Chapter 7: Trial by Fire

We marched for a while longer, Vasiliev and the wounded Krell hanging near the back, with the armed humans at the front. We’d figured out how to use the shield projectors, they were handy little things, devices about the size of a wrist-mounted computer that could create a barrier of plasma roughly the size of a garbage can lid. If we came across more Bugs, we could use their own tactics against them.

“You doing alright, Raz?” I asked as she walked beside me.

“What, this?” she asked as she gestured to her blood-stained coveralls. “This is nothing, those knives are tiny. I’ve had more serious cuts than this during play fights. Borealans heal fast, I’ll be fine.”

“Thanks ... by the way,” I added.

“For what?”

“For saving my ass back there. If you’d been a second slower, my face would be looking like Vasiliev’s shoulder right about now.”

“You’d have done the same for me,” she replied with a shrug. “Besides, that’s what friends are for, right?”

“Well, I owe you one.”

“Oh, I have some ideas about how you can pay me back,” she said as a grin spread across her face. She leaned in closer so that nobody else could hear her, whispering in my ear. “Most of them involve your tongue.”

I straightened my collar, trying not to look flustered as we rounded another corner.

“We’re here,” Vasiliev said, “the armory is through that door.”

One of the recruits helped him over to a keypad, and he typed in an access code, the bulky door swinging open to reveal another short passageway. We made our way through, and behind the second reinforced door was the armory. I breathed a sigh of relief as I stepped out of the dingy, cramped service tunnels and into a whitewashed room, the familiar sight of the range greeting me.

Suddenly, a man wearing a yellow uniform and wielding an XMR emerged from behind an upturned table, aiming the barrel of the rifle right at my face. He lowered it just as abruptly, his eyes wide.

“Oh fuck, I almost blew your heads off! Get inside, and get that door closed!”

We piled into the room, one of the recruits closing the reinforced door with a click. The man, he was probably an engineer judging by his attire, came over and helped Vasiliev onto a nearby chair.

“Sitrep,” the Sergeant coughed, gritting his teeth as he shifted to get more comfortable.

“The torus was boarded,” the engineer replied, glancing at us nervously. “I was told to lock down the armory and to await the arrival of a group of trainees.”

“That’s us,” I said, “are we the only ones that made it?”

“I haven’t seen anyone else,” the engineer replied. “Some Marines stopped by to resupply a while ago, but nobody has come to the door since. I swear, you nearly scared the life out of me. What the hell were you lot doing in the service tunnels?”

“There are Bugs all over the torus, and we were unarmed,” Vasiliev explained. “I had to bring the recruits here via the tunnels, we wouldn’t have made it ten feet out there.”

“How many of them are on the station?” the engineer continued, “have they called an evacuation yet?”

“We didn’t get any orders to evacuate,” Harry replied, “they told us to come here.”

“As much as I appreciate a good conversation, I’m kind of suffering from third-degree plasma burns over here,” Vasiliev complained. “If one of you could go get a medkit, I’ll consider not punching you once I regain the use of my arm...”

The engineer nodded, hurrying away to an adjacent room. I was relieved that we were finally safe, but there was still a battle going on outside on the torus. Could we really sit here and do nothing while Marines fought and died for our sake? The armory was full of XMRs and ammo, our own personalized weapons were here. I glanced back at my fellow recruits. One Krell was tending to his injured friend, while the humans were milling about around Vasiliev. The three Borealans were off to one side, looking as uncertain as I had ever seen them.

“Are we just going to stand here?” Harry asked, beating me to the punch. Vasiliev opened one eye, peering at him as if anticipating his rant. “We’re surrounded by guns, and we know how to use them. Let’s get out there and help!”

“I agree,” I chimed in, the Sergeant turning his eye on me. “All due respect, sir, we handled those Bugs in the service tunnels. We can handle the ones on the torus, too, give the Marines some support.”

“Fuck that,” one of the other humans interjected. “Did you see how those things fight? If the Marines got overrun, what the hell do you expect ‘us’ to do? We don’t have armor, we haven’t even completed our training!”

