The entire purpose of the S-III program was to craft super soldiers out of vengeful, nihilistic little kids. The obvious moral and ethical ramifications of this aside, it can be reasonably assumed that most if not all of the candidates for the program signed up with revenge as a motive. Revenge for their families, friends and burned planets. Emile never speaks of what he has lost, yet his behaviour fits all the hallmarks of a textbook case. I suspect that he has compartmentalised life into a very small space, and it is basically this: he may say he wants to win the war, but what he really wants is for the enemy to die.-SPECWAR/GROUPTHREE/NOBLE Performance Reports, citing file N-63732/S-III/A239 (WARNING-ACCESS LOGGED; BYPASS SCHEME "OPEN SESAME"VERIFIED)
1209 hours, 13th of March, 2550 (UNSC Military Calendar) Kappa Indus System, Planet Esvorl IV Dramus City, Halicarna Kalec District
Thom had never been good at being patient. Which, to an analytical and probing mind like hers, made no sense whatsoever. Anyone who was crazy or stupid enough to sign up for EOD or demo work usually hid it well with a cool head, ice-water for blood or some combination thereof. It was meant to be the ultimate in-joke of the UNSCDF: here, they'd say, we'll let you play with things that go boom. Just be as cold as mercury when you're doing it, never mind how many you might take out in the blast that are on your side. Why worry about collateral damage when you can have napalm? The trainees from Beta had gone into raptures of delight when Mendez had alluded to that, which was not the reaction he'd been expecting, if the gruelling three-hundred pull-ups that had followed had been any indication.It wasn't as though Kat had a long and resentful history with explosives. Her line of work meant she was safely on a ship or in a bunker when shit started to hit the fan. No, what really bugged her was that it was that sort of thinking that had led to the development of the Spartan-III program. After all, what better soldiers than children? They had all the vengeance and bloodthirstiness of adults minus all the musing about ethics or morality. Just point and shoot. Not that it was hard to get said kids to co-operate when they were fighting an enemy that was all mandibles, tentacles, hooves, fur and planet-destroying weapons. No human empathy required there.
On that side of the fence, that meant Thom was an exception, maybe the only exception, and for that she was glad he was there. Even if it did mean he never stopped running his mouth.
Still, perhaps there was some justification (though she'd never admit it to herself, much less verbalise it). Kalec District was calm, relatively, but splitting up from the rest of the team never sat well with her. She wasn't leader material. It meant getting distracted from all the little quirks and habits that came with her role as tech expert and cryptanalyst. While her talents for mission planning and construction were excellent, it was usually Carter who put them into action. Having to tag-team with Thom, the most unruly member of the team next to Emile, didn't set her at ease.
She was currently trying to navigate a duct system set into a wall, while Thom waited outside for her to bust the lock on the main doors. Every district in Dramus had its commercial aspects, but what Kalec really gave back to the metropolis was automated factories and machinery. Whilst many citizens objected to the constant activity, calling it disruptive and difficult to live with, the district got things done. Almost everything was automated, from the taxis, to the construction loaders, to the buildings themselves. Each one came with a security contingency in the case of city (or at least district) wide panic. Full lockdown would proceed at a signal transmitted by the city's superintendent AI, now safely removed from its data hive and in UNSC hands. Unfortunately, the damage was done, so to speak. Every aperture was sealed with steel plating and flexible blast mesh. It couldn't be hacked remotely, but maybe if they got inside...
Her MJOLNIR armour told her that there was a security interface, twelve metres ahead and five metres straight up. She breathed another sigh, this time of relief. She couldn't wait to be free of the suffocating, dusty confines of this duct. It was ten times harder in full-body armour. She fumbled her right hand, gained purchase on one side of the duct and pulled herself forward. Slowly.
Her COM channel clicked on again. 'Kat? You hearing me, or are you listening to Dramus' greatest hits? Oh, lemme guess, on today's adrenaline-pumping setlist we've got an old favourite, "Beta Females", which, as you might recall, caused quite a stir back in its day due to the fact it was an incredibly accurate take on just how goddamn frustrating the Spartans of Beta Company can be-"
Click. He was now muted and only priority messages would come through now. Let him entertain himself with his damn rambles. She had a building to hack.
