Difference In Race
Difference In Race
Chapter 162: Difference In Race
Lena was finally asleep. Reah had administered a mild sedative to calm her, as she had continued to weep even after Cain’s assurances. Every person in the inner circle understood the weight she carried—especially Lyra, who knew how agonizing it was for a leader to feel sidelined by a "distraction" during a time of crisis. They had managed to get her to eat a substantial meal before the exhaustion finally claimed her.
While Reah returned to the lab with Lyra to continue her analysis, Cain joined the other heads of the alliance in the pack house living room. The space was illuminated by battery-powered lamps brought by the humans; Reah had been adamant that open flames were a safety hazard in a house filled with high-stakes blueprints and stressed warriors.
Commander Orion and General Liam sat comfortably, nursing glasses of wine with a platter of fruit before them. Opposite them sat Cain and Andrew. Andrew was busy examining a heavy iron pistol, while Cain scoured a set of blueprints. Ashley stood behind the Alphas, arms crossed and vigilant, watching Andrew as if he might accidentally "test" the weapon in the middle of the room.
Cain looked up from the parchment, his expression sour. “You called this meeting to discuss force divisions and battle strategy, yet you decided to bring... drinks and fruit?”
Orion took a slow sip of his wine. “We humans have the habit of consuming something during high-stress situations. It keeps the mind sharp and the nerves steady. You should try it.”
Andrew glanced at the bottle, then back at the gun. “It wouldn't hurt to try.”
Cain let out a breath of pure exasperation. “Moving on. What is this blueprint for?”
Liam set his glass down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “From what we’ve observed, your soldiers rely almost entirely on physical strength, wolf forms, and hand-to-hand blades. Correct?”
“What does that have to do with a gun?” Cain countered.
“A gun is more efficient than a sword,” Liam said simply.
Ashley scoffed loudly. “How would a small piece of lead work on a crawler? You have to dismember them to stop them.”
Commander Orion smiled over the rim of his glass before setting it aside. “You are mistaken. Our specialized rounds have enough stopping power to drop a crawler in its tracks. One shot, one kill—from a distance that keeps my men’s throats intact.”
Cain raised a brow. “How does a metallic pipe cut through a beast like that? I don't suppose you have anything larger?”
Orion’s smile widened, and as Cain flipped to the next page of the blueprint, his eyes went wide. “Please tell me this is a joke.”
“I assure you, it is not,” Orion replied. “That is a cannon. We primarily use them for naval warfare, but our weapons constructors have modified several units specifically for land-based defense against the crawlers.”
Cain leaned back into the couch, crossing his arms. “Those would be impossible to use if my wolves are fighting on the same field. We would be caught in the crossfire.”
“That,” Orion noted, “is why we also have ballistas.”
Andrew chuckled softly, turning the pistol over in his hands. “Your kind never ceases to amaze me. You want to place cannons and massive bolt-throwers on our battlegrounds?”
“It is our battleground, too,” Liam reminded them. “We have the same enemy. We must fight with every tool available.”
Cain’s voice grew cold. “I should remind you, since you seem to have forgotten: my people shift. In wolf form, we are the size of the Rogues—nearly the size of the crawlers themselves. Do you honestly think we’d be safe with your men firing those things at random?”
“I give you my word,” Orion said steadily. “None of your people will be harmed by our ordnance.”
Ashley remained unconvinced. “That’s easy to say when you don't grow to the size of a tree. We cannot allow those weapons on the field.”
General Liam sighed, a sound of deep-seated weariness. “You people are incredibly stubborn. We plan to integrate these weapons into a rigid formation. It means both our soldiers and yours will need to pull back and clear the firing lines during specific phases of the engagement.”
“And how is that possible?” Cain asked. “We have no means of instantaneous communication across a chaotic battlefield.”
“The weapons will be positioned at key chokepoints,” Orion explained. “The entrance to the packs, the bunkers, and the docks. It ensures a safe zone for retreat if the lines are overrun.”
Cain nodded slowly. He didn't fully like the idea, but the logic of human technology helping to level the playing field was becoming harder to deny. However, Orion wasn't finished.
“We also intend to train your people to use our weapons.”
Andrew’s eyes lit up. “You mean... everything?”
“Yes. From sidearms to snipers, and even the cannons,” Orion stated.
Andrew glanced at Ashley. “What do you say?”
She frowned, looking at Cain. “You’re the Alpha. I don't have a say in this.”
“You’ve seen the crawlers first-hand, Ashley,” Andrew countered. “You know what we're up against.”
Ashley hesitated, then finally nodded. “It isn't a bad idea. But it will take time for our people to master these tools. What do you think, Alpha Cain?”
Cain looked at the blueprint one last time before sighing. “We will use them. But on one condition: you teach us how to manufacture them. We will create our own designs so we can distinguish our stock from yours.”
Orion laughed softly and nodded. “Fair enough. Training begins tomorrow. We will provide a list of materials needed for production.”
Cain hummed and began to stand up. “If you’ll excuse me—”
“We are not finished yet,” Orion interrupted politely. Cain’s frown returned. “You seem to be in a hurry, so I’ll be brief. Based on our intelligence, we have roughly five months before the Rogues begin their next major push. As for the crawlers... the timeline is less certain. We must be ready before then.”