He rotated his railgun through a figure eight before him, ready to fire the instant he saw anything.
Christina’s comm chirped. Colonel Walton was calling for a report. She waited, and then started talking. In the middle of her report the Skrima appeared from the brush without disrupting any of the foliage, and like laser beams they headed straight for the pair of warriors.
Praeter didn’t wait. He fired, spraying the hypervelocity darts back and forth between the inbound demons. They continued to run, unaffected by the railgun, although they started to dodge. Both Praeter and Christina stopped firing.
The Skrima solidified and the warriors fired again. One of the Skrima buckled as a volley hit it before it ghosted back into a semi-rigid state, but the creature shrugged off its injuries and started running again. Christina threw her railgun down and changed into her Pricolici form. Still holding her boarding axe, she charged.
Praeter slowed his fire, tracking the second Skrima until it was too close. The moment it raised its clawed arm to slash the mech, Praeter launched himself sideways while continuing to fire. The Skrima missed digging a claw into Praeter’s chest and solidified for a fraction of a second, which was long enough for a railgun round fired from point-blank range to explode its head.
The mech turned, but Christina and the Skrima were tied up in hand-to-hand combat. She twirled her axe before her to hold its claws at bay, but it didn’t care about the axe. It stabbed a claw forward like a single dagger, and it plunged into Christina’s chest. She raked her own claw down the creature’s arm and it screamed in pain.
Praeter tried to get a clear shot in the moment that the Skrima was vulnerable, but when it pulled back it ghosted out. Praeter fired anyway, but the darts passed straight through it.
Christina staggered backward, happy to have the nanos hard at work repairing what would otherwise have been a fatal wound. She charged a moment later, estimating when the creature would solidify to deliver its deadly counterattack. She dove to the ground and swung her axe, and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch.
While she was out of the line of fire, Praeter pounded the creature with hypervelocity darts. Once solid, the Skrima was finished. Huge chunks of flesh were blown off in a final frenzy of death.
Christina rolled away, but it was too late. She was already splattered in gore.
She started to change back into human form when the jammer came back on. She didn’t have enough energy to complete the transformation, but her Pricolici form drew everything she had left. She passed out and fell over.
Praeter was too far away to catch her.
***
When the energy from the Etheric returned Cory’s eyes started to glow blue again.
“You’re back!” Ramses declared as they surveyed the open field. They hadn’t moved since their arrival, waiting on word that the way ahead was clear. Without a mech or the ability to see into the Etheric, Cory considered their role to be almost useless.
“We need to get on a drop ship and be ready to respond in case something happens,” Cory stated.
“We’re supposed to hold position here to make sure nothing comes through this gap in our lines,” Ramses replied matter-of-factly.
Dokken’s eyes rolled back in his head as the German Shepherd shifted onto his back in his attempt to find a comfortable position to sleep.
Cory looked at the railgun in her hand, then back at the horizon. She shook her head.
Relax. It’s a dog’s life here, Dokken told them.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Ramses leaned his ear toward the pouch on his chest where the comm device rested. “Sounds like the Skrima are on the move. I wish we could see something.”
Cory shielded her eyes from the sun as she scanned the horizon. Dokken barked and scrambled to his feet. When Ramses turned, the Skrima were on them. He used his railgun to block a slash. He tried to back away, but it attacked relentlessly. Ramses was forced to defend himself, unable to bring the dangerous end of the railgun to bear.
The Skrima howled as a massive German Shepherd buried his teeth in the back of its leg, and Ramses dropped the butt of the railgun and fired from the hip. Three hypervelocity darts tore through the creature’s chest.
Cory was firing at a creature ghosting back and forth before her. Each time she let off the trigger, the Skrima darted in. Ramses added his firepower to hers to keep the Skrima from solidifying.
Cory backed away, but the demon remained close so Ramses maneuvered to keep his line of fire open. The Skrima dodged, and Cory’s weapon stopped firing. She looked down in panic to see one of the Skrima’s claws embedded in the firing mechanism. She could feel its hot breath on her face, and she closed her eyes.
