by Ryk Brown
“This is not good,” Dylan repeated.
“You really have to stop saying that,” Vladimir insisted.
More flashes of blue-white light flooded the dense forest. Jessica paused momentarily, turning to see four Reapers descending toward the very fairway on which they were planning to meet and hopefully use as an evac point. Reapers meant spec-ops. EDF marines were one thing: brutal, aggressive, and fearless. But their training was incomplete from a Ghatazhak’s perspective, and most lacked the ability to see how the battle might unfold with each possible decision. Spec-op assault teams were a different story. Marines used numbers: the more fire teams, the better. Spec-op assault teams preferred to keep it simple, and each member was trained to operate on their own, as well as within a group. Marines constantly talked to one another, while spec-ops kept comm-chatter to an absolute minimum. Despite the fact that there was no real comparison, spec-ops were as close to Ghatazhak as the Earth Defense Force had. They would complicate matters.
Screams. Female screams. Jessica turned again, trying to localize the sound. Another scream and she zeroed in, barely able to make out four marines dragging Lynne from the creek. She immediately deduced that Nathan could not be far and moved toward the screams. She doubted that Nathan would be able to leave her behind, and she intended to have his back when he attacked.
Vladimir studied the tactical display as incoming bolts of plasma peppered their shields and rocked their ship. Additional red icons were appearing every few seconds, each of them changing course as they arrived. “They’re attempting to create a secure perimeter around them,” he realized. “They’ve got at least twenty Super Eagles and six Reapers deployed.”
Mori shifted his controls, causing his gun turret to rotate to the right, tracking one of the attacking fighters as it passed to starboard. “Reapers mean spec-ops!” he told Vladimir.
“No one can hold off that many troops for long,” Deeks commented from the ventral gun turret. “Not even Nash and Vasya.”
The Super Eagle that Mori was targeting banked hard left, inadvertently turning into Mori’s stream of plasma, its shields flashing brightly with each impact. A split second later, the target pitched up and jumped away. “We gotta get to them before it’s too late,” he urged.
“Feet dry in ten seconds,” Vladimir announced. “Check your fire. The entire area is heavily populated.”
“This is not good,” Dylan repeated.
Vladimir looked at Dylan crossly.
“Sorry.”
Nathan crested the opposite slope and thought he had a clear path of escape. Unfortunately, two marines had split off from their fire team and had cut across a neighboring green to intercept their targets.
Fortunately for Nathan, their eagerness overwhelmed their common sense, and they fired too soon, their initial shots missing him by mere centimeters.
Nathan side-stepped, knowing their second shots would be more accurate. He felt a sudden pain in his right shoulder as another bolt of energy grazed his lateral deltoid. The force caused Nathan’s first shot to miss its target, but not his second, which landed squarely in the marine’s chest. Follow-up shots found the man’s unprotected neck, and then his face shield, and the soldier fell in agony, unable to breathe.
Nathan charged toward the second marine, who was still firing. He fired two shots, the first one missing and the second striking the marine’s weapon. The weapon instantly became too hot to hold, and the marine dropped it, reaching for his combat knife without hesitation.
Nathan dove at the man, driving his left shoulder into the marine’s chest armor. Their kinetic energy nearly equal, the forward advance of both men was stopped, and they fell to the ground, still entangled. Somehow, Nathan managed to end up on top, but the marine already had his knife hand in the air, preparing for a life-ending blow to Nathan’s back.
As if he could feel what the young soldier was about to do, Nathan rolled to his right onto his injured shoulder, causing a blast of mind-numbing pain to surge through him. He rolled further, dismounting the marine and continuing his roll to gain enough separation to scramble to his feet and face the young warrior.
The marine was well trained, already back on his feet and in combat position, knife hand at the ready. Nathan remembered his own knife, which Jessica had given him after liberating it from a fallen marine, and pulled it from the back of his belt.
The marine charged, jabbing at Nathan with practiced precision, but Nathan successfully blocked the parry. The force with which the young marine attacked was frightening and quite different than his practice sessions with Kit. Just the act of blocking caused pain. But his adrenaline, which was already at a high, was rapidly increasing, numbing and electrifying his body.
The marine attacked again, driving his knee into Nathan’s side, causing him to bend in response to the kinetic energy of the blow. Nathan jabbed at the marine with his knife, but it deflected off of his opponent’s torso armor.
The marine spun around, raising his foot in the air so that it struck Nathan in the same side, weakening him further.
Jessica’s words flashed through his mind. Most people use overwhelming aggression and force to defeat an opponent.
The marine spun again in the same direction, this time his free hand coming around in a fist, striking Nathan in the side of his jaw.
A Ghatazhak does not allow aggression to cloud his judgment, but rather to fuel his desire to succeed.
Nathan did not feel like he was succeeding, as another blow hit him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Again the marine slashed out at Nathan with his knife. Nathan tried to bend backward, hunching slightly to get his chest out of the path of the man’s blade, but the tip sliced through his clothing, finding the skin beneath.
