by Casey Herzog
“How are we looking?” Minerva asked, her helmet looking straight forward as she sped the truck over the icescape. Her skill at piloting had her setting a blistering pace; far outperforming the Europans who had taken them out.
Peter glanced at the dots that had passed by on the scanner some time ago, which now seemed to be moving toward them at some pace. “I think we have the team they sent to intercept us on the scanners now. We should have considered a wider angle of approach. If we have them on our sensors, that means they can see us too.”
“It was already a four-hour ride back to base ,and that’s with me really opening her up.” Minerva made no apology for her decision. “If we had taken a wide arc to approach the base from an unexpected side we could miss all the fun.”
That word sent an uncomfortable shudder through Peter. “Don’t call it that.”
Minerva’s voice came back quieter. “Sorry...It... It was just an expression.”
“I don’t care, Min. I don’t care if it was slip of the tongue or if it’s your way of psyching yourself up what’s to come. You never call this fun to me again. Ever.” Peter was surprised how forceful his voice was.
“Are...Are you okay?” Minerva’s voice was flecked with worry, her head turning as she momentarily took her attention off the ice plains they skimmed over.
Peter took deep breaths. For the last half hour, his mind had filled with frightful visions from Mars. He couldn’t help it. The image of that corpse floating in the dark of the shuttle, head bleeding out thick globs of blood as a diamond tipped saw blade dug deeper and deeper into his skull; his own handiwork, his first kill.
“You’re scared after what happened on Mars right?” Peter blinked in surprise. He turned to Minerva, but was unable to see her face due to their heavy suits. That barrier irritated him more than anything; it left him feeling so cut off. “I know that fight was hard. It was just you going alone, without back up against a bloodthirsty terrorist. But just remember you’ve got me with you this time, not to mention the rest of our cohort at our back. This time, I won’t be sitting on the sidelines and letting you risk your life alone.”
“I’m not afraid of fighting the enemy alone.” Peter’s voice was dull, listless. “It’s hard to put into words...but it’s knowing we’re going to have to kill these people.”
“After what you’ve done for the mission so far, you have more combat experience than any of us. How can you be getting worked up over this?” Minerva did not sound angry, just confused and genuinely unable to comprehend him.
“It’s not a good feeling Min. I know you’ve been working yourself up to it since Mars...since your mother passed.”
“She didn’t pass away,” Minerva said coolly, “she was taken from me.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. But I’m telling you Min, you’re not going to find any pleasure in killing someone. It leaves you empty, hollow. When I killed that man...a part of me wanted to never pick up a blade or any kind of weapon again. When I offered to resign from Unity and stay with you on Mars, it wasn’t just because I wanted to look out for you. I was truly done with the Terminus Project and the Unity. Even if we are the good guys, I did not want to be the one with blood on his hands at the end of this war.”
“Peter...” Minerva’s voice was choked up and she had to take a moment to recover herself. “Why did you come then?”
Peter sighed, a sad smile forming on his lips. “Because of what you’ve been saying to me the last few weeks is as true for me as it is for you. You’re all I’ve got Min.”
He received no answer from her immediately, and Peter wondered if she was going to leave matters there. “I’m sorry Peter...I need to see this mission through to the end. I need to know the people who killed my mother are wiped from the Solar System and left as nothing more than a black spot in the history books. That’s not going to change.”
Peter believed her. As much as he wanted to think otherwise, Minerva really was different to him now. He sat silent, wondering if she really would feel the same revulsion and disgust he felt when he had taken his first life.
“The vehicles sent to intercept us are they still on our heels.” Minerva returned to more pressing matters.
Peter tried to keep his eyes from tearing a little. He needed to focus. “Yes. At present speed and course, they’ll hit the colony about ten minutes behind us.”
“When we hit the colony, we’re going to have to hit them hard to make sure we don’t get caught between two sets of Secessionists then.”
