Assault and battery.
30 Dec 2015Desert Fox CXVII
We come in low and fast, streaking over the giant canyons in the ice"Once we crest this ridge, the base should come into view," Anastasia has to yell to make herself heard over the screaming of the engines. "We'll be in range of the guns after that."
"Allfather, guide my sword that it may strike my enemies down." My hands are tight against the controls. A bead of sweat drips down my cheek. I pull back on the stick, and the ship starts a gradual climb. I shift in my seat and ready myself for the fire. The top of the ridge looms closer and closer. The anticipation is killing me. "If I should die this day, welcome me to your hall."
We're over the top, and the vast ice field stretches out as far as the eye can see. "I am the man who grabs the sun-"
Under attack.
"Riding to Valhalla!"
Within a second, the fire comes; a blistering wave of cannon fire and lasers fill the sky. I can hear the sound of flak detonating through Freyja's audio emulators. She shudders as a round slams into her keel.
Taking damage.
"What are you doing up there? We just got hit!"
I roll to port and pitch up, trying to get out of the killzone. "I know!"
"I've killed enough of these toy rockets to know a hit like that isn't good!" The guns just follow us, spraying the air with a hail of fire.
"I know!" I roll over to starboard and pull the stick into my belly, but it's no use, the guns keep tracking us. Another round hits the port wing.
"I'm going to die. I'm going to die in this tin can."
"Would you please shut up and let me fly?!" She complies, but I can still hear her heavy breathing over the comms.
Another shell detonates close by, peppering Freyja's hull with shrapnel. I grit my teeth an flip the switch.
Silent running.
Almost at once, the flak eases up. They're shooting blind now, and will have to aim manually. Good. That should give me some breathing room.
With blood pumping in my ears, I bring her about and fly straight at the nearest gun emplacement. It tries to track me, but it's sluggish, and can't get a lock. I smile and squeeze the trigger. Right above my head, a streak of yellow light arks out over the canopy. It gouges a huge trench in the blue ice and sends waves of steam rolling up in it's wake. The laser knits a path right to the turret and slices it in half. It falls in two pieces to the ice, black smoke billowing from the wreckage.
I allow myself a grin of triumph, but save the celebration for later; there were still many more emplacements to take out.
I bring myself around for another pass and line up on the next gun. Like it's compatriot, it brings itself about to target me, spraying laser fire in my general direction. Once I'm in range, I thumb the secondary fire button; two rockets streak out of the racks on Freyja's belly, leaving trails of white exhaust behind them. They impact with a spectacular plume of fire, smoke and pulverized snow.
I blow through the cloud and start climbing, setting up for another run. The cockpit is starting to get hot. My palms are moist and sweat is pooling in my boots. The flak is starting to get heavy again. The heavy 'thump thump thump' of exploding rounds is getting closer and more frequent.
I kill throttle and pitch into a dive. We accelerate faster and faster, until my head is pressed against the chair and Freyja is screaming with the effort.
Warning: heat levels critical.
I look down at the display: 90%. I have time.
A streak of laser fire illuminates the cockpit as I align with the next gun. I hit the button and release two more rockets. Before I can see them impact, I hit the boost and pull out of the dive. The edges of my vision go black, and I tense my lower body, trying not to pass out from the heavy G-forces of the sharp turn.
Taking heat damage.
It's blistering inside the cabin and sparks are flying from my console. I growl in frustration. Why did planetside maneuvers build so much damn heat? I hit a button on the stick. Immediately the temperature bottoms out. Frost crystals creep over the canopy and I start to shiver, the sweat on my skin going cold and icy.
Heat sink deployed.
I roll to port and start a wide orbit of the compound. There are three more emplacements, all of which are still straining to track me. As I circle overhead, the massive blast doors to the base start grinding open. SRV's and little specks of men have gathered on the other side and are starting to trickle out. I smile at the golden opportunity before me.
I break out of the orbit and beeline right for the doors. On the ground, the little specks stop moving. I can see little flashes of light from the men and SRV's. The idiots are shooting small arms at me. With a laugh, I roll until Freyja is parallel to the doors. They've realized what I'm about to do, and they start sealing the base again. The doors lurch to a stop, then start inching closed. But it's too late; I squeeze the trigger twice, and four rockets streak from my underbelly and right through the opening.
