife’s strength. Your data sheets are great, but nothing beats a bit of real-world sparring.”
“Acknowledged. Mission objective: Eliminate the mutated individual L-4X–09–S-Type-01-EX-01. Strategy: Phase One, close-quarters contact to model its behavior; Phase Two, lethal strike with minimal energy expenditure.”
“Right. Let’s get started then.” He took a deep breath of the cockpit’s clean air and tightened his grip on the control stick.
The river here widened into a broad curve, the water’s color shifting to a deep black, like a well-oiled piece of iron. The tall trees on the far bank cast deep shadows that merged with the current, the lines silently dissolving into one another.
Uranus waded in up to its waist, slowing its pace to match the river. The dynamic field tightened to a thin layer, allowing the water to glide freely past the mech.
The air shifted first—a dry, static feeling that crawled from the fine hairs on the back of his hand right up to his neck. Something in the river’s center bulged slightly, like the water itself giving an impatient yawn, then smoothed over. A second time, a third—the rhythm quickened.
“Massive signature approaching underwater, seventy-six meters out,” Uranus stated. “Estimated length: thirty-two to thirty-four meters. Highly electrically conductive skin. Confirmed match for L-4X–09–S-Type-01-EX-01.”
“Confirmed.” Lysander brought his breathing back to a trained rhythm, his fingertips resting lightly on the sticks. “We’re staying non-lethal for now. Get the data first, then we’ll deal with it.”
“Acknowledged.”
The surface of the water exploded before Uranus could reply. A black-and-silver body shot out, the broad snake head flashing with cold, damp light. Scale upon scale, it looked like a suit of moving, heavy armor.
Uranus’s protective shield instantly flared into a thin, glass-like hexagonal grid, absorbing the enemy’s direct charge. The impact was a deep thud, like a drum being struck far underground, and needle-like spray flew everywhere.
“Well then, that’s a big one, isn’t it?” Lysander mused, sounding completely unbothered.
The giant snake didn’t try a second head-on collision. Instead, it swung wide to the side and rear, its body tracing a clean oval underwater. Its tail segment fine-tuned the angle, instantly wrapping around the chest—right where the E-Core was housed.
“Behavioral Model: It probes the core and joints first, then locks onto a point for constriction,” Uranus reported.
“That’s clever. It seems to know the weak spots on a humanoid frame. Was that accidental, or did it deliberately aim to break our balance? Log that as a priority.” Lysander commanded.
“If it wants a hug, we’ll let it hug once,” Lysander’s voice was utterly calm. “Assume the sitting posture. I need to see the cross-segmental torque distribution.”
The second encounter happened fast. Uranus seemed unprepared for the snake’s move, sitting down hard after the impact to its chest. The serpent seized the chance, its thick, massive body wrapping around Uranus’s waist and chest from below. Before the third coil was complete, it locked the tension in the first, tightening like a pro-level knot that gets worse the more you struggle.
“Constriction complete. Pressure reached three per cent of tolerance. Hull integrity nominal,” Uranus reported.
“Ha! Far too weak compared to an Erebus. Even a standard Erebus model could deliver thirty per cent pressure with a tickle,” Lysander said, watching the serpent strain its body pointlessly. He almost felt sorry for it.
“Right, let’s test that electrical discharge of yours.” He made a tiny adjustment: “Lower the center of gravity four centimeters, right elbow four degrees in. Give it a nudge. We can’t have it thinking it actually can squeeze us to death.”
Uranus complied without comment, starting to “struggle strenuously.”
Seemingly sensing its prey was having a final, desperate burst of life, the snake coiled its head back as the third loop closed. The fleshy membrane around its mouth peeled open, and tiny lights seemed to switch on beneath its scales. In that instant, the river’s ions churned into a dense fire, and a blue-white electrical net burst from its entire body, tearing the surface of the water and briefly illuminating the inner veins of the leaves across the bank.
“Uranus, a bit of courtesy. Show it what a real electric shock feels like.”
“Acknowledged. Static magnetic feedback engaging.” Uranus moved instantly: the protective field switched in milliseconds to a guiding surface, subtly bending the charge path back into the muscle bundles of the snake’s second coil. It wasn’t a simple deflection; it was a polite ‘return to sender.’ The blue-white fire swept across the light grid, and the data panel barely flickered.
“Paralysis time estimate: zero-point-two-nine seconds.”
“More than enough,” Lysander stated.
Enough for what? Enough to break the pattern.