Peter frowned as he tried to think of some way the odds could be turned in their favor. They were only ten strong after all. Or were they?
As the Colony came into view, Peter could not help but gasp at the sight. A tangle of light cargo vessels and short-range shuttles littered the landscape around the facility. Many looked like they were on their last legs, and the long streaks and deep gouges in the ice suggested several of the crafts had almost crashed as they came down on Europa base. Though still a long way off, Peter could just about see the tiny silhouettes of figures moving about over the shuttle hulls like insects. There were a lot of them.
“You really think the colonists with us are going to be worth a damn in a fight?” Minerva asked the question privately.
“They’ve agreed to help for the sake of their home. Honestly, we need the numbers for this.” Persuading the colonists embarked with them to help aid the crew in the fight was risky, but it was about the only way Peter could see there being a chance of fighting the Secessionists successfully.
“I guarantee Icarus wouldn’t allow the colonists in the base to aid us in the fight.”
“Probably not, but then Icarus has the advantage of being entrenched in the facility rather than caught outside and open to attack.”
Minerva started to steer the truck towards the largest of the ships that had slammed down onto the moon’s surface. “That one looks like our best bet. The undercarriage hasn’t been too badly damaged by the landing and it’ll have more maneuverability. That one has to be our target.”
“You’re the boss,” Peter said. He peered out, noting several other shapes coming towards them. “I think they’re sending out a welcoming committee.”
The Secessionists must have taken control of the topside garages and now were driving out to meet Minerva and the others in force. Peter felt a tension growing, an unpleasant churning in his gut as the black boxes grew larger in his vision and Minerva continued to drive straight at them. Their course didn’t alter even a little.
“Is everyone ready to bail” Minerva’s voice was determined as she kept the truck on course, aiming for the two vehicles closest to her.
Peter opened up the door into the back, nodding as he got a thumbs up from Thomas at the truck’s rear door. “Good to go on your command...Min?” He glanced at the ever-closing gap between them and the oncoming vehicles.
“Right at the last second...I don’t want them to see the trick.”
Peter held his arm up in the air, waiting for Minerva’s single word of command. It was hard to resist jumping the gun. Every fiber and muscle in his body screamed at him to get out.
“Okay, now!” Minerva jumped from her seat and Peter immediately gave the signal.
The rear doors of their truck flung open and the Europans and Unity crew flung themselves out, clumsily activating their suit thrusters to avoid a bad landing on the ice. Peter and Minerva, meanwhile, barrelled through the now empty truck diving out after their colleagues with seconds to spare.
Even with his suit thrusters aiding him, Peter still landed awkwardly. His body rolled over on the ice, mercifully avoiding a rupture. He turned around just in time to see the fruits of their labor. Their trunk charged straight into the enemy, both vehicles slamming into each other with enough force to completely wreck them.
“Yes! A direct hit!” Minerva let out a cheer that was echoed by the others in the cohort and their allies.
Peter didn’t bother to celebrate but
clambered to his feet. They had stolen the initiative from their enemy, but the odds were still stacked against them. “Move out! Make for the large shuttle over there, and don’t spare your suit’s fuel!”
The other two trucks that had come after them had been forced to brake and swerve to avoid the collision that had claimed one their own. Now though, their engines began to rev, and they made a renewed effort to run down the force against them. However, on foot, Peter and the others could easily avoid them. In the low gravity, even an ordinary jump could send them high into the air. With the addition of their suit thrusters, they were all able to effortlessly leap high above the oncoming trucks, arcing high above them and coming down far out of their reach. That did not mean they were untouchable though. As they leaped and soared across the surface, rapidly nearing their quarry, a group of figures began to come at them. Each one held some kind of weapon in their hands, from electric saw blades to simple metal stanchions repurposed as bludgeons.
