Renegades: Origins

by Kal Spriggs

  Eric stepped forward and swept his gaze around as much as he could. He spotted a garish clash of red against the whites and blues of the engine room. Pixel lay sprawled in a puddle of blood, and he lay still enough that for a moment, Eric worried the engineer had already died.

  But as he came up, he checked his pulse and found a beat, faint, but still there. And he saw Pixel’s chest raise as he took a breath. “Hang in there, buddy,” Eric said, even as he slipped one arm under his shoulders and other other under his knees to pick the other man up. He heard Pixel give a moan of pain, but Eric didn’t have time for gentleness.

  As he stood and turned, he found Ghost had moved to stand directly behind him. Eric froze as he stared at the Wrethe.

  It wore a combat rated environmental suit. It wore an open faced helmet, with what looked like a memory plastic visor ready to extend, and its jackal head peered at Eric. It stood short for a Wrethe, shorter than Eric, but squat with muscle and the bulk of its armored suit. Unlike most Wrethe, it had pure white fur, and its dark eyes had a red tint that stood out starkly against its snowy pelt. Eric glanced down at it’s hands, and saw that the Wrethe wore armored gloves, tipped with metal claws.

  “You show much concern for your engineer,” Ghost said. The Wrethe’s high pitched rasp sounded almost like a pair of steel files rubbed together. “Perhaps he is more valuable than you suggested.”

  “He is my friend you piece of shit alien scum,” Eric said. “And for hurting him, I promise you I’ll kill you.”

  Ghost stepped closer, so close that Eric could feel its hot breath on his face, “Then perhaps I should kill you, now, and finish your friend. I haven’t had a fresh meal in some time.”

  “Then my other friends will storm the engine room,” Eric snapped. “And they’ll kill you. So stop the bluster and get the fuck out of my way shorty.”

  Ghost drew itself up and one claw came up. Eric tensed as the claw stopped only inches from Eric’s face. “I will not kill you, but I’ll make you a bargain.”

  Eric didn’t trust himself to speak. He wanted to scream obscenities at the damned Wrethe.

  “I will let you and your friend,” Ghost fairly spat the word, “leave, but I will mark you, so that I may recognize you when the time comes. Otherwise, because all of you humans look too similar, I may end you quickly rather than properly break you.” Ghost cocked its head, “Or, you could set your friend down and leave him to die. Your choice.”

  Eric stared at the Wrethe, “Do it, you waste of oxygen. I’m getting bored.”

  The Wrethe extended its thumb and Eric bit back a grunt of pain as it gauged a line across his cheek, and then cut another line to bisect it. The Wrethe made two more cuts on his other cheek and then stepped back. “When we meet again, I will savor your death human. I will feel your terror and despair as I break your spirit.”

  “The name is Eric,” he replied, “When we meet again, the only thing you’ll feel is the bullet I put through your brain.” Eric stepped around the Wrethe and walked out of the engine room without a glance back.

  * * *

  Run had set up one of the metal tables in the galley as an operating table. He also had a pair of men standing by, one of them held Run’s bag of tools. Eric recognized the two space hands, Matvei and Anastasei, though he couldn’t remember which was which. Eric lay Pixel down on it and stepped back. Run glanced up at Eric, “You have a wound on your face. I would recommend you allow me to treat you.”

  “No,” Eric said. “Take care of Pixel. He looks pretty bad.” Eric tried not to think of how many of his teammates he had seen die, and how some of them had seemed in better shape than Pixel did now. The engineer’s face had gone pale and his cheeks seemed sunken. His normally expressive face was slack.

  “He will live,” Run said. He pulled out a set of what looked like torture equipment to Eric. “I will need someone to hold him still, however.”

  “Why not just sew him up?” Eric asked, uneasy with that idea.

  “He has taken internal damage. I will need to make repairs to his organs. If I had my full lab—”

  “Right, well, what about painkillers?” Eric asked. “Surely you have something, hell, you have the darts that knock someone unconscious, that would work, right?”

  The little Chxor shook his head, “That would prove suboptimal. I find that the administration of pain after an injury encourages my test subjects to avoid such injuries in the future.”