A plume of flame and smoke belches from the opening, swallowing the men and vehicles with its fury. The doors bulge outwards from the force and grind to a halt.
I pull out of my attack run and resume my orbit, scanning the terrain.
"The hangar."
"What?" I turn my head to look back at Anastasia.
She is pointing out of the canopy at the horizon. "The hangar. Look." I follow her finger, and sure enough, I can see the hangar a few kilometers away. Flashing orange lights illuminate the area, and I can see the top opening.
"Shit." I break the orbit again and set course for the hangar. "Where are the fuel and munitions stores?"
"Fuel is kept outside in underground tanks on the west side. Munitions are kept inside on the north and south walls." She points to each object in turn, and while I can't make them out at this distance, I know where to look.
"Got it." I angle for the west wall. The closer we get, the more I can make out the huge pipes running from the ground and into the hangar. Once I'm within range, I line up the top hardpoint with one of the valves and pull the trigger. The laser cuts right through the pipe, and hot blue flames spurt from it's jagged edges.
I kill throttle and bring Freyja into a hover a few hundred meters from the hangar. The top is almost fully open now. I use lateral thrusters and yaw to circle the building until I can make out the ammunition stores.
"That it?"
"Yeah that's it!" She calls over the sirens and the wailing roar of H fuel burning.
Satisfied, I loose two rockets at the stockpile. It goes up in a magnificent explosion; even in the thin atmosphere of the moon, I can feel the deep thump of the shockwave in my chest. After a few seconds, the second stockpile goes up, followed soon after by the fuel tanks. Blue and orange flames soar a kilometer into the sky. The ice surrounding the hangar starts to melt, forming rivers of boiling water and burning fuel. Freyja starts to absorb the heat from the inferno, so I pop another heat sink and thrust back to the compound.
The last three guns were light work, and I take them out with no trouble. After circling a few times to make sure I had gotten everything, I flick the switch again.
Thermal signature restored.
We touch down as close as I can to the entrance. Freyja jolts as her landing gear make contact with the ice. I let out a long slow breath and take my hands of the controls. My knuckles creak as I release the pressure I had been exerting on them.
"You did good. I'm proud of you." I say as I pat the dashboard.
"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything."
"No, I was... nevermind." Shrugging, I kill power. My displays flicker off and the engines whine to a stop. "So-" I swivel my chair around to face her. She was already standing, but was a little unsteady on her feet. "What did you think?"
"You're fucking insane."
-------
We along one of the colossal blast doors; it's surface is bowed out from the force of the explosion. We're both still wearing our flightsuits, but had donned armored vests for extra protection. I'm armed with my trusty automatic rail pistol and she's got this little compact submachine gun she had brought with her. We stand at the ready, both our weapons trained on the gap between the doors.
Once we reach the gap, I signal for her to cover me. She nods, and I circle around until I am standing in the open, peering inside the base. There are several fires burning within, and the floor is covered in twisted and charred chunks of metal. Other than that though, I see or hear no movement.
I nod to her, and she steps to the edge. I do the same on the other side. I hold up three fingers and give a silent countdown. When I hit zero, we both cross the threshold, sweeping the gargantuan room with our weapons. Still no movement.
"Clear," I whisper.
"Clear," she responds.
The room is, like I've already said, huge. Looks to be a staging and limited storage area. Cargo containers in varying states of destruction and disarray litter the walls and corners, like they had been blasted away by the explosion. In the center is the crater where the rockets hit.
Once my eyes become accustomed to the dim light, I start to make out more detail; several mangled SRV's lay strewn about the area. A big cargo truck sits on it's side on the far wall, it's contents upended and thrown all over the place.
Then I notice the bodies; they are burned and blackened, contorted in what can only be pain. Most are missing limbs. Some, especially those closer to the crater, are nothing more than brown stains on the floor.
I survey the carnage with grim detachment. Anastasia does the same, only with the slightest hint of glee in her eyes.
We push forward, the only sounds are the crackle of the fires and our sharp footsteps. Neither of us speak; we're anticipating an attack that doesn't seem to be coming. Which is why we both just about jump out of our boots when we hear someone groaning.
