"They Eat Metal" Part II

Out On The Tiles

Horse walked on and on.
He always liked tracking when he was a Dragoon. He left before he got used to the killing. He thought himself better than that. He was not a coward.
He had, famously, stared down a Never-been and, rumored to have, sliced a Rakkaruk belly from the inside. He was there when Silent Bay was taken and the last Child of Pestilence was slain. Green’s rebellion changed him. The System lost its charm and the Dragoons lost their power. Now, he was on his own.

Some say, that is how he was born.
The Tiles covered more than half of the planet. Eerie noises, unsightly apparitions and grim memory ghouls accompanied him wherever he went. This time however he sensed he had some human company. Horse took advantage of the intermittent gas curtains and hid behind a large rock on the path. He waited and then jumped out with his blaster drawn. A little girl stood before him. She was black like the barman and that was enough for Horse to assume that she must have been his daughter.
Horse turned around. The girl walked up beside him and held on to his coat. Staring out at the desolate landscape, in front of him, Horse saw a Lone Planeteer travel aid. It was cranky and seemed on verge of dying. Horse checked its batteries and found none. Suddenly, the screen blinked to life.
“Welcome to *brrk* Fall. This is Elk. Deacon Colesmith *bzzt* sheriff. The chief occupation here is *krzzk* elk herding. The uranium farms are mostly located on the Tiles *krrkztt* Thank you. Mind you, it is the season of death in these parts. You watch your back.”
He did not know which season it was. With one thing and mostly another, he hadn't been to these parts. Somewhere behind him, humanely inaudible over the turbulent winds there was a faint scuttling sound. Quick as a whip, he whirled, blasters drawn and fired. There was a sharp, metallic thunk, followed by a gurgling noise. As the airs cleared, he could see his target. 
A spider. 
Obsidian eyes that were bereft of any emotion. There was a gaping hole where ‘its’ absent heart should have been. He recognized a predator when he saw one. The girl tugged on his coat. Fear was a reflex for her.
Horse walked to the plant. It was pretty deserted. The door was open. Darkness prevailed inside and he could smell fungus and danger. It was a long way between here and his ride.
Horse stepped inside. The door did not close of its own accord. There were no creepy shadows lurking. There was not a soul in sight.
That should have been his first clue.