A few unarmed Hrūll, apparently workers maintaining the station for the raiders, fell prey to the Terran onslaught as Jago and Captain Mitchell made quick work of them, with Doc Taylor trailing behind, trying to keep up, stumbling over the dead Hrūll. The constant stream of robotic workers droning back and forth along the centre of the street was a major distraction, and the clanking and buzzing of machinery made it difficult to hear any approaching guards, keeping everyone on edge.
The central structures gave way to crossing paths every two hundred meters or so, connecting the two primary passages together. With Marcus’ team having traveled further up ahead, Mitchell’s fireteam had little choice but to keep on moving. Halfway up the station they came upon a junction with a massive crane-like contraption on a sliding base, connected to two sets of rail systems hanging from the ceiling, one set spanning the width of the outpost, the other running the refinery’s length, hanging right above the row of structures at the outpost’s center.
Stark shadows filled every corner, keeping potential lurkers veiled from view. A series of spiraling staircases led up to the massive crane system every few hundred meters. With so many precarious positions and the possibility of snipers lurking in every corner, Mitchell felt compelled to slow their advance, ordering his team to take cover while he assessed the situation.
* * * * *
Having run into a small ambush a short distance ahead of the looming crane system, Marcus knelt behind a load of abandoned crates. Taz huddled beside him, staying clear of the golden energy bolts zipping dangerously overhead. Reid had managed to sneak away in the initial chaos and had slipped into a narrow side alley, slanting upwards. He crept along a narrow catwalk that protruded from the alley, bolted to the outside of the buildings that ran along the street like an overextended balcony, two stories overhead. The dark-skinned clone maneuvered his way deftly into position, his sniper rifle slung over his back as he crawled out into the open.
A team of four Hrūll had taken cover behind a pair of load-lifters in the middle of an intersection barely fifty meters ahead, disabling the machines’ motors to use them as a roadblock. The enemy fire – thin beams of light that flew so quickly that they were barely visible – was so thick that Marcus didn’t dare stick his head out, in fear of having it blown clean off. Bolts of energy blasted off the walls of a nearby structure, leaving singed holes in the metal plating.
“What I wouldn’t give for a grenade!” Taz cursed, ducking to narrowly escape a bolt which flew into the side of his crate.
“We’re inside a space station Taz,” Marcus countered. “I don’t think using grenades would be the smartest thing to do!”
They watched helplessly as Reid cleared the corner of the catwalk, leaning over the edge and readying his sniper rifle.
“Looks like the Rev’s got this one under control,” Taz noted.
“Let’s make sure it doesn’t go to waste,” Marcus ordered, inching closer to the corner of the crate, getting ready to provide Reid with covering fire.
The sniper took aim, carefully studying their opponents for signs of a leader. He eventually took aim on a brute who seemed more content barking orders than focusing on his weapon. Reid checked his grip on his weapon, curled his finger around the trigger, and carefully controlled his breathing. At such short range he could barely miss. The shot went off, tearing through the neck of his intended target, whose blood-curdling screams as he fell backwards cut through the clatter of the passing worker drones.
Reid immediately started moving to reposition himself, but it was already too late. The other Hrūll had noticed him, and instantly focused their fire on the narrow catwalk. Sensing the opportunity, Marcus pushed himself to his feet, peering over the edge of his cover, letting loose a hail of rounds in the aliens’ direction.
Still, the covering fire did little to dissuade their opponents, who relentlessly fired bolt after bolt of energy in Reid’s direction. The sniper roared in agony as one of the bolts nicked his knee, melting straight through most of his metallic armor. He rolled over onto his back, grabbing at his leg, biting down hard on his lip to withstand the pain.
Taz let out a roar of his own at the sight of his wounded comrade, emptying his clip at the three remaining Hrūll, who finally ducked for cover under the scout’s accurate barrage. After a second of stillness, during which Taz frantically changed magazines, a bolt of golden energy suddenly blew through one of the supports holding up the catwalk, followed closely by another.
