The faceplate bobbed again, and something grabbed at his suit collar. Martin felt himself being dragged up the ramp, accompanied by a hideous slow-motion screeching sound. The faceplate disappeared, and Martin felt something hot and wet on his face as everything went red, then black.
As the Valiant slipped away into darkness, one last thought went through his mind.
That could have gone better.
Jarl
JARL HEARD GUNFIRE ECHOING DOWN THE MAINTENANCE shaft, and slowed his advance. He didn’t believe anyone was looking for him, but his active camouflage would do nothing to muffle the sounds of his footsteps if an enemy happened to be standing near his exit point.
The sounds of combat were coming from the other side of a ventilation unit, and as he approached, Jarl saw that Katra had fused a two-meter fan in place with a low-powered pulser blast, and then scored a centimeter-long arrow pointing down into the metal.
Jarl listened at the panel. The sounds of the unseen combat were mainly confused shouts and the growls of the slugthrowers he’d seen earlier. The whine of Katra’s pulse rifle was an indicator of her status, and he allowed himself a smile.
Picking her shots. Not under any particular stress. Good.
Jarl applied pressure to the base of the panel. From this angle he could see a free space directly under the vent, about a three-meter drop from the maintenance shaft. Wishing he could see more of the immediate area, he dropped through feet first.
As he hit the floor, there was a flurry of gunfire. Something hit the wall behind him—a lot of somethings. Jarl let his legs go limp and continued his fall until he was lying flat on the decking with his rifle out in front of him. A volley of tiny projectiles ricocheted through the space he’d just vacated and tore through the surrounding crates and equipment.
When he wasn’t killed by a follow-up volley, he rolled until his back was against something solid and aimed at a gap between crates about two meters from where he’d landed. Jarl counted out ten seconds, then eased himself to his feet. He was careful to keep himself completely covered by the surrounding crates as he took a few soft steps forward. The helmet’s pickups registered another shot from Katra’s pulse rifle, but there were no more slug throwers firing in his immediate vicinity.
Jarl readied his fingers on the firing studs and spun around the corner. Instead of a crouching enemy waiting to kill him, he saw two downed combatants, one missing part of its torso and the other apparently dead from several hundred small punctures. The rifle in the first body’s hands had a red-hot barrel, from which rose small tendrils of smoke.
Interesting.
Jarl was concerned with the blood covering all the nearby surfaces and its likely effect on his camouflage. Judging passage through the narrow space to be too risky, he looked up at the wall of crates enclosing the free space under the vent. It looked sturdy enough to support his weight, so Jarl slung his rifle across his back, aligning it with his spine and triggering the static charge that stiffened the weapon’s strap and fixed it in place.
He pulled his hand weapon from its chest sheath and then leapt for the top of the nearest stack, using his free hand to steady himself once he landed.
Jarl blinked twice as he scanned the room, giving his brain two quick images to analyze for immediate dangers. With his faceplate closed, he couldn’t use his own senses to their fullest potential, so he set his subconscious mind to the task instead.
Jarl didn’t feel threatened, so he took two long strides across the piled supplies and swung down to the deck on what looked like maintenance scaffolding. Mindful of the rifle on his back, he didn’t roll forward when he landed, but to the side to take cover under a landing strut. Keeping his hand weapon out in front of him, he listened for the whine of Katra’s pulser to orient himself. The rapid-fire growls of multiple types of slugthrowers told him the approximate locations of the enemies he couldn’t see.
The center of activity seemed to be a shuttle located directly opposite his position—apparently the only intact craft in the bay. A large group of suited figures were wrestling on a ramp that angled back into the vessel.
Lining up a shot, he announced his location to Katra with a pulser shot into an exposed enemy back, and ducked behind the landing strut in anticipation of return fire.
Katra’s answering shot killed a second enemy, and some of the remaining figures scrambled up the ramp dragging several others.
Two factions. What have we stepped into?