  Eric cocked his head, “That’ actually makes a certain level of sense.”

  “Of course,” Run said. He pulled out a scalpel and what looked suspiciously like a glue gun to Eric. “Now hold him still.”

  Eric cringed, but he waved forward the other two. “I’ve got some other stuff I need to take care of…” He trailed off as Pixel started to moan, then shout. Eric felt his stomach turn over. This reminded him far too much of his own memories at Blackthorn. He backed out of the galley, and blindly felt for the hatch controls. The door opened behind him and he stumbled out into the corridor. If only he could have escaped from that damned Blackthorn mission so easily.

  * * *

  “I have a ready courier ship at the spaceport,” Lieutenant Colonel Andreysiak said as they broke into a run. Two of his men carried the woman between them, while the others formed a perimeter around their primary and the prisoner.

  They had secured a panel truck for the final movement and moved to an otherwise empty warehouse. “They’ll have biometrics scanners in place, and my people don’t have appropriate identification,” Eric said. “And I don’t think security will let your… package through.”

  “They might have obtained genetic material from myself or some of my team,” Andreysiak said. “So we’ll have to hit them and push through. Get to my ship and launch.”

  “They’ll lock down the entire spaceport and shoot down any ships…”

  “Not if they’re under a bomb threat,” Andreysiak said. “Blackthorn has set up a contingency for this, their radiological alarms will go off in approximately thirty minutes. We’ll hit their security right after that, slip through in the confusion of evacuation and complete extraction. After we reach Blackthorn Base, we’ll transfer your personnel to a ready ship and your mission is complete.”

  “How’d you rig the radiological alarms?” Sergeant Schill asked. “Those are almost foolproof.”

  “We have some small quantities of radiological built into a weapons casing that we obtained on the planet,” one of the security escort said. “Totally safe, but they won’t know that without taking it apart.”

  “Which hangar? And I need the best map you can provide to brief my people,” Eric said. He had a headache and he realized that this all had gone far beyond the original scope of his mission. Evacuation to an alternate LZ he could understand. A staged nuclear threat to cause a mass evacuation of a major spaceport… Who the hell are these people, he wondered, none of them bat an eyelash at the attention this will draw, it’s almost like they don’t care.

  Blackthorn Five passed over a datacard, “It’s all on there. Blueprints as well as patrol schedules.”

  Eric brought it up and skimmed it in only a few moments. Whoever or whatever Blackthorn was, they laid out the information in a fashion that let Eric see the overall picture in only a moment. That meant they had lots of experience with this sort of thing and very good intelligence and data miners. “We will go in through Delta Five delivery gate. Push to the hangar and extract.” He frowned as he considered the defenses on the gate, as well as the location of nearby hostiles. Further losses would happen and Eric felt a special sort of horror as he realized he might well lose his entire squad if things went completely wrong.

  He turned on his squad radio net and spoke, “Alright boys and girls, this is where it gets interesting…” He laid out his plan to them. Their total silence afterward showed their discipline, but it also told him what he already knew. They realized just how deep in the shit they already dug themselves. Even Jenkin
s seemed sober and quiet.

  The drive to the spaceport seemed worse, for the tension seemed to ratchet as they made their approach. Eric felt the additional weight of his team’s losses. He found it impossible to focus on the current mission with almost half of his squad down as killed in action. This mission had gone worse than any since his time as a private in the Grantville mission. At least it is damned near impossible for anything to be worse than Grantville, he thought.

  As they drew near the security gate, Eric raised the back gate of the truck and Wranski and Lobochev rolled out. The pair had the call-signs Alpha and Omega, mostly due to their constant competition as sharpshooters, they began and ended every combat. A few seconds later, the shrill wail started that Eric hoped signaled the spaceport evacuation. “Alright boys, that’s our signal. Cowboy, take down the guards, Alpha and Omega provide over-watch.”

  He heard their acknowledgments and then the truck pulled to a stop at the gate. Over the rumble of the truck’s engine, he barely heard the cough of Jenkins’s CKY pistol. A moment later, he heard a groan as the gate began to open.

  “Cowboy, Omega, you’ve got a roving guard approaching from your three, I can’t get a shot, he’s behind armored glass,” Eric heard over the net.