Marcus realized what their change in tactics portended. Firing from the safety of the cover provided by the load-lifters where Marcus and Taz couldn’t target them, they intended to bring Reid down to their level.
Marcus frantically scanned his surroundings, hoping to find something he could use to their advantage. It didn’t take long for a plan to form.
“Cover me!” he yelled as he ran past Taz, jumping out of cover.
Startled, Taz grabbed at his friend to pull him back into safety, but he was too late. Marcus jumped straight into the steady stream of robotic workers, grabbing hold of one of the larger drones, carrying a large crate filled with canisters, as it rumbled past on large metallic wheels. With one hand he held on tight to the drone’s exoskeleton, readying his weapon with the other as the drone raced towards the edge of the Hrūll barricade.
To his astonishment, Taz saw that the Hrūll had missed Marcus’ bold move entirely, still focusing on the unfortunate Reid, who was frantically rolling around on the catwalk above, trying to keep from getting hit. Taz fired off a few volleys to try and buy his comrades some time, but their assailants remained unshaken.
As the drone approached the barricade, it veered off to the right, not only shielding Marcus even further from view, but aligning him neatly with the exposed side of the Hrūll roadblock. He only had a few seconds to react before the drone would speed him on his way, so he had to make sure to make them count. He aimed his carbine, training it on where the Hrūll’s tight formation would appear when the drone carried him past... then he squeezed the trigger. His weapon roared, firing off round after round in what seemed, to Marcus, to be a never-ending torrent.
Then, all too quickly, he was whisked away by the big robotic worker, and Marcus couldn’t even be sure whether he had hit his targets or not. He jumped off the drone, rolling on the floor until he came to a stop at the end of the intersection, drone after drone racing past him.
Marcus scanned the Hrūll barricade and, in between the speeding worker drones, he saw that none of his targets were left standing. As the smoke cleared, he saw Taz running over to help Reid down the closest staircase. He was limping profusely, clutching the short clone’s shoulder and weighing him down. He got back on his feet and ran to the others, hoping Reid’s injuries wouldn’t be too severe.
“Damn it,” Reid bellowed as Marcus reached them. “Why am I always the one who gets hurt?”
Chapter 26
Crouching behind a large pipe belching what he desperately hoped was only steam, Captain Mitchell spotted a few more refinery workers dashing into a structure up ahead. Jago leaned up against the wall behind him, brandishing his machinegun and awaiting further orders. Doc Taylor was crouched behind a towering crate at the opposite side of the street.
It felt like the calm before the storm. Their eyes probed frantically, peering into dark corners in the hope of spotting any would-be attacker before they spotted the lurking Terrans. There was nothing. Aside from the swarm of drones whizzing past them at every turn and the periodical release of the steam valve, the area around the crane appeared to be completely vacant.
“Can’t be too careful,” Mitchell quipped, rising out of cover.
Instantaneously a single focused bolt of searing energy shot through the air, narrowly missing the captain shoulder as it slammed into the wall behind him. The team ducked back into cover as they frantically scanned for the origins of the shot. Judging by the trajectory, Mitchell realized it had to have come from somewhere high u
p, and saw immediately that strategically their location was less than ideal.
As a team of guards began pouring from one of the structures up ahead and more bolts of energy started flying in their direction, things began to look grim.
* * * * *
“Taz, you have to take him back to the ship,” Marcus ordered, eyeing Reid’s badly wounded knee.
Fortunately the bolt of energy had singed the flesh, effectively cauterizing the wound, but given the amount of pain Reid was in, and the sniper’s inability to walk on his own, Marcus felt it best to get him back safely as soon as possible.
“No way, Corporal!” Reid protested. “You’ll need the added firepower more than you need a good pair of legs.”
Marcus bit his lip. He knew that Reid’s stubbornness would not be easy to overcome, and as he began hearing shots in the distance, that he wouldn’t get much time to argue.
“Alright,” he conceded. “I’ll go ahead. You two follow up behind me as fast as you can. I have a feeling the captain’s stirring up trouble.”
