The Zheegan, reptilian and powerful, resembled a person stuffed into an angry crocodile suit. Claws and a thrashing tail were only part of their natural weaponry. Any Zheegan that could get a bite on an opponent was sure to tear them apart in a death roll by thrashing them around the ground until something came loose. As they still held a grudge against the Vosi people for a territorial occupation that ended centuries ago, this particular creature was taking perverse pleasure in ramming Tai’s helmet into the deck.
On one of the merc’s upswings, Tai thrust his head forward, using the strength and size inherent in his people to roll into a reversal. He rammed the vibro blade through the enemy armor like a sewing machine, sending bits of resicarbon and flesh high into the air. The Zheegan slapped its tail into the lancer, bashing him into the armored plates at the side of the skiff. Latching onto him with its teeth, Tai was hoisted in an arc that slammed him back to the deck. Several smashes along the duradium deck plating caused his armor to crack under pressure from the brute’s mouth. Blood seeped from between the plates, turning the floor of the vehicle into a slippery mess.
In between impacts, Tai managed several stabs and slashes on his aggressor. Seeing that the beast’s armored hide was holding up to the damage he was dishing out, he retracted the blade in order to grip at one of the deck plates. Straining against the Zheegan’s weight, he vaulted over the railing, dragging the lizard man with him. It never let go of his armor, the duo landing with a plate shattering crack into the grassy steppe.
Myriad lancers blasted the monstrous merc. It twitched several times before finally releasing its hold on Tai.
“Doc! Need your expertise!” D’Marco called out.
The corpsman rushed in, dropping his aid pack beside him. “Every time we come to Tythian, you have to tangle with something bigger than you.”
Tai groaned. “Lasher wasn’t bigger than me.”
Doc Jordan shook his head at the massive lancer. “If that’s true, how come you keep ending up broken.”
“I’m not broken, just a little tenderized.”
Brand tossed his ruined shield. “Lance Sergeant. Where do we stand?”
“Fourth is ahead with your mini marshal. Siggs, Yoshiro, Fosgrave, and Meyers were hit pretty bad. They can’t move forward. I recommend leaving them here to link up with Striker Company, who just radioed that they’re six minutes out, not two. ADA the fly-by's didn't catch are giving them heartburn. They can put them into the APCs and get them up to fleet for medical. Tai and Corvin are torn up, but ambulatory. Might be a good idea to leave them here with the wounded.”
Corvin was picking bits of fragmentation from his armor. “With all due respect, Lance Sergeant, I’m not letting my cousin have more fun in this job than me!”
Tai got up, pushing a SLAP patch under his armor. Closing his eyes for a moment, he remained kneeling amid the concerned looks being hidden by all the helmets surrounding him. “I am a Vosi. We don’t remain behind.”
Jordan helped him reattach the straps on his armor. “That SLAP patch isn’t going to hold all day. You push too hard, you’re going to bleed everywhere.”
The Vosi lancer stood, towering over everyone. “Then I’ll do it moving forward. At the very least, I’ll make it too slippery for you to drag me back, Doc.”
“Man, you lancers are out of your minds,” Doc said.
Brand waded through his men, making his way toward the tunnel at a jog. “Faith Forward, Lancers!”
As one, all that were able followed the Marshals Templar at a dead run.
Twenty-Six
The five-man patrol moved through the street as though on rails. Their armor and face-shielded helmets made each man appear identical. Uniform movements in a wedge formation worked the group through the streets like a plow moving snow. Grav cars, pushed past the curb-stones against the buildings, were all damaged in some way, some even still burning from an apocalyptic circumstance that turned a once thriving thoroughfare into a smoldering war zone.
Trailing behind them were a mix of humans and aliens armed with blaster rifles with simple plate carrier armor. Their movements, like the five armored troopers, were synchronized to the point of being programmed. The uniformed leaders stalking ahead, came to an abrupt halt. The retinue fanned out between two tenement buildings, using a multitude of objects or obstacles as cover.