After another minute or so, she reached the blinking green light on her HUD. Just above her head was a panel outlined with red paint. Kat reached up, set her metal-sheathed fingers to the gap and gently pulled. The panel groaned in complaint, but she was able to remove it and she pushed her head up into the newly-discovered space.
At first it was nothing but a tangle of old wiring and insulation, with the faint glow of luminescent data chips, but in a corner she found what she was looking for. A small data port set into the wall. Almost unnoticeable, but nothing escaped her eyes. She removed a flash drive from a slot in her armour and inserted it. Almost immediately, data began flashing across her HUD.
There were at least ten power couplings surrounding this building that were powering the lockdown, but she didn't need all the doors open, just the one on the outside. The ones on the inside they would be able to bypass with...different methods. She took a moment to be amused at this: the city's authorities poured their time and dime into making these buildings impregnable, but only from the outside. Internally, they were virtually unchanged. An obvious design flaw that she intended to point out, if only to provide herself with an ego boost.
She accessed schematics and cursed softly in Russian as she saw that the power coupling that needed to be taken down was outside. On the street. Where Thom was standing. There was nothing for it, and she stifled a groan as she engaged her COM and unmated him. "Thom?"
No reply. Just the sound of him breathing.
Seriously? The silent treatment? She tried again. "Thom, come in, this is important. I've found us a way in but I need your help. I repeat, come in."
Still nothing. Kat tried to shove down her building frustration and failed. She was definitely going to speak to Carter about this. "Goddamnit, Thom, are you even listening? I said-"
"Quiet Kat!" She briefly recoiled; not often did she hear that tone in his voice. "I've got movement out here..."
Suddenly there was a loud bark that she realised as the sound of an M90 being fired, and Thom's grunt of surprise. "What the fuck-"She heard him returning fire, and moving fast.
Well, she was damned if she was going to wait in here for Thom to get jumped by some Innie son of a bitch. Kat saved the location of the power coupling to her helmet's storage file and began crawling back out of the duct. Her armour grinded along the walls and ceiling, but she ignored that. If there were people firing at them with shotguns, the element of stealth was gone anyway.
At the end of the duct she saw the grating that they'd replaced after gaining access, and beyond the alleyway, bathed in an orange glow from the streetlights still working. She wriggled towards it, fully intending to punch her way through it. Her teammate needed help, big mouth or no. Kat swung her fist back and sent the grating panel flying across the street. Making to hop out of the duct, she froze as she heard a shuck-shuck only a few feet in front of her.
Wrapped inside a thick black trenchcoat, a man edged out from behind a crashed Genet, a sawn-off shotgun clutched in his hands. Kat didn't dare move, but her eyes noted his steady gait, the lack of trembling in his hands, a nervous but collected gaze-this man wasn't a rioter or looter. He was working for the Insurrection. The clothes were a giveaway too.
The man spoke. "Try and get me now, Spartan." He cocked the gun and prepared to fire, but not before speaking aloud. "Redeye, the Spartans are here, I repeat, the Spartans-"
Kat wasn't sure what her plan would have been, but thankfully she didn't have to find out. Before the bastard could pull the trigger, a white blur whizzed by on the left. The man frowned, and touched a hand to the back of his neck. His hand came away red. His frown grew larger, then his face abruptly sagged and he collapsed to the ground. A razor-thin stiletto knife was now visible, lodged in his nape. There was a clatter down the end of the street and Kat turned her head.
Thom sauntered down the debris-littered alleyway, his assault rifle over one shoulder. "Bit of a close call there, Katty, "he chuckled. "So how many times have I saved your ass now?"
Kat glared at him, aware that he wouldn't be able to see it. "My ass is none of your business, Thom." She put hands to the sides of the vent, vaulted out, rolled and landed on her feet. Tugging the knife from the man's corpse, she handed it to Thom. "And don't call me Katty. It's Kat, or lieutenant commander if you've got the time of day. Clear?"
Her teammate threw up his hands in mock surrender. 'Alright, alright, yeesh. Guess I'm putting you down as bad-tempered for the rest of this op." Before she could reply, he gazed around nonchalantly. "So, do we have a way in or not?"
She accessed her HUD records, and found the schematic, the power coupling she'd located a glowing blue dot. "Yes..." It was back on the main street, out in the open. Speaking of which, she turned around and folded her arms. "What happened?"
