Page 113 of Red Scale Daddy
“Keep that up,” I say.
“I am,” she replies, her tone tight with concentration.
The drone tries to recover, but the narrow space limits its options. I close the distance before it can reset, driving forward and forcing it back into the damaged airlock frame.
The metal groans again under the pressure.
I bring my fist down across the seam beneath its plating, once, twice, then drive through on the third strike with enough force to break the structure open. The resistance collapses under the impact, and I finish it the same way as the others—fast, direct, decisive.
When it stops moving, the corridor settles into a strained quiet.
Beyond the breach, the remaining drones shift.
They do not advance immediately.
They do not retreat.
They hold position just outside the opening, their bodies angled in a way that suggests calculation rather than hesitation.
“They are reorganizing,” Roma says.
“Let them,” I reply, stepping forward to the edge of the breach, my gaze fixed on the shapes moving just beyond it. “If they want another round, they can come get it.”
For a moment, nothing moves.
Then, slowly, the nearest drone withdraws from the edge of the opening, its limbs releasing their grip on the hull as it pulls back into the warped darkness outside.
The others follow.
Not in panic.
Not in disorder.
In sequence.
“They are disengaging from this entry point,” Roma says, her voice carrying a note of cautious relief that she does not quite allow to surface fully.
“Means they’ll try somewhere else,” I say.
“Yes.”
I exhale slowly, letting the tension ease just enough to think clearly again.
“Then we don’t give them another place to get in.”
Roma steps up beside me now, her attention already shifting to the internal systems as she begins rerouting power and sealing compromised sections of the ship.
“I am reinforcing all external access points and redistributing structural load,” she says. “The damage to this section is contained, but additional stress will?—”
“I’ll handle anything that gets through,” I say, cutting in before she can finish the projection.
Her eyes flick toward me.
“You already are,” she says quietly.
I meet her gaze, something settling between us that wasn’t there before.
“Yeah,” I reply. “I am.”