The street rumbled ahead of them, sending various bits of debris clacking onto the pavement. A second tremor vibrated the carcrete under their feet. A third caused streaking cracks, pushing bits of stone into an ant hill. The mound burst, clearing the path for a mechanized man panther to punch his way onto the street.
“Hello, morsels! This is my first time against Exiled cyber commandos. Be gentle,” Fluff joked.
The mob flashed forward of their armored taskmasters, moving with the precision of a trained mercenary unit. Bolt after bolt sailed into Fluff, knocking him back into the hole. A four-man team broke away from the main body, pouring a continuous stream of gunfire down the breach's throat.
As one voice, they all responded into their throat mics. “Target threat neutralized. Sending forward squad into the hole for recon.”
Fluff jumped from the hole again. “Catch!”
One of his elongated tendrils whipped from the pit, throwing Lasher high over the crowd a few meters from the armored overseers. He thrust his hands on the ground, causing tremors to emanate from where he'd fallen. The entire mixed platoon fell over at once, leaving the commanders standing alone against the mongrel and his mechanized murder mouth.
“Your move, morsels,” Fluff growled.
The five sprinted in different directions, two of them toward the Doom Cat.
“Oh! Okay! They're moving! They're moving! I'm shooting!” Fluff shouted. Bringing his shoulder-mounted cannons up, he tossed two bursts toward the rushers. The nimble commandos flitted around the shots like hummingbirds, dodging branches as they tried to decide what flower to land on.
Fluff snatched one with a tendril. The other slipped by, hitting him with a shoulder-check. The Doom Cat tumbled end over end from the impact, landing in a pile of debris. One of the other commandos stopped the mech's slide by stomping a boot onto his shoulder. All five were pointing their rifles at him, save for one. The last cyber trooper aimed his rifle at Lasher.
“I thought we agreed to be gentle?” Fluff asked innocently to the one standing on him.
The commando leader stopped long enough to level its digital hiss at Lasher. “Orin Lashra. The Guardian of the Hunter's Moon would very much like to speak to you.”
Lasher huffed. “It's kind of funny to think how many references to the Hunter's Moon there is in civilized space. In the CORAL, it's another name for the Yula moon over the planet Mylos. On Neroba, it's a moon for hunting festivals and rites of passage for junior members of the family. And in the Frontier, it's what we call any moon that gives us enough light to see our prey bleed.”
“For us, it is the name of our unit, our family, our home. Now get moving,” The commando ordered.
“You ordering me around supposes that you're the hunters and that you've caught us.”
A blazing lance pierced the back of the trooper's helmet, highlighting his face behind the opaque face shield. His head caught fire, dropping his body into a smoldering ruin.
Mara vaulted from the hole in time to witness Latisha pull her lance from the enemy's skull. “Well, that was absolutely disgusting.”
“Marco trained us to be fast and brutal. He said nothing about pretty.”
“No argument here, Sergeant. You and yours cleared all four of the five commandos out before Lasher finished his story,” Mara said.
“Practice, practice, practice. The way Marco had us train, I would have thought the Exos would be a bigger threat.”
Lasher tapped Corvin on the shoulder to get her attention. Running down the street was a platoon-sized element of soldiers clad in the form fitting armor of the Exo Commando. Some jumped between build
ings several stories up while others traipsed along the rooftops.
“You had to go and open your big mouth.” Mara chided.
Latisha didn't take the comment to heart. “Saddle up forth squad! Croix, Paquin, I need you to guard that hole. D! Get the rest of the squad in crescent shield formation. Marshal, I need you to get that wicked rifle of yours in the game. Lasher, care to give us a hint what you'll be doing?”
“We're going to drop these fools like a hot plate at an in-law dinner party,” Fluff answered for the both of them.
“Good. Everyone hold the line!” Latisha roared.
The Hoplite lancers locked their shields in line, bracing themselves shoulder to shoulder. A shimmering field blazed to life in front of them, providing a barrier against incoming attack.
“Right behind you Sergeant,” Bethayell called as she crested the fissure.