“NO!” Ramses yelled, and jumped to her side just in time to catch the full sweep of the Skrima’s long claws.
Ramses grunted and pulled the trigger and the railgun barked, sending a stream of projectiles through the creature which cut it in half.
The railgun continued to fire long after the Skrima had fallen and Cory grabbed her husband as he started to drop, his finger frozen on the trigger. She kicked at the railgun and it fell away as they went to the ground. She rolled on top of him and pressed her hands to the gaping wounds that had shredded his chest, ripping his heart apart.
Her hands glowed blue as the nanocytes raced from her into the torn flesh and she breathed heavily to hasten the surge, but the glow stopped the instant the jammer flooded the planet with its Etheric-countering field.
Ramses was dead, and she was powerless to bring him back. She fumbled for her comm device. “Turn it on! Turn it back on!” she cried.
“The Skrima are overrunning our people,” Terry replied.
“Ramses is dead, and he’ll stay dead if you don’t turn the fucking power back on!”
“Ted,” Terry was all said, and the jammer was cut off.
The glow returned, and Cory leaned back into the wounds. Faintly, she heard her father speaking.
“A drop ship is on its way to pick you up.”
Dokken whimpered as he laid his head on Ramses’ hand. The glow brightened as Cory sent more and more of her energy into her husband.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The two came at them out of nowhere—ghosts who moved like lightning. The mech had fought valiantly, but the Skrima had gotten through.
Marcie stood her ground, straddling her teammate. Using a short sword to hold the creatures at bay while keeping her pistol aimed, she twisted and contorted her body, refusing to give them an opening. She only needed a millisecond of the Skrima being solid to end their existence.
She was sure she had dialed the JDS to eight—more than that and it could jump from her hand if fired from an awkward position. In her current cobra dance, everything was awkward.
She felt like a ton of bricks hit her when the power of the Etheric disappeared, but Marcie muscled the pistol upward and pulled the trigger. One Skrima disappeared in a cloud of blood and guts.
Yup. Eight.
She adjusted her aim as quickly as she could, but the Skrima was faster. It caught her wrist and ripped the JDS from her grasp, then turned it, pointed it at her face, and pulled the trigger.
Nothing. It was keyed to Marcie’s handprint. She thrust her short blade through the red skin taut across the creature’s mid-section, then twisted it and forced the point upward.
She had no idea where the creature’s vital organs were, so she scrambled them all. Fist-deep in the rent flesh, she corkscrewed the blade as the Skrima silently mouthed its last words. It fell backwards and pulled Marcie with it, because it had shoved its claws through her flak jacket into her flesh. She worked her way free, tearing the wounds as she did, and fell back to sit on the ground, chest heaving with the strain.
When the power returned she could feel the nanocytes surge through her, and she used the burst of energy to lift the mech suit. When she opened the back, the groan from within told her that he was still alive. She lifted him free before
remembering to check for more Skrima.
The one she had scrambled the guts of was standing and facing her. It was covered in blood, but the snarl and the horns told her it was very much alive. Her arms were full as the creature lunged.
The jammer kicked in and the Skrima solidified. Marcie rolled away, feeling the sting as the claws raked through the back of her vest. She ingloriously dropped the warrior, dove forward, rolled, came up with her JDS, and fired. The creature was blown backward, bounced off the upright armor, and fell to the ground. Marcie dialed the weapon back to five, stalked forward, and blasted the thing’s head into oblivion.
She accessed her comm device. “Request emergency extract at my coordinates.” She left the signal active as she used the first aid kit in her backpack to put field dressings on the gashes across the warrior’s chest. His ribs glistened beneath the injuries, and his eyes fluttered as she worked.
Once she got the bleeding stopped, she put her comm device on his chest and climbed into the suit, ignoring the squish from the blood soaking the front.
