Along a three-hundred-foot high wall, four Xeon Diffusers stood beside each other in a row. Marante was crouched in a corner sixty feet from the first Xeon. The clamor of metal gears was gut-piercing; he could barely think straight.
According to the holo emanating from his scanner, five Zorcons were atop each seventy-foot-tall apparatus, busily monitoring their sections of the core from a glass-enclosed Command Bridge. Marante gulped as he stared at the monstrous machine.
The bridge was sitting on top of broad barreling shoulders, rounding into weighty arms that ended with giant metal claws. Thick plates of black steel formed their distended chests then narrowed into thin waists able to spin in any direction. Below this, wide metal girders, simulating hips, were attached to two enormous pistons enabling the Xeons to raise or lower. Earth digging, rolling tracks inched the Xeons forward.
Marante’s scanner confirmed the primitive machines were stolen from Ritan III, a young civilization two thousand years behind in technology, and one the Federation ignored. Similar to Earth, the Ritan-humans were oblivious to the Federation’s existence. Their space program limited them to their own star system of twelve planets, using the ancient technology of cryogenics to travel. He couldn’t help but wonder, would Vorkis’ plan have been revealed sooner if the Federation had accepted them into their organization? It was something to consider when time was less demanding. Marante studied the Xeon nearest him on the scanner. To collect the Pril, Vorkis had made his own modifications.
Jutting out from the machine’s chest were twelve robotic catheters equipped with high-powered lasers and scanners whose wide, cone-like beams were scurrying along the wall. The golden lights changed to red, and blue laser beams blasted holes in the hard stone. It had found Pril. From the same breastplate, six silver flexible hoses sprouted, wiggling like worms into the blown out pockets, vacuuming the Pril into a small white sack at the base of the tubes. The bucket claws were in constant motion, removing fallen stones and dirt from the work area, allowing a clear pathway. Despite crusted layers of dried soil, huge dents, and corroding rust, the Xeons, though mechanically crude, were accomplishing the task with little difficulty.
A thin sheen of sweat covered Marante’s head and face. The Xeons resembled gigantic beasts with bulky claws and tentacles. Two years ago, Kalin had insisted he watch an Earth-human movie called Aliens. He had seen hundreds of different life forms from all over the galaxies, but never before had any creature been depicted with such horror and suspense. It had given him nightmares for weeks. Of course, Kalin laughed at him each time he jumped frightened in his seat. Marante, in his anger, had sworn revenge. Ever since, certain places and things revived the memory of the “Alien.” He hoped he wouldn’t have those nightmares again.
Marante rechecked his scanner. Vorkis would need six full sacks to equal one ounce of Pril but with two ounces of the ore already in his possession, it would not be long before the third was gathered. The excavation was tedious and time-consuming; no wonder he desired Rina’s necklace. Although he had the pendant, his greed would compel him to mine all he could before leaving the planet.
The Xeon closest to him had three Zorcons on the ground keeping guard. They wore Athers, special earplugs that muted all sounds except for voices. He wished he had a pair. At the bottom rear of the unit, he would attach his scanner to the green Hesion Box, break the code, and program the Xeon to self-destruct, thus avoiding any outward tampering with the unit itself. The force of the blast should ignite the other machines, thus ending the dredging.
Suddenly, the cold barrel of a Barra pressed against the side of his head. The wicked laugh told him it was Vurro.