Got you, asshole.
Heedless of the weapons fire being exchanged, her rage a living thing inside her, Katelyn hoisted the rocket launcher back up to her shoulder and triggered its safety. Just as the reticle lined up with the Marine, he turned, staring straight at her.
The amplified imagery provided by the rocket launcher allowed her to see his face, partially obscured by his helmet’s faceplate. It was almost as if he locked eyes with her for a moment, his piercing grey ones boring straight into hers.
He mouthed something, a curse. She laughed as she read his lips, the moment broken.
‘Hell’ would have been the more appropriate word, you sodding piece of shit, because that’s where I’m about to send you.
She pulled the trigger, the rocket speeding toward him. Then it was her turn to curse as she realized why he’d stood there, unmoving. He’d been waiting for the rocket to launch before throwing his body sideways to evade the oncoming missile.
She ducked as a bullet pinged against the side of the ship, and she retreated back into cover.
You think you’re such a badass? Oh, it’s on now, asswipe.
Katelyn dropped the launcher as she passed by its case, heading for the weapons station from which she could control the ship’s autoturrets.
She dropped into the cradle, the mounted guns’ holo shimmering into existence when she flipped the weapons to active. She manipulated the view, burying her hands into the interface as she sent the sensors sweeping the lot.
Gotcha.
The Marine was advancing on the SWSF soldier who held Aaron, his rifle trained unwaveringly at the resistance fighter.
As Katelyn watched, the Marine fired a warning shot past the soldier’s head, his rifle motioning for him to disarm. She winced as the SWSF man tossed Aaron aside. The Marine sidestepped, keeping a bead on the soldier, while he bent to pick up Aaron’s node with one hand.
Okay, that node’s a lot heavier than it looks. You must be wearing powered armor, buddy.
She flipped the autocannon to armor-piercing rounds.
“Let’s just even the odds a little, shall we?” she murmured as she rotated the weapons mount, bringing it to bear on the TSF Marine.
The movement caught the SWSF soldier’s attention, and she saw a smug smile cross his face. The Marine must have seen it, too, or else his armor’s defense systems had registered the threat. He pivoted suddenly, hitting the dirt and placing Aaron between him and the ship.
“Dammit all to fucking hell,” she swore aloud, and heard a choked laugh from Rory.
“Mom’d wash your mouth out for that, you know.”
Her sister’s voice sounded strained, and Katelyn craned her neck to one side, loosening her tense muscles as she played chicken with the meat-headed, musclebound brute holding Aaron in front of him.
“C’mon, shit-for-brains,” she coaxed. “Just drop it like a good Mari— Yes!” she whooped as the SWSF soldier used the enemy’s concentration on her autoturrets as an opportunity to launch a counterattack.
She saw the burly Marine go down, and whooped again as, for a brief moment, it looked like they’d regained possession of the node Aaron was traveling in. But then the Marine rocked back and shot both feet out in a kick that connected with the SWSF soldier’s side, sending him staggering back.
The Marine flipped to his feet, scooped up the node, and raced for a pair of tanks several meters away.
“Oh no you don’t,” she muttered, spooling up the turrets and letting loose with a spray of rounds at the Marine’s feet. “Let’s see how well you dance, you big, ugly thug.”
It was all talk, she knew. She daren’t get any closer and risk harming Aaron. The man holding the node knew it, too. The ship’s defense systems told her they were taking weapons fire, the TSF jarheads aiming at the autoturrets to disable the threat.
Barrel number one jammed, followed quickly by a small explosion. She didn’t need her holo to know that the second barrel was no longer there.
She slammed her hand down hard on the console in frustration, realizing there was no real way for her to help Aaron at the moment. They had to retreat.
“Hang on, Ro,” she called out as she pounded back down to the Damus’s hatch while mentally berating herself.
She could have triggered the ramp to retract automatically, but in the heat of battle, she’d forgotten. This would cost them precious seconds, time they might not have, before they could take off.
As she ran, Katelyn sent the mental command to engage the ALIAS autopilot system. The simple interface wasn’t even worthy of the moniker NSAI, but it’d get the job done. She ordered it to lift the ship into a hover as she slid to a stop beside the open airlock.