  “Omega, Cowboy, I can’t get into that corridor, door’s locked with a biometrics keypad,” Jenkins drawl sounded terse. Eric understood why. That corridor led straight back to a nearby guard post, where the local quick reaction team stood on standby. If they couldn’t take down the guard…

  “Shit,” Omega said. “He spotted something wrong, he’s on the radio.”

  Eric closed his eyes, so much for that. “Go to plan Bravo Two. Cowboy take down that guard and secure the corridor.”

  Krensk and Halsh opened the back of the truck and dove out, and Eric turned to Andreysiak, “We’ll hold their reserve team in place, your people should have time to get the ship up and operational. We’ll come in hot, sir, so keep the ramp down for us but be ready to go.”

  “Good hunting,” Andreysiak’s smile sent a chill down Eric’s spine. Not because it was the grin of a fellow killer, but because the bastard seemed to find their predicament amusing for some reason. I’m going to lose my squad and all this bastard will do smile.

  Eric followed his men out the back. A dull crump signaled that Jenkins had opened the door with a shaped charge. A moment later he opened up with his FAMAR PN2-11. The roar of the eleven millimeter machine gun signaled he had engaged the guard. By the time Eric reached him he had started to lay suppressive fire down the corridor. “Yee-haw!” Jenkins shouted.

  The panel truck rolled away, even as Lobochev ran past, his rifle at the low ready. Eric tagged Halsh on the shoulder, “Jam their wireless.”

  “I am,” Halsh shouted over Jenkins’s fire. “But they have to have a hardwired backup. I can’t access that—”

  A rattle of fire from a doorway to their rear sent both of them to cover. Eric saw a five man team of spaceport security had emerged from the terminal building.

  Eric returned fire, even as he heard Lobochev call out on the net, “This is Omega, I’m hit, armor blunted it but my leg’s down.”

  Eric swore when he saw where the sharpshooter had fallen. He had some cover from their current attackers, but once the QRT moved around to their right he’d be exposed without cover. Worse, a ten meter gap lay between him and any other cover.

  “Alpha, this is Mongoose, lay suppressive fire, Commo, you’re in position for retrieval,” Eric snapped out the order, even as he sprinted out of cover and then rolled into a drainage ditch. His new position gave him the opportunity to lay suppressive fire at the alternate exit of the QRT.

  “Commo, got him,” Halsh said. “Mongoose, tell Omega he’s put on a few extra pounds.” Eric gave a grim chuckle at that, Lobochev stood well over two meters tall, and massed a hundred and twenty kilos without his gear and weapons.

  “Doc,” Eric called to Krensk, “Take Omega. Alpha, move up to your next position.”

  Eric heard no response for what seemed like an eternity, “Negative Mongoose. I’ve got a police team that has moved to block the gate. I’ve also got eyes on a SWAT armored vehicle headed towards your location, they just passed my firing point. I’ll have to hold position. I will provide suppressive fire and draw their attention. Will try to withdraw without becoming decisively engaged.”

  Eric closed his eyes, “Roger, good hunting.” Alpha might manage to withdraw, but the odds were against him, and with how the police force cut him off, he had nowhere to go.

  “Cowboy here, they’re bringing up—”

  A ear-shattering explosion whipped Eric’s head around. Even over the sound damper in his helmet his ears rung. A cloud of dust and debris marked the guard shack and Jenkins former position. A glance at his wrist-comp showed Cowboy’s icon as red. “All personnel, withdraw. Commo bound with me once Doc and Omega make cover. You have first bound.” That would leave Eric with the trail position, but he refused to expose his remaining personnel to risks he wouldn’t take.

  He saw Krensk drag Lobochev around the next corner. Eric popped up and gave a short burst of suppressive fire at the security team. Halsh took off in a sprint, and then took a knee at the corner and lay suppressive fire.

  Eric broke into a sprint. His body armor seemed to drag at him. He felt an impact between his shoulder blades, but the liquid steel armor stopped the bullet without a problem. Eric slid behind the corner, and lay prone, “Alright Commo, move to your next position.”