A searing pain sliced across Nathan’s chest as he fell backward. Stunned, he nearly missed the marine diving knife-first toward his face. Nathan rolled to his left, the knife slicing through his right earlobe before plunging deep into the ground.
Opportunity, and the ability to predict its arrival, is a Ghatazhak’s greatest weapon.
Still on his back, Nathan tossed his own knife upward with his right hand, catching it with his left, thus freeing his right arm to attack. And attack he did, rolling back to his right and driving his elbow into the side of the marine’s head just below his helmet line.
The man was caught off guard, his head whipped to the side by the blow. Nathan continued his roll, bringing his left hand around and jabbing his knife into the soldier’s right flank, just below his torso armor. Blood spurted from the young man’s wound, and he cried out in pain. But he was not down, and he certainly wasn’t out.
The marine pulled his knife from the ground, slashing to his back right in a weak attempt to catch Nathan’s head with his blade.
Nathan somehow managed to roll back over in the opposite direction, then raised his right leg and drove his foot into the man’s head, knocking him away. Nathan then righted himself, scrambling on his hands and knees, knife still in his left hand, to get on top of the marine again. He raised both hands to deliver a final blow, but the man had managed to twist himself over to face his attacker, bringing both hands up to block the arms driving the knife down toward him.
Now they were locked in combat, the marine’s hands on Nathan’s wrists, trying with all his might to prevent his own demise.
Nathan could feel the warmth across his chest as he bled profusely from his gaping wound. He could feel his strength slowly leaving his body.
A Ghatazhak refuses to accept that his own death is a possibility, and therefore continues to fight as if his victory is assured, until his own life ends.
Summoning all of his strength, Nathan forced his knife closer to the marine, guiding its tip toward the young man’s unprotected neck. The marine’s eyes widened, his face locked in a horrible expression as he realized he was about to lose the batt
le.
Nathan didn’t even notice the resistance the young man’s skin and tissues offered as he advanced the knife into his throat. There was a gurgling sound; blood spurting from the wound with each beat of the marine’s heart as the knife drove deeper with each passing second. The young man fought for every centimeter, until the hilt of Nathan’s knife was finally against the front of his throat.
Nathan felt the young man’s grip weaken, after which the marine’s hands fell to the sides. Nathan sat up, still straddling the dying man, staring at the marine’s face as the young man took his final breath.
Nathan expected to feel guilt, but there was none. As misguided as he might have been, this soldier had made a choice to blindly follow the orders of a madman.
At that moment, he knew what he had to do.
Finally having a clear line of sight on the marines who were dragging Lynne up the embankment, Jessica opened fire as she ran, dropping two of them with her first two shots. But the other two returned fire in the blink of an eye, forcing Jessica to dive for cover.
The sound of energy weapons fire from an unexpected direction caught Kit’s attention, causing him to change course toward the battle. For several seconds, he ducked branches and leapt over small shrubs, weaving through the woods with skill.
As he crested a small rise in the terrain, he spotted two marines vying for their own cover, one of them dragging Lynne behind him. Kit immediately fired, dropping the nearest combatant.
Jessica took aim at the remaining marine, but the man spotted her and moved Lynne in front of him.
“Drop it!” Jessica shouted.
“I’ll kill her!”
“Let her go, and I won’t kill you!” Jessica told the marine.
“No way in hell!” the marine replied.
Nathan reached the trail and ran out onto the bridge, spotting the marine holding Lynne. He was facing Jessica, who had her weapon trained on him. But the marine didn’t realize Nathan was there.
He drew his weapon, took aim, and pressed the trigger, but nothing happened. He looked at the weapon, noticing that it was blinking red. Something was wrong with it.
Kit knew that Jessica had a difficult if not impossible shot. Had she been carrying a Ghatazhak weapon, she could probably have taken out the marine without so much as singeing Lynne’s hair. But the marine weapons were designed for all-out assault, with much wider and much hotter beams.
He needed to do something, and he needed to do it quickly.
“This is your last warning!” Jessica shouted, hearing the sound of more marines approaching. She raised her weapon by a few centimeters, taking final aim at the soldier’s face. The marine did the same.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream sounded in the distance, echoing through the moonlit woods.
“MARINE!”
The marine instinctively turned toward the cry, just as a knife struck him in the face, driving through his jaw and shattering his teeth.
The marine released his grip on Lynne, allowing her to fall free as he instinctively reached for his face with both hands.
At that moment, Jessica fired, burning a hole in the opposite side of the marine’s face, sending him to the ground in a smoldering heap.
Kit came charging up, his weapon trained on the unmoving body, just in case.
“Nice throw,” Jessica congratulated, helping Lynne up.
“It wasn’t me,” Kit assured her, pointing upstream.
Jessica turned and spotted Nathan, standing on the bridge and pointing to the right.
“Our ride’s here!” he yelled from the bridge. “Move out!”
Jessica looked at Kit. “Damn.”