Thom shrugged. "I dunno, Kat. One minute the street's clear, the next three guys all wearing black and toting shotguns come at me from the shadows. Literally. They'd been lying in wait. Only question is, for us, or just any UNSC grinders? Remember what the commander said." Before they'd split up, Carter had briefed them on Colonel Holland's last-minute message. Innies were aware of their approach. Assume proper readiness. No coincidences.
It didn't matter now though. These ones were dead. Kat faced the street once again. "I remember. He mentioned that we were here in a radio transmission. Innies, you think?"
"Definitely." Thom nudged his victim with an armoured boot. "Check him out. Buzz cut, couple of scars in all the right places. Military training, too-these guys were working in sync. Not opportunists. I managed to get the other two of them pretty quickly, but this guy must've heard you creeping out. Which seems pretty damn lucky, so that would mean-"
"-he was tapping into our COM channels, "Kat finished. "He was communicating with someone just before you wasted him, which means he's probably got some sort of bone mic. Implant. Check his ear."
A quick inspection confirmed the presence of a misshapen lump behind the man's right ear-he was miked up from within. Thom depolarised his helmet and shot Kat a worried look. "I don't like this, LC. These guys are organised. You think they might have stolen UNSC tech, or maybe even Covenant? I mean, no way are some two-bit Innies going to run rings around us-"
"You might be from Alpha, Thom, "Kat said sardonically, "but I've put together more anti-rebel operations than you can count. Trust me, these guys aren't nearly as dumb as they look. They have their own scientists, technicians, engineers. They probably put this together themselves, or is the lowly Insurrection not enough of a threat to merit that?"
It was a carefully selected barb, and she watched as he flushed with indignation. "Well, yeah, "he muttered defensively. "It just seems more likely."
"Maybe." She clicked her COM back on and spoke. "Commander, come in. We have something to report, over."
Almost immediately, Carter's unshakeably confident voice could be heard. "I hear you, Noble Two. What's the word? You and Thom pushing through Kalec district?""Slowly but surely. We're trying to get into an office block, see if we can't get some elev-spec." Elev-spec was squad slang for elevation and inspection, basically getting on top of a large object and performing enhanced reconnaissance. "The streets are jammed, progress is stagnant." She paused, then said in an undertone: "Is this channel secure, sir?"
Carter laughed. "General Ashton said it was secure, Kat. So feel free to-""Forgive me if I don't fully trust the good general's assurances, sir." She dialled up a few of her own handmade encryption programs, and waited for them to take effect. A green light flashed, and she continued to speak. "We were attacked by Insurrectionists, commander. They were trained and they were looking for us. One of them got off a transmission before Thom eliminated him, sir, to someone codenamed Redeye. Likely a rebel leader of some sort. If they didn't know we were here before, they do now sir."
The commander let out a soft curse. "Well, it was only a matter of time. It's pretty quiet on our end. Jun and I have linked up with some local marine forces again, we're trying to consolidate the Narupt district before the big push. Seems that command has finally woken up and smelled the coffee, because we've got several companies of ODSTs en route from the carrier Sisyphus. These guys have trained for counterterrorism and urban warfare; they'll get the job done. But we're still on mission, clear?""Clear, sir."
"Good." There was another pause. "For now, just proceed with caution. If you pick up anymore Insurrectionist activity, notify me immediately. I'll let Jorge and Emile know about this too. No sense in being unprepared."Kat would have loved to interject at this point, to say that Emile would have probably preferred to be unprepared because it meant killing rebels would pose more of a challenge. But the XO had certain things expected of her, not the least of which was professionalism, so she merely said, "Understood, commander. Good hunting. Noble Two out." Click. She turned back to Thom. "He'll let Nobles Four and Five know about our little run-in."
Noble Six let snorted inside his helmet. "Oh man, what was the boss man thinking putting those two together? They're like fire and water. One of 'em would give his life to save civilians, the other'd give their lives so he could kill some more bad guys-"
"Stow it, Thom, "she snapped, finger pointing. "One more word out of you and-"
Suddenly Carter was back on the COM. "Noble Two, we have a priority target in your vicinity."Forgetting her threat, she focused. "Listening, sir."
