by Ken Bebelle
“-- repeat, Whiskey One, anyone listening? I’ve got a problem.” Sasha’s normal saucy tone was gone, her words clipped and muffled by bursts of sustained gunfire..
Everyone rallied to Lee’s position as Sasha continued to broadcast.
“Grr…. Shit!Fuck!” The report of her rail gun sounded in his comms and echoed off the buildings. “Lee get your asses down here --- ed support! Come in from the north -- Fuck! -- I repeat, northwest! We need cover fire on their position in the northeast corner!”
Lee whirled his finger in the air. “Roger that, Whiskey One en route.”
Lee pointed at Mack.
“You. Get down there and take overwatch position on the roof of one of the buildings on the north side of the square. We need some intel.” Lee turned and signaled to Blake. ”Blake will go with you for backup.
Mack nodded. His heart pounded with anticipation.
Lee continued on, his Southern drawl not so slow and easy now. “Simmons and I will finish our objective here. We will head to your position when we have completed decommissioning these suckers.”
Mack nodded again. The morning sunlight glared off Lee’s helmet and the Jolly Roger on it looked like it was winking at him.
Lee unslung his Torch and thrust it into Mack’s arms. “I may need you to do something loud and noisy. Wait for my signal.”
Things were looking up. Mack ran a covetous hand over the Torch. “I get to bring the thunder. Sweet!” He was off in a burst of enhanced speed before he reined it in for Blake.
Running wasn't really running anymore, not when he went all out. It was more of an alternating leap and hop, huge bounding strides in the right, and a quick step to catch himself on the left. Learning to use this new leg had been hard fought, and now Mack reveled in the expansive movements, the surge of power he gained from each bounce.
Mack and Blake zigzagged their way to the south, taking positions at the intersections to cover each other’s movement. Each time he stopped to cover, Mack checked the skies above them, dread building in his gut. Blake took the last position next to a stairwell access. Mack poured it on, hop-sprinting the last fifty yards.
When he got to the target building he kicked extra hard and launched himself at the stairwell door. He hit the door with his cybernetic leg and the metal door crumpled like tinfoil under the impact. Mack pivoted and began taking the stairs five, then two at a time. He made three stories in about ten seconds. He wasn't even breathing hard yet.
He opened the door to the roof slowly, carving a wide arc in the snow. Glancing down the stairwell he saw Blake coming up the first flight of stairs. Mack looked out the door and saw a vast square expanse of undisturbed snow. The sounds of the battle drifted up from the square below. He scanned left and right again, confirming the rooftop was empty. Blake made the top of the stairs, puffing lightly.
Mack unslung the Torch. “Roof is clear.” He shuffled to the edge of the roof and edged up slowly until he could see below.
Dubs and Ringheads dotted the wintry landscape below him. Even from this distance, the aliens’ flat, black eyes made his guts squirm. A grounded jumpship leaned haphazardly in a school playground. Victory was arrayed around the jumpship, using it as cover against an advancing wave of Hunters. Mack’s visor zoomed in on the smallest figure. Yup, it’s Lt. Kennedy. She was giving them hell too, but there were too many of them.
“Victory One, Blake and I are on overwatch, we will be providing support until the rest of Whiskey arrives.”
“Good--” LT’s voice was cut off by more rounds of blaster fire.
A flicker of movement caught his eye. He looked up, and his visor zoomed in to confirm. Three-o-clock, another jumpship inbound. Shit.
“Victory One, you have incoming, eyes on the sky.”
Mack updated Lee. “We’ve got eyes on Victory. It’s bad, Sarge.”
“Lay it on me, Mack” came the response.
“A dozen hostiles on the ground. Victory team is about to be surrounded. I also have visual on another jumpship en route.” Mack wanted to join them but knew it was no time to go hotdogging. “Orders?”
Lee did not hesitate. “Blake, lob the Zooks, take that jumpship out of the picture. Mack lay down a barrier with the Torch, give Victory some breathing room. Simmons and I will be there in two. ”
“Roger.” Mack readied the Torch while Blake pulled out the grenade launcher. Mack didn’t envy him that job, a miss with that Valter recoilless could mean hitting friendlies.
