Red Dragon Spaceship Awakening: I Gain Alien Abilities on Mars-Chapter 229: Victory and Salvage

Bjorn’s voice cut through the silence, firm and decisive. "Take all the weapons away!"

Tatehan turned to look at him, his visor reflecting the Viking’s massive frame as Bjorn gestured broadly at the arsenal surrounding them.

"We strip this place clean," Bjorn continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Every gun, every sword, every bomb, every vehicle; we take it all. And then we blow these bases to hell."

Tatehan realized that the man was not wrong. It was the very obvious thing to do in a situation like this.

Bjorn turned, his gaze going across the amphitheater they had just been standing in, the rows of bunks stretching endlessly up the walls. "We have no use for the beds. They’re basically worthless. But the weapons? Those are ours now."

Bjorn planted his warhammer on the ground, the weapon’s head sinking slightly into the floor from the force. "I’ll go tell the others to blow this place open on a larger scale so we can start loading everything out. I came with a larger craft to haul weapons back, just as we planned, though I did not expect something this massive."

Tatehan nodded. "Alright. Let’s move."

He didn’t even think twice about the plan, he didn’t even tell Bjorn why it might be risky or ran through tactical alternatives in his mind.

This was because it was the right plan. And it wasn’t even a risk!

They had taken the risk when they came on the mission in the first place. The risk was coming here and attacking the base, engaging in a war in this scale, risking their lives fighting in the battlefield.

That was the risk. Now, it was just time to harvest the good things that came with the risk they had taken.

Tatehan remembered when he was still at the wastelands with the Spaceship. Anytime he fought a monstrous creature, taking the risk, he always harvested cores from the creatures.

The rewards of his risk, things that granted him abilities, upgraded them and in a special case gave him an armor!

Now Bjorn was already moving. He did not wait for Lyra to teleport him back outside. Instead, he hefted his warhammer onto his shoulder, turned toward the entrance of the base, and started running.

His boots pounded against the floor, each step shaking the ground, and as he neared the reinforced metal entrance, he raised his warhammer high and swung it forward with all his might.

BOOM!

The impact was catastrophic boom!, loud stuff. The entrance exploded outward, the metal warping and tearing under the force of the blow, and a large opening was carved into the structure. Sunlight poured in, dust and debris billowing out, and Bjorn stepped through the gap, his silhouette framed against the bright Martian sky.

He was outside.

The battle had quieted. The sounds of combat that had filled the air just minutes before had faded into scattered skirmishes and the groans of the wounded. Bodies littered the ground, both enemy and ally, and the remaining fighters from the Obscuron’s forces were starting to realize that they had lost.

Bjorn and Tatehan alone had killed more than a hundred soldiers. Combined with the efforts of the other fighters from the allied cities, the Obscuron’s forces had been decimated.

The remaining soldiers: those who were still alive and conscious, were starting to drop their weapons. Their hands raised, their voices shouting surrenders, their eyes wide with fear and exhaustion. They did not want to die. Not here. Not like this.

The allied fighters moved in quickly, securing the surrendering soldiers, binding their wrists with magnetic cuffs, and shoving them roughly toward the large transport vehicle that had been designated for prisoners. There were not many left, fewer than fifty, by Tatehan’s count, but each one was a potential source of information, a piece of the puzzle that could help them understand the Obscuron’s plans.

The fighters worked efficiently, their movements coordinated. They hauled the prisoners into the transport, stacking them inside like cargo, their weapons confiscated, their armor stripped. Some of them protested weakly, but most just went quietly, too exhausted or too terrified to resist.

Meanwhile, the process of salvaging the weapons began.

Fighters from all the allied cities poured into the second base, their eyes widening as they took in the size of the equipments. They moved quickly, grabbing guns, swords, bombs, and loading them into the waiting vehicles. The larger transport that Bjorn had brought was filled first, its cargo hold packed to capacity with plasma rifles, kinetic cannons, and crates of explosives.

But there was still more. So much more.

The mechs posed a problem. The spider-like mech and the humanoid mech were too large to fit into any of the available transports. They would have to be left behind, their systems disabled to prevent the Obscuron from reclaiming them later.

But the dwarf mech, the stocky, heavily armored one, was just small enough to be hauled onto one of the larger vehicles. It took a dozen fighters working together, using a lot of efforts and many fighters with their abilities , but eventually, they managed to load it onto a transport and secure it with reinforced straps.

Bjorn stood beside Tatehan, watching the operation, and then he turned to him, his tone thoughtful. "Since Waython Hollow is nearby, we should find a way to take the other mechs there. Your city could use them. And we don’t have the capacity to haul them all the way back to New Helios."

Tatehan nodded, his mind already turning over the logistics. "Yeah. We’ll need something specialized to move them, though. They’re too big for standard transports."

Bjorn grunted in agreement. "You’ve got any way to do so?"

’Tech guy back at the base.The one who works on vehicles and weapons’ Suddenly came to Tatehan’s mind.

"I guess... I should actually."

Tatehan did not hesitate. He reached into his inventory and summoned his phone device, the rectangular screen materializing in his hand with a faint shimmer of light.

He stared at it for a moment, his thumb hovering over the interface.

And then he began to dial.