“Ya know, I heard Seladriel tell stories about your PhD in profanity, Marshal Sorrin.”
“I'm a grandpa now, got to set a good example.”
“Uh, huh. Still doesn't answer my question.”
Ajax dropped to a knee, sharing his various vision modes in their HUD. “That would be Kodom the Shepherd.”
“Who the what now?” Mara asked.
Ajax continued. “Each noble in the phalanx is responsible for an asset or function of their ship, and thereby, the community. The Shepherd is a drone commander who oversees the robotic work and fighting forces of that particular Exile colony.”
“They're not all cyborgs?”
“No, Marshal Truveau. The ones there, that look like brutish four-legged animals, are semi-intelligent combat construction bots assigned to protect the Shepherd. Do you see the smaller spider looking drones and the devil-faced bots walking next to them? Those are ghouls.” Ajax said, growling out the term.
Beth was looking through a set of bino's at the entire affair. “Ghouls?”
Ajax superimposed diagrams of the enemy troops in their HUD. “Humans stuffed into a robot frame that uses them as an AI filter to run the machine. Eventually, the frame feeds on the person, replacing organics with bionics until the brain and bit of spine is all that’s left.”
“That's horrible,” Beth gasped.
Marco placed his hand on Ajax's shoulder. “It's what happened to my brothers. These Exos were part of the flotilla we faced in the Outer Boundary. After we freed Jackson and Reese from their prisons, we found a way to get them the upgrades they needed to keep fighting. Then we followed the Exile Fleet to Nasdra Yon and ripped them to shreds.”
Ajax bumped against his brother, dislodging the tears rolling down his cheek. “And still you feel guilt over saving us.”
“You've never been able to just dip your toes in a pond on a hot day. You've never been able to have a family.”
Ajax huffed a blast of fumes from his jawline. “My family is here with you and Ares. My family is there, behind me in the form of the marshals and lancers who stand with us because of the sacrifices we made back then. Don't feel sorry for us. Feel sorry for that Exile Noble's forces when we go down there to smash them. Together.”
Marco brought Ares into his HUD. “No way around them?”
“No, they're fanned out across the block. You'll never make it to the stadium in time.”
“How long for Screen Door?” Marco asked.
The sounds of a ship working through maneuvers played out over the com as Ares, in his flight officer uniform, shifted his attention around his display. “Hylaeus says he's waiting until they can secure the forces outside the city or Lasher calls, whichever comes first. He's using the shield over the city to protect it from the fighting outside, along with keeping everyone inside, inside. Only way out right now is that hole Lasher dug. Are we really not going to talk about that?” Ares asked.
“I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for you to ask him, later. Keep an eye on the sky.”
“It's getting busy up here. TRACO had air assets stored away from the city. We're dealing with it, but things are complicated. Shout if you need me.”
“Good copy. Thanks, Ares.” Marco slithered back into the building they were occupying. “Brand, Mara, Beth, I'm pushing through these Exos. If you and the lancers want to hang back while we clear the way, we might be able to make a path for you.”
Brand pulled a drinking tube from his armor, taking several gulps of water to clear his throat. He squeezed the line, running the purified water over his blade to clean the gore from it. “We fight together, Marshal Sorrin. You taught your daughter that. Then she taught us. Besides, we're Devil Hunters. This is the kind of fight we were born for. You lead. We'll follow.”
“Together then.” Marco brought out a smart board visible in his HUD. He shared the screens with his Marshals, who also looped in their platoon commanders. After a moment of hasty discussion, they had a semblance of a plan put together to clear the enemy from the board.
Marco closed his eye, projecting his thoughts through the Crucible. “Lasher, we need your special connection to help thin the herd down here.”
A ghostly apparition formed on the roof over the building the marshals were using as a staging area. The Lion Guard's ghostly image shimmered beside it, looking down on their perspective battlefield.
“That looks messy,” Lasher said.
“Can you do your thing from here or do you need to be present?” Marco asked.
