The Great Spike spaceship Pegmont currently lived in was no longer the one he had originally boarded when his cosmic drifting began. During the fierce clashes of the opening phase, because he had repeatedly been tracked down and besieged, he had switched ships four times in succession... This was his fifth, and he had lived in it for nearly three months.
Perhaps because this T-class mothership sat isolated inside a crater valley, the Great Spikes had not managed to find him this entire time.
"The night is a battlefield; the howling storm, your funeral knell."
To conserve source energy, his apparatus remained turned off. Pegmont built up an atmosphere and a sense of ritual in his mind as he wove cautiously and swiftly between the rocks.
This was not a fixed route. To keep his whereabouts from being discovered, Pegmont chose a completely new path nearly every time he ventured out or returned.
For that reason, he never hesitated to take long detours.
"Lucky it was me who ended up here and not that block of wood from Stream Vanguard. Otherwise, humanity would have been lost on Mars for ages.
"Actually, that other guy famous for loving to eat Great Spikes is the one who should really be here. If only we could switch places. He's probably the only one who'd actually think this stuff tastes good."
In a place without another soul around, suddenly thinking of fellow humans was rather amusing. The corners of Pegmont's mouth curled upward. As he scampered forward in a low crouch, he suddenly lunged, slapped a palm against a boulder below, and soared like a flying squirrel, landing lightly inside a concealed ravine.
Today, he would head out from here to begin another silent hunt.
***
"He came out again."
"Mm."
There were no other humans on this planet, so this was a conversation between two Red Shoulders. Naturally, they spoke in the language of the Great Spike civilization.
At this very moment, they were standing on a ridge above the valley, peering down through the pitch-black night and watching clearly as Pegmont dodged left, hugged the wall to the right, leaped, and scampered along.
Usually, in humanity's past perception, the Great Spike race seemed devoid of joy, anger, sorrow, or delight—or at least they rarely displayed any emotional reactions. Yet right now, these two Red Shoulders clearly showed deep grief and helplessness.
And even fury.
"Damn it, has this stupid human still not learned how to pilot our ships? Leave! Just leave! Get out of here!" one Red Shoulder said.
"If only we knew the human tongue," the other Red Shoulder replied.
If communication had been possible, the Red Shoulders on Mars would have immediately and unconditionally taught Pegmont how to fly their craft and joyfully seen him off.
Yet they could not.
And so these days dragged on. Day after day, they were forced to watch this foolish human emerge to ambush and hunt their warriors, living in constant anxiety that he would discover and ruin the vital plan they had just formulated.
Red Shoulders were not particularly intelligent.
Thus, over the past few months, they had constantly agonized over simple, trivial questions, such as:
How do we kill this human?
If we can't kill him, what should we do? Do we keep engaging him in decisive battles?
Why does he no longer seem in a rush to fight? What on earth does he want? Why doesn't he leave...?
Does he really like eating us? Starting from that frozen continent, have humans begun to prey on us for food?
What is the meaning behind his constant muttering and those bizarre gestures?
As for calling for reinforcements, the Red Shoulders had long been trapped by rigid thinking. They mourned their final defeat on Blue Star while firmly believing that, with the surviving fleet's remaining resources, it was utterly impossible to construct another super traction field.
Only in recent days had they suddenly realized they could start within their current means by building a medium traction field to bring an army of their kind to this planet.
Then, that army could build a large traction field to summon an even larger force... repeating the cycle until they amassed enough resources to reconstruct a super traction field and summon the super-army of their race.
"Lately he only targets warriors of our rank! Our combat strength is constantly diminishing!"
Infuriated, the Red Shoulder drew its blue-light column sword and pointed it toward Pegmont's lair at the bottom of the valley—the T-class craft. "Why don't we gather all our warriors and besiege him here again tonight?"
"No! It won't succeed; it will only lead to pointless losses," the other Red Shoulder objected. "Since we have no absolute certainty, we shouldn't provoke him again. Otherwise, he'll just change ships..."
Every time Pegmont was discovered, he relocated to another ship. And every relocation meant the death of a batch of Great Spikes, along with the loss of all supplies and resources aboard that craft.
