Page 1 of My Tiny Giant
Chapter 1
“R EADY FOR DEPLOYMENT ! In ten... nine... eight...”
The countdown began, and my heart skipped a beat, suspending me in the chilling mix of excitement and trepidation.
This was my fourteenth mission on the planet Tragul, but the nervousness never left. My body buzzed with the thrill of anticipation and a hefty dose of fear—the way it always did moments before the hatch of our transporter ship opened.
Because no matter how many briefings we’d had and how many instructions we’d received, no one could predict with certainty what awaited us on the other side of that door.
“Nose up, Pixie.” Captain Rick Miller, the leader of our Special Armored Unit from Earth, clanked the shoulder of his full-body metal suit against the hard shoulder of mine. “I’ll watch your back.”
“Thanks. I’ll watch yours.” Wearing an armor suit like Rick’s, I was the same size and had the same strength as everyone else in my unit of twelve.
Rick’s encouragement still felt nice, though.
“We’ll be fine, Pixie.” Ekon, another fellow soldier, shoved his armored shoulder against mine from the other side.
My name was Emma, but I’d been called Pixie since my first day at the military academy. I hated the nickname at first, taking it as a mocking reference to my height of five feet nothing. Eventually, I’d gotten used to it. Over a dozen missions had given me plenty of opportunities to prove myself on Tragul. I knew the guys in my unit respected me for my skills and my aptitude in action. From them, the nickname no longer sounded like an insult, but a sign of acceptance into the team.
The countdown ended. The hatch rose. The hot exhaust from the aircraft engines pressed down on the luscious green canopy of the Tragulian jungle below.
“Jump!”
Holding my breath, I leaped off the platform, engaging the suit’s thrusters as soon as my feet disconnected from the aircraft.
From here on, my focus narrowed. No energy was wasted beyond processing what was happening immediately around me.
Gliding past the tree canopies, I landed in a small clearing below and turned the suit’s engines off. The power of the fuel cells was now diverted to other functions. I clicked off a red light, confirming to Rick my safe landing. The surrounding landscape lit up with charts of additional information on the glass of my helmet.
Glancing around, I spotted several now familiar gray “hills” under the trees—mounds of flesh called fescods .
The creatures weren’t considered intelligent as individuals. However, their Central Mind—an organism safely hidden on the bottom of the Tragulian ocean—enabled them to organize large-scale operations that had led to a two-decade-long war on Tragul and even an invasion of the nearby planet, Neron.
Voranians, the intelligent species from the country Voran on the planet Neron, had booted fescods off their home world about three years ago, ending the invasion. However, fescods continued to terrorize Ravils, one of the species on Tragul who had the misfortune of sharing the planet with them.
The gray blobs rolled closer, their shapeless bodies undulating to propel them along the ground. I slid the curved blades out from the arm compartments of my suit, getting ready for an attack.
Fescods weren’t easy to kill. Their skin reflected heat and laser rays. Bullets only locally damaged their large bodies. Their muscles pushed the bullets out within minutes. The internal organs of fescods constantly shifted inside their bodies, making them impossible to locate or accurately hit from the outside.
After having battled them for a decade, Voranians had identified a range of cold weapons as the most efficient means against fescods . The sharp, curved blades that my suit was equipped with were high on that list.
Taking a wider stance, I raised the blades and braced myself for impact with one of the massive mounds of flesh rolling my way.
A thundering battle cry roared through the jungle. Then, a group of brazen warriors rushed past me to face the attacking fescods . The warriors’ muscular humanoid bodies, covered in short, tawny fur, moved with grace and speed. Their long, fur-tipped tails trailed behind them.
These were Ravils, our allies. Their transport must have arrived shortly after ours.
The Ravils’ famous courage bordered on carelessness. It spurred them into launching a counterattack ahead of us.
In contrast to the human unit—all of us fully enclosed in robotized armor suits—Ravils fought practically naked. Aside from pants and boots, they only wore leather chest plates barely big enough to protect their vital organs. Their weapons and most of their equipment fit in the holsters and pouches attached to the wide, beaded belts sitting low on their hips.
With a frustrating disregard for danger, wielding short daggers in each hand, the Ravils charged the fescods .
Distracted by their appearance—planned yet unannounced—I nearly missed an attack from an approaching fescod . He rolled onto me. Thin protrusions appeared from his body, some tipped with sharp spikes, some with pincers that could crush bones.
I swung one of my blades. He blocked the blow with one of his long, thin limbs that randomly appeared and disappeared from his shapeless body.
I staggered back, almost knocked off balance by the contact. Thankfully, the suit’s stabilizers kept me upright. I raised both blades again, aiming for the spot at the very top of the fescod’s mass.