Lasher's visage wavered like an image on a wind swept flag. Scores of swarm affected people beside the Shepherd's forces collapsed to the ground. The Spider Kind and War Faced drones, two flavors of the ghouls, pushed out with their guns on line to form a perimeter. The brutish beast drones backed their master into an alley up against a building.
“That work for you?” Lasher asked.
“Couldn't ask for more. You okay?”
“I am. Proud to be working with my grandpa.”
Marco didn't have the chance to say more. Lasher's spirit projection cut off from the roof. His own ghost flashed over the side of the building, traveling at incredible speed into his body. “Now.”
Multiple SAGA missiles raced from various building alcoves around the plaza. The projectiles blasted two of the hulking Gun Brutes into their master, knocking the tangle through the alley wall. Another missile headed for the now vacant target zone, striking a wall, bringing down a good chunk of rubble from the building on the other side of the alley.
Frustrated squeals from the ghouls echoed around the street, giving the embattled neighborhood a graveyard atmosphere. Several members of the War Faces, tall thin robots with battle rifles, rushed into the structures where the missiles were launched from, only to find abandoned apartments with ruined furniture. The force attempted to exit, setting off trip mines that ruptured the supporting walls, burying the cursed slaves in hasty graves.
Devil Hunters poured into the square, dousing the remaining Spider Kind and War Faces with intersecting blaster fire, shredding the standing force while they tried to dig out their commander. A loose Gun Brute turned from mining out its allies to lay down suppressing fire against the lancers. Twin plasma casters raised over its shoulder. A hand pulled into its wrist, replaced with a vortex blaster. The hulk changed its method of movement to bipedal in a move that let it engage with all three weapons while continuing to dig with its free arm.
Lancers dove for better cover as the luminescent gobs of plasma exploded into their firing positions. A combined assault from three squads lobbed frags into the beast, giving a respite from its counterattack to free up the team leaders to use their CR-55s for launching rifle grenades as a follow up. Two members of the Hoplites screamed across the avenue, dropping charge blocks on the thing's back. Volley was able to jump away, avoiding the Gun Brute's immense armored fist. A Spider Kind tripped Hickson, the private who'd helped him topple a thumper earlier. He tumbled into the ruined carcrete in full view of the metallic monster.
Volley charged into its back, the ultra-frame straining against the weight. “Go!”
Hickson jumped to his feet, blasting the Spider Kind in the face. Staring at its visage brought more of the nightmare into focus. A ceramaclear dome stretching across the mech gave its prey full view of the horror of being an Exile Ghoul, a twisted humanoid face or skull suspended in a bluish liquid. Several shots on target shattered the cover, spilling its grizzly contents on the ground.
Volley ducked a back swing of the Gun Brute's hammer hand, coming out of his roll at a dead run. Both men sprinted in different directions, hoping to confuse whatever combat computer forced it to make such decisions. It spun up its plasma casters, aiming them in Volley's direction.
The charge blocks detonated, tearing the plates from its hide in an explosion that launched carcrete dozens of meters into the air. The Gun Brute tumbled through the intersection, landing in a mangled heap.
Volley loo
ked back to see that Hickson made it out of the plaza, back to the safety of the lancer defensive line. He jumped a low wall while tucked, slamming straight into the waiting legs of a Spider Kind. The viscous fluid inside its shell was clear enough to display the hazy outline of a skeletal head looking triumphant at impaling a lancer. The young sergeant splattered blood on the spider's dome, sending it into a frenzy to finish him. It thrashed in a vain attempt to free itself from his grip, as well as his guts. He used the ultra-frame to smash it through a debris pile that had fallen from the building. Pulling his accelerator lance from his back, he struck the dome, shattering the ceramaclear. Smoke tinged fluid oozed from the enclosure, giving the creature inside its first taste of air in some time. It gagged, barking without its tongue at Volley, who was straining to separate the creature from the contraption. The thing's spine and face came out with a pop, the release spinning Volley into a sprint out of the melee. His escape came to naught as he ran into a gaggle of more spiders. They struck him repeatedly with their legs, knocking him into a bloody mess despite his whirling destructive blade severing limbs, crushing head plates, or killing them outright. He watched his friends, his squad, his lancers trying desperately to reach him before he hit the actuator on the remaining charge block he was carrying.