Shit!
She winced as the lines grew taut and then snapped, whipping around and smashing into an armored personnel carrier, caving its roof in. She slammed her hand against the inside of the hatch impatiently as the ramp finally retracted, and leant forward to grasp the manual lever that would seal the airlock.
Her head jerked up as she sensed movement below and to her right. It was that stars-damned Marine. And he had her dead-to-rights, his rifle aimed unerringly at her. Her breath hitched as she froze for a brief instant.
And then he lowered his scope, cocked his head and sent her a two-fingered salute. They both stood like that, staring at each other, until the door obscured him from sight.
What the hell was that all about? she wondered, but then shook herself, her hand sliding down the bulkhead in an automatic check that all indicators showed green for a positive seal. Well, screw him and his head games. I have a ship to fly.
Katelyn sprinted back toward the cockpit, casting Rory a worried glance as she passed her.
And a sister to heal. And an AI to rescue.
But first, they needed to get the hell away from those TSF goons.
Sliding into the pilot’s cradle, she pointed the nose of the Damus south, and redlined the ship, leaving the NSAI node—and Aaron—behind.
The resistance needed to know ASAP that the data had fallen into the hands of the TSF. They needed to formulate a plan to get both it and the AI back.
It took 58 seconds for the ship to make it the 500 kilometers from Tarja to the coast. As soon as she cleared the densely populated area, she killed her velocity, disabled the autopilot, and took control of the craft.
Turning it into a sweeping arc to follow the coastline at a discreet 50 kilometers out to sea, she stayed low and slow to keep the antiaircraft batteries she saw popping up periodically along the continent’s shores from getting a radar return and acquiring a targeting lock on them.
<Damus to Tarja Ops HQ.> She repeated the call as her hands worked a virtual stick, guiding the ship safely around terrestrial obstacles. <Handoff unsuccessful. Repeat, handoff unsuccessful.>
She kept at it, mentally cycling through the frequencies she’d been given. The signal was scrambled, based on a timestamped encryption sourcebook the SWSF had embedded into the ship’s comm systems. If there were friendlies around to hear her transmission, she needed to give them plenty of opportunity to respond.
The call came through just as she cleared the 10 kilometer mark down the coastline, past the mouth of the Damascus River.
<Damus, this is Hjerta Base. We copy. Mark Tarja spaceport for us, please.>
The voice coming through the comm sounded calm and unruffled. Katelyn hadn’t realized how tense she was until her heartbeat slowed at the reassuring words.
She reached into the navigation holo, manipulating the map until the spaceport hovered before her view. Tapping it, she queried the system for distance and heading. They were now a good 480 kilometers south-southwest of the ‘port, approaching a small group of islands, ringing a coral reef.
<Hjerta, Damus. Marki
ng spaceport 210 at 480,> she responded, then glanced down at the screen displaying her forward scan. <Feet wet over the Sjohast Atoll…now.>
As she uttered the words, realization swept over her.
If the TSF had somehow managed to hack the SWSF’s encryption, Katelyn had just given away their exact location: 480 kilometers south-southwest of the spaceport, crossing over an island resort.
This damn well better be a secure transmission, or we’re sunk.
<Copy that, Damus,> the voice came back. <Head 310 for 800.>
Katelyn’s head jerked up as she processed what the voice had just instructed her to do.
Holy…! Eight hundred kilometers? Her heart sank as she thought of the pain she’d already subjected Rory to during the crazed, 15-g burn to save their skins. Traversing another 800 kilometers at their current slow clip was going to take hours—pain-filled hours her sister would have to endure. <Say again, Base. Eight hundred? I have injured,> Katelyn responded sharply. <Anything closer?>
<Nothing safe. Status of injured?>
“I’m fine, sis,” Rory’s voice, tired but no longer pain-filled, called out, before she switched over to her Link. <Mednano’s got the pain under control. I’m just going to sit back here by the airlock and hold the bulkhead up. Just…let’s get this over with, okay? I’m getting tired of staring at this nanofoam and wondering what the hell my leg looks like underneath it all.>
Katelyn grimaced, but sent Rory an acknowledgment before responding to the operator on the other end.
