by Lee Stephen
* * *
“Here they come!” shouted Lilan from the facility’s front entrance. Far ahead of him, the three Vultures touched earth. The colonel looked across the hallway at Feliks. The slayer was statuesque with his E-35 raised and ready. Lilan’s steely gaze returned to the transport. All at once, the three Vultures’ rear doors opened.
* * *
William’s hand cannon unloaded, sending three orange streaks soaring toward the Vulture nearest them, at the back corner of their triangular landing formation. Just as the first cluster of operatives emerged, the three blasts impacted them. There was a fiery explosion, and EDEN soldiers were rocketed through the air. Even from a distance, frantic shouting could be heard coming from inside the troop bay.
From the Vulture at point, three men emerged—two of whom wore the distinctive purple and white armor of Vector. His eyes widening, Becan shot a panicked look to William and pointed. “Vector!”
The demolitionist was unfazed. Popping around the corner again, he fired another three volleys at the same Vulture he’d just bombarded. Ducking back again and without looking at the Irishman, the stoic Southerner said, “Vector bleeds like everyone else.”
Leaning out with his assault rifle, Becan took aim at the oddball who’d emerged with the two Vectors—the only one not in purple and white armor. Laying down on the trigger, he fired a sporadic volley that peppered the earth around them. As the Vector’s Vulture lifted from the ground, leaving the three men behind, they ran for the cover of the satellite dish nearest them.
“See?” asked William, reloading his hand cannon after taking several more shots. “They run for cover just like us.”
* * *
Lilan and Feliks were firing continuously from the corners of the corridor as several distinct groups emerged from the Vultures—a scattered and disorganized group from the Vulture William had decimated, the trio of operatives from the Vulture belonging to Vector Squad, and a nearly unaffected group of what looked like two dozen soldiers from the Vulture on the far end. All in all, the Fourteenth and Falcons were about to be faced with, at bare minimum, three dozen hostiles.
Within seconds, the return fire from the EDEN operatives began. The two men ducked behind the corners of the metal door for cover as bullets ricocheted around them, zinging past them and pinging off the metal exterior—and occasionally interior hallway—of the facility. It was a full frontal assault that suppressed Lilan and Feliks completely.
Suddenly, a shot rang out from behind them inside the building—a single, deafening pop that was unmistakable in its identity. The two men could almost feel the sniper rifle’s bullet flying past them, opposite the tidal wave of E-35 rounds. Glancing behind him, Lilan watched as Jayden worked the bolt-action of his weapon. “One down,” the sniper said through his comm.
“Atta boy, Timmons,” said Lilan. “Do that about three dozen more times, and we’ll call this one a day!”
* * *
Behind the satellite dish they were using for cover, Logan, Chiumbo, and Marty readied their weapons for first charge. Peeking his head around the satellite dish, Logan scrutinized the facility entrance, ducking back again as wild suppression fire impacted the ground around him. “Looks like the building is just being held down by two men!”
A loud whiz flew past them, and all three men instinctively ducked back. A split second later, the projectile smashed against the side of the Vulture behind and to their right—the only untouched Vulture of the two that remained on the ground. Whipping his head in the direction from which the projectile originated, Chiumbo caught sight of two operatives behind a dish in the far distance. “Two more on this end, one with a hand cannon!”
“They got some heavies wit’ ’em!” said Marty, the Cajun angling around the corner of the dish with his X-111 chaos rifle. “Well, look’a dat.” Narrowing his eyes through the scope, he took aim at the operative in fulcrum armor at the front of the facility, whose shoulder was barely discernable. “Pop goes the leader.” He squeezed off a single shot.
* * *
Lilan was in the midst of shouting to Feliks when the chaos round struck him in the shoulder. The shoulder guard of his armor was blown off as blood burst forth. He screamed and toppled backward, his E-35 flying from his grasp as he landed on his back. Clutching his dysfunctional right shoulder with his left hand, he rolled back into cover.