She powered up the suit, closed it, and fired up the sensors. IR showed clear, and she interfaced with Smedley’s map of the planet. The closest Skrima were hundreds of kilometers away. She picked up her teammate and waited. “They’re coming,” she said reassuringly.
***
Cory flopped to the side. She had expended everything she had, and three minutes were enough to realize that he was gone.
She curled up next to him and cried. Dokken rolled up against her back to comfort her, but he knew.
Sometimes the only thing one could do was to be there, so he kept his head up and watched. He felt like he had failed once, but he didn’t intend to fail her again.
***
“Cory?” TH called. He waited for two seconds. “Smedley! Where’s that shuttle?”
“On its way. ETA is one minute. Marcie’s second team is on board the drop ship as part of a tactical leapfrog. They can provide additional assistance.”
“One minute, Cory. One more minute.” Terry looked at his comm device as if it held the answer. There was no response.
***
Fitzroy looked out from his mech suit. A private was slumped in the seat, catching a quick nap as the shuttle raced above the terrain. It jerked sideways and headed in a new direction.
“Where are we going?” Fitzroy asked.
“An emergency pickup of Cordelia, Ramses, and Dokken,” Smedley replied.
“What happened?”
“Skrima.”
Fitzroy and his teammate had come across one pair and shot them from a distance, but they hadn’t closed with any others. They were either lucky or unlucky—Fitzroy wasn’t sure which.
The drop ship descended rapidly, then flared and landed. When the ramp dropped, Fitzroy hurried out.
He slowed nearly to a stop at the heart-wrenching scene. Dokken shook his head slowly. Cory was drawn into herself.
Fitzroy took a knee next to her. “Come on, Cordelia, let me carry you both into the shuttle.” She didn’t respond, so the sergeant dug the arms of his suit beneath Ramses’ body and carefully lifted him. Cory grabbed her husband and held on as Fitzroy continued to lift.
Cory stood. The blue glow was nowhere to be seen within her sunken eyes. Dokken nuzzled her hip and hand and she followed Fitzroy onto the shuttle, then collapsed on the deck. Fitzroy stood, unsure of where to put Ramses’ body. He decided to kneel and cradle the warrior as the rear deck closed.
“Sergeant Fitzroy to Colonel Walton. Sir, Ramses is dead.”
***
Char choked, covered her face, and staggered back into the shuttle. Terry looked up at the sky with glistening eyes, immediately thinking about the first time he met Ramses and the hard time he’d given him. He had never said he was sorry.
And now he couldn’t. Terry’s mind raced. He lifted the comm device to his mouth. “Continue execution of the mission plan. Smedley, continue to vector our people to the nearest targets. All units, engage at a distance. Do not close with the Skrima. Do not.”
He let his finger off the key, watching as if he was moving in slow motion. He could smell the dust within the oppressive heat. Bundin shuffled anxiously.
“What is wrong?” he asked.
“My son-in-law is dead.” Terry heard the words, but they sounded like someone else was saying them.
“That is tragic. Are we winning?” The Podder didn’t change his tone.
Terry watched his wife sob. I should comfort her, he thought as he looked at the small doorway to the other universe. He stared at it until it filled his whole vision. He didn’t remember running.
Only arriving. He looked down and saw the JDS in his hand. He was ten yards from the Rift. He braced the pistol against his chest and fired. The pistol hammered into him as the projectile disappeared through the vortex. He fired again. Braced himself afresh and fired again. His chest throbbed in pain. Even through his ballistic vest, the JDS was punishing him.
I deserve it!
Four more times he fired into the Rift, and he screamed with pain and frustration as the Rift started to shrink. Then, without a sound, it disappeared.
“Maybe it wasn’t the Benitons who opened the doorway to hell.” Terry stood for a few seconds longer, then returned to the drop ship. It took a long time to cover the distance. When he arrived, Bundin was waiting patiently.
“Are we winning, Colonel Walton?” he asked again.