“The Sergeant has authority,” Raz growled, the recruit going silent under her amber stare. All eyes turned to Vasiliev as he slouched in his chair. The engineer came rushing back to him, taking a knee beside him and opening up a little medical pouch. He withdrew some kind of cooling gel, spreading it on the wound gingerly as the Staff Sergeant gritted his teeth.

“My orders were to get the recruits to the armory and to hole up,” Vasiliev said as the engineer applied a bandage over the burn. “But considering that I’ve already lost track of ninety percent of the recruits ... I don’t see how I can carry out those orders. I won’t order anyone to go out there, but if you want to help defend the station, then I won’t stop you.”

Harry shot me a grin, moving over to the racks where our weapons were stored. Raz and I followed after him, and I wondered how many of the recruits would join us. All of the humans were onboard besides for the one who had spoken up. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, scowling at us.

“This is bullshit,” he grumbled, “I’m not going to go out there and get killed. None of you know what you’re doing, we weren’t trained for this.”

I couldn’t blame him too much, this wasn’t what we had signed up for, but it would have been our reality eventually if we had succeeded in becoming Marines.

The two Krell lumbered toward us too, one of them stopping along the way to let the engineer dress his wounds. The three Borealans remained where they were, huddled together and glancing around suspiciously with their yellow eyes.

“I’m sick of this,” I heard Raz growl. Her tail whipped back and forth as she marched over to them, flexing her claws like she was preparing for a fight. “You bring shame on Elysia!” she snapped, her voice dripping with malice as she confronted the aliens. They seemed alarmed by her sudden outburst, closing ranks and baring their sharp teeth at her. “Is this the courage of a Borealan warrior? Huddling in a shelter while others do your fighting for you? Will you not lift a claw to help?”

One of them hissed something in their native language at her, and Raz snarled a response.

“Speak the language of the humans! This is their station, they are our pack now.”

“You are not Alpha any longer,” one of them replied.

“And where is your Alpha? Xhe was beaten like a kitten caught stealing from the meat locker, and unless you want to face the same fate, you will obey me.”

“R-Raz led us straight before,” one of the other Borealans added, glancing at her fellows nervously. “Perhaps ... without Xhe here, we should follow her lead. She has proven herself with the human rifles, after all.”

“You are disgraced,” another added, “we will not follow you.”

“Then do you challenge my dominance, Yuza?” Raz spat as she turned to face the offending Borealan. “Step forward and claim the mantle for yourself, if you’re so certain of my disgrace. Prove it with tooth and claw.”

The one called Yuza turned her eyes to the floor. The larger of the three stepped forward, however, her head held high. The two began to face off, Raz’s ears flattening against her hair as she circled her opponent. I glanced at Vasiliev, but he wasn’t making any move to intervene. Was this normal for the aliens? Was this how they decided the hierarchy of the pack? The one that they called Xhe had taken Raz’s place in the social order, but she was in the medbay right now. What did that make these Borealans, the third or fourth strongest?

Raz’s challenger lunged at her, slicing the sleeve of her uniform with her sharp claws, the orange fur poking out from beneath it. She responded in kind, clawing at her opponent, hissing and spitting furiously. The two became a blur, yowling and snarling, swiping at each other with a violent abandon that shocked me. Perhaps it was all part of the show, Raz hadn’t even been this ferocious when she had decapitated the Bug back in the tunnel.

She weathered her opponent’s blows, blocking the majority of them with her forearms, her own flashing talons digging deep into the other Borealan’s flesh. Blood soaked into their clothes, now tattered on the forearms and the torso. They looked like they had been fed through a wood chipper.

“We don’t have time for this,” Harry muttered.

“Trust me, this is important,” I replied. “If we want those Borealans on our side, then Raz has to prove her worth.”

The other Borealans leaped out of the way as the two scrapping aliens moved over to the wall, Raz piling on the pressure to keep her challenger on the defensive. Even I could see who was going to win, Raz was noticeably larger and stronger, the will of her opponent waning as she was backed up against the bulkhead. Raz cut her across the chest, then delivered a vicious swipe to her face, crimson droplets staining the whitewashed metal behind her. I couldn’t help but gasp, watching as blood seeped down the alien’s cheek where Raz had sliced her open.