Without waiting for their reply, Marcus ran off as fast as he could, ducking and weaving between the busy drone traffic. As he cleared the next corner of the intersection, ducking into the other street, he spotted a large crowd of guards, maybe eight or ten strong, rushing to take cover behind one of the massive crane system’s vertical support beams. Pausing briefly to gain his bearings, he saw Captain Mitchell and Jago pinned down behind a stand of pipes nearly a hundred meters away in the steam, and unable to react. Moving so much as a few centimeters would put them in harm’s way. The bolts of energy sizzling through the damp air from up above alerted him to the presence of the sniper. Fortunately, none of the Hrūll had yet taken notice of his arrival, but he had to act fast.
Marcus darted across the way and jumped on top of a small platform holding a ladder which ran up the side of the crane’s support structure. He knew that if he could take out the sniper, they’d have a much better chance of taking out the rest. His heart was pounding, all of his muscles tensed up as he pulled himself higher and higher with a firm grip. As he climbed the rungs, coming up just under the crane unit itself, he looked down to inspect the scene.
Behind the aliens’ barricade of metal crates crouched a Hrūll who appeared even more formidable than the others. He wore black metallic plating over his chest and a matching helmet with a yellow visor rather than the thick black cloth of the others’ uniforms. Marcus counted eight more Hrūll surrounding him, firing off volleys in Captain Mitchell’s direction while their leader shouted orders left and right. One of the guards was finishing assembling what appeared to be a large piece of weaponry from several components he’d pulled from a nearby case. Its body was a bulky piece of hard-edged metal, with a prominent grip protruding from its underside near the front, housing the firing mechanism. Though mostly dark gray in color, a pair of slanting, faded-orange stripes encircled its front end, near where its inverted semi-spherical barrel protruded from the boxy casing of the main body. Once the weapon had been fully assembled, the guard handed it over to his leader, who swung the finished object up onto his shoulder, taking aim at Captain Mitchell’s position.
Their cover may have protected them from small arms fire, even the searing laser blasts, but given the sheer bulk of the weapon mounted on the Hrūll leader’s shoulder Marcus realized that if he didn’t do something quickly this might be the end of Mitchell’s fireteam.
“Captain, run!” he shouted into his helmet comms, his voice carrying further than he’d planned, drawing the startled Hrūll’s attention to himself.
The astonished Hrūll leader span to face him, and suddenly a continuous beam of energy blasted out of the huge shoulder-mounted cannon, tearing through the platform below Marcus and trailing off to the structures on the opposite side of the street. Captain Mitchell and the others used the opportunity to get to safety, Jago using the butt of his weapon to smash through the large window pane behind them so they could jump into the structure for cover. Seeing them escape, Marcus gave a short cheer. He’d bought them the time they needed to get to safety.
So focused was Marcus on what was happening below him that he didn’t notice the fist that came hurtling down towards him. As the Hrūll sniper’s blow made contact with Marcus’ helmet, the force of the punch threw him off guard, making him lose his grip on the ladder. Completely stunned, Marcus flailed his arms, hoping desperately to grab a hold of anything to stop his fall. His heart stopped momentarily. He felt his stomach pushing up against his chest as he plummeted.
Finally, his fingers connected with the rungs just half a meter below his original position. His, carbine which had been slung over his shoulder, nearly slipped off, and it would have fallen down to the deck some twelve meters below had its sling not tangled on his chestplate.
The alien sniper made out a low grunting sound as he turned to reclaim his rifle from where it had been laid out on the deck of the crane’s cab above. As Marcus struggled to gather his composure, the Hrūll turned and stood over the gap in the platform through which the ladder climbed, aiming his rifle straight at the clone below, with barely a meter between the muzzle of the barrel and Marcus’ head. The alien tickled the trigger as if toying with him, delaying the kill, still as expressionless as his race ever was.