The explosion ripped through the enemy, dislodging large portions of wreckage that had fallen over the site. The ghouls shattered in place, ashes in a firepit blown by the wind. The blast sent the impending lancers tumbling back toward the rest of the Devil Hunters fighting their way through the nightmare horde.
Kodom pushed his way free from the rubble, his Exo Noble battle armor dusty but unharmed from being entombed by tons of shattered rock. “Your attack was well played, lancers. I commend you for...”
Marco landed beside the Exiled warlord, striking the butt of his lance against his chest. The impact wave meant for breaching airlocks cracked the outer armor, shooting the slaver through what was left of the wall into a frantic barrel roll across the foyer. Ejected claws slapped into the floor as a break, bringing him to a screeching stop.
“Lion Guard! We’d heard rumors of your return,” Kodom scoffed. “Too bad you don’t have your pet...”
The wall behind him shattered. Covered in fire and vengeance, Ajax rushed the embattled Kodom. The hammer connected, ringing out through the plaza like a gong being set off by a grenade. The corona surrounding the weapon drew in energy to its maximum potential, unloading its payload through a force field directed blast straight into the target. Kodom slammed onto the flooring, decimating the already scarred stone into a crater over a meter deep.
Warbled tones chimed from the noble armor as Kodom dragged himself from the pit. Ajax circled to Marco's side, the two locking shields, creating a wall against the noble's escape. The battle suit pushed itself to kneeling in defiance of the two men he held responsible for what was transpiring now.
A thud. Then a crack. Another thud. The floor under the man-horse collapsed, taking Ajax to the level below. “Just the two of us now, old man.” Kodom laughed.
Marco charged, slamming them past the next alley on their way through plate ceramaclear windows of the following building. The noble halted himself by digging in his heels. Pistons taking the blunt force of the Crucible, vented their pressure into support struts, locking straining gears into place. Taking hold of the shield, he vaulted Marco through the remaining unbroken window.
“Frazier! Pull those people out of there!”
“On it, Lance Sergeant!” Frazier led several members of first squad in recovery of the citizens Lasher had knocked unconscious.
Lance Sergeant D'Marco placed two rounds into the knee joint of a Spider Kind, tripping it to expose the face plate full of morbid horror leering at them. Another two rounds pelted the glass, spilling its macabre contents on the ground, rendering the mech useless.
“Whoa! Lance Sergeant got the magic!” Lancer Williams followed the platoon sergeant's line of sight, targeting two of the War Faces that were trailing the spider. He dumped half an energy mag into his targets, dead lining them into an early grave. “These guys aren't that good!”
“Watch the street, Lancer! All it takes is a stray shot to take you out of the fight!” The lance sergeant shouted.
A rifle round skipped against the upturned carcrete Williams was using for cover.
“See?” D'marco admonished.
LaGarron stepped out, dumping several rifle grenades into the plaza. He was suppressing a group of War Faces looking to punch a hole the rest of the ghouls could surge through. Several pops knocked the group around, depriving many of them from the environment they were using for cover.
Lancer Tran finished the barrel change on his CR-750, snapping the feed tray cover shut on the weapon. “Going hot!”
A swarm of high explosive dual purpose rounds punched through the enemy line, tearing into armor and face plates in a savage display of multiple target engagement. Three to nine round bursts brought the surge to a decisive halt, slapping each enemy he hit from this mortal coil.
Sergeant Corvin broadcast over the Battle-Net. “Everything with a pulse that is not considered a cyborg or goblin is pulled into the perimeter. Marshal Brand, you and yours are cleared to go magical.”
“Roger that,” Brand called back.
The marshal stepped from cover on the other side of the plaza. Submerging his consciousness into the Crucible, he spread the unseen forces of the galaxy across the intersection. Two enormous slabs of carcrete ripped from the street, flying straight into the air. They crashed into the ground, two walls of stone connected in the center to form a wedge. Traversing the intersection, the slabs grated stone against stone to trap a swath of the enemy against their surface. The stones swung the other way, turning a wedge into a funnel. The Crucible-controlled blocks corralled a near horde of enemy mechs, crushing their prisoners into the side of a building.