<Took a TSF Marine’s rifle shot to the knee. Blasted to hell and gone,> she sent, mental tone harsh. <But we have mednano onboard, and the injury is sealed with foam.>
<Understood, Damus. We’ll have medical standing by.> The voice softened. <You done good, Evans. Hang in there, you’re almost home free. Name’s Wren, by the way. Call out if you need anything. I’m working perimeter defense this shift, so I’ll be the one talking you in.>
<Thanks, Wren.>
Katelyn called up a topological map of Venus and punched in the coordinates Wren had sent. The terrain indicated they were headed north-northwest, toward a rainforest called Hjerta.
<Hey, Wren? What am I looking for, exactly? Looks like nothing but dense rainforest on topo.>
The voice on the other end laughed. <And that’s exactly what you’ll see, until we guide you in. We’ve a garrison hidden under the canopy.>
Katelyn keyed the comm twice to acknowledge Wren’s transmission, then leant forward into the holo as they went ‘feet dry’ once more. Hand firmly wrapped around the virtual yoke, she began the grueling dance that would consume her for the next few hours of flight, as the ship dipped and spun its way through eight hundred kilometers of terrain.
Flying nap-of-the-earth to avoid being painted by TSF sensors was tough work, especially in a ship that wasn’t designed for it.
A hundred fifty kilometers later, Wren pinged her again.
<Damus, this is Hjerta Base. No joy on radar contact. You still with us?> Wren’s voice was teasing, but Katelyn could hear her concern, as she added, <Don’t make me send out a search party to haul you back here in pieces, you hear me?>
<Read you five-by-five, Hjerta. We’re flying low and lights out.> Katelyn tried to inject a bit of humor in her voice, but she heard the exhaustion in it, and knew it fell short of the mark. <Didn’t want to bring any uninvited guests along with me, is all.>
<Stars, girl, no worries there. This airspace is controlled by the resistance. You’re safe. Give yourself a break—and a bit of a safety net, in case something fails.>
Katelyn smiled. Gratefully, she eased up on the controls, allowing a bit more distance between the ship and the planet below.
Wren sounded like good people. She’d have to buy her a cold one when they landed.
<Best news I’ve heard all day. Thanks, Wren.>
<My pleasure. See you soon.>
ADVANCE TO THE REAR
STELLAR DATE: 3227474 / 06.04.4124 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Outskirts of Tarja, Teka Continent
REGION: Venus, InnerSol, Sol Space Federation
<Olsen,> Williams growled as he watched the ship rise into the air and begin circling away to the south. <Any chance you’re going to get in position before all these Diskers retreat into the city?>
<Sorry, Guns, we had to dig some of them out before we could settle in. We’re about to light things up.>
<Good,> the gunnery sergeant grunted before glancing at the members of Weber’s team. <Move around to the south end of this that warehouse,> he marked the building next to the nearest still-flaming structure. <Make sure the enemy doesn’t get around Olsen.>
<On it, Gunny,> Weber replied, and his team moved out.
Williams looked down at the NSAI node he held, wondering why the Diskers would risk a set-down in hostile territory to get it into Tarja.
An echoing thud thud thud to the west caught his attention, and he looked at the city’s towers some thirty kilometers distant. Flak fire was streaking out from their peaks, followed by explosions at the far side of the commercial district that surrounded the spaceport.
<Mortar fire coming down on the perimeter,> Commander Lauren observed. <Looks like they really want to keep us out.>
<That’s for sure,> Williams responded. <Plus, they’re not too concerned about their people at the fuel depot or spaceport.>
<North side of the depot is secure,> Lieutenant Grenwald chimed in. <I’m going to take a squad along the fuel line to pick up any Disker stragglers.>
<Good,> Lauren replied. <Link up with us at the spaceport, we’re going to push in from the north. Gunny, get the depot buttoned down and then get ready to cover our flank. The Marines are taking Tarja.>
* * * * *
Williams heard a soft plink before an explosion erupted beside him. Somehow, while flying through the air, he had the presence of mind to shield the NSAI node with his body.