“Cohort, prepare to engage and keep our allies safe. Europans stay close and do not engage the enemy unless absolutely necessary.” Minerva gave the call to arms with a calm assurance that Peter envied. He held his own spear in hand, concentrating on keeping his grip firm as his eyes locked on the nearest of the approaching figures.
Instinct took over.
Leaping off the ground, Peter’s eyes narrowed at the rapidly closing figure that brandished a long piece of rebar. Peter extended the point of his spear and aimed it inside the foe’s guard. It was an easy pick. His target held his weapon high above his head, waiting to send it crashing into Peter’s helmet. It left his chest fully exposed, and Peter’s weapon had the greater reach.
His arms buckled, but held fast as his spear tip met resistance and tore through it. At the speed they were going, his weapon was easily able to sink right into the enemy’s suit, tearing apart life support systems, flesh, bone ,all. The dead man had just enough life to swing his weapon down, but it was easy for Peter to turn his body to avoid the blow.
Together they traveled through the air. Peter gritted his teeth as he kicked the body with his feet, pushing his spear free from the corpse. As he looked back, he noticed two of the Europan colonists fly up to the body, one grabbing the rebar the Secessionist used as a weapon. Peter really didn’t want the Europans to do anything risky, but they had no choice under the circumstances. All he could do was try and keep them safe.
Touching back down on the ice, Peter could see another figure running towards him in great bounding steps. His eyes widened as he saw the familiar shape and whirring teeth of a saw blade. Mars shot to mind yet again, but this time the thought galvanized him to action. He was not going to let himself face that terror again. Steadying himself, Peter closed one eye as he gauged the distance between him and charging maniac. With a loud grunt, he hurled his spear forward. The man who had been running for him was catapulted backward, body sprawling out limp on the ground with Peter’s blade lodged deep in his throat.
Peter dashed forward to retrieve his weapon, kicking away the still running saw as he did so. He grimaced and pulled his spear from the corpse's neck, refusing to acknowledge the blood that cascaded out onto the ice. Instead, he looked for another target.
Two figures rolled over and over in the low gravity, the one in the quiet Europa colony uniform struggling to hold back the knife blade that threatened to puncture through his suit. Peter engaged his suit thrusters and took advantage of his enemy’s exposed back. With a single smart strike, he was able to sever the Secessionist's oxygen tube. The man let go of the knife all at once, his body suddenly spasming wildly as he choked out the last of his life.
Peter took deep breaths, looking for his next opening, reminding himself they needed to keep surging forward, not to get caught up fighting endless skirmishes. Ahead of him, a Europan met his end to a pair of Secessionists. Trading a series of blows with their weapons, they smashed the poor soul’s backpack and helmet, exposing him to the empty vacuum and radiation. There was nothing Peter could do for him, and he did not even try to take on the two renegades. Instead, he shot past them as his team made for the shuttle ahead of them.
Though he should have put more thought into his own safety, Peter could not help looking out for Minerva. His eyes darted about, trying to pick her out from the crowd of barely recognizable figures. It was an impossible task and trying to pick out Minerva left him open, vulnerable. The Secessionists must have sensed it because suddenly something struck him in the chest.
Peter doubled over, eyes widening and stomach erupting in pain. Whatever had hit him was hard, but mercifully blunt. His suit remained unruptured. Fighting through the pain, Peter sprung from his coiled state, slicing his spear wildly through the empty void. He got lucky as his spearhead slashed across his opponent’s helmet, creating a wide gash that vented the air all at once. Peter let his body fall to the ground after his long jump and he clenched his teeth as he took a moment to clutch at his chest. He was sure he’d broken a rib just then, and things looked even worse as four more Secessionists ran at him, using their own thrusters to close the gap on him quickly.
He was done for.
Struggling up to his full height, Peter decided he’d try and face his end with some dignity. He forced his arms to lock in place, holding his spear tip ready to take one last enemy down with him. He eyed the one with what looked like a crudely fashioned sword. He braced himself to strike with a final lunge when two figures streaked past him and flew recklessly into the enemy. Peter’s eyes widened as he realized these two were the same Europans he’d been covering, and he rushed forward with a renewed sense of urgency.