“Colonel!” Feliks moved to assist the fallen Lilan, until Lilan held out his hand to stop him.
“No!” Lilan said, waving the slayer back into cover. “Stay back, stay back!” Speaking weakly through grimaces, he said, “Keep ’em at bay or you’ll be the next one on the ground.”
Another sniper shot rang out, followed by a pair of footsteps—Javon. E-35 ammunition dinging off the edges of his armor, the Falcon soldier grabbed Lilan by the good shoulder and pulled him out of the brunt of the fight. “Coach! You all right?”
“They got something different out there!” Lilan said as he scrambled to his feet. “That wasn’t no E-35 round.”
“I got it,” said Javon, pushing the colonel behind him. “Go back and help cover the sniper, coach. I got your boy, up here.”
Nodding as he hobbled back in pain, Lilan said, “Watch yourself, Quinton!”
Sliding into the colonel’s place, Javon leaned around the corner and fired a round toward the mounting advance. He looked across at Feliks. “This ain’t no little offensive!”
Feliks ducked back into cover after releasing another barrage. The slayer turned to Javon. “We alternate, you, then me, then you. We keep them under constant suppression.”
“You got it,” said Javon, kicking Lilan’s assault rifle in Feliks’s direction. “You gonna need that more than me!” As Feliks bent down to retrieve the weapon, Javon leaned out as instructed and laid down suppressive fire.
* * *
“Boris,” said David, “please tell me you’re making progress with that thing!”
The technician nodded as his fingers flew across the command console. “We are only minutes away! The system is rebooted and I am locating the files.”
“I am going into the fight,” said Valentin calmly. “Ensure he continues to work quickly.”
“Hey,” Boris said, whipping his head around, “where is my—” Valentin was already gone. “Helmet.” Sighing, he returned to the console.
* * *
“SO, WHAT’S DA plan, chief?” Marty asked Logan from behind the dish. All three of the men had been taking sporadic shots into the fight since landing, the bulk of the offensive temporarily left to the EDEN soldiers from the Vultures behind them, all of whom had spread out across the battlefield.
Turning his head skyward, Logan watched as Minh’s Vulture drew near to a radio tower at the far corner of the site. “Let’s get our pieces in play. We’ll go in as a unified effort.”
“Y’know, if you wanted to, you could jus’ let Chiumbo and I take ’em all out. We could do dat whole competitive thing where we all keep a kill count, and the one wit’ the least kills buys the other guy a drink.”
Ducking back after firing an effective round of suppression toward one of the demolitionists, Chiumbo chuckled. “I do not drink, my friend.”
“I know! Makes it kinda a win-win for me.”
“Look,” Logan said, pointing at the Vulture, “they’re putting Tiffin up now.”
Chiumbo and Marty followed Logan’s indication toward Minh and his V2.
* * *
Holding onto one of the rear bay door lift shafts, Lisa eased toward the end of the ramp as the Vulture floated toward the radio tower, the Essex sniper’s ponytail flapping in the wind. The tower drew nearer and nearer.
“Do you have enough room over there?” asked Sasha from behind her.
Lisa answered without looking back. “Plenty!” Letting go of the lift shaft, she charged to the end of the ramp, leaping out of the Vulture and snagging the tower’s lattice-like metal frame. Swinging around the tower, she set her feet down on
what little foot space existed under her, gripping the tower with one hand as she unslung her sniper rifle with the other. Putting her weight against the tower, she swapped the sniper rifle into her other hand, grabbing the tower with her front hand then using that arm for the rifle’s support. Her helmet visor retracted upward, and she pressed her open eye against the scope.
From the front of the Vulture, Minh looked back into the troop bay. “She on there all right?” Pablo offered the pilot a thumbs-up, and the transport eased away from the tower, veering to approach the facility from behind.
Looking down at the metal framework beneath her, Lisa coiled her back leg around the beam nearest it for extra support and steadiness. Once again, she peered through her scope. The battlefield came into view.
