The excitement! Tzaybur Lay’s twelve hearts hammered with the almost sexual thrill of bloodletting. As a Grundak, he shared his species’ love of war. With Grundak military training often being indistinguishable from war, it was no surprise that Grundaks comprised the vast majority of the Bringers’ Fist.
His Complement commandos encountered no enemy soldiers as of yet. Still, carrying out the High Cleric’s standing order to eliminate every living thing in their path in the course of achieving the mission objective gratified the Assualt Leader all the same. Those still on the station that claimed to support the High Cleric earned nothing but Tzaybur Lay’s contempt. If these so-called supporters were sincere, they would have been fighting and dying as true believers should instead of idling about, allowing heresy to fester.
Votta Ya, Tzayber Lay’s Second, fell along side his superior. “Assault Leader, I’m picking up low frequency signals. There’s too much degradation for me to determine the origins.”
“Those are enemy transmissions. Enemy soldiers are near.”
“But…are you sure, Assault Leader?”
Behind his bowl shaped helmet, Tzaybur Lay displayed a feral serrated tooth smile. A smile that gleamed challenge. “I can practically smell them. Be alert.
Votta Ya acknowledged and slid back into his place within the Complement’s formation.
Five equipment movers floated swiftly above the monorail that cut through the station. The flatbed movers carried five components comprising a Talon pulse cannon. The Talon was the Association’s premier artillery weapon. It fired a deuterium burst that was both highly penetrative and combustible. Few unshielded objects could withstand the destructive power of a Talon-launced deuterium burst. The Talon operators riding in the lead flatbed’s cab had heard stories about the near impenetrability of the Demon helpers’ metal. They were certainly hungry to match the output of their cannon against the vaunted hull of the enemy ship in the repair dock.
Hilun Gespie sat inside his Battle Shell on a bridge spanning fifty yards. A monorail ran beneath the bridge. The flatbeds transporting the cannon components were less than five minutes away. Gespie glanced at the Battle Shell beside him. “Time to pretty up, Kale.”
A laid back chuckle filled Gespie’s cockpit. “That might do me some good. I don’t know about you.”
“Are you calling me ugly?” Gespie queried with mock indignation.
Kale Riggins cleared his throat. “Uh…you said it, not me.”
“I’ll continue this interrogation later. On three…one…two…” Gespie tapped a sequence on his control board. “…three.”
Photon curtains draped over the battle shells, dousing them in camouflage. The camo blended the battle shells so well into the backdrop that they would have appeared completely invisible to the most discerning eye.
“Here they come,” Riggins announced eagerly.
Gespie methodically wrapped his fingers around the emitter control grip, as the flatbeds emerged from a tunnel and sped toward the bridge. He transmitted his Active Sight Visual to Unit Leader Baez. She was after all running the show for this operation.
“Stand by,” the PSWO operative ordered over Gespie’s private link.
Gespie uttered a terse, impatient acknowledgement. He reveled in the power of his battle shell, and could barely restrain the urge to do damage…serious damage!
Bringer’s Fist soldiers filtered into a square.
Low rise buildings fringed the open space, from where PSWO operatives lay in wait.
Twelve operatives were posted on rooftops, fifteen inside buildings at various floor levels. All had clear lines of sight on the square from every direction.
The fine hairs at the base of Tzayber Lur’s neck tingled. His enhanced visual picked up nothing unusual in the vicinity. Yet, an instinct honed by tens of thousand s of years of evolution screamed danger.
Votta Ya’s uncertain voice whispered in his helm comm. “Assault Leader…”
“I know,” Tzayber Lur inturupted, his gaze brushing over the buildings surrounding the square. “I feel it too.”
Baez was positioned on the roof of a low-rise building facing the enemy’s west flank. She rested her Core-7 on the top railing, sighted on the nearest Association soldier…”now!”
Flickering lines of solid and high-energy crossfire cut into the Bringers’ Fist soldiers…
Hilun Gespie triggered his emitters the instant Unit Leader Baez broadcast the word. A tide of energy blasted from both his emitters, raking the first flatbed mover.