Jarl worked his way under the small vessel’s hull to Katra. Her fire was coming from inside a partially disassembled machine on the other side, the function of which was a mystery to Jarl. It looked too large to be a component of the ship above her, and though something about its construction seemed familiar the pile of parts nearby seemed to be of different manufacture altogether.
Jarl pulled a gravity grenade from his harness and thumbed it active. The fist-sized cylinder was a stripped-down version of the personal generator built into his encounter suit, designed to create distractions rather than casualties. They were dangerous to use aboard spaceships, but Jarl wasn’t particularly concerned about the enemy’s safety. If a few of them got crushed by their own gear as two grav fields worked out their differences, so be it.
Jarl moved to the front of the small craft, listening for hostile activity. Picking a spot near where he’d last heard a slugthrower, Jarl threw the grenade and sprinted back along the hull. As he moved, he replaced the hand weapon in its sheath and released his rifle.
Jarl spun to face the rest of the bay before sitting down, and ducked behind a workbench, and a second later Katra settled into place beside him.
The reunited Gammas deactivated their camouflage and came together in an interlocking, seated embrace. Both kept their weapons at the ready, aligning themselves so that they could see all of the immediate area.
Their faceplates touched, and Jarl noticed Katra’s face was slick with sweat. Her pupils were also larger than they should have been given the light level in the bay. It wasn’t enough to interfere with her aim, and her arms seemed strong around him. But unless something had happened he didn’t know about, the signs of stress were troubling. Before he could say anything, she gave him a tactical overview.
"Eight left, two factions. More coming. Hear the announcement?"
"No."
They were speaking barely above a whisper, trusting their helmets to insulate the sound of their voices. Jarl had seen three actives heading up the ramp with two prisoners; he stopped looking at Katra’s face and scanned for one of the others. He hadn’t heard any firing since the grenade went off, but that didn’t mean they were out of danger.
"SDF Valiant. Coup in progress. Boss?"
Jarl processed Katra’s summary quickly, knowing she preferred action to planning. His response was equally brief.
"Inbound. Three minutes, no trouble."
Jarl’s estimate was based on the route the Omegas outlined before he left the main group, and his belief that Jantine and the Deltas could handle any force outfitted like the enemies they’d encountered so far. But a second, possibly third hostile force aboard the ship complicated matters.
Katra shifted, and Jarl was surprised when some of her weight fell onto him. She didn’t change the angle of her arms or lower her weapon, but the sounds of her breathing were . . . odd.
I don’t like this. Something is wrong.
Jarl’s mind raced through new tactical situations, working out fire plans requiring only one active. But the longer he dwelled on the subject, the more he had to know what had happened to Katra.
"Status?"
Jarl decided the risk of attack from his left side was negligible and turned to read Katra’s expression. Her eyes were still wide, and he wished he could see enough of her neck to time her pulse.
"Three hits, micro-slug ricochets. Collapsed lung, impact fractures in left arm. Suit sealed up, stims. Operational."
Jarl understood her firing solutions better
now. Firing prone, all of the rifle’s action was channeled into her right side. She was still more than a match for these opponents, but she’d need to get out of her encounter suit sooner rather than later for treatment.
Jarl considered what to say next, counting down the seconds until Jantine, and now more importantly, Crassus and Artemus, would arrive. He could capture the shuttle on his own, but he’d rather have a Delta with him to be sure. And no matter what, they needed more intel on the situation aboard the Valiant. If there was a third force of actives heading their way, it was even more imperative that Katra receive proper treatment.
In the end, he decided to take her at her word. She’d never lied to him before, and with the stakes so high, wasn’t likely to start now.
"Noted. Flush?"
"Negative. High ground."
Jarl nodded, then leaned back, twisting to the side as he broke their embrace so that both Gammas could disengage without spoiling their aim. Katra sat up straighter, and now that he knew what to look for, he saw that her movements were a little stiffer than normal. If things got worse before the rest of the mods arrived, he trusted her to let him know.