The enemy cyborgs came to an abrupt stop, hiding behind overturned cars, in buildings, and beyond the line of sight on rooftops. A single commando ventured out with her hands held empty at her side. She made an exaggerated display of moving slowly, plucking a flat, cylindrical object from her gear.
A street spanning hologram jumped into the air between them, displaying the regal, well-dressed form of Stavros Kenner, the fallen leader of the displaced Seven Seats Cartel. “And here we are again. You standing in my way, and me standing just outside your grasp.”
Mara was first to shout at the ghostly giant. “We have the city surrounded. Athalon forces are smashing your petty little mercenary force and Lasher can deactivate your hold on people here in the city at will. Give up, Anaxis.”
Anaxis' statuesque image studied the embattled marshal. “We both know it's only a matter of time before TRACO comes back with reinforcements and shows your temple what real military might looks like. Your forces won back your hold on Elysium. Go home on your own or I'll send you there in a box. Either way works.”
Lasher walked past the marshal. He moved around Latisha's shield wall until he was standing in front of the Exo Commando holding the hologram generator. “Give him to me and your people can leave the city under my protection.”
“Who are you to make such an offer?” the commando asked.
“Give him to me and have my protection.” Lasher repeated. “Tell me 'no' and become my enemy.”
Anaxis stared down at them like a dispassionate god, momentarily amused by the drama put on by his children. “What do you think her answer will be, boy?”
The unit commander continued to hold the broadcast cylinder, waiting for Lasher to reply to either question. The silence was shattered when a shimmering energy blade, resembling the fragmented segments of a kite tail, burst from her back. She dropped the projector, sending Anaxis' image staggering through the street in a vertigo-inducing light show. Reaching for her pistol, she snapped the weapon to Lasher's face, but the mongrel warrior grabbed her by the wrist, overcoming bionic strength to put the muzzle against her head.
“Then you're my enemy.”
The heavy round shattered the woman's helmet, spraying hair and brain matter soaked armor across the street. Her lithe form, probably hundreds of kilos of cyber-strand wrapped around a duradium alloy frame, twitched in a dead fall to the carcrete, coming free from the thrumming Gavoc sword shaping itself back into an energy blade.
The giant hologram echoed his rage into the neighborhood. “Kill them! Kill them a...”
The illusory titan was held transfixed by a red crest rising from the breach. The armored warrior beneath it pushed aside his singed red half cloak to recover his lance and shield. Another twice his size followed, dripping smoke through molten seams in his fire soaked armor. Appearing as a mailed warhorse standing on its hind legs, it held its own shield in such a fashion as to have plenty of room to swing the pulse hammer in the other hand.
Holographic Anaxis, wearing Kenner's face, seemed distraught to the point of abject fear. “Take them down and seal that pit!”
Marco Sorrin locked shields with the rest of the lancer squad. “We'll hold them here. Madame Tarot! Take your crew and proceed to Objective Screen Door. Zakan, Objective Pelican. Lasher, you do you.”
Marco waited for Lasher, Kel, and Fluff to vanish into a building along the street. “Now that they're gone, we're going to tear through this city so we can watch that thing die screaming! Lancers! Swinging Gate! Now!”
The projection puck winged across the street into Marco's waiting grip. He crushed the device, plunging the street into the flickering darkness from periodic fires sprouting up along the avenue. The ultra-frame enhanced lancers parted, making a path through the defensive line. The Exo Commando took full advantage, sending a flurry of gunfire through the gap. The marshals extended their defensive web through the Crucible, keeping the impending rounds from ever striking the shield. In answer to their opponents shooting, the hole in the street coughed out a cavalry charge not seen on the Kesthi Steppe since before the colonies.
Riders on Dross horses and grav bikes charged from the pit. Tyth archers, equipped with vibron arrows, sent armor breaching shafts into the Exos. The riders continued to flow in an unending stream of legs and arrows. Several Tyth were knocked from their mounts once they were past the protection of the marshal's ethereal shield. Their pain ended as the remainder of the charge trampled them against the uncaring stone.