From her vantage point, she could clearly make out the two operatives in black armor nearest her. Their backs were to her, completely oblivious to her presence. She observed them through the scope for a moment before gently easing it over, where she could see the front of the facility. None of the outlaws inside the entranceway were in her field of vision. Once more, she glided the scope upward, peering far across the battlefield at the other demolitionist and his counterpart, far away from where she was now. Despite their cover, enough of their bodies were visible to make them easy targets.
Into the microphone, the Briton said, “All four outside targets are in sight. Shall I engage?”
* * *
Speaking through his helmet comm, Logan answered Lisa, “Hold your position for a moment—can you verify whether any of these targets could be Remington?”
“Negative,” the sniper answered, “all four are in Nightman armor, though none appear to be fulcrums.”
Chiumbo looked at Logan squarely. “There is no reason for her not to—she could end this part of the fight very quickly. The likelihood that Remington is among those in the outside defense effort is low.”
There was no hesitation from the Australian. Jaw setting, he brought the comm to his lips. “Engage.”
* * *
“Engaging,” Lisa said. Eyes narrowing over the first of her targets, the demolitionist on the far end, the sniper narrowed her eyes and placed her finger on the trigger.
* * *
TOM WAS IN THE middle of slamming in a new magazine when he heard the impact, loud and ringing, from directly behind him. Whipping his head back, his eyes widened when he saw Donald topple backward like a tree, his cousin’s body slamming limply to the ground as his hand cannon fell from his grasp. “Don!” Abandoning his defense effort, Tom scrambled to the demolitionist’s side. Donald’s sentry faceplate was blown clear apart, the large black man’s face caved in in the center of his forehead. There was no room for question. “Veck, he’s dead! My cousin’s dead!”
Spinning around, Tom darted for the cover of the dish’s base. Another gunshot rang out, and the ground behind Tom exploded a split second after he’d dashed from it.
* * *
William and Becan had both heard the sniper shots, and both men halted their efforts to pinpoint the source. By the time the second shot rang out, they knew it was coming from behind them. “Will, the tower!” Becan pointed, and William swung around with his hand cannon, raising it just in time to put it between the sniper’s line of sight and his face, his attempt to counter fire inadvertently becoming his saving grace. The bullet struck the hand cannon, blowing the weapon clear apart and knocking the demolitionist on his backside.
The Irishman didn’t bother to aim. Leaping in front of William, he aimed for the only structure high enough to give a sniper that kind of angle: the radio tower. Pulling the trigger, he sent a barrage of scattered suppression fire toward the top of the structure.
* * *
“VECK!” SAID LISA as bullets zinged beneath her, pinging and ricocheting against the tower mere meters below her feet. Resituating herself, she peered through the scope to take aim again.
Her targets were already on the run.
* * *
BECAN AND WILLIAM were bolting to the next dish over, taking a sharp angle that put the frame of the dish between them and the sniper. Another shot rang out, this one slamming into the frame of the satellite scaffolding, followed by another that whizzed so closely past Becan’s head he could swear he felt his hair move inside his helmet. The dash had also attracted the attention of the EDEN operatives nearest him, from the Vulture that William had decimated at the onset of the fight. Bullets flew past the two men from both directions, some clanging against the corners of their armor while other shots zinged past against the satellite.
Pointing frantically, Becan yelled, “Up the stairs! Into the dish!” Built into the satellite framework was a zigzagged stairwell on the side opposite the sniper’s angle. Though they’d still be under fire from the EDEN soldiers, the sniper—undoubtedly the greater threat—would have no line of sight on them.
“Get up, get up, get up!” Leaping onto the stairwell, Becan flew up, followed closely by William. More bullets struck Becan, one of which caught a clink in his armor just on his hip, though it only clipped a part of his skin. Running to the short ladder that led to the dish, he hurried up its semi-protective circular mesh, zooming up the ladder rungs as he reached up to open the dish’s trap door. As soon as it was open, the Irishman scrambled up and into it.