"What the fuck was that?" I drop to one knee, sweeping the muzzle of my pistol over the room.
"Over there," She points off to our left.
Next to a pile of rubble is what I had thought was a corpse, but was in fact a wounded man; he's missing both his legs and most of his right arm, and what skin that is exposed is burned, blackened and flaking off. His atmo suit had fuzed into his flesh, and the visor had melted, covering his face in molten plastic. He moans again; the sound is raspy and labored, like something was compressing his chest.
We both step ever so carefully over to the shifting form, keeping our weapons trained on him as we do so.
"What should we do to with him?" she asks
Without a word of warning, I level the muzzle of my pistol on the man's forehead and pull the trigger. Anastasia jumps in surprise at the sharp report of the shot. The sound echoes off the walls for several seconds, neither of us saying a word.
"Jesus fuck, man, you could have warned me before you did that," she exclaims, holding one hand to the ear closest to the gunshot.
I don't say anything, only gesturing further into the facility.
"Fine, whatever. Let's go," she grumbles, still massaging her ear.
The first undamaged hall we enter is deserted, along with all of the rooms connected to it. Makes sense; they're probably defending the reactor and the lab. But I couldn't take the chance of blowing past all these rooms, just to have some dickhead with a gun shoot me in the back. So we clear every inch, room by room, hall by hall. It's slow going, and with every barracks or canteen we clear, my anxiety grows. I start seeing movement where there is none, hear sounds where there is silence.
That is, until I round a corner and am greeted by a hail of bullets. I take a round to the chest and fall on my ass, gasping for breath and scrambling back into cover. It feels like I've been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer swung by a particularly large man. Praise be to body armor.
"Who are you?" The voice is deep and gruff, with a thick upper Fed accent.
"An agent of Her Majesty the Emperor!" I call around the corner. Anastasia slaps me on the shoulder. "And guest."
A pause. "Why would you tell me that?"
I laugh, but stop myself when my chest throbs in pain. "Because I don't expect any of you to survive long enough to tell anyone I was here."
Their turn to laugh. "What, you expect the two of you to be able to kill all of us?"
"Well, I did pretty good on your buddies upstairs."
"You're not in your ship now," He's angry, I can tell. Good. "and there's only two of you."
"Well, that can change, can't it?"
Another pause. "What do you mean?"
"Are there any mercs in there? Guns for hire? Soldiers of fortune?" Yet another pause; I could almost see them looking around at each other in confusion. "How much are the Feds paying you?"
My gruff friend answers first with, "Don't answer that!" Followed by a second man saying "Five hundred."
"What, is that each? That's not bad, considering-"
"No, split four ways." The second man says it with more than a little resentment.
"Four ways? Four wa- My friend, these guys are ripping you off. Allow me to offer you a counter proposal."
The gruff man tries to speak, but is cut off by what sounds like a chokehold. "I'm listening."
"Wonderful. If you gents would be so kind as to kill all of the Feds in that room, I'm willing to offer you two million credits each." Anastasia hits me again, her eyes wide and angry. "What the fuck?" I whisper. She just makes a face and points around the corner. "I'm not actually going to pay them, calm down." She smirks at me, then nods, satisfied.
While we have our little argument, the mercs are apparently salivating over the offer. "Two mil, each? So eight mil?"
"Yes sir. 8 million credits, split four ways. And all you have to do is kill every Fed in that room with you."
No more conversation, no questions, and no hesitation. The staccato chatter of automatic weapons fire fills the hall for ten entire seconds. When the gunfire ends, the silence is deafening. Thank God for mercs.
"So uh, we did it. What now?"
"Well now, I'm going to come around the corner. Don't shoot me." I stand up and step into the hall, my arms raise, pistol hanging from my index finger. The four men stand inside what seems to be the lab, surrounded by at least seven bullet riddled corpses. "Wonderful." I approach them, one step at a time, hands still raised. They just stand there, rifles at their sides, staring at me with a mixture of confusion and expectation. Anastasia follows me, her own weapon at the ready.
