First Contact Fallout

when she did she transmitted the visuals back to the transport.
“There’s no activity of any kind,” her voice said as Mak’to’ran saw the holograms of the Era’tran Elder’s residence.
There was a boundary wall made up of mounds three rows deep that would allow someone to walk through the crevices between them, which could become a death trap if needed. Inside the perimeter were many low buildings that he suspected to be built deep into the ground. As it was, none of them were taller than the treetops, making the palace disappear into the jungle unless you were directly over top of it. He had never been here before, but Garuva was well known as an industrial genius who once represented the Era’tran in the Elder Council. But like so many others after their first million years of life, he had retreated from public service to pursue special projects at his leisure.
These reclusive Elders were the true leaders of the Era’tran, but they did not get involved in current events unless their capable, but younger kin proved to be inadequate to the task. Garuva’s palace had always been known to host many guests and staff. For it to be empty seemed chilling given the fact that there appeared to be no damage to the sprawling residence at all.
“Put down on the platform and begin scouting on foot,” Mak’to’ran ordered the gunship. “We are enroute.”
The Kardopa started moving again, much faster than the gunship had, and by the time they crossed the outer boundary Yenni had barely had time to land her broken ship on one of four small pads that sat flush with the tree tops and made the ships that used them look like they were floating on a sea of green from the horizon.
The Kardopa was far too large to land, so it was brought to a hover over one of those pads and an extendable ramp lowered a great distance to reach it, down from which Mak’to’ran and Sol’an walked along with Lenna and Mario’topa who ran ahead of the Era’tran as skirmishers while Ben’ra remained onboard the transport.
“Evacuated?” Sol’an wondered.
“It would seem so,” Mak’to’ran agreed. “I do not understand why. This facility has defenses. Why leave them for the enemy to secure?”
“Contact,” Yenni said over the comm. “Zen’zat without armor.”
Mak’to’ran saw her position on his own tactical display, noting that she was down at ground level and on the other side of the nearest cylindrical building that had a flat top with a walkway connecting it to the landing pads at an angle. He took off at a slow run across that walkway as it descended to the top of the building, then he crossed it and jumped off the far side, falling and landing hard on the paved ground below, but he did not topple.
The impact made a not so subtle tremor, and he wasn’t surprised to see that Sol’an didn’t follow his reckless path, rather taking one of the landing pad ramps down and crossing the rest of the distance on foot as Mak’to’ran stared at the small group of Zen’zat coming out of the building and standing next to Yenni.
“Identify yourselves,” he demanded, taking a few sore steps forward but pleased that his leg check proved adequate. The Kich’a’kat had done much to repair the stagnation his body had been suffering from.
“We are Elder Garuva’s caretakers,” one of males said as he bent his neck back to look up at the towering Era’tran without fear. “We were instructed to remain here and maintain the palace when the others left.”
“Where did they go?”
“Garuva decided to join those counter-attacking the invasion point and took all his Era’tran and combat proficient Zen’zat with him. He sent the rest of his techs to other assignments, leaving 13 of us to maintain the palace for his uses or demolish it should the Zak’de’ron come to claim it. We have heard nothing of him or those that went with him. They are labeled as missing, most likely dead.”
“What of the other Elders?”
“Many chose to fight the first battle. I do not know how many remain.”
“Is your tactical grid access secure?”
“It is. Are you here to reclaim the palace or demolish it?”
“I have need of it,” Mak’to’ran said firmly. “No mention of our presence is to be reported under any circumstances.”
“As you wish, Era’tran. What do you require of us?”
“Combat armor.”
“We have both Era’tran and Zen’zat suits in the armory.”
Mak’to’ran huffed agreeably. “The two vessels we arrived on were captured from the enemy. Check them over for any alterations, code or hardware, that is beyond standard specifications. If they come up clean, try and repair what you can. Are there any aerial craft here?”
“Two barges remain, plus 6 Zen’zat speeders and a geoball.”
Mak’to’ran’s eye ridge twitched. A geoball was a subsurface transport that operated on fixed rail lines.
“Where does the georail connect to?”
“Several private facilities, along with a single line to a hidden access point in Triapesc.”
“Where is Garuva’s war room?”
The Zen’zat tech pointed behind Mak’to’ran.
“Show me.”
“You come with us,” Mario’topa said, picking one of the techs. “The rest get to work on the craft.”
Mak’to’ran spun around as the little Zen’zat scattered around his feet and ran so not to force him to walk painfully slow. That was a matter of courtesy the Zen’zat always extended the larger races, and Mak’to’ran could feel the pleasure this one tech had at finally being given a task to do. His mind was masked to him, but his emotions were so overwhelming him that he was involuntarily transmitting them…as were the others heading to the ramp. Apparently they had been abandoned here and were in desperate need of direction.
All the buildings Mak’to’ran could see were built for Era’tran, though there were a few small auxiliary entrances for the Zen’zat. The