Talga Vassternich Part 1

Since there seems to be a dearth of Factorio Fan-Fic out there, I decided to play with an idea I had. Other than a cursory glance through for glaring errors, this hasn’t been edited.
—-
Max Power ducked behind the fractured sandstone outcropping as the next blast of acid rained.
“Damned worms,” he said through clenched teeth, the pain of the few drops that seeped through to his ankle still burned. Reminding himself to manufacture more shields when he got back to base, he did a quick check on his available Destruction bots. Nineteen hovered close by, a lone construction bot, the last one of his supply, darted between them, trying to rebuild and repair where it could. The lone bot stowed itself when it could no longer service the other drones.
He was totally out of repair packs, nearly out of bots, and his iron supplies were completely gone. He just needed to finish off this last worm and he would be victorious.
Max stood up, dual pistols in his hands, the sound of his battlecry mixing with the staccato plink of the 9mm ammo as it pelted the worm’s leathery side.
“For Liberty and mining rights!”
Roused by his line of sight, the worm reared back, prepping to fire. Each bullet left it’s mark; pink acidic blood arced from each wound.
Silence.
His pistols dry, he dropped them into the holsters on the side of his legs and grabbed the weapon strapped to his back.
If he had still been on Earth, there was no way he could wield this massive flame thrower, but here on Cernai 6, with it’s microgravity, and exo-suit assist, this weapon was a beast with no equal. To use it properly, however, he had to close distance between him and his enemy.
The worm spat, it’s amalgamation of acid, biter parts, and unspeakable substances reminded him of the food he used to eat while serving in the 9th division of the Galactic Marine Federation.
He ducked to the right, flipping the trigger to activate the pilot light on his flamethrower. Sparks few at the periphery of his vision, followed by a deep purple flame, curtesy of the high potassium content of Cernai’s atmosphere.
Another acid attack. Max dodged left.
The worm was weak, it’s pinkish blood dripped from hundreds of small wounds in it’s side, but big worms were tough. Towering over him by at least three meters, Jim knew he had to get close enough to hit it with the flame, but far enough away that it couldn’t swing it’s stationary body at him.
The databases in his suit had no explanation for why spitters sometimes rooted themselves to the ground, giving up mobility for size and increased range. It made no evolutionary sense, but Max knew.
They did it to piss him off.
As it reared back one more time to douse him with it’s acid, Max picked up a blip on his HUD. Another. Ten more.
“Oh shit.”
Hundreds of blips on the radar came in from the west. Reinforcements? Scouts? Settlers?
Whatever it was, was bad. He wasn’t equipped for such a massive fight. He needed to kill off this one, plant his turrets to defend the patch of ore his suit insisted was just below the surface, and bounce back to base to resupply.
BAM! An acid attack landed on the ground centimeters from his already-injured leg. The distraction from his HUD had nearly cost him his life.
Three more meters. The whir of the servos was the only sound from his suit. He’d stopped breathing.
Two meters. Another acid attack, this time farther away from him. The bug was getting sloppy with it’s aim.
One meter. He allowed himself a deep breath in anticipation of flipping the trigger.
Suddenly, alarms went off in his head.
A quick glance told him that his construction bot had died. How was that possible? He thought he had it stowed safely away? It wouldn’t have left it’s port unless.
Max realized that the he had no followers.
No bots.
No backup.
The worm hadn’t been missing him, it had been taking out his bots systematically.
Without backup, and with such a massive weapon that required a stationary resolve to operate, it was a matter of what would survive first, his weakened shields, or the worm’s tough hide.
—-

Part 2

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