The Lost Art of Subtlety
“We can’t hold this position!” Captain Merculia barked into her comm unit. The Jovian was taking a beating, her recently retrofitted shields on the brink of total collapse. Once they were gone then the real problems would begin. “We need to break off engagement!” she yelled.
“Negative.” Wanzay replied. “My team has now not yet achieved insertion. Your request to withdraw is denied.”
She slammed her fist against her command chair. “To hell with your team Wanzay! This is a pointless suicide mission and you know it!”
“I’m afraid Captain that however you read this situation is not my concern. You will maintain station until insertion is completed and I authorise your withdrawal.”
“We won’t last that long!” she screamed.
“Then you and your crew have my condolences captain. I’ll see to it your names are given all appropriate honours.”
Merculla clenched her fist so tight that she could feel the bones creaking beneath it. “And I’ll see to it that an appropriate seat is reserved for you in hell! The throne perhaps!” She slammed the comm controls and the line went dead. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of having the last word.
“Captain!” her watch hand called. “Shields have failed!”
“Damn you Wanzay.” she cursed under her breath.
• • •
“Hold on!” Lucy yelled. “This ain’t exactly gunna be subtle!”
Tom clung to the upper canopy of the Banshee, all four of his limbs pressed hard against it as the magnetic clamps locked him in place. Before them loomed the CCS. It’s shields were down and its hangar bay exposed. The Jovian, now a crashed wreck upon the surface of Rhodes, had done its job. Too late did the battlecruiser seem to realise the banshee streaking towards it wasn’t friendly. Its point defence cannons began to warm, but Lucy was gunning it as hard she could. Before the guns could even finish charging, the Banshee careened past their effective firing range. The shield of the hangar bay hummed over them. They were in.
Tom detached himself from away from the Banshee and fell away towards the hanger below. Lucy aimed the banshee away towards a parked phantom and bailed out herself. The resulting collision and following explosion lit up the hangar in a brilliant purple light. Tom paid it no mind. Pulling his rifle loose he hit the deck and immediately began picking targets. Two Jackals and a squad of Grunts slumped to the ground dead in front of him. The hanger became a confused battlefield as the burning wreckage of the Phantom crashed into the deck, angry needles and green gnats swarmed the air, and the sound of dying aliens filled the room.
Tom minced his way through alien after alien until he found himself back at Lucy’s side. “We need to move.” he said. A green acknowledgement light answered him. The two of them began retreating to the nearest door. Tom turned around to play with the controls. “Cover me! I’ll get it open!” Lucy took a position over him and continued firing at the now significantly thinned out remains of the deck crew.
A few button presses later and the door cycled open. Tom barely had enough time to launch sideways into Lucy and knock her out of the way of the Brute Chieftain that stormed out of the door, slashing at her with the blade end of a Brute Shot. The two of them hit the deck. Tom immediately bounced back up and leapt at the giant alien, wrapping himself around the Brute’s arm before it could recover from its swing. The Chieftain roared and dropped its weapon. It reached over with its now free hand and grabbed him. It gave a single mighty wrench, strong enough to rip Tom free of his grapple. It promptly launched him clear across the deck.
Tom crashed to the deck and felt the armour attempting to compensate for some kind of internal damage. But with the adrenaline pumping through him he couldn’t tell what exactly. Pushing that problem aside he rebounded onto his feet, preparing for the Brute to rush him. Instead he found it struggling with Lucy who had somehow managed to wrap her legs around its head. The Brute was trying to toss her off, and Lucy seemed to be trying to crush its windpipe with her thighs.
Tom charged forward himself and struck it dead in the torso. The creature stumbled back and howled with pain, but continued standing, still desperately trying to remove Lucy from its neck. Rather than give it a chance to recover, Tom started launching blow after blow into its chest with his fists. It finally stumbled backward and collapsed to its knees, gasping for air. Before Tom could start hammering its head, his shield began flaring. Turning around he saw that what few forces remained in the hangar had rallied to help the stricken Chieftain. He muttered a curse and span around to face the couple of Grunts, and the swarm of Buggers, that had materialised behind them. Tom activated his thrusters and punched himself sideways.
The resulting kick from the manoeuvre sent a lance of pain down his right side. At least he now knew what his armour was compensating for. Ignoring the pain he levelled his rifle and fired. Two Grunts slumped dead but the hail of fire coming his way was too great. Tom’s shields sparked and failed. He was completely exposed. Green splashes of plasma started boiling away at his armour. The thermal regulators began attempting to compensate for the rapid increase in temperature but couldn’t quite match the rapid exchange.
Still Tom kept firing. Six Grunts now lay dead, but three still stood and the Buggers were still buzzing around. There were simply too many guns shooting at him. A grenade flew past him and landed amongst the surviving Grunts. Then a hand grabbed him from behind and yanked him backward through the door. Bolts of hissing plasma continued to fly through the closing hatch until it sealed closed. A moment later there was a dull thud followed by silence.
Tom looked up to see Lucy leering over him, her hands tracing the damage to his armour. He couldn’t help but notice the stiffness in her left arm.
“I told you.” she grumbled. “Your not allowed to die.” He couldn’t suppress a bark of laughter, followed by a groan of pain. “Nearly melted through in three areas…” she murmured. ”...major damage to shield projectors across the torso and arms... and it looks like the right side is over pressurised to compensate for a few broken ribs.”
“So not too bad then.” he joked. She turned her head to look at him. Her visor stared into him. “Not too bad.” she agreed.
“Good. Then let’s get moving.” he said standing up. “I’m sure we’ll have more friends arriving shortly.” Lucy spent a moment giving him a look. Then she nodded, turned, and ran off down the corridor. He followed close on her heels.
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