Jarl scanned the area for new firing positions. Whoever had organized the repairs on the Valiant’s small vessels had done a good job of leaving the center free of obstructions, but their discipline wasn’t absolute. For some reason, the area felt more abandoned than active, and scaffoldings like the ones surrounding the crafts being repaired were everywhere.
Jarl aimed his rifle at several positions that would offer him good sightlines of both the intact shuttle and the bay’s main entrance. Katra indicated a third inside one of the partially disassembled vessels, which Jarl realized would also let her cover parts of the corridor outside.
He pumped his clenched fist once, and the Gammas split off. As he ran, Jarl saw a hardsuit moving closer to the shuttle’s still-open ramp, and he snapped off a shot in its direction. Katra must have seen the motion as well, because her shot changed the body’s direction as it fell.
The enemy must have been about to fire when it died, because its rifle discharged when it hit the deck and sent a stream of micro-slugs toward the shuttle. Jarl couldn’t tell if the vessel was damaged as a result, but one of the bodies still lying on the ramp was hit a few times, and the results were impressive. Portions of the hardsuit simply disintegrated, severing one of the legs and sending painted shrapnel bouncing around the immediate area.
Jarl reached the scaffolding he’d selected and swung himself upwards with his left hand. If Katra’s count was correct, there was still one hostile at large, and he needed to locate it as soon as possible. Settling into his perch, he realized he could see through the forward window of the shuttle.
Three armed and suited individuals had their backs to him. On any other mission, Jarl would send a volley of pulser fire through the window and be done with it. But they needed the shuttle to complete their mission, and it would probably be hard to fly even without unnecessary damage.
Malik would know what to do. He was our tactician. I’m just a gun with legs.
But that’s not how Malik had treated him or the other Gammas. Malik’s attitude was far above that of a typical Beta, more tolerant than even Jantine. Jarl and Katra were the only ones left now, and it still felt odd to be outnumbered by Betas in such a small group.
The whine of a pulser brought him back to the present. Jarl shifted as subtly as he could to see what Katra was shooting at, and the sight of two dozen fresh opponents both excited and troubled him. They were clustered at the entrance to the bay, and Jantine was due within seconds.
Katra had waited until the newcomers were all the way inside before firing, and it looked to Jarl like the bodies on the floor had been moving to meet them. Jarl took aim at a faceplate, steadied his hands, and fired.
The shot took one of the enemies high in the throat. While not as spectacular as Katra’s precise shooting, it had the same general effect and dropped the enemy instantly. He sighted on his next target, tracking it as the enemies split into several groups and sought cover.
Katra’s next shot was as accurate as ever, and Jarl noticed she’d waited ten seconds after his shot before firing. Counting down that same period, Jarl cleared his mind of distractions and surrendered to the moment. His heartbeat slowed down, and when the time came he stopped his breath and made his body perfectly rigid.
Seventy meters away, a helmet exploded in a shower of bloody white fragments. The enemies around it went into a panic, splitting their forces once again. There were now three distinct target groups—four, counting those inside the shuttle. A corner of Jarl’s mind registered that only one suited figure was standing in the shuttle’s window now, positioned sideways in an attempt to see the deck outside and also keep a weapon trained on two other figures inside.
Prisoners. Nice of the enemy to police themselves.
Jarl shifted his aim to the base of the ramp, counting down the seconds until another head presented itself. As if responding to his needs, two enemies came down the ramp. Jarl waited for a clear shot, then sent a pair of pulser blasts at them.
The first hit one of the suited figures in the shoulder, spinning it to the right. The second destroyed its target’s left arm before carving a hole in its chest.
Not a warrior’s death. But it serves.