A ferocious roar echoed from the tunnel, temporarily stopping the conflict. It was a scratchy, trumpeting noise that spoke of being at the top of the food chain no matter where they were in the galaxy. The simigons, shaped like tremendous apes with ram horns, charged from tunnel to bound into the surrounding buildings. Carrying vibro maces and blasters, the normally gentle inquisitives had turned into brachiating wrecking balls following a subsonic ping emanating from the nocks on vibron arrows.
They tore into the buildings, taking hold of what should have been superior combatants, and tossed them screaming, back to street level. They plummeted several stories, smacking into the carcrete with no more value to the fight than a broken doll. A stuttering machine gun chattered in the distance, ending with a simigon striking the pavement next to the fallen Exos. The commandos had recovered from the awe of the attack, pressing their superior numbers against the defending troop.
Ajax spun up his plasma caster to thrash several fighting positions with glowing blue globs of explosive force. The Exile Commandos continued to fight, despite the burning assault on their position, pushing to overwhelm the marshal controlled entry point into what was previously a secured city. Diverting their attention from the battle, the marshals noticed incoming messages to their HUD from the lancer Battle-Net.
“Lion Guard, This is Devil Hunter Actual, I am inbound on your six. We have target acquisition through mounted assets. Request passage of lines to Objective Patio, over.”
Ajax tilted his head to get Marco's attention. “Brand is so formal.”
“He's young,” Marco laughed into the comm. “Devil Hunter, you are clear to engage hostiles. Strike forward!”
No sooner had Marco shut down the comms window in his HUD than a blaster bolt flashed into the commandos forming next to a dumpster outside of a ruined diner. The round skipped off the Exile's helmet, shattering what was left of the restaurant sign in an explosion of sparking glass. A wave of Devil Hunter Lancers led by Marshal Brand streamed through the break in the shield wall. They were like liquid metal, filling in the broken spaces provided by the war-torn neighborhood, solidifying into a spear of blaster fire ahead of the marshals' shield. The marshals and their ultra-frame lancers moved forward, once again eclipsing the Devil Hunters. They leapfrogged up the avenue, their HUD displaying information straight from the Lancer Battle-Net being fed tracking data from specialized sensors in the knocks of embedded arrows.
Occasionally, a team of the commando broke off to penetrate the line. One such group jumped the shields with the grace and speed of a Vosi arrow cat. They thundered into Sergeant LaGarron's squad, firing their enhanced slu
g rifles into the men. While lancer armor was designed to take the brunt of blaster and chemically projected gunfire, the Exo weapons were a whole new bang. A phase field formed at the back of a caseless round. Timed, field expansion behind a partially desolidified round powered the action of the rifle with ten times the kinetic force of a traditional firearm.
One of the bullets punched into Corporal Vale, shattering the outer armor of his lancer kit. The impact from the weapon dropped him as though he'd been clothes lined. The four-man team caused havoc within the marshals’ advance, slowing it down to a crawl while lancers behind tried to put down the enemy threat. Sergeant LaGarron teamed up with Vale's two lancers, Williams and Frazier, to assault the commando trying to punch a phase blade from his gauntlet into the downed NCO.
“Hey! Remember that time on Zugo when the locals charged us?” Williams asked.
Frazier yanked back on the Exo's arm, using the enhanced strength from the mechanized skeleton buried within his armor. “That was nothing like this. Man, you hit your head in the tunnel or something?”
LaGarron seized the opportunity presented by the two lancers to use an ankle trip while holding the commando's waist. “Would you two concentrate on killing this mag-rat?”
Vale kicked himself up to kneeling, pulling his pistol to blow a smoking crater into the restrained man's helmet.
“Vale, duck!” LaGarron yelled.
The corporal dropped to his face, revealing another commando leveling an extended phase blade for a swipe. LaGarron rocked the cyborg with three rounds center mass from his CR-51 carbine. The soldier paused, considering the smoking burn marks that failed to penetrate her armor. Ignoring the incoming bolts from Williams and Frazier bringing their weapons into the fight, she pulled back her arm to deliver the killing thrust to Vale as he struggled to escape the kill zone.
The Sentinel: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 3) Page 32