She yielded, cowering, raising her shredded sleeves in a gesture of submission. Raz paused, a clawed hand poised for another strike, and then she backed off. The fight had been fast and brutal, no wonder Raz had been so casual about the knife wounds that the Bug had inflicted upon her if this was how they resolved their disagreements.

She let her defeated adversary rise to her feet, her head bowed. The two other Borealans followed suit, lowering their heads, gazing at the floor as Raz caught her breath.

“Now go get your guns,” she snapped, pointing to the XMR racks. “And configure them as I tell you.”

They did as she asked without question, hurrying over to the racks. I approached Raz cautiously, eyeing the fresh blood that stained her clothes, and she looked back at me with wild eyes.

“Are you ... alright?” I asked. “Should we dress your wounds?”

“These will be healed by tomorrow,” she replied. “And don’t worry about her,” she added, nodding to the now submissive Borealan with the cuts on her cheek who was now occupied with disassembling her XMR. “The worst that she’ll be left with are some faded scars, a reminder to show courage.”

“If you say so,” I mumbled.

“Remember what I told you, monkey, battle gets our blood flowing. Now let’s occupy ourselves with a gunfight before I see fit to lead you away to a storage closet so that I can burn off this heat.”

She left me standing there red-faced as she stalked over to her pack, her mantle of Alpha reclaimed. She hefted her own XMR off the rack, barking orders at them as they began to copy her design, fumbling with the attachments.

Harry had been close enough to overhear our exchange, and I gave him a rather sheepish shrug.

“I guess I don’t need to worry about you losing your nerve in a fight if that’s your idea of fun,” he said. “Come on, let’s gear up.”

We burst out onto the torus, the Krell that I had taken to calling ‘Blackjack’ taking point, protected by the massive gun shield that was mounted on the end of his LMG. It was such an imposing weapon, but he lifted it effortlessly. The drum magazine alone probably weighed as much as my entire XMR. The humans fanned out behind him with their rifles shouldered, covering one another as they took up position around the door to the armory. They hid behind planters and barriers, scanning for signs of movement. The newly reformed pack of Borealans loped out after us, their round ears swiveling in all directions, their pink noses sampling the air.

We had no armor, we were clad only in our Navy uniforms, but we did have chest rigs for carrying extra magazines and receivers. The Krell were wearing their leather ponchos, using the pockets to store their ammo and gear.

It was a warzone outside. Everything was still lit in crimson, and the fires had created a fog of dark smoke that seemed to cling to the ceiling like an acrid rain cloud. There were plasma burns scarring everything, from the facades of buildings to the planters, the trees charred here and there where the crackling energy had passed too close and had ignited them. There were perfect, round holes where railgun slugs had penetrated, along with blast marks that might have come from grenades.

I could see a good distance down the torus before it curved out of sight beneath the ceiling, and besides for a few Drone bodies scattered around, there was no sign of anyone. There had been fighting here, but it had moved off to other areas of the station. The lack of human bodies suggested that the Marines might have won this engagement, and had subsequently evacuated their dead and wounded.

“On the right,” Raz said. “The scent of Bugs is stronger.”

“Then we go upspin,” I said, looking around as I waited for someone to protest. Nobody had any objections, and so we set off, keeping to cover as we moved through the ravaged torus. The dim, red lighting made every shadow a potential hiding place for a Bug surprise attack, my eyes darting about as we slowly advanced. As afraid as I was, I had never felt so alive, so aware. Every footstep and every rustle of the leaves drew my attention, I felt like I could have heard a penny drop on the other side of the torus.

We cleared every alleyway and checked behind every kiosk with mechanical efficiency, knowing that one mistake could result in injury or death. The Borealans were hypervigilant, their ears swiveling like furry little radar dishes, twitching in the direction of any sound that they heard.

Due to the way that the torus had been designed, there were surprisingly few clear lines of sight. The decorations that I had once praised for their aesthetic appeal now provided us with cover and potentially concealed our enemies.