"So, you're going to pay us now?" The man I'd been negotiating with, if his voice was any indication. He's big, easily six four, and pushing three hundred pounds of pure muscle. His bolter rifle looks like a toy clenched in hands the size of dinner plates.
"Trust me gentlemen." I lower my hands and stuff my pistol into the holster on my vest. "If you'll just proceed out of the facility and wait patiently in front of my ship, I'll make sure you get what you deserve." I give them my most disarming smile, the one I reserved for politicians and dignitaries.
The four men look at each other, shrug, and file out of the room. I keep my smile on as they go, patting each one on the shoulder in a reassuring manner. But once their backs are turned, I drop the smile, draw my pistol and spray the hall with fire. The slugs are the size of grains of sand, but once accelerated to a fraction of the speed of light, impact with enough force to shatter solid concrete. The mercs never stood a chance. They jerk as one as the microformed slugs deform and expand inside their bodies. Neat and tiny entry wounds turn into wide and jagged exit wounds, which spray blood and bone fragments all over the wall. One by one, they collapse, dead before they hit the floor.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" Anastasia exclaims.
I turn to her, the smell of ozone filling the air, and give her a shrug. "I told you I wasn't going to pay them."
"You didn't say you were going to kill them!"
"What the hell did you expect me to do? Mercs don't like it when you refuse to pay them. You should know that."
"Yeah but, you didn't need to..." She trails off, gazing at the dead mercs.
"Whats done is done. Now come on, this is the lab, right? Lets find my stuff and get out of here." I stow my pistol again and start walking through the lab, stepping over dead Feds as I do so.
Anastasia, to her credit, just shakes her head and follows me in. We tear the place apart for the next few minutes; drawers are torn out, filing cabinets are flipped, papers are flung across the room. We're very thorough.
I'm just starting to get frustrated when I hear Anastasia exclaim, "I've got them!"
I poke my head up from behind a desk, where I had been looking for secret compartments. There she is, standing in the middle of the room, holding the data drive in one hand, and the personality core in the other.
"Anastasia Reid, I could kiss you right now! Give 'em here, would you?"
She smirks at me, but holds them out. "I just might hold you to that, darli-"
A burst of machine gun fire tears into the desk I'm kneeling behind. It pings off the metal and shatters several glass beakers. "Reid, you fucking traitor!"
She dives over the desk and lands next to me, the core and drive still in her hands. "These are yours," She whispers and hands the items over to me.
I accept them with obvious gratitude and stuff them into some free pockets on my vest. "Thanks, love. Guess that was money well spent."
She gives me a wink, and then calls out to the new voice. "Oh, fuck you Hannity! I never liked your sorry ass."
We both flinch as a second burst of fire buzzes over our heads, showering us with more broken glass. "We trusted you, Reid!"
"Yeah well you shouldn't have." She pokes her snubby little SMG over the top of the desk and squeezes the trigger. It buzzes like a swarm of wasps and sends a veritable hail of bullets down the hall. "You knew where I stood. I just got a better offer!"
"Who are you working for, huh? The Alliance? The Im-"
I mimic Anastasia, and blind fire around the corner of the desk. My burst cuts the man off, and I can hear him swearing.
"Your mother hired me, Hannity. She told me she was tired of seeing your ugly mug every Christmas." She lets off another burst.
"That how it going to be, Reid?" I hear an odd sounding click.
"You're fuckin' right, that's how it's going to be, you lousy, limp dick, balding piece of shit!" Wow, she really had a mouth on her. I don't know if I should be offended or arous-
Something heavy and round thunks off the surface of the desk and onto the floor between us. We both freeze, staring at the object. Paralyzed by indecision.
I react first.
"Grenade!" Without thinking, without stopping to consider the consequences, I scoop the green steel ball up with my right hand and stand up.
Time stops; I can see the squad of Fed marines standing at the end of the hall. Their weapons are trained on me. Behind them stands Hannity; true to her word, he's balding and several stone overweight. He's got a greasy looking grin on his face. The grenade sits in my hand, and I can almost hear the fuse burning away inside.
I heave as hard as I can.
It goes off just as it leaves my hand.
White hot pain shoots up my arm and peppers my face and chest. My ears are ringing. I topple to the ground, and the world goes black.