Marcus was stuck, hanging from the ladder with his carbine still hanging awkwardly off his shoulder and his sidearm safely holstered on his hip. Frantically he searched for a solution, anything he could do to stave off his impending doom. As the alien above him slowly began squeezing the trigger on his weapon, leaning forward to deliver the shot that would no doubt remove Marcus’ head from his shoulders, the Hrūll experienced a stroke of truly awful luck.
As he leant forward to ensure his shot was accurate, Marcus’ would-be killer snagged his boot on what appeared to be a loose bolt on the crane’s deck, causing him to lurch awkwardly forward. Suddenly, the rifle’s long barrel was no longer a meter away, but only a hair’s breadth from Marcus’ fingers, clutching the rung above him. Instinctively, he heaved his body up with his left hand and grabbed at the muzzle of the rifle with his right, pulling on it with all of his might and the weight of his body and gear.
As the astonished Hrūll came crashing down through the open hatch, he barely had time to let out a muddled cry before impacting on the hard surface below. Marcus gasped, clinging to the ladder in shock. He couldn’t believe his luck, though the sudden hail of golden bolts fired in his direction from the barricade below sent him rushing up the ladder as fast as he could and into the crane’s cab for cover.
Though from his vantage point, Captain Mitchell hadn’t been able to see what had transpired, the resounding crash had prompted him to take action. He’d spurred Jago forward, the two of them rushing out the door of the building they’d taken shelter in, guns blazing as they ran clear across the street. His instincts had proven true as the sniper’s sudden death had created just the diversion he had been hoping for. As the barrage of bullets raged over the barricade, two of the Hrūll fell limp to the ground, blood gushing from open wounds.
Marcus suddenly noticed a wheeled cart being pushed directly out into the intersection. It was made entirely out of metal plating and looked like it was designed to carry heavy machine parts. Inside it, Reid prepared his rifle for combat while Taz panted as he pushed the cart from behind with all of his strength. Spotting their approach, Jago and the captain immediately ran over to join them, jumping behind the moving cart for cover. Bolts of energy slammed into the cart’s flank, showering the entire intersection with sparks.
Marcus let out a sigh of relief. Fortune was finally in their favor. With the focus now shifted back to the others, he began aiming his carbine down at the enemy barricade. Although he understood that the aliens were surprised and surrounded, he still couldn’t believe his luck. He had a clear view. He pulled the trigger, emptying his entire clip down upon the crouching Hrūll.
Without even waiting to see how many he�
��d hit, he immediately dropped to the deck of the cab just as a bolt of energy tore through the window, leaving a gaping hole in the roof of the crane’s housing. He knew he wouldn’t get another shot off from the same vantage point, so he began to reposition himself. He crawled back to the ladder, slung his carbine over his shoulder and slid down the rails to the ground below, as quickly as he could.
Captain Mitchell and the others laid down covering fire to cover his retreat as he ducked into a nearby alleyway. For once the Hrūll didn’t return fire. There was no response. The only sounds they heard were those of the perpetual grinding ambiance of the refinery.
“Captain,” Reid muttered from within the body of the cart. “I’ve got an itch.”
“You’re not the only one,” Mitchell grunted in reply.
Hoping that the alleyway would allow him to double back and flank the Hrūll, Marcus had unfortunately run into a dead end. As he returned, he snuck carefully out of the alleyway in an attempt to catch a glimpse of what their opponents were planning. He could barely see them, but it looked as if their leader were speaking into a small comm device embedded into his wrist guard.
As he peered through the clutter chocking the intersection, Marcus suddenly felt a strange sensation. It was as if he were suddenly getting heavier, barely noticeable at first, but the feeling intensified with each passing moment.
“Zokava rokutti nii-kaäsi totsubunu,” a resounding voice boomed from the refinery’s intercom.
All the muscles in Marcus’ body began to tense. The veins on his neck popped out as he began to buckle under the pressure. He’d experienced high gravity on Ga’ouna, but this went far beyond anything he’d felt there. He could see the others experiencing the same peculiar feeling across the intersection, visibly perplexed.
Merillian: 2 (Locus Origin) Page 18