Our footsteps echoed on the deck, the claws of the Borealans clicking against the metal, the two Krell stomping around like elephants. There wasn’t much cover that could conceal the giant reptiles, and so they made little effort to stay hidden, marching along with their machine guns at the ready. A few of the humans had taken to walking behind them in single-file, as though they were living APCs. They might well serve as cover in much the same way if the plasma started flying.

“Where is everyone?” Harry muttered. “Shouldn’t we have encountered some Marines by now?”

“Maybe,” I replied, sweeping my rifle across the walkway. Its weight was a comfort, I finally had a weapon that I knew how to use. I had felt so naked, armed with only the pistol. “They’ve either cornered the remaining Bugs in another quarter of the torus, or they’ve retreated to the central hub. That’s what they’d do, right? It’s the most defensible place on the station.”

“Contact!” Raz hissed.

I followed her gaze, seeing the glint of Bug carapaces as a squad of the squat little creates came wandering out of one of the buildings. There were maybe a dozen of them, and they hadn’t seen us yet. They had their pistols at the ready, and they seemed to be searching for something, their green eyes glowing as they examined their surroundings. They might be lost, or perhaps they were seeking out new targets.

There was no time to come up with a plan, they’d notice us any second now.

“Open fire!” I yelled, throwing myself behind the cover of a planter and resting the barrel of my XMR on the metal. I fired around the tree that occupied the pot, my shouting and the sudden crack of gunfire sending the Drones scrambling. I was in my element now, this was what I had trained for, what I had spent untold hours drilling to perfection. The first burst caught one of the Bugs in the back, the three slugs tearing it apart. Ichor sprayed as fragments of its broken shell flew through the air, the insect keeling over as its comrades dove into nearby cover.

The other humans followed my lead, ducking behind barriers and planters as they opened fire, cutting down two more of the aliens. They leaned out from behind kiosks and benches, the muzzle flashes from their XMRs illuminating the scene intermittently, the noise deafening. The Krell were not to be outdone, standing their ground and firing their light machine guns from the hip, the barrels starting to glow orange as they peppered the Bugs with a hail of tungsten slugs. They were like walking machine gun nests, no other species could have controlled that kind of recoil. The velocity of the rounds meant that much of the cover provided by the planters and other decorations was rendered moot, and I watched as one of the Bugs was torn apart from behind the apparent safety of an information terminal. The slugs cut straight through the metal, electricity sparking as the internal components were eviscerated, a monitor that was displaying a map of the station fizzling out as it was perforated. The Bug was hit with half a dozen rounds or more, the projectiles shattering its protective shell, tearing it limb from limb as the kinetic energy was transferred to its body with brutal results.

There was return fire coming in now, the tree above me bursting into roaring flames as a plasma bolt passed just over my head, the heat of it making me recoil. The plasma lacked the penetration of the railgun slugs, but it had other attributes. I watched as the plastic housing of a kiosk slagged, the recruit that had been taking refuge behind it leaping out of the way, crawling on his belly as another volley reduced his cover to a melting pool of polymer.

The Krell took fire, much of it splashing harmlessly off their gun shields, leaving dark smears on the metal. One of them caught a bolt to the shoulder, a low rumbling making my bones shake as he loosed a roar of pain, swinging his weapon toward his attackers. The LMG shredded the trees and bushes with the efficiency of a chainsaw, cutting them down, along with the aliens that had been firing from behind them.

There were flashes of colorful light as the remaining Bugs ignited their plasma shields, grouping up and forming a wall, the stream of slugs melting on contact and showering the Drones with flecks of molten metal. The glow from the barriers lit up everything around them, the vibrant hues of the alien carapaces shining and glittering in a way that might have been beautiful under less deadly circumstances. I had seen these tactics before, I knew what to expect.

“They’re gonna use those shields to close in on us, then they’re gonna come after us with knives!” I shouted over the din. The Bugs were now occupying the entire walkway, seven or eight of them standing side by side as they advanced, laying down suppressing fire with their pistols. The Krell had to draw back, taking cover behind their gun shields and putting more objects between them and the enemy.