Uranus’s right arm snapped into a blunt hammer, hitting the snake’s second pivot point hard. At the same time, its left foot stepped back half a pace, the shin guard acting like a knife edge to throw the snake’s twisting force out of the main loop. It then used its palm to open a flexible curtain, like pushing an invisible door in the water, squeezing open a gap in the third coil—the tension map of the entanglement system was instantly rewritten.
L-4X–09–S-Type-01-EX-01 was forced to loosen its hold slightly.
Facing imminent failure, the giant snake expressed its displeasure. Its head swung, it released the third coil, slipped low to the side of the leg, and its tail segment snapped upwards violently, yanking the entire river as if it had been crudely pulled from the middle.
“Don’t let it win this exchange,” Lysander snapped, hands flying over the controls. “Time to teach it a bit of ‘friendly persuasion.’”
Uranus raised its knee, letting the snake’s head skim half an inch beneath the shin guard, and fired a very brief burst of reverse thrust from its sole boosters, its entire weight ‘pressing back’ into the mud. That downwards press turned the opponent’s torque into the mech’s anchor point—water splashed higher than the chest armor and quickly fell.
In the third exchange, the giant snake changed tactics. It flattened its body completely, moving like a heavy, forward-pushing shadow, lifting the entire volume of water from beneath, trying to force the mech to lift its feet and release its weight. For a normal creature, that pressure would mean joint failure, lung collapse, and simultaneous suffocation and paralysis.
But Uranus withstood the pressure, remaining perfectly still.
“Pressure increased to eleven per cent. Still stable.”
“Data collection complete.” Lysander delivered the final judgement. “Finish it.”
“Acknowledged. Executing lethal strike.”
Uranus paused to ‘stand up’ first. That action was like retracting every sharp point, leaving only silence and weight. L-4X–09–S-Type-01-EX-01 mistakenly thought its chance had arrived. Its snake head lifted abruptly, and its internal electrical organs began to charge again.
In the next beat, the humanoid’s left arm shot forward suddenly, five fingers pressed together. The edge of its palm cut an almost invisible white line through the water—a very short, very narrow force pulse, specifically designed to sever biological pivot points. The white line slipped past the joint surface between the snake’s third and fourth neck segments, like a fingertip perfectly selecting a page in a thick book.
The sound was tiny, like someone snapping a dry branch a long way off.
The entire body of L-4X–09–S-Type-01-EX-01 convulsed. Its mouth hung open, soundlessly. A barely visible layer separation appeared between the second and fifth segments; the transfer of force in that area turned chaotic. It tried to coil back, but the force was binding itself; it tried to swim, but the rhythm between its tail and torso no longer matched. It had completely lost control of its body.
Uranus followed up with a second pulse, hitting between the fifth and sixth segments.
The water surface instantly went silent.
The black-and-silver behemoth slowly sank. The electric light between its scales died out, and a faint layer of bl00d color diffused into the water, quickly diluted by the river.
“Lethality confirmed,” Uranus said. “Objective achieved with minimal energy expenditure. Local micro-organism load elevated, expected to return to baseline within two hours.”
Lysander didn’t speak right away. He replayed the battle twice, checking every angle and every minute detail of the force dissipation, ensuring no unnecessary marks were left on the environment. Only then did he take his hand off the control stick.
“Excellent work, Uranus,” he said. “Our first win on this planet.”
The wind brought a scent of fresh grass from upstream. A few birds took off from the distant treetops and immediately settled back down.
The bee-shaped rotor returned. On the second outer arc, they marked three flat, sheltered areas on the river terrace suitable for setting up camp and noted useful metallic signals in two rock fissures. Halfway through the third outer arc, the long-range sensor array suddenly picked up geometric shapes that were anything but natural: straight lines, right angles, equal spacing, stacking—
“Bearing zero-four-one, distance one hundred and twenty-three kilometers,” Uranus reported. “Heat source is regular, the smoke column is low and stable. Detected signs of cutting and construction. Assessing as an intelligent life settlement.”
On the projection map, a geometric pale grey was now nested within the forest green.
Lysander zoomed the image in, then back out. He didn’t crack a joke about finally having neighbors, just smiled very, very faintly.
“I see it,” he said. “Uranus, log this as the highest priority. We’re going over there tomorrow.”
“Acknowledged. Mission sequence updated.” Uranus walked steadily out of the river and onto the bank.
The river flowed on, and sunlight slanted through the trees, falling on the edge of the armor like a thin layer of warmth spread across cold iron.