"We just got a message from General Ashton. One of our intelligence-collecting drones in orbit over the city intercepted a transmission coming from the Piedmont Tower, not far from you. It was mostly gibberish, but we were able to decipher a few words, one of which was Redeye. The rebel leader might be inside, Kat. It's our best lead so far."Kat felt the excitement building, that feeling she got when the facts were coming together and so was her plan, already being constructed in the vaults of her mind. "Sounds like it's worth looking into, Noble One. Orders?"
"A platoon of marines has been diverted to your position, but they'll remain on standby two blocks away. I want you and Thom to infilitrate the building and assess the situation. If the leader's there, capture him. Can't do that, kill him. Try to get at least one of his goons alive if possible. Send the word if, or when, you need backup. Clear enough?"Kat grinned fiercely. "Damn right, sir. We'll get it done."
*********************************************************
Mission Clock: 1231
"This is retarded. Seriously."
"Don't say that, Thom. It's offensive to actual retards, which is a demographic I assume you would figure heavily in. Have you tested the jets yet?"
"I'll get round to it. You know how I feel about heights. Takes some getting used to, y'know?"
Kat sighed again.
Having scouted out Piedmont Tower, they'd found bad news and good news. The former had been that the rebels had quite an operation set-up, with armed barricades in all the surrounding streets, and at least twenty men on the ground floor, all disguised as civilians and rogue cops. Thank god for intel.Kat had managed to hack into some functioning security cameras on the street to verify the facts Carter had relayed to her. She'd wanted to do the same for those inside the tower itself, but these rebels had proven themselves to be well-prepared. If they had a tech expert of their own, her intrusion attempts would be noticed, and time was too short for her to devise a stealthier way. It would have to do.
Groundside insertion was impossible. They might have been Spartans, but there were simply too many targets. If Jorge had been with them, it might have been possible, but he was busy keeping Emile on a leash. So that left infiltration, from the ground up.
A fly-by courtesy of a recon UAV with thermal imaging had confirmed that there were no hostiles on the roof of the tower, which was unusual. Perhaps the mysterious Redeye, assuming he was in there at all, had bigger things on his mind. In any case, it was their way in. And their new jetpack AA's would play a big role.
Limited fuel and thrust capacity meant that potential "hop-over" sites of a similar height were few and far between. Once again conscious of the time constraints upon them, Kat had made a decision. They had already broken into the building, so...
And now they stood on the building's roof, buffeted by the high winds and seeing half the city laid out before them. It hadn't changed much since their aerial descent: flames and muzzle flashes provided most of the illumination, and many tenements were in ruins. Most of the looting had been done prior to their arrival. Now it was kill-and-rape-for-the-fun-of-it time.
Kat wondered what it was like to be completely defenceless. Even when the Covenant had ravaged her planet, she'd only felt fear and anger. Not helplessness, like any women unfortunate enough to be down there in those streets would be. How could someone go through life unable to fight back, to protect themselves? Kat hoped, no, prayed she never found out what that was like. Because behind all of her training and cool-headed focus there was a fear that she'd be utterly defeated at some point, and it would happen without warning-
"Kat! Head in the game!"
Right. It was time to go to work. She walked over to the edge of the roof and faced their target. Piedmont Tower was two hundred and forty six metres away, and specs on the jetpack gauged maximum range at two-fifty. It was going to be close.
Thom was already standing there, hands on hips, surveying his soon-to-be-LZ. "Remind me again, "he said acidly, "why I'm the one going first? And alone?"
"Because, "Kat said tightly, "it limits our chances of being spotted. And I need to tell you when to adjust your trajectory so you don't end up crashing into the side of the tower, or worse, running out of fuel and ending up as a Spartan-shaped splatter on the ground."
"Great. Thanks." He exhaled heavily, and retreated back a few steps. "So, when I get on the roof, I secure the area and set off our diversion. Then you fly on over and we head downstairs, and we either nab this guy or blow him to kingdom come. Am I wrong?"
"No, you've got it covered." She depolarised her own Air Assault-issue helmet and gave him a small smile for reassurance. Every little helped. "You might just make it in this business after all, Thom."
He huffed. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Stupid Beta chicks..." he mumbled.
"I heard that!" she called out, and then consulted the readout in her helmet. She'd linked a transistor to his jetpack, which gave would let her monitor the device's fuel and thrust levels. In order to minimise the chances of failure (a light way of putting it, Kat), she'd told him to take a running jump. Only this time, literally.
