Page 112 of Red Scale Daddy
It tries to recover.
I don’t let it.
I pivot, using the rotation to bring it down hard against the floor, then follow immediately, dropping my weight across it to pin its core structure long enough to gain purchase on its armor.
The plating resists harder this time.
The material flexes under my grip, shifting instead of cracking cleanly, as if the drone is compensating for the damage it has already observed in the others.
“They are adapting to structural compromise,” Roma says behind me, her voice sharper now as she tracks the changes in their behavior.
“Yeah,” I mutter, adjusting my grip. “I noticed.”
I change my approach.
Instead of pulling directly against the plating, I shift my hands to the edges of two overlapping segments and force them apart at the seam where they meet. The movement creates a different kind of stress, one the structure isn’t compensating for as effectively.
The material gives.
Not all at once, but enough.
I force the opening wider, then drive my hand into the exposed interior and crush inward with controlled force.
The drone jerks violently beneath me.
Then it stops.
I push back to my feet, drawing a steady breath as I reset my stance.
Behind me, Roma steps closer into the corridor, her presence more immediate now, the glow from her handheld interface casting shifting light across the walls. Her attention moves between the readouts and the breach, her expression tightly focused as she recalculates in real time.
“They are beginning to withdraw from the immediate breach,” she says, her voice quieter now but no less controlled. “Their movement patterns indicate reassessment.”
“Good,” I reply, rolling my shoulder once as I watch the remaining shapes cluster just beyond the opening. “Means we hit them hard enough to make them think.”
“They are not retreating,” she says. “They are evaluating alternative points of entry.”
“Then we make this one too expensive to use.”
Another drone edges forward, slower this time, its limbs testing the damaged frame before committing its weight. It does not launch immediately. Instead, it adjusts its angle, probing for a different approach vector.
“They’re getting cautious,” I say.
“Yes.”
“That won’t last.”
“No.”
The drone commits.
It comes in low, its limbs striking toward my legs in a coordinated attempt to destabilize my footing. I shift my stance and absorb the impact through my center, letting the force travel through my frame rather than breaking my balance. My hand drops to catch the leading limb, and I pivot with the motion, redirecting it just enough to throw its alignment off.
At the same time, I feel the deck stabilize beneath me again.
Roma.
She’s compensating for the shift in force distribution, adjusting the ship’s systems in real time to support my footing in the corridor.