“I know,” Kit replied, grabbing Lynne’s other arm to help her along.
Dylan stared out the front windows as the treetops passed under the Voss’s nose, only a meter or two from scraping the underside of their hull.
“That’s gotta be them,” Vladimir announced, studying the tactical display.
“How can you tell?” Dylan wondered.
“Four dots, and everyone else is trying to surround them,” Vladimir explained. “Set us down on the next fairway, but spin around so the ramp is facing them,” he added as the incoming fire intensified.
“Easy for you to say.”
More blue-white flashes appeared above the fairway, after which additional red icons appeared on the tactical display.
“Things are about to get ugly,” Vladimir warned everyone.
Josh turned toward the newly arriving Super Eagles, opening fire and releasing a flurry of rockets at the same time.
“Josh, Loki!” Vladimir called over comms. “Attack the Reapers! If they land, we’re never going to get them out of there!”
“Those Eagles aren’t going to let us!” Josh argued as he wrestled with his controls, trying to get his damaged ship to maneuver.
“Let us worry about the Eagles!” Vladimir insisted. “Just get those Reapers out of here!”
“This is fucking insane!” Josh exclaimed, forcing his lethargic fighter into a left turn in an attempt to bring his nose around toward the four Reapers trying to block the Voss’s landing.
As he yawed around, a flurry of rockets streaked overhead, slamming into two of the Reapers. One of them lost all shields and was forced to abort and jump away. The second shuttle, although not yet aborting their landing, was turning to fire at Josh when a second volley of rockets slammed into it, but from a slightly different angle than before.
“What the…”
“Sidestepping, baby!” Loki cried out over comms as his Lightning streaked over Josh’s canopy, yawed right, and opened fire on the other two Reapers.
“Nicely done, Lok!”
“Are you going to do some of that crazy pilot shit or what?” Loki wondered.
“I’m afraid I’ve got some damage, bud,” Josh replied. “She’s flying like an old lady.”
“Then jump the hell out of there, and we’ll pick you up on the way out!”
“No can do,” Josh replied. “Jump drive is nothing but red lights. It’s all I can do to keep the damned thing flying!”
The away team reached the edge of the woods just as the Voss descended in over the fairway, taking heavy fire from both ground and air forces as she hovered ten meters above the grass.
“We’re never going to reach her!” Jessica yelled as she poured energy weapons fire toward the marines to her left.
“We need air support!” Kit replied, firing to the right.
All of a sudden, a P-Seventy-Two appeared in a blue-white flash of light to the left of the XK and less than a meter off the ground. It yawed from left to right, firing on the marines preventing the away team from reaching the Voss.
“Take cover!” Jessica warned, dropping to the ground as the rain of energy weapons fire from the Lightning approached their position. Luckily, the P-Seventy-Two’s pilot had the presence of mind to take his finger off the trigger for a split second as his nose swept past the away team. After that, he continued firing, lighting up the marines attacking them from the left.
“Now that’s air support!” Kit declared victoriously.
“We’re going to have to drop shields to let them in!” Vladimir warned as the Voss yawed around. “You need to get out of there, Mori. They’ll target you first when the shields go down!”
“Wait!” Marcus urged over the intercom. “I have an idea!”
Marcus slung the modified boomer over his shoulder as he ran back to the Ghatazhak equipment locker and grabbed one of their standard issue sidearms. He then returned to the massive open end of the deck, pausing to ensure that the ship-side end of his safety tether was still attached.
As the ship continued yawing around, Marcus stumbled clumsily out onto the horizontal ramp, doing his best to avoid losing his balance on the pitching ramp and
tumbling off the side. The last thing he needed was to be dangling off the side of the ramp at the end of a tether, especially with EDF marines shooting at them from below.
Once he was far enough out, he turned around to face the Voss, raised his weapon, took aim, and fired. His first shot missed, reflecting off the hull. The second took out a chunk of hull just below an external power conduit. It was the third shot that found its mark, slamming into one of the shield emitters and sending sparks flying.
“What the hell is he doing?” Jessica wondered, staring up at Marcus shooting at his own ship.
“He’s bringing down the aft shields,” Nathan realized, laughing.
“That is one crazy old man,” Kit commented, shaking his head.
Dylan had been watching the aft camera view on the center display, in order to know when their back end was facing the away team. But what he saw wasn’t what he’d expected. “What the hell is he doing?” he exclaimed as he watched Marcus firing at his own ship.
A warning alarm sounded, and a light flashed red on the systems status display along the top edge of the forward console.
“We just lost one of the aft shield emitters,” Dylan realized.
The ship rocked as two more Super Eagles jumped in behind the ones that had just passed, attacking the Voss’s forward shields in the same fashion as their predecessors.
“How can that be?” Dylan continued. “All the fighters have been attacking our forward shields, and there’s no way ground-fire is getting through them.” The warning light flashed again. “We just lost another one!”
Vladimir laughed out loud. “It’s Marcus! He’s taking out our aft shield emitters!”