"On my mark. Three...two...one..." And at that point she recited the same thought she did every time an op was about to commence.
Please, let this work."Mark!" Thom hurtled towards the edge and flung himself off, arms and legs spreadeagled. He dropped from view, only to come back into view almost immediately. A pair of orange jets flared from the cones on his jetpack, and he flew off towards the tower. Soon he was just a lonely blot in the sky. It had begun.
She began to pace along the rooftop, opening a COM channel. "Thom! Sitrep!"
His voice came through. He sounded calm, but Kat knew he was focusing hard on keeping it together. He'd never been good with heights, to say nothing of zero-gee missions. "Going just fine, Katty. How's my pack? Your stats syncing up with mine?""I told you not to-yes, you're fine. Altitude and trajectory are green. Fuel level's dropping fast though. See anything useful up there?"
"Not a lot. Just rebels walking around...standing still. Not very exciting guys, the men of the Insurrection. Do you think they get paid overtime?""Focus, Thom! You should almost be there." Had it only been twenty seconds or so?
"Yeah, I can see my LZ. Shit, this tower's big...OK Kat, my jetpack readout's flashing like a neon sign. Something I should know?"She checked. His thrusters were starting to overheat due to extended use, and soon they would shut off completely so the entire apparatus wouldn't just catch flame. "Your thrusters are nearly depleted, get to that roof! Now!"
Alright, alright! Aw shit-"Kat heard a sudden whoosh over the COM, and felt her heart rate spike, which was instantly countered by the chemicals being pumped through her armour's medical ports. "Thom? Thom! Goddamnit, Noble Six, come in!"
A burst of static, and an annoyed grunt. "Don't have to shout, LC. I can hear you just fine.""What happened?"
"Damn thrusters cut off almost as soon as I made it to the lip of the roof, but I didn't quite make it...luckily there was a big central heating unit just below. Gave me some time to climb back up, I'm here now."
She was about to exhale in relief, and quickly forced it back. They weren't done. Not even close. She faced the roof's edge again, her own jetpack's thrusters warming up. "Roger that. I'm on my way over. Secure the area in the meantime."
"Ten-four, Kat. I'll make this place cleaner than a midwife's clinic, an ODST's hope chest, an Elite's combat harness; hey, I've got more-"And they said Jun was chatty.
She counted to three, inhaled sharply and sprinted towards the roof. She leapt, and let oblivion take her. But only for a moment. Thrusters belched into life and she was airborne, heading for the rooftop. The jetstream tugged at her armour like the hands of needy children. Privately, she thanked her helmet was insulating her ears from the wind.
Kat clicked on her COM, but kept one eye on her jetpack's readout. "Thom, I'm inbound. You secured that rooftop-"
Without warning an almighty explosion erupted from the streets below, followed by the faint clacks of gunfire. Gouts of flame and debris shot up towards her, barely missing. "Shit! What the hell's going on down there, Thom?"
Her teammate's voice came through, now accompanied by a layer of tension. "Hell if I can say for sure, LC, but the rebels are going into a frenzy, taking up positions, forming up into squads...my guess? I think that platoon Carter was planning to send us just got found. That, or they got cocky and decided to try their hand at being heroes. That explosion happened only a few blocks away from here.""Fuck, "she cursed. This was the last thing they needed. She'd planned for a stealth operation, and that was no longer possible. Unless... "Are the Innies activating any missile systems, AA batteries? Anything?"
"One sec-Yep, I can see a pair of SAM launchers, one on either side of the front lawn. Doesn't look like they're on now, but they're trying their damndest. Kat, get here quick before they lock onto your armour's systems! I'll try and contact the marines-""Don't do that!" she commanded sharply. "They might have ears listening in. Just stick to the SQUADCOM for now. I'll be there ASAP, clear?"
"Solid copy." They both cut the channel. It was too risky to spend any more time on the airwaves. For her part, Kat ignored the clusterfuck going on in the streets below and focused on getting to that damn rooftop. Before a heatseeker decided to end her career prematurely.
Fortunately, the rest of her flight was uneventful, and fifteen seconds later she touched down on the Piedmont Tower roof with just enough fuel left. Normally she would have been smug that she'd made it without screwing up and Thom hadn't, but now wasn't the time. Her errant teammate was busy gazing at the rebels below, arms folded. "Well?" she asked, striding up to him.