Jarl switched his focus to the entrance, marking the positions and numbers of the two enemy groupings. He selected a target for his next shot, confident he’d guessed Katra’s choice as well. He shifted his aim towards the front of the launch bay for a follow up shot, but Katra’s target dove aside right before she fired, revealing Jantine and Artemus charging down the corridor.
Katra realized she was firing into her own people just in time, but too late to stop the pulser shot. She did manage to pull it off to the right, causing a shining crater to appear about three meters off the ground. Unfortunately, walls made more sound when struck by a phased plasma pulse than people did, and both enemy groups turned to see what had happened.
Jantine hit the deck instantly, firing her rifle as she dropped. One of the Deltas ran across the opening to draw fire while the other opened up with a weapon in each of it upper hands.
Jarl heard another weapon fire, this time from the base of the shuttle’s ramp. He thought it a pointless gesture at first, given the observed range of the enemy’s weapons. But then he realized there was another possible target, and saw Katra’s uncamouflaged body fall out of her perch.
Jarl was moving almost before he’d fully registered what had happened, pulser on rapid fire and aimed at the base of the ramp as he dropped from the scaffolding. He lost line of sight when he reached the deck, but he was satisfied the shooter was dead.
Another volley of combined pulser and slugthrower fire sounded in the still air, and then he heard nothing else. He reached Katra just in time to see several punctures in the encounter suit sealing over on her upper back.
Jarl put down his rifle and cradled Katra in his arms. She wasn’t moving, and when he turned her over he saw her faceplate was broken in several places. Fearing the worst, he popped the seals at her neck and removed her helmet entirely. It came away trailing a line of blood, and Jarl sat back heavily on his legs. He removed his own helmet and watched her bloody face in stunned silence for several seconds, and it was only when he saw her eyelids flutter that he remembered to breathe.
"Pulled . . . shot. Jantine . . . okay?"
Jarl’s instinct was to brush away the clear fragments of faceplate embedded in her right temple, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch her.
Not her. Not now.
Looking at the blood flowing freely down her face reminded him for some reason of what else was touching her skin, and his. He swiped a finger down his jawline, then Katra’s, and heard five clicks in his ear just ahead of Jantine’s voice.
"Report."
"At least one hostile inside shuttle. One group of reinforcements already arrived. Katra injur
ed, multiple suit punctures."
Jarl heard Katra’s voice both from in front of him and in his ear as she gave her own status report.
"Op . . . Operational."
Jarl helped her to a sitting position, keeping an eye out for more hostiles. She had a pained expression and raised a hand to feel around the area where the faceplate fragments had cut her face. He offered a helping hand, but she waved it away and continued speaking.
"I can . . . Good to fight, boss."
"If you’re sure, it’s good enough for me. We should take the . . . what are you do—"
Four clicks sounded, then three, then two as Jantine’s voice cut off mid-sentence. Jarl grabbed for his pulser and vaulted over Katra, rolling into a combat crouch as soon as he could see the bay doors.
"Jarl. Jarl, what’s happening?"
At the bay entrance, Crassus was standing in front of Jantine and holding all four arms wide in an attempt to stop the Omegas from entering the bay. Artemus was pulling at one of them, but the Omega shrugged him off with a casual motion that belied the force necessary to send the Delta staggering across the corridor.
"Jarl, report!"
Before he could respond, a volley of slugs hit the scaffolding behind them and filled the air with deadly ricochets. He felt hits in his side and leg, and fire spread inside his chest. He fell to his knees, left hand clutched to his abdomen. The gauntlet came away bloody, revealing three ragged tears in his encounter suit. He watched the smart fabric seal around them, and then a flush of endorphins widened his eyes as the auto-doc’s stims kicked in.
So that’s what it feels like . . .
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned his head to see Katra’s face hovering centimeters from his own.
"Jarl, what are our orders?"
Jarl looked into Katra’s widened eyes, and he wondered just how much time the two of them had left. The stims were only partially dulling his pain, and he felt something grinding inside his left knee as she helped him into a crouching position.
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