He hit something, then something else, then stopped moving.
“Fawk!” he thundered while struggling to his knees. <Commander! Is Q Company gonna send in a squad to grab this damn cube already, or do I have to lug it around for the rest of this campaign?>
<You got something better to do?> Lauren growled. <Like maybe go to a dance or get your nails done?>
<Was thinking I’d take down some Veefs, but it’s kinda hard at the back of the pack…no one to shoot at here, and mortar fire to dodge.>
<Hold one mike,> Lauren replied, her voice taking on a serious note.
Williams sent an acknowledgment and checked over the NSAI cube. Its casing bore some scratches and carbon scoring, but it wasn’t dented—which made sense, since it was essentially clad in a CFT shield.
That’s one of us, he thought before reaching out to Lieutenant Grenwald, killing time while waiting on the company’s CO. <How we looking up front?>
<They’ve mobilized a shit ton of civvies. People are running everywhere, and it’s getting pretty fucking hard to be non-lethal with them, Gunny.>
It half-sounded like the lieutenant was asking for permission to go hot against civilians, but Williams was sure it was just the stress talking. The platoon had been hot for nearly three days, with no one getting more than a few hours of shut-eye here and there.
<Easy, Grenwald. We do it slow and steady and by the numbers.>
<Yeah, says you in the back. They’re thick as flies out here.>
Williams snorted. <Yeah, well, I’m dodging mortars waiting for Q company’s relief squad. You wanna switch up?>
<No need, Gunny,> Commander Lauren broke in. <Word’s come down that we’ve gotta ease up. Senate’s getting all squiggly about civilians getting killed.>
<I swear, Commander,> Grenwald sounded worried. <We only nicked a few, they were getting right up on us, shielding Veefs and Diskers.>
<Dammit, Grenwald. I don’t need to hear that shit.> Lauren paused, and Williams was certain she was taking deep breaths. <Look, the locals are doing it all
over the place. It’s like they put something in the water. VeComm is dropping command shacks and we’ve been told to clear an LZ for one. Oh, and Gunny, someone star-side seems especially interested in your little toy, so don’t let it get dinged up.>
He glanced down at the cube and shrugged. <They’ll get it in whatever condition I’m in. So, where we headed?>
<North,> the commander said. <Diskers hosed the spaceport with everything they had to deny us a staging area there, so we’re going to set up shop in a suburb called Florence. They have a nice little airfield with a pair of launch towers and cradles to boot. It’s fifty klicks downstream on the Damascus river.>
<I see it, sir,> Grenwald replied. <A bit of a hike.>
<Your batteries low?>
<Not mine, but some are getting there,> the lieutenant replied. <We’ll link up, though.>
Commander Lauren was silent for a second. <Better see if you can find some rides. Bruno just updated me. The Diskers are trying to take Florence.>
<What? Roaches in the house and we haven’t even moved in yet?> Williams asked before Grenwald could speak up. Something was eating the lieutenant, and he didn’t want it to piss off the commander more than she already was. <Don’t worry, sir, we’ll scrub ‘em out.>
<That’s the spirit, Guns,> Lauren replied before cutting the connection.
<Thanks, Gunny,> Grenwald said the moment the commander was off their channel. <I’m not sure what’s gotten into me.>
<Me either, but you’d better get it out. We don’t have time for your shit…sir.>
The lieutenant laughed. <Won’t happen again, Gunnery Sergeant. Any idea about rides?>
Williams glanced over his shoulder at a parking lot two blocks back.
<Hell yeah. Fall back to my position.>
* * * * *
Twenty high-powered sportscars sped across the Venusian landscape, Marines in scout armor behind the controls of each, while others sat atop the vehicles, armor maglocked on.
Chang and Olsen’s heavies had each taken a larger vehicle and bolted their crew-served rails to the roofs, whooping as their cars sped mere centimeters above the magnetic roadway.