He shook his head in despair. "Never send marines to do a Spartan's job. I managed to knock the dust off the optical zoom and I confirmed it. Leathernecks of the 126th. Somewhere between twenty and thirty, but there might be more. Rebels must've had an explosive trap wired into the traffic signal system, set to trigger when they set foot on the road. Wouldn't work unless the superintendent was gone, either." He shook his head again, this time in grudging admiration. "I'm really starting to hate these guys."
"Me too." She looked around, and saw only one thing of note: the top of the stairwell leading down into the building. "We can't afford to wait any longer, Thom. If they're mobilising, you can bet they'll be securing their stronghold too. There's probably a team headed up here right now. We need to move." She drew her M6G sidearm and racked the slide with a practised movement. "Weapon out, rifleman. Time to knock some heads."
He flashed her a mocking grin. "Kat, I keep telling you, that stuff was cool when you were in Beta, but not anymore. Knock some heads? I mean, really-"
She shoved him towards the stairwell and together they silently descended, now completely focused on their mission. Redeye was in here somewhere, and if he wasn't going with them, he wasn't going at all.
*****************************************************
"Cover fire!"
"Someone get a grenade on that MG!"
"Fucking Innie assholes-"
"Sniper! Anyone see the shooter?"
"Get down, idiot!"
Who said marines couldn't be eloquent?
Gunny Reynolds might have been crouching behind a wrecked van, eyes trained firmly on his ammo counter (32) and waiting for the fire to slack off so he could pop up and shoot, but inside his marine-issue helmet-clad head there was only one thing: you fucked up. You fucked up. You fucked up, didn't you? You fucked up.The man next to him, a beefy corporal by the name of Gehrig (he liked old-Earth jazz music and had three brothers also in the Corps), blind-fired a grenade from behind a concrete barrier, and Reynolds took this chance to act. He ducked out from behind his vehicular barrier and fired a short burst. Somewhere across the street they'd been pinned down on, across to the next block, a loud yell was heard. At least he thought it was from over there. It was all around him too.
You fucked up.
He ducked back down as a stream of bullets from presumably stolen guns pinged and volleyed off anything in their path. Including one or two of his men, who went down bleeding and screaming. Tyrell and Bendis. Family men both, veterans of the 126th. Bendis had just returned from medical leave. Plasma scarring on his ribs. From the look of that wound, he'd be going straight back.
You fucked up, yeah?One of his staff sergeants was shaking his arm, yelling something. Something about their marksman finding a building's stairwell that wasn't locked down. They could get on the roof. Fight back, instead of getting chewed to bits on the street. He tried to find his voice, but the sound of the combat and that voice in his head denied any possibility of this. He grunted, nodded vehemently. Waved a hand. Go, go. Do it. You still fucked up. Remember?It was never usually this bad. But usually for him was the Covenant. Fighting against an enemy that had a perpetual upper hand. In that arena, mistakes didn't mean death was any less likely (the goddamn opposite), but they were more...forgivable. Didn't mean he wouldn't fight less, or that his men wouldn't pay the price. But it sealed the roles of protagonist and antagonist. He was only human, and they were unknowable aliens.
Now, getting outsmarted and outfought by the goddamned Insurrection? On this planet, a planet that had every right to be stable? There was no getting around that. No justification, however slight, that he could repeat a thousand times over (and a thousand times after that) until he believed it. They were humans as well. Sneaky pricks, but human. They died easily enough, and to prove this he ripped a frag from his vest and lobbed it so it would bounce off the walls of the building opposite. Boom. Chunks of flesh and viscera stained the pavement.
You still fucked up.Did it think he didn't know that? Christ, it happened to everyone. He'd move on, get back on his feet. He was in charge of these men, ever since the el-tee bit the dust 'cause of that mine. He'd see them through-
Or you won't. Because you'll fuck up again.
"Gunny? Gunny!"
It was another one of his subordinates, Schmidt. His family was old money but he'd signed up to fight instead of living the limousine-and-cocktails life. A good kid. He finally found his voice, his own voice. "What's the spit, private?"
The tips of his blonde hair were poking out from under his helmet; past regulation length. He made a note to see to that-
"-bombing run, sir!"
He blinked once, twice. Wait, what? He cupped his ear, telling himself he couldn't hear because of the sound of gunfire and grenades. "Repeat that, son!"