“Switch to plasma receivers if you got ‘em!” someone shouted. I huddled down with my back to the planter, rummaging through my chest rig, my hands trembling as I swapped out my magazine for a plasma canister. I flipped up the rail on top of my XMR frame and popped out the railgun receiver, then switched them, closing the hinged rail again with a slap of my hand. It wasn’t quite second nature yet, as Vasiliev had said, but it was becoming familiar enough. I rose to aim over the planter again, and soon a volley of plasma was pounding the Bug phalanx. Their shields dissipated the bolts, seeming to absorb them, but the flow of the magnetically-contained energy began to grow erratic.

“Focus your fire!” Harry shouted, leaning out from an alleyway as he shouldered his rifle and fired off a full-auto burst of plasma. His XMR of choice had an extended mag and a shorter barrel with a forward grip, like an assault rifle. “The one in the middle!”

I spotted the one that he was referring to, its shield wavering as it absorbed the fire. I closed one eye and looked down my scope, intent on landing the shots. The XMR kicked into my shoulder as a trio of plasma bolts joined Harry’s volley, the Bug’s shield overloading and collapsing to leave it exposed.

“Brace!” I heard Raz shout, and I turned to see that she had formed a line with her pack. They had moved out of cover, and their four identical rifles were raised. They braced the weapons against their shoulders at her command, waiting for her order.

“Fire!” Raz shouted, and the four aliens loosed a volley in perfect sync. Their XMRs were all clones of the one that I had assisted Raz in creating, semi-automatic, with extended barrels and sharp bayonets. The aliens treated them like their native breech-loaders, that was what they had trained for, and their archaic firing line formation further hammered that point home. It was hard to criticize their outdated tactics when we were facing down a shield wall, however.

The four slugs hit the Bug whose barrier had collapsed, the densely packed magnetic coils on the long barrels propelling them to incredible velocities. Their target practically disintegrated, lifted clear off its feet, the projectiles shattering its carapace like a rock thrown through a glass window. The transfer of kinetic energy tore it apart, a cloud of misted gore spraying its comrades to either side of it.

As its ruined body tumbled across the deck, the other Bugs closed ranks to fill the hole in their formation, not showing any sign of fear or reacting in any way to the grisly death of their squadmate. They returned fire, the Borealans scattering, diving into cover with a speed and agility that gave the Bugs little time to get a bead on them.

The incoming barrage was too much for the Bugs to weather. With every shield that they lost, their ability to absorb our fire was reduced. Two more dropped, one of the Bugs cut cleanly in half by a Krell LMG, while the second was sent flailing to the ground by a burst of plasma fire. Those that remained fired indiscriminately with their pistols in an attempt to get us to duck back into cover.

Outnumbered and routed, they quickly succumbed, falling to the deck as their insectoid bodies were slagged and perforated.

“Yeah!” Harry yelled, emerging from cover and raising his rifle above his head in triumph. “Weren’t expecting to meet us today, were you? Fucking cockroaches!”

“Is everyone alright?” I asked, lowering my weapon. I was careful not to let the barrel touch me, the coils were glowing red-hot. One of the Krell rummaged in the many pockets of his poncho, withdrawing a heat-resistant glove. It was Blackjack, I could see some of his plasma burns beneath the garment. He used it to remove the barrel of his XMR, which had partially melted during the sustained fire, discarding it and slotting in a fresh one.

Everyone was accounted for, and so we pressed on, stepping around the remains of the Bug squad. Raz sidled up beside me, her pack trailing behind her obediently.

“Looks like you’re all getting along,” I said, glancing back over my shoulder at the aliens.

“I am Alpha again, they will obey me without question.”

“That went ... really well,” I added, laughing nervously. “When I saw those Marines on the torus go down, I thought that we’d get shredded if we tried to take on the Bugs ourselves. But back in the service tunnels, and now out here ... we’ve got this. We’re winning.”

“There is merit to mixed units,” Raz conceded. “The Krell drew their fire and kept them pinned, while the humans whittled down their shields. If they had closed into knife range, we would have been able to handle them, but they never had the opportunity. We compliment one another well.”

“So what do your buddies think about the XMRs now?” I asked, “do they still want to go get their breech-loaders from their shuttle?”