Kale Riggins targeted the second and third flatbeds and a blooming conflagration consumed all three vehicles halting them in their tracks.
The fourth flatbed ran headlong into the demolished remnant of the third and its front end crumpled like paper as the rest of it flipped up and over.
Gespie and Riggins jettisoned their Battle Shells out of the way a split second before the flying flatbed came crashing down on the bridge, pulverizing its supports. Components of the Talon cannon hurtled in every direction.
The fifth flatbed swerved left to avoid the flaming pileup.
Gespie and Riggins drenched the fleeing flatbed in a shower of bolts. The flatbed knifed into the ground, dredging a fiery trench before exploding.
Hell ripped into the Bringer’s Fist Complement from above and ground level. Five soldiers dropped as a fusillade of energy-lined rounds smacked through their armor. Three more fell when completely solid projectiles pulverized their helmets.
Tzaybur was hit twice in the upper chest, but managed to initialize his armor’s power boost. He shot up fifteen feet, rotated and triggered his assault blaster. Dark and destructive iridescence poured out of his weapon’s twin barrels, hosing the surrounding buildings. Those of his Complement still upright returned fire, blasting away at an unseen enemy. The assault leader landed hard on his feet and bent to one knee. He grinned maniacally as a hail of enemy projectiles pocked his armor.
The impacts felt like hammerblows against bare skin, but he reveled in the pain and thanked the Bringers for bringing a worthy enemy into his sights. He had just the recipe for dealing with this foe. A slot in the shoulder segment of his armor retracted. Twelve diamond shaped objects ejected from the slot and flew in different directions before bursting.
Baez bit her lip in frustration. PSWO commandos opened up with everything they had. The enemy soldiers should have went down and stayed down after the first volley. Instead, their armor proved more resilient than she expected. Thirteen had fallen and were still. But it took a hell of lot of firepower to bring them down. Several staggered from multiple impacts, but remained on their feet. Indeed, they showed no signs of panic as they triggered their blasters, firing and advancing into the ambush instead of fleeing from it. One of the enemy soldiers leapt into the air. Baez shot the airborne target a half dozen times, narrowly avoiding immolation as a spray of massive energy beams swept past her, slagging part of the railing. Objects flew out of the soldier’s armor when he landed. The objects exploded, releasing dozens of finger size spikes that swarmed aimlessly before a measure of guidance took hold.
Sets of spikes darted toward areas where PSWO commandos were positioned. A set of ten spikes zeroed in on Baez. She scrambled backwards thinking they were mini-rockets. But the spikes decelerated and clattered to the surface around her.
Initially, puzzled, Baez stared at the dark gray metallic slivers. Their tips blinked a garish red light.
A warning whispered in her head. Homing munitions? She turned and ran, managing a dozen feet or so before the spikes erupted in a deafening howl of fire and turbulence. The roof collapsed beneath Baez’ feet, and she disappeared in a spewing fountain of black smoke and dust.
She couldn’t have plunged no more than three stories to ground level. Yet the rapid descent felt like a 10,000-foot free fall. Baez landed on her back. Inertial padding in her helmet and armor cushioned the impact. Baez groaned in pain. She could have used a little more padding. She wrenched herself to her feet and waded through rubble toward the building’s exit. She lost her Core 7 in the fall and didn’t have time to look for it. She unholstered her Wingstinger and burst through the exit pumping shots into the enemy soldier who launched those munitions.
She took a quick assessment of the situation. The ambush was unraveling. More explosions from those damnable munitions had forced the PSWO operatives out of position. More enemy soldiers fell as Core 7 rounds peppered their armor, but not enough to eliminate the entire force as a threat.
“Everyone advance! Advance!”
PSWO operatives emerged from various areas of concealment, firing their Core 7s as they closed in on the enemy soldiers. Four Council soldiers were knocked backwards as enemy bolts slammed into their armored bodies dead on. The rest continued forward at a methodical, undaunted pace, carbon rounds ripping from their weapons tearing chunks out enemy armor. PSWO operatives doled out rates of fire twice faster than what their opponents’ blasters could deliver. Only the durability of their armor kept the Bringer’s Fist soldiers upright longer than they should have been.