If Schmidt was frustrated, he didn't show it, just doubled his voice to a yell. "Sir, Corporal Kenneth just got in touch with Ashton! He says he can divert one of our UAV's to this position to commence a bombing run but he needs two things first!"
Two? He wasn't asking much, was he? "What?!"
"The street's too narrow for UAV control to target manually, he needs the target to be lased! Which is pretty much any point where the rebs are entrenched!"
"Ok, good!" He tried to raise his voice and succeeded. He immediately felt stronger. "Do we have a target locator?"
"It's being brought up by 'Goose from Pardindo Street, special delivery! Five minutes tops!"
"Good!" Good? He was already sick of the word, hated it. Nothing about this was good. "And the other thing?"
"There are only eleven UAVs operating inside the city limits, so the general doesn't want them destroyed! The Innies have a couple of SAM launchers up near Piedmont Tower, we need to take 'em out!"
Oh, is that all? He pushed himself off the van's roof, now perpendicular to the ground, and yelled into Schmidt's ear. "Get all the staff sergeants here now! Then let me know when the locator gets here! Got it?"
"Yes sir!" Schmidt practically screamed. He hared off back along their makeshift barricade, head on a swivel as he looked for whoever was left to that could make decisions.
You fucked up. You probably will again.
He thought he'd banished that voice. Never for long.
****************************************************
Kat proceeded cautiously down the marble-tiled corridor, a long electronic wand held aloft in her hand. The tip glowed a pale blue, but not bright enough that it shone off the walls or floor. After a painstakingly slow minute, she reached the end and gazed at the wand expectantly. It remained the same colour. No bugs or other surveillance equipment, then. Good.
She let her hand fall below her hip and made a beckoning gesture. Thom quickly moved up the corridor, rifle butt firmly against his shoulder. If a target popped out, he wouldn't miss, she was sure of that. "That makes our third floor doing this, LC, "he breathed softly. "We're going too slow. Think we could hurry it up?"
"Sure. If you want every Innie in the building to come at us."
"Point taken."
She consulted the Piedmont schematic. It was roughly sixty stories high, but the lower half was comprised of offices, cubicles and small firms. The upper half was strictly corporate, hence the more opulent surroundings. Barring the odd scorch mark and smashed window of course. The rebs must've done a clean job when they took this place.
They still had no idea where Redeye was located, but it couldn't be far away. But unfortunately Thom had a point. They were going too slow. They'd need a new plan. Reluctantly, she turned to her squadmate. 'So, got any ideas?"
He grinned mischievously. "I might have one or two. Actually, just one." He walked back the way they'd came, pointing a finger at a small camera lens nestled in a corner of the ceiling. "You fed them a loop, right? Because disabling them would be too suspicious?"
Kat frowned, not seeing where he was going. "Right."
"And they disabled the elevators, right?"
"Right. What's your point?"
"My point-"he positioned himself just behind the camera's visual range, and gestured for Kat to do the same-"is this. Unloop the camera on my mark."
She was now more confused than ever, but she found herself without an option and (grudgingly) trusting his judgement. "Alright. Standby." She accessed her HUD's hacking software and found the relevant designation for the camera. "Whenever you're ready."
Hearing a click, she saw him take out a frag grenade and pull the pin. "Mark!"
He tossed the grenade down the corridor, then took cover behind a large potted plant. Kat barely had time to swear in Russian before the grenade went off, filling the small space with white light tinged with red and orange streaks. Splinters of wood and marble bounced and pattered on her armour, causing her to instinctively raise her arm in front of her face. Her visor hadn't quite polarised in time, so that meant her vision was covered with yellow spots.Just in time, she remembered to resume the loop over the camera feed. Once she had done that, she whirled on Thom and damn near slammed him against the wall. "What the fuck was that?" she yelled, a string of saliva splattering on the inside of her helmet. She ignored it. "You could have gotten us both killed! Besides, what good does that do?"
Thom spoke calmly and concisely, the sort of voice he never used because he was never the one coming up with plans. Kat was momentarily impressed at this before going back to being pissed off. "Think about it, Kat. All they would have seen on their screens is an explosion on the fifty-eighth floor. They don't know that it's us. They don't know what it is. But they won't leave it to chance, so they'll send a team up here. On the elevator. So when they do-"
"We'll be ready for them, "Kat finished. She still looked at him with anger, but there was a trace of respect now. "Not a bad plan. Just consult me next time you go tossing an M9, ok?"