While Blake took aim at the new jumpship, Mack aimed the spear tip of the Torch. Choosing a spot behind the Dubs, he squeezed off his shot and a stream of ignitable cord followed the tiny spear head. As it found a perch on the building across the street, Mack flicked the switch on the base of the Torch and small explosions lit up the cord, the pellets of compressed gas breaking up into a wall of streaming flame. He launched six more cords across the gap, igniting all of them and turning the street into a raging inferno.
“Hooah!” yelled Mack as the new jumpship was cut off from the Dubs.
Victory now had nowhere to go but forward, and while they were still in the shit right now, it was only half the shit it would have been. I’ll take those odds any day of the week.
Blake remained quiet, and Mack watched the man systemically spit out the the Zooks, each grenade sticking briefly to the shell of the alien jumper before splitting open into a conflagration of flames and smoke. It spun lazily in the sky, small drifts of black smoke rising in its crooked wake.
Mack turned his attention back to Victory and saw the damnedest thing -- five Ringheads, undeterred by the sustained blaster fire of Victory team, converged on Lt. Kennedy’s position. Bitsy barked once, holing one of the Hunters through the torso. Concentrated fire from the rest of the team reduced a second Hunter to a pile of briquettes.
The remaining Hunters kept coming, unfazed by the slaughter of their comrades. As one, they bulled Lt. Kennedy’s position. Victory team pulled back, unable to fire without risking their lieutenant. From overwatch, Mack spotted one of the Hunters physically grab her and jump onto the downed jumpship. What the actual fuck is happening? Ringheads didn’t take hostages--they were killing machines.
With Lt. Kennedy and her captor on the ship, the two remaining Hunters immediately boarded the ship, and it lit up and began taking off.
Mack turned to Blake. “How many Zooks do you have left?”
Fourteen
Into the Fire
SASHA
Jesus but these guys don’t give up!
Sasha found herself wishing she had brought an extra Dub1 plasma rifle with her. She would never want to hurt Bitsy’s feelings, but the girl didn’t quite have the rate of fire Sasha needed right now.
Bitsy’s humming topped out again, barely noticeable above the crackling thunder coming from Box’s Repeater. Five uglies bolting towards her again. This was getting old. What the holy fuck is going on today?!
Box bellowed as he shifted his field of fire. “Cover! One o’clock!”
Sasha sighted in and pulled the trigger, blowing a smoking hole through the chest of the closest Hunter. As it collapsed, Box and the others reduced the one behind it to a pile of smoking embers. The remaining three kept running, undaunted by the destruction of their fellows.
Box shuffled back, trying to keep his fire trained on the lead Hunter. “What the fuck is going on!?”
Sasha bobbed to her left to clear around Box’s hulking form. A moment later all three Hunters angled slightly to match her new position. She juked back, and the Hunters all followed her again. “CentCom! Are you seeing this?! What the hell is going on?!”
“Victory, CentCom, we are receiving your feed five by five. Recommend evac ASAP.”
“No fucking shit?!” Bitsy was still in her refractory period, she was going to have to talk to Stan about that.
The lead Hunter bellowed, a deep, bassy roar that reverberated through her feet and lungs. With the roar it bulled through Box like
a freight train, knocking the big man on his ass. The Hunter finally dropped its arms, still covered in glimmering ice armor, and leapt the last ten feet to land directly in front of Sasha. A thick layer of milky ice covered its body, melted to a thin sheet around the arms. In its open mouth Sasha saw multiple rows of spiky teeth.
Too surprised to react, she watched in horror as the alien scooped her up in a fireman’s carry. Bitsy flew from her hands, the strap dragging across her neck and choking her. The alien jumped again, this time to land inside the open jumpship. As the alien crossed into the ship, the once quiet engines flared the life, blowing snow and ash over the playground. The consoles and walls lit up in a blazing display of flashing blue lights.