Even though the metal blocks were useless to him for the time being, if given any opportunity, Pegmont would haul them off anyway.
***
"Besides, while he searches for his next ship, what if he discovers the traction field we just started building? Are we sure we could stop him?" the Red Shoulder continued.
"True. Then why didn't we build the traction field farther away from this area?"
"Because all of our ships landed in this region. Transporting large quantities of materials isn't easy, and it would easily attract his attention."
"But why transport anything? We could just launch the ships!"
"...Oh, right. We can launch!"
"Yes! Let's suddenly take off all at once and abandon him alone on this planet! He can't pilot our ships anyway, can he?"
"Right."
"Let's go find another planet to build the traction field on."
"Exactly!" The excited Red Shoulder paused abruptly. "Wait... can we be sure that after finding another planet to land on, we will still have enough resources to build a medium traction field? Due to previous damage, we don't have enough ships left that can take off again."
"That... I don't know." The other Red Shoulder was stumped too. After pondering for a moment, it suddenly said, "Wait, he's gone."
***
On Mars, two hours later that night, pitch-black.
This was a hillside area where more than ten Great Spike craft were parked together, including a mothership, four medium warships, and a greater number of small vessels.
Scattered or clustered Great Spikes wandered and paced among the ships, seemingly aimless and without purpose.
"Stupid fools," Pegmont muttered, lying flat in a rocky hollow up high. As he watched with careful eyes, he gently stroked the blade of his weapon.
He was waiting for an opening to infiltrate the area without using source energy.
Then he would lie in ambush, patiently waiting for a storm... and finally, amid the howling tempest, he would briefly activate his apparatus, take down a Red Shoulder, drag it away, and vanish into the swirling dust of the Martian night.
"He's here again. Up high," a Red Shoulder said, raising its head near the side of the Great Spike mothership not far away.
"I see him," another replied.
"What should we do? Organize an attack against him here?"
"No, we don't have the strength to kill him. A consensus was reached long ago: we will only fight a decisive battle if he discovers the traction field—to try and kill him, or at least stop him."
"Fine... He's coming down. What now?" In the Red Shoulder's sight, a flash of pink had just leaped down from the side of a tall rock. Right now, that human was prostrated on the ground, crawling forward in a bizarre posture.
"He's coming this way! He disappeared over there, into the dirt. What do we do? Since we can't fight, should we shout an alarm and flee together?"
"No! We can't do that! If he realizes he's been spotted, he'll think he has no choice but to fight... and jump out to slaughter all of us. Then he'll take away everything he can carry."
"Then..."
"Pretend we didn't see him," the Red Shoulder said helplessly, turning to walk toward the hatch. "And wait to see who the unlucky one is tonight."
"All right," the Red Shoulder outside answered, preparing to follow.
*Whoosh!* The wind rose.
Amid the rush of wind, *thwack!* A dead iron battleblade pierced clean through its chest from behind. At the same time, a heavy chunk of dead iron smashed violently into the side of its neck.
The Red Shoulder swayed on its feet.
'Did the other one hear that?' Concealed behind the struck Red Shoulder, Pegmont peered through under its arm, nervously watching the reaction of the other Red Shoulder ahead.
'If I'm discovered... then I have no choice. I'll just have to burn more source energy blocks and wipe out this whole nest of Great Spikes,' Pegmont thought, tightening his grip on his blade.
*Clang! Clang!* The heavy footsteps of the Red Shoulder rang out as it stepped across the dead iron decking.
It hadn't noticed.
Without looking back, the Red Shoulder ahead walked into the cabin. Then, the massive hatch began to slowly slide shut.
At the same time, the massive, heavy frame of the Red Shoulder in front of him began to keel backward. Pegmont hurried to catch it with both hands, keeping it from crashing to the ground and making too much noise.
*Phew!* Saved it. Having avoided a fight that would have cost him dearly, Pegmont let out a long breath.
*Whoosh!* Another Martian gale whipped up.
Amid the swirling dirt and dust, the hunched figure of the pink-haired human dragging the Red Shoulder finally vanished at the foot of the distant mountain.
Chapter 870