He nodded solemnly and saluted. "Understood, ma'am." He kept walking down the now-destroyed corridor, but said over his shoulder, "Oh, and LC? You might wanna wipe your visor."
She resisted the urge to fire a round over his head and followed him to where the elevators would be. They had a trap to spring.
***************************************************
They gathered around a flipped-over convertible. Who was left, anyway.
Five staff sergeants looked at him expectantly, all of them wounded. One had a nasty gash over one eye, which wouldn't stop seeping blood. Every twenty seconds or so, the man wiped it away with a muttered curse. There was a sort of grace to that rhythm, and some insane part of Reynolds wanted to just close his eyes and listen to it. Fsssht. Shit. Fsssht. Fuck. Fsssht. Damn.
Focus, damn it.
Five sergeants, looking at him, were expecting him to get them out of this mess. They were chancing a lot. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he set aside his helmet for the moment.
He raised his voice so that he would be heard. Though they were now a decent hundred or so metres back down the street-his former position on the line had gotten too hot, causing Schmidt to pay with his life-the cacophony of gunfire and shouting still made it hard. "First things first. Casualties?"
A quick discussion revealed that they'd lost twelve men already, mostly from Second Squad. They'd been the poor bastards unlucky enough to be on point when the mine went off and the initial hail of gunfire began. They would try to recover what was left of the bodies, but if they didn't do something to stop this fight soon, someone would be performing burial detail for them.
"Ashton can send us a bombing run, clear out the street, but he needs two things. One, targets need to be marked with a laser. That one's taken care of." He held up a small handheld device that looked like an M6D with a large cylinder in place of the barrel. "Two, he needs the Innie AA cannons taken out of the picture. Two is harder. They're well fortified, and well entrenched. Any ideas?"
A snort was heard, and one of the men there, a gangly specimen named Temple folded his arms. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought we weren't even meant to be in this deep? I thought we were supposed to provide fire support when the Spartans started kicking ass, not getting our asses left to die-"
"Stand down, sergeant!" Reynolds barked, feeling his headache getting worse. "We're in it now whether you like it or not, so if you haven't got anything worthwhile to contribute, shut your cakehole!"
Temple nodded crisply. Thank god, the idiot still knew how to take orders. Reynolds cast his gaze around. "Nothing?"
Another non-com, a dark-skinned man called Fanucci, raised a hand. "Why don't we try going under? Smoke those pussies out from the sewers or whatever. We've got C-12 satchels on standby, it's just a matter of setting up. Sounds good, right?"
"And who's t'say them sumbitches ain't got the tunnels wired up t'blow fulla bombs themselves?" argued Staff Sergeant Reichart. "Ah say, we get some workin' cars and 'Hogs, load 'em up with 'splosives, put the pedal t'the metal. Boom!" He emphasised this by slamming his fists together enthusiastically.
Reynolds thought about it. Both plans seemed equally suicidal and reckless. But they were the only two plans he had. So which one would he take?
Almost imperceptibly, he recalled a line from his old drill instructor. He'd just made corporal and been put in charge of a fireteam. He didn't think it was such a big responsibility, but his superior had thought otherwise. He and every other jarhead dumb enough to get rank had been grilled for days about a hundred different kinds of tactics and strategies. Most of them dealt with what to do in the event everything went to shit. Which, the drill instructor had argued, was pretty damn often.
"And why am I telling you this? Because just between you and me, those officers and soon-to-be-officers at OCS are wastes of space, every last one of 'em." A ripple of laughter had gone around the room. "Yeah, laugh. But it's a damn fact that when officers buy the farm, the platoon, company, whatever, goes one of two ways. The first is that the chain of command breaks down, nobody knows what the flying fuck to do and you all die horribly. But, if you're lucky, and you apply yourselves then you'll get option two. One of you non-coms picks up the slack, you work together and you come out the other side alive. That's why this is so goddamned important, boys and girls. Because at the end of the day, we're all dead men, and whatever call you make, people will die. Just make sure it's the right one. Make sure it gets results. Make sure it gets you closer to getting back safe."
He shook his head, re-donned his helmet and stood up. "I've decided."