Mathias regretted he couldn’t convince 615 or Offo to spend resources on cleaning. The only parts of the hangar that weren’t covered in a mix of dried blood and soot were covered in wet blood. Or scorch marks. Mathias scoped the room.

The former acolytes of Tobias filled it, working behind walls that had grown out of the ground as cover. The entrance to the hangar was like the entrance to a castle, filled with killing holes and gates to hold back enemies. In 2 days, they had changed the crashed ship into a fortress. The acolytes no longer wore robes; instead they wore colorful armor with numerical designations.

And every few hours, monsters battered at the gates. They started in groups of three. Then more and more came, throwing themselves into a meat grinder.

“Cass.” Mathias said, calling out to an acolyte. She approached him, and he spared only a glance at her.

The signs of malnutrition that plagued her previously were gone. Her skin was no longer pallid from subsisting on scraps after fleeing whatever city she had left behind for the chance to study under a mage. Studying under a mage was a life-changing opportunity. For better or worse.

She dropped to her knees, touching a ritual circle with her fingers. With a grunt, Mathias lowered himself on the other side, fueling mana into it.

A HAMMERHEAD dropped a qilin body into the center, still dripping blood. The ethereal, ghost like qilin were the worst. The way they killed them left them smelling like charged flesh and covered in matted blood. None of the qilin were lasting very long right now, anyway.

They had already lost half a dozen that day. Mathias leaned back from the sigil as it flared up, wrapping around the qilin. The qilin rose to its feet, wobbling for a moment to catch its balance. Mathias stood, standing behind it as the gate blocking the way to outside slid open, letting the monster walk through.

Mathias could only see outside through the killing holes lining the fortress tucked away in the mech hangar. The fire had pushed back the forest, and 615 had swallowed the earth and dirt, replacing it with hard, porous stone.

The device on Mathias’s wrist buzzed. He looked down, wide eyed, as every acolyte did the same. The room became a flurry of movement as HAMMERHEAD mechs walked to the edge of the fortress inside the hangar to occupy the walls. Mathias rushed to one of the killing holes. A mounted gun sat beneath it.

He grunted as he pushed it upward, lining the barrel up to a killing hole. Clear ceramics extended around the barrel of the gun — not that they would survive the impact from a spell.

Turrets hanging from the ceiling swiveled towards the entrance.

“Incoming hostile count: 12. Time til arrival: 30 seconds. Brace.” 615s voice echoed through the room.

SHIELDWALL mechs surrounded the inside of the gate, behind their fortified position. After a moment, everything went silent, tension filling the air.

Mathias brushed his finger over the trigger, swallowing and stopping himself from blinking as he stared out into the miniature courtyard ahead of them.

Mounted guns sat on the edges of the courtyard’s walls, aiming inward. The guns in the field outside would cover the rest.

Qilin roars broke the silence. Some rushed through the gate in the courtyard, filing in before being pelted by the turrets, which erupted in dazzling beams of light that hurt to look at.

An alien weapon for killing alien monsters. Qilin lived closer to the realm of myth in the Empire, since the extermination effort. But here they were, charging into their own deaths by the dozen.

The magic of 615’s turrets was incredible. But they weren’t enough to kill all the qilin. Mathias had seen the main gun fire. That would could kill all the qilin.

When they used the main gun, there was nothing left to bring back to life.

Mathias pulled the trigger.

Qilin rushed towards the defenses. Only 5 made it into the gate and past the barrage of weapons. Qilin outside the compound likely cut and tore down many before they could get close. But some still made it to the defenses. Mathias’s gun spun, vibration echoing up his arms as he pulled the trigger.

Ballistic, 615 had called it. It was a weapon that roared. It spat metal and fire. Each kick and vibration of the weapon tore away chunks of flesh as he lined the gun up towards the charging monsters. HAMMERHEADs and other mounted positions fired from behind the defenses.

The gate rocked as a qilin made of chrome slammed against it, turrets firing into the hangar from the courtyard, tearing the monsters to pieces against the walls. Mathias held down the trigger until his arms shook and his fingers were numb. When the gun stopped firing, the end of it was red hot, smoke wisping away from the barrels. He panted.

The hangar had fresh scars.

The qilin were dead. The slaughter lasted minutes, but even that felt like an eternity as monsters clawed at the only safe place Mathias had. Red strobe limits dimming, the alert status on the ship fell away. A chiming noise preceded AI615’s voice.

“Hostiles eliminated. Resource collection in progress. Total kill count: 12. Losses: 3 qilin.”

Mathias swallowed. Only once it was quiet and the danger had fully passed did he release the trigger, stepping back from the weapon, his arms numb from the vibration. Within minutes, more qilin were dragged in by mechs outside of the compound. Mathias hadn’t seen the other side. It hadn’t been safe to leave the ship. But he knew there was more out there. More of Offo and 615, spreading like a living thing onto the landscape.

Billowing smoke rose from pillars beyond the compound’s walls. The sound of churning earth and moving machines echoed into the hangar incessantly throughout the day and night.

Mathias stepped back from the gun, turning. Starfish already crawled along the floor carrying chalk to prepare to raise the new undead.

“Whose undead died?” Mathias asked, stepping away from the fortifications and down towards the acolytes. “Who has command limit to raise more?”

Several acolytes looked his way, pulling open their systems, their eyes glazing over in the distinctive pattern of someone manipulating their system.

“I’ve got command.” Cass said, stepping up to him.

“Do you have mana?” Mathias looked her up and down.

She nodded, and Mathias joined her again, raising a second undead and depleting his own mana. Arms tired, palms numbed and calloused, he trod down the hallway that split off from the hangar, towards a cafeteria. 615 didn’t have the resources to produce food for them anymore. Instead, an acolyte stood behind a bowl, making qilin stew.

Mathias filled up a bowl of rich broth and organs, sitting down to eat.

Cass joined him a moment later.

Mathias stared at her for a moment, but she said nothing. She just stared down into the bowl of monster organs, clearly not enticed by the food. Then he started shoveling food into his mouth.

He wanted to be ready. More ready than he was, armed and armored. The only thing worse than the attacks was the time between every attack, the waiting moments of silent stillness where there was no attack, 615 just expanded outwards.

“How long do you think we will be here?” Cass asked, still not having touched her food.

“What?” Mathias asked.

“How long until, you know, we can leave?”

“We can’t.” Mathias replied.

“Oh.”

“There’s no city that wants people like us. Vagrants. Necromancers. There’s nowhere for us to go. We have to build our own place.”