“Mara, now!” Brand roared.
A grav tractor hauling a trailer, with the words “Vinnie's Fuel and Feed, For All Your Farming Needs” emblazoned on it, sped through the intersection, smashing barriers and enemy troops alike. Mara opened the door, jamming her knife into the steering controls to keep the vehicle aimed at her intended victims. “Beth!”
Beth secured the marshal through the Way, yanking her from the step of the cab. Mara flew from the truck as though on a jump pack, rocketing away from the improvised bomb. She landed amid a gaggle of overturned vehicles for cover, taking a final action in the Crucible to toss her ignited sword.
The grav truck impacted against the carcrete bulldozer slabs, pulverizing the occupants trapped underneath. The plasma sword struck the back of the trailer, piercing the outer skin. Fuel ignited in a blast of fire and shrapnel that blew out building windows for blocks. Ghouls caught in the kill zone were set ablaze. They thrashed about to douse the flames or rush the lancers as improvised incendiaries.
Mara was panting. “That wasn't so hard.”
The car she was hiding behind flipped over from a Gun Brute, freeing itself from its weight. It took hold of her, ramming her twice into the wall next to it. In a throw that would have been talked about for weeks on the various online murderball discussion groups, it threw Mara through the plaza into one of the support columns where Marco and Kodom were fighting. She struck the ground, motionless except for a loud wheezing coming from under her cracked helmet.
Marco accepted two world-ending blows from the Exo Noble trying to end his life. His shield, reinforced by the energy field it projected, deflected most of the force away from him. The bit that remained was enough to put him on his knees.
“Why won't you die?” Kodom shouted.
Marco withdrew his plasma sword, whirling to slash at joints in the enemy armor. One particular blow found its mark, severing a control line, forcing the beast to limp after him.
For his trouble, Kodom launched a cavalcade of rockets from a fist launcher. In such close proximity, the noble would take as much damage
as the marshal. He didn't care. This was the monster young Exos feared. This was the creature that every cyborg dreaded meeting on any planet where they landed. If he could end this thing here and now, he could hang his corpse in the main hall of the Hunter's Moon for all to see that nothing could stop the Phalanx when they were united in purpose. The lion had to die.
The rockets exploded, sheering off most of the floor above them. Smoke clouded the room. Marco emerged from the gloom, sparks snapping around the energy corona over his sword, making him appear as an angelic warrior come to deliver judgment.
Kodom hissed his anger at the diminutive adversary. “How?”
Marco stared at the broken form of his adopted daughter, Mara Truveau, several meters away on the floor. Beyond her was the impending Gun Brute, stomping to finish them both. Exo Commandos were filling the spaces formerly occupied by the ghouls, to protect the Shepherd. They renewed the firefight outside with the Devil Hunters. He tipped the helmet from his head, pulling the eye patch to reveal a white glow that drifted along his face, filling the other eye with a ghostly brilliance.
“The Way is my will...” Marco threw the sword at the Gun Brute. The energy corona bit deep into the machine's chest, sending it into a seizure of momentum trying to free the destructive talon from his chasis. The Lion Guard stood straight, crossing his fists against his chest. He turned back in time to see Kodom punch him.
The blow splintered the golden armor, breaking myriad bones. The sickening thud dropped the marshal to the ground, coughing a blistering spout of blood into the dust strewn floor.
Kodom stood triumphantly over the broken lion, unsure of what part to take back to the Baroness. Maybe he'd just drag the whole damn cat and tie it to the front of the ship. He kicked him in the ribs, catapulting the ruined marshal across the square to land head to head with the female Templar.
He struggled to move his arm. He used every ounce of strength he had left to force his limb a few more centimeters. And there it was. Her fingers were there under his own, twitching with pain and loss for the troopers she wouldn't be able to save now. She was gasping, trying to force air into broken lungs that were refusing to cooperate.
The Sentinel: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 3) Page 36