The Hunter shrugged her off his shoulder and slammed her back into the rear wall of the ship, pinning her chest with one massive clawed hand. The alien loomed over her, its dull black eyes inches from her helmet. As Sasha struggled to move the crushing hand off her chest, the alien slammed its other fist into the bulkhead. Lights played along the alien's arm, flowing into the bulkhead. The wall behind her flowed and squirmed like a box of worms, and two coils snaked out from behind her to wrap themselves around her chest, securing her in place. The coils tightened, squeezing the breath from her.
The two remaining Hunters bulled past Linc and Akins, stepping on Box as he tried to regain his feet. They leapt onto the ship. As the two new aliens touched down, the jumpship lurched and groaned, ripping itself free from the twisted metal of the play structure. The side door slid shut and sealed, closing off the light of day and the sounds of battle.
The aliens had her. What the fuck were they doing and what did they want with her? She twisted and kicked, trying to free herself. She had to get out of here before they gained altitude. Sasha kicked her leg out, trying to take out the Hunter’s knee. The Hunter calmly moved its leg out of the way. It leaned into her, brandishing a wicked elbow spike in her face, pressing the point into her faceplate. She felt her head squeezing as the alien pressed in, the point of the spike pushing the carbon ceramic to its limit. The helmet cracked as the pressure increased, and Sasha gritted her teeth against the crushing force on her head. She was hyperventilating now, imagining the spike bursting through the helmet to plow into her face. Her straining arms pulled her elbows painfully as she struggled.
Sasha screamed in frustration and rage, the sound echoing in her helmet, as the pressure built. The Hunter roared as well, and pulled back, causing her head to lunge forward. The alien appeared to glower at her, then slapped her across the helmet with its free hand. The impact rung her helmet like a bell, smacking her head against the bulkhead. Sasha’s vision flared, over bright, and she tasted pennies in her mouth. Fuck, almost bit off my tongue.
She looked around, dazed, trying to make some sense of this insanity. The inside of the jumpship was almost totally dark, the ceiling lost in shadows above her. Damn, this thing is huge. The barest hint of light bled in through the fuselage, but there were no windows, no instruments. How the hell did these things fly? This thing had all the tech of a damn shipping crate! Of the two Hunters standing near the front of the ship, one of them was now strapped to what looked like an upright bed. Neither seemed to be involved with flying the ship. What the hell? Were they drones? Was some other alien flying this bucket remotely?
Through the ringing in her ears, a staticky comm signal came through. “--LT---- read-- -- ump --- my mark.”
That sounded like Mack! She struggled again but the coils around her arms were like icy steel. She had to get out of here! Fuck, but she couldn’t hear anything for all the ringing in her ears!
Oh my god.
I can’t believe I forgot about you.
She looked down at Bitsy, the strap pinned along with her right arm. Her faithful railgun, humming contentedly with a full charge, ready to rock. Sasha wiggled her hand, eating up the slack until the handgrip was in reach. She crawled her fingers around the grip, keeping an eye on the Hunter next to her. This had better work.
The jumpship rocked to the right, a huge thumping and scraping sound across the roof. It sounded like a seal landing on the roof, flopping around.
Sasha grinned. That idiot.
When she heard the familiar sound of shattering Zooks on the side of the ship, she made her move. She angled Bitsy, maneuvering her thumb into the trigger guard. She caught the barrel with her left hand and tilted the gun up. One chance to get this right…
“Hey! Fucknuts!”
The Hunter loomed in to swat her again and Sasha pulled the trigger. Bitsy yelped and a smoking hole the size of a grapefruit magically appeared in the Hunter’s chest. The alien seemed stunned, and cocked back its arm to strike her when four explosions rocked the ship to the left. The force of the blasts blew the door off the ship. Dull sunlight flooded back into the ship, filtered through smoke and fire. The ship tilted crazily to the left and the Hunter was pulled off his feet, his arm on the bulkhead snapping off at the shoulder as he went.
The coils around Sasha’s chest died and went limp. She pawed her way frantically out of them. Freedom was a few steps away, through a wall of fire and smoke. She didn’t hesitate.
She tucked Bitsy in close and jumped through the door.