William was right behind him, the massive Southerner barely squeezing through the hatch as bullets continued to pelt his sentry armor. There was no doubt that had either man been in their standard EDEN armor, they’d have been felled long before reaching the dish. Just the same, they were not without injury. Though Becan had escaped with a graze, the moment William was through the hatch, he fell flat on his back and cried out, blood oozing from a wound in his torso.
Scrambling to the hatch, Becan slammed it shut then searched for some sort of hatch lock. When he saw there was none, he readied his assault rifle and took a position just to the edge of the hole, aiming downward as he shot a quick glance to William. “Will, you all right?”
Moaning in pain, the demolitionist rolled over. “I’ll live.” Removing his pistol from his holster, he looked toward the rim of the dish. The sniper once again had no angle. Falling to his knees, William buckled forward and groaned.
* * *
“Tom, get outta there, now!” shouted Javon through the comm, leaning out to fire at the collection of EDEN operatives headed in the soldier’s direction.
Quickly, Feliks intervened. “No! Stay where you are. You will not make it two steps with a sniper present.” Dropping back, he reloaded his weapon. “We will keep them from you until you can be retrieved,” he said to Tom.
Tom’s broken voice continued through the comm. “They killed him, man! They killed him!”
“Stay put,” said Javon, “so we don’t end up sayin’ the same thing about you!”
Farther back in the hall, Lilan pulled out his handgun and sat down next to Jayden, his breathing heavy as he leaned against the wall. Just to his side, Jayden continued to fire down the hallway and onto the battlefield, stating when a target was down and cursing when he missed.
Exhaling a hard breath again, Lilan looked back at Pyotr, who was still covering the rear. For the moment, Lilan had nothing to do. Sighing, he went still. “We may not survive this, Timmons.”
“We been through worse than this, colonel!” the Texan said following another ear-piercing sniper shot.
Lilan looked at him. “Worse than this?”
“Just wait and see, sir! We’ll get everyone out of here. Donald, too.”
The colonel said nothing.
* * *
BY THE TIME TIFFANY was within thirty miles of the first pair of Superwolves, six more aircraft had launched from Hong Kong—four more Superwolves and a pair of Vindicators, all of which were following the same trajectory, straight for Hami Station. Beneath her flight suit, the blond pilot was sweating bullets. Just the same, her hands were controlled on the joystick and throttle.
The
lone advantage that Tiffany had was that she was undetectable from a transponder standpoint. Though she would undoubtedly appear on their radars when she increased her altitude in what was an impending dogfight, at the very least, her low-flying approach would come as a surprise. The enemy fighters knew she was somewhere—if Hami Station had informed EDEN about the attack, they surely would have informed EDEN that both a Vulture and a Superwolf came over the mountaintop. The question of where Tiffany was located would be the unknown.
Angling her Superwolf away from straight-on contact, Tiffany began a preemptive loop in anticipation of coming up behind the first two Superwolves. EDEN’s staggered attack worked in her favor, even if she was outnumbered. She could handle a pair of fighters. It was getting hit by all eight at once that would turn an already difficult feat into an impossibility.
Soaring over the Gobi desert in her wide arc, she caught sight of the first two Superwolves, both of which appeared as miniscule streaks far up in the sky. Based on their straight-line pattern, they indeed seemed to not notice her far off to their side. It was time. Turning the stick hard in their direction and pulling the nose of the fighter up, Tiffany curled up and around to come up at their rear. The moment her altitude rose above would-be treetop, the two Superwolves reacted, each breaking hard in opposite directions, forcing her to pick one of them. The immediacy of the maneuver made her wonder if they had seen her—or at the very least were prepared for the possibility that she could show up at any moment. Opting for the fighter that’d broken on her side, Tiffany had no trouble following his turn. The speed of her Superwolf was almost daunting. It was far faster than the older-model Vindicator. As Tiffany came in behind the fighter, a voice came over the universal comm frequency.