  “Acknowledged,” Halsh said and bounded back.

  “Mongoose, Alpha here, I’ve got eyes on QRT Two, they’re mounted up and headed towards your position,” The sharpshooter sounded winded, and he bit his words off as if in pain. Eric glanced as his wrist-comp, and saw that Wranski’s icon had gone amber and flashed orange. Eric felt tears well up in his eyes. Even as they bled out his men did a damned fine job. “I’m pinned down on this floor, but I’ll attempt to—”

  His voice cut out with a squeal of static. Eric bit back a curse as the enemy jammed their frequency. At least I know they couldn’t crack our encryption, he thought grimly.

  Eric saw the security team sprint into the open, he felt a grim smile draw his lips back as he let them get out into the open and then put a three round burst into each of them. The QRT had finally got out of their building and began to lay suppressive fire on him.

  Eric crawled back as rounds peppered the area around him and blew holes through the cinder block wall. He rolled to his feet and loped after Halsh. He found Halsh at the next intersection, and he remembered then that the other QRT would use this road. Even as the thought that, he saw Halsh bring up his Hammer. The TRA Hammer fired twenty five millimeter sabot rounds. It should blast through the QRT’s lightly armored trucks. It also had a mean kick and a visual and audible signature that hit almost as hard as the round.

  At thirty meters distance, even with the sound dampers, the sharp crack of the first shot assaulted Eric’s ears. His helmet visor darkened against the bright flash. Eric sprinted forward across the street, even as the QRT returned fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the lead truck swerve out of control. The truck struck a parked vehicle and rolled. The truck behind it skidded to a stop, but the gunner stitched the air with fire from his crew served weapon.

  Eric staggered and his world went white as one of the rounds passed close enough that the supersonic passage twisted his head around. He stumbled and fell just past Halsh as his commo specialist fired again.

  Eric thought he’d gone blind until he realized his helmet had completely died. He wrenched it off, and grimaced at the crack that went along the visor. He glanced back at Halsh, and then felt a wrench of pain as he saw what remained of the man. At least two of the heavy rounds from the crew served weapon had struck him, and they had mangled the man almost beyond recognition.

  Eric swore and staggered to his feet. He shook his head as the world spun, and felt at his ears. His fing
ers came away bloody, either Halsh’s Hammer or the enemy fire had ruptured his eardrums.

  Another burst of weapons fire chewed up the corner. Eric shook his head again and broke into the fastest pace he could manage. He stumbled around the next corner before anyone could put a bullet in his back. Maybe we showed the bastards some caution, he thought.

  He staggered down the next two blocks and then turned into the hangar where Andreysiak’s ship lay. He saw the panel truck first, pulled up almost at the ramp of the sleek ship that sat ready. Eric could hear the whine of the ship’s machinery. He hoped that meant they had made the ship ready. He found Krensk and Lobochev just inside the doors. The squad medic had Lobochev’ laid out and parts of his aid bag lay strewn around. “Get him aboard,” Eric rasped and pointed at the ramp.

  “Can’t move him, yet. I got to stabilize him, he dead-lined outside, I just got him breathing again,” the female medic said. “I need thirty seconds, and then I need three people to help me move him.”

  “Roger, I’ll get some people down here,” Eric said.

  He jogged up the ramp and almost ran into one of Andreysiak’s security men at the top. Beyond him, he saw the Lieutenant Colonel and another pair of security men. “Good, glad you’re here, I need three of you to come with me, I’ve got a wounded man I need to get aboard and we can go.”

  “Negative, sergeant,” Andreysiak said. “Mission is complete, we’re out.”

  “They’re just down the ramp, it will take ten seconds-”

  “We can’t risk it,” Andreysiak said. “Wrobochesky, close the hatch.”

  Eric had his SKL-15 leveled on Wrobochesky’s forehead before Andreysiak he even consciously heard Blackthorn Five’s words. “Do it and you’re dead. Walk down the damned ramp and help my people.”

  “I expected better of you, Sergeant,” Andreysiak said, and Eric heard the smile on the other man’s voice. Eric realized he had pointed his weapon at the wrong man. I screwed up again, he thought, and again my people will pay the price.