“I think we’ve won, Bundin, but the cost...” Terry dragged his hand across the Podder’s shell as he passed into the cool of the shuttle.
Char had her head between her knees, and Terry sat close enough that their hips touched. He rested his hand on the back of her ballistic vest. In silence, they sat.
Despite what he’d told Bundin, the battle continued.
“Smedley, show the movement of our forces, please,” Terry said softly.
Images populated the screen.
“All mech units. I don’t expect you to have any rockets when you return to the ship. Smedley will coordinate the firing. This has gone on long enough. And for what it’s worth, the Rift is closed. The Skrima have nowhere to go. Be wary. Trapped animals fight the hardest, for they have nothing to lose.”
***
An empty shuttle arrived and Praeter carried the half-human, half-Pricolici inside and placed her on the seats. He didn’t know why she was out cold. She was mostly uninjured from the fight with the Skrima.
He left her there and started to back out of the ship, then stopped to check the HUD. Nearest target was forty kilometers away.
“I need a ride, Smedley.” He stepped back inside and rolled his armored fist. Time to go.
“Would you like to join Colonel Marcie Walton?” Smedley asked. “She appears to be on her own too.”
“Too much territory to cover, Smedley. Thanks, but I’ll head back into the mix all by myself, as long as you recover me before nightfall. You know me—I’m afraid of the dark.” Praeter looked at Christina’s prone form. Too bad she’d missed out on a good joke.
“I don’t think you are, but sometimes I find human emotions befuddling. Are you afraid now?”
“No. There are Skrima out there that I want to introduce to Mister Pointy.” Praeter tapped his railgun.
“Then you shall,” Smedley conceded.
***
Fitzroy wasn’t sure what to do. His teammate broke out a body bag from beneath the seat and opened it, and the sergeant looked back and forth between Cory and the bag. He decided it was the right thing to do for Ramses’ dignity when the teams boarded after the fight.
“Sergeant Fitzroy. The shuttle is approaching your next drop. The deck will open in fifteen seconds,” Smedley reported in a mechanical voice.
With as much grace as he could muster wearing the armored suit, he maneuvered Ramses’ body into the bag. The unarmored warrior zipped it closed as the shuttle touched down.
“Take care of them, Dokken,” Fitzroy said un
necessarily before ducking and running from the shuttle with the other warrior trailing behind. Both carried their railguns at the ready. The enemy was near.
And they needed to pay.
Fitzroy located the targets on his HUD and adjusted his heading slightly as he ran.
The rockets over his shoulder popped out, and two of them fired. In his HUD, he watched them head toward two pairs of Skrima that were going to be on the receiving end of Federation technology. The rockets impacted without a sound that they could hear, and the IR signatures of the targets disappeared.
Fitzroy slowed to a walk and used arm signals to show where the Skrima were hiding. No longer walking in circles, they’d quickly adapted to their new circumstances.
Maybe they knew the doorway to their own dimension was closed. Maybe they didn’t care.
Neither did Fitzroy. Watch my back, he told his teammate.
He adjusted his position, aimed, and sent withering fire from his oversized railgun through a small hill into a depression beyond. When Fitzroy started to run, the only thing he could see was the devastated look on Cory’s face.
He charged into the gap where the wounded Skrima were ready to make their last stand.
Fine, he thought, and with a series of well-aimed bursts he foiled their plans for a glorious death.
***
Terry’s shuttle cruised toward the nearest IR targets. The ship descended, and Terry checked his pistol as the rear deck lowered. Plenty of ammunition remained.
He dialed the JDS back to seven and walked into the humidity of a small rainforest. “Where are they, Smedley?” Terry asked.
Bundin hurried after him. The Podder was carrying two railguns.
“One hundred meters at one o’clock to your current heading.”
Terry adjusted to his right and started looking for an opening.
“Fifty meters. One is behind the largest tree, and the second one is farther into the rainforest.”
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