Fifteen
Jump
MACK
Mack wished he had more of a start, but the width of the roof was going to have to do it. At least he wouldn’t be doing this with the weight of the Torch on his back, just a half-loaded Valter. Blake stood at the edge of the roof, carrying the Torch, and watching the newly active jumpship slowly lift into the air. Furious plasma fire echoed from below as Victory tried to defend itself from the remaining Ringheads, and bring down the jumpship to save its Lieutenant.
Blake raised his hand. Mack switched his comms to Kennedy. “LT! I’m comin’ for ya. Get ready to jump on my mark.”
Blake dropped his hand. Mack took off, bounding across the rooftop. He hit the edge of the roof at something like forty miles per hour and launched himself from the top of a three story building, sailing through the air to meet a Ringhead jumpship. Mack had never been more scared and exhilarated in his life, screaming through the frigid air to bring fiery doom to the aliens. People will buy me drinks for this story for the rest of my life! If he survived it.
The jumpship grew larger as he approached. He spotted where he thought he was going to land on the roof of the ship and picked out a number of likely holds he could grab as he landed. The ship rushed up to meet him.
Even absorbing the impact with his new leg, the force just about shook every tooth out of his head. He flailed his arms, reaching desperately for a handhold to keep from bouncing off the ship. His left hand snagged, then slipped off an antenna. His right hand missed an enticing bit of alien conduit shaped like a ladder rung. Trying to bleed off his momentum he sprawled onto his stomach, sliding the rest of the now very short distance to the edge of the ship. He scrabbled at, and missed more handholds, only to be saved by his right foot catching in a narrow crevice. The sudden stop yanked painfully at his hip.
Panting now, he got up on his hands and knees, crawling the rest of the way to the edge of the ship. The ship rocked slightly. Did they know he was up here? He had to move fast, before they gained too much altitude. At the edge of the ship he found a handhold for his left hand, clipped in his rope, and swung his body over to the side of the ship. Two stories and counting of dizzying open air yawned below him.
Mack pulled the Valter off his back and aimed at the boarding door. He systematically planted his only four grenades at the corners of the door. He cocked his leg under him and kicked, vaulting himself over his handhold, back onto the roof.
“Three seconds! Everyone wait until we’re clear!”
The explosions rocked the ship to one side, careening to a wild angle. Mack barely held on. Thick black smoke plumed from the side of the ship where the door had been blown away. “Now!” he hollered and then coughed as a tendril of the nasty smoke got past his hel
met filter.
He looked over the edge of the roof just in time to see Kennedy’s compact form burst from the door in a tight ball.
Mack jumped for all he was worth, arrowing his body to meet Kennedy’s. Their bodies collided in midair. He wrapped his arms around her as she frantically grabbed hold of his harness. “Gotcha!”
The descender in his harness bit, and began dragging their descent from the jumpship. Mack pulled out his knife and cut them free to drop the last dozen feet. He and Kennedy let go to split apart and both land in neat crouches. They bolted for cover as the rest of the team began throwing every last sticky grenade at the jumpship.
The rest of Whiskey team had rounded the corner to join in on the action at some point as well and the bloom of heat and cheers from everyone told Mack all he needed to know about the jumpship.
“Nice work, Mack.” Lee’s compliment came in loud and clear, bringing a flush of satisfaction to Mack. Guess I passed my probie period for Whiskey team.
Kennedy glanced around the corner they were behind, “There’s still a few left.”
Mack patted down his chest theatrically. “Sorry, LT, I’m tapped out. I even lost my Valter on that stunt.”
She smirked. “Typical. Leaving me to do your clean up.” She swung Bitsy off her back and took aim. She walked around the corner and squeezed off a shot, the report echoing off the buildings. Mack shook his head as he watched her go. She really loves her job.
Lt. Kennedy barked orders as she stalked through the burning remains of the battlefield. “All right! Bag and detail everything we can fit on the Raven! Lee, contact base, let them know there’s a giant to-go order they need to pick up before the food gets cold! Ace! Get your ass back here! I need to get back home before I lose the deposit on this dress!”
Sixteen
