C38 The Iron Fenrirs

The moment we stepped inside, the scent of oil and freshly milled steel hit us. Holo-panels floated above each display, showing specs for weapons and armor in flashing text.

Paul ran his hands along the shelves, picking up and checking out a smart 40 mm grenade launcher with a rangefinder attachment.

"You know, I could get used to this. No more worrying about pain in combat, just cold efficiency, plus no more nightmares I hope"

As Paul said this all of us fell silent, the truth was that my battlebrothers who only completed a 9 month tour had never participated In combat or killed anyone up till now.

And they weren't like me a natural-born killer who didn't feel a thing then I took my first life, I could still recall their screams then they slept reverberating through the spaceship during our voyage back to the solar system.

They didn't talk about It and frankly, there was nothing I could do to help because I never encountered this specific problem.

Sure I had PTSD from a number of other things but killing, It never bothered me, to me It was the same as accidentally crushing an ant.

Yep, I knew I was f*cked up Inside most likely thanks to my stepfather's tough love but hey that's life.

This was one of the reasons why I opted for surgical augmentations and hopefully, my battlebrothers will no longer suffer from nightmares.

Feeling the room Airid, still testing his ability to stand but clearly stronger than before, spoke up.

"It feels weird, but it's good. Still can't walk properly, but I feel stronger. How's your leg, Drac?"

I grinned, tapping my previously injured thigh.

"No more pain. Feels like I could run a marathon."

"Good, because we're gonna need it,"

Airid joked as he did the mood visibly Improved.

"Say Drac why not buy some special ammo, I think we should get a mag each at least."

Hearing Paul's suggestion I glanced over to the ammo section and spotted what Paul was looking at plasteel-tipped a level 3 tech 6.8 mm rounds for our smart rifles.

They were built to punch through level 3 alloys, far more effective against armored targets than our standard rounds.

"Those,"

I pointed, my voice flat but resolute.

"And also these armor plates"

I added as I showed the armor plates we needed to be replaced.

The clerk, an older man with cybernetic eyes and a face covered in scars, nodded and pulled a fresh five 30-round magazines and specified armor paltes from behind the counter.

He scanned it into the system as I pulled out my holo-phone to pay. The price tag hit hard, almost 10 times the cost of regular ammo, but we couldn't afford to cheap out.

"My heart Is bleeding buying those,"

I muttered under my breath as I paid, knowing that my wallet was taking a hit.

"But if it can let us punch through technologically superior armor Instead of getting Into knife fighting range like last time, it's worth every damn credit."

Darius whistled when he saw the price flash across the screen.

"Man, that better punch through exoskeleton armor like butter for what you're paying."

I smirked.

"It will hopefully"

After restocking on armor plates and refilling our ammo, we headed to the next stop, the salvage shop.

The Scrapyard Exchange was run by a half-mechanical dwarf Gral who had a reputation for giving fair deals but was notorious for haggling.

His left arm was entirely mechanical, covered in reinforced plating, and his eyes had been replaced with glowing red cybernetic lenses that scanned everything he looked at.

"Back from a mission, I see,"

Gral grumbled as we approached, his voice a low growl.

"Let me guess, you're here to offload the junk you scrounged up on g*ds know what hellhole."

"Spot on man,"

I said, tapping my holo-phone. A holographic inventory of our collected loot, mostly salvaged gear and parts from the crashed Urian Prime transport ship, floated in the air between us.

Gral grunted, scratching his metal arm as he examined the items. His glowing eyes scanned the list, and he made a few grumbling noises, clearly unimpressed with some of the scrap we had collected.

"Alright, let's see here... Low-grade fusion cells, some busted laser and gunpowder based rifles, a few parts from an exoskeleton armor, yeah, I'll take it. But the prices are gonna be low, you know that."

"Fair enough,"

I said, crossing my arms.

"But those exoskeleton parts are in good condition. Don't lowball us too much, old man."

He smirked, his metal fingers tapping at the display.

"Fine, fine. I'll give you a better deal on the exoskeleton armor. But the rest is junk. You get what you get."

After a few minutes of back-and-forth haggling, we settled on a price. It wasn't a fortune, but it was enough to pad our funds and cover the cost of our restocking, with a bit left over for future upgrades.

"Pleasure doing business,"

Gral said, sliding the credits over to my account.

"Same here,"

I replied, nodding as we left the shop. With that, we made our way to the space mercenary guild to see what work awaited us.

The familiar sight of the guilds entrance greeted us as we walked in. The place was bustling as always, with hardened mercs lounging around, drinking, playing cards, and sharing stories of their latest jobs.

Holographic advertisements displayed a variety of weapons, spaceships, combat robots, and, as usual, a few more ethically and morally questionable services, everything a merc could need.

We pushed through the crowd until we reached the desk where the manager was waiting.

As we approached, she gave us a nod of acknowledgment.

"Back from Med Karash I, and still alive, I see. Congratulations."

"Yeah, it wasn't easy,"

I said, smirking.

"But we got it done."

"I've heard,"

She replied exhaling a cloud of smoke, tapping her desk.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect you to pull it off so cleanly. Especially not against Urian Prime's mercs even though they were rather poor compared to their more established outfits."

I shrugged.

"We've got a good team."

The wana be witch raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you'll need more than a good team for what's coming next. Got a couple of new contracts that might interest you, there's no telling what kind of xeno artifacts or defenses you can activate unintentionally"

She flicked a hand, and two missions appeared on the holo-display in front of us. The first was marked Nihlwing IIIa-Investigation of Strange Monoliths.

The second was the NihlwingXa-exploration of a crater Impact site.

Julian leaned forward, examining the details.

"Monoliths? Sounds like some ancient ruins or artifacts."

Darius grunted.

"Crater site might be easier. Could just be a simple recon mission."

The manager crossed her arms, watching us as we debated.

"Both missions are part of the same system. Nihlwing is relatively quiet, but these two sites have been flagged by the local UNOE authorities. You'll be the first merc group to investigate either one. Low pay, but low risk."

I nodded, just like I planned we still needed time to let the gene restructuring serums take full effect, and we couldn't afford a high-stakes mission just yet.

"We'll take both,"

I said, turning to the gang.

"First, we hit Nihlwing Xa and see what's up with that crater. Then we'll head to Nihlwing IIIa for those monoliths."

Julian raised an eyebrow.

"Back-to-back missions, huh?"

"Exactly. We need to keep moving. No time to sit around,"

I replied, shrugging my shoulders.

"Works for me,"

Darius grinned.

"Let's see what these strange monoliths are about."

The manager tapped a few commands into the holo-display and sent the mission details to my holo-phone.

"You're all set. Good luck, Iron Fenrirs."

The manager added with a knowing smirk and truthfully I liked the sound of that.