The one Europan who had taken up a dropped saw made a good showing. He managed to bring the heavy industrial saw biting down into a Secessionists arm, but his friend was not so lucky. Armed only with a crude bludgeon, he swung his weapon wildly and with no heed to what his enemy was doing. All it took was an opportunistic swipe from behind from one of the Secessionists for the poor fool to fall down onto the ice, gas leaking from the rear of his suit. There was nothing Peter could do for him. He instead went for the attacker, striking him in the leg with a vicious stab.
Even as Peter tried to contend with the three Secessionists still swarming him and his one ally, he noticed something black in the corner of his vision. One of the remaining trucks had turned and was now charging straight for him, the driver seemingly heedless to the fact that he was about to run down his own people as well as Peter. The Europan swinging the heavy saw was looking entirely the wrong way and Peter had no time to signal him. Guilt washed over him as he engaged his suit’s thrusters, launching himself in a random direction just as the truck slammed into the Europan and the three Secessionists he had been fighting.
His body did somersaults; Peter was losing himself. For all the training and readiness Earth had given him, his sense of direction, his sense of the battle was rapidly falling apart. His body was surviving now on nothing more than instinct and more than a little luck. And Peter was certain his luck would leave him at any moment.
Something new grabbed him by the waist, ending the spin that he was still in. His eyes struggled to focus, and the blow to his stomach he had suffered was made to sear his body again from the new grip that held him. He only now realized he had lost his spear and all he could do was struggle to break free from the vice like grip that held him.
“Peter calm down; it’s me.”
“Min?” Peter almost couldn’t believe it, and his head turned to look at the familiar Europa EVA suit. She bore him easily through the air as they closed the last of the distance to the space shuttle. Min controlled their descent beautifully, seeming like some Valkyrie of legend flying over the battlefield to carry his soul to Valhalla.
Minerva’s thrusters cut out and Peter was forced return his attention to the real world. He could see the hull of the shuttle beneath them. A huddle of bodies in Europan suits swarmed over the top of the ship, several were bent over the hull while ot
hers formed a perimeter with spears. There were only nine.
Peter flopped onto the metal hull, while Minerva landed with grace and finesse. Another hand helped Peter to his feet and thrust a solid bar of metal into his hand. It was clearly a stolen weapon from the desperate Secessionists who had swarmed them.
The group stood right over the cockpit and four of them huddled over a ceiling access hatch, desperately trying saw, hack and pry the door open. Everything hinged on them getting inside that shuttle, if they couldn’t do that, the superior numbers of the Secessionists would see them all killed.
CHAPTER 18
By some miracle of fate, or else the stupidity of their enemy, the Secessionists did not push their attack. As the remaining members of Minerva’s team and the few Europans to have survived slowly cracked open the shell of the shuttle they had landed upon, the Secessionists they had been fighting seemed to suddenly back off. The group held their ground, checking their sight lines in every direction and not allowing their guard to falter.
“Why aren’t they attacking us?” Thomas's voice came over the comms agitated and afraid.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Minerva growled. She let her head spin round to check on the four who were working on prying open the door. “How close are we?”
“Almost got it, just need a bit more muscle power. We’re jimmying this thing open the old-fashioned way.”
“Peter, Nisha, help them pry that door open. Rest of you, keep your eyes on all angles, I don’t want anything surprising us.”
Peter was both impressed and a little afraid of how competently Minerva handled herself in her first battle. It made him jealous and reminded him just why she was second in command of his cohort to begin with. Now was not the time to dwell on his own inadequacies, and he squeezed in next to the others working on the shuttle hatch. They had already come some way to opening the door with force, and Peter was able to jam the iron rod he’d been handed into the gap for use as make shift crowbar.
