Zero Point: Chapter 15- Through a Glass, Darkly.
#17 of Zero Point
Chapter 15: Through a Glass, Darkly.
The bluesy twang of guitars blasted throughout the shuttle's garage area as John Fogerty's voice growled out the lyrics of CCR's Run Through the Jungle, courtesy of the stereo system inside the armored Humvee perched upon its metal deckplates. The combat vehicle took up about eighty percent of the available space, leaving Brian Lancing with a small stool and workbench on which to conduct the tasks he had been giving himself. Both his M16 and M14 rifles were taken apart and scattered all across his workspace, and the Marine had taken to using an old toothbrush and standard cleaning kit to ensure the weapons were taken care of before an almost certain extended period of combat.
One hidden danger of using firearms in a cold climate is lubrication. Use too little and there will be problems once the weapon heats up. The components of the bolt will tend to stick together instead of slide freely, increasing the likelihood of a failure to extract or, worse, a double-feed. Conversely, using too much lubricating oil when it is cold out will simply start to gum the entire weapon up, attracting dirt and grit to the point where the action will freeze up entirely.
That was one of a myriad of reasons why Brian was going about maintaining every weapon meticulously. While military-issued weapons were tested to high standards of precision and durability, they could and would fail. There weren't any spare parts laying around for anything they had, and if something broke it was gone for good. While his combat experience and training gave him a decent skillset in hand-to-hand combat, he had no illusions that the lizards' advantage of numbers and raw strength nearly negated those skills. He was only a threat to them with a gun in his hands.
The routine was good for him. It focused his mind on the matters at hand. The preparation for battle was a ritual he followed more times than he could count back home. He may have been fighting brutish lizardmen rather than Taliban fighters or Iraqi insurgent groups, but the preparation was the same. His hands slammed the M14's bolt home after ensuring it had a light coat of oil, before setting the weapon aside to work on the M16.
After the weapons were taken care of he turned his attention to the Humvee. Like the firearms the vehicle would require quite a bit of attention. It was only going to be useful as long as there was fuel in that 'farmer-rigged' drum bolted inside the bed, and even beyond that there were issues. He sincerely doubted he could be able to find motor oil or coolant just in case something happened and the Humvee spung a leak. The vehicle itself was optimized for the harsh deserts of Iraq, which meant that it would likely run like crap when subjected to the conditions they were about to endure. Also, diesel fuel would start to gel up if not treated for winter conditions which meant more problems down the line. While he would miss the warmth and firepower, it would be staying in the shuttle when they touched down.
All there was to do was to wait and prepare further until Krystal got ready to fly the ship, if she wasn't doing so already. He hadn't even seen her since she left his room, which wasn't enough to give him cause for alarm. By his own track record he was pretty much certain he pissed her off. Next time, he would figure out how to lock the damn door before going to bed.
The next hour was spent removing all of the nonessential fittings from the Humvee and placing them inside the shuttle. Ammunition, MREs, water, and the completely essential case of beer were carted into the living area. There was even a fridge for the beer, which he would be thoroughly enjoying after their current mission. He figured he deserved a break. The food was packed away into the kitchen's cupboards and the ammunition was neatly stocked on the living room's floor. He needed to reload some magazines anyway.
The only rounds he needed to watch were those for the pistols. He didn't have too much left in stock for his .45, but there was still plenty of 9x19mm left for the M9. He decided to give that to Krystal whenever she decided to grace him with her presence once again. He also put the thought of giving her the remaining M4 to internal debate, although that hinged upon whether she would actually accept the longarm. Either way he would stick to the M14 and M16 for their particular donnybrook.
His train of thought was interrupted as he felt the shuttle jolt underneath his feet. Not gently, either. He had felt a few earthquakes when on post in San Diego, and it felt like a moderate aftershock. Something wasn't right. After shoving his M1911 inside his waistband he made a mad dash for the staircase which led to the shuttle's cockpit, although a couple of other shocks almost caused him to faceplant into the thick, royal blue carpet.
The Marine bolted into the cockpit, which was large enough for a couple of folks to lounge back and fly in decent comfort. His vision focused on Krystal, who was gripping the yoke tight enough to give the impression she was about to break it. Her features were a mask of concentration; the nightgown she had been wearing earlier discarded in favor of the form-fitting suit she had found yesterday. As his situational awareness improved his jaw became unhinged at the sight unfolding before him.
Never in his life had he even entertained the idea of seeing what his eyes were showing him in person. The obsidian abyss of outer space greeted his gaze, complete with the distant pinpoints of stars. The foreboding beauty of the scene transfixed him for a moment, causing his brain to momentarily forget exactly what had happened preceding that particular event.
At least until he realized they were already in real danger. The cause of the jolts he felt earlier became clearly apparent as chunks of rock sized between that of a small car to a large office building cascaded past the viewport. "Sweet Jesus..." he managed to rasp as he slid into the seat next to the grim-faced vixen.
Krystal offered no greeting, but considering the circumstances it was pretty hard to be offended by that. Her reflexes were almost supernatural, jinking the craft left and right to avoid the deadly obstacles in their path. The shuttle only jolted when one of the smaller rocks bounced off the shields, which made him wonder exactly what kind of technology this ship held. He didn't even feel the ship start up, let alone take off into space. He wasn't about to ask her how she had managed that. He didn't even know she could fly the damned thing.
The next few minutes were spent in a tense silence, Krystal's hands deftly maneuvering the controls in time to the dangerous ballet going on outside the viewport. Brian's eyes kept on shooting to the control readouts, which he gained a cursory knowledge of during his time reading the ship's technical manuals.
The shuttle they were in, frankly, had the snot beaten out of it during its landing. It was barely spaceworthy, and the hull integrity indicators were mostly flashing in the yellow and orange areas. It was like taking a leaky yacht out to cross the Atlantic. Their only saving grace were that the shields were operational. His time going over the technical manuals the ship came with also informed him that they were armed. It was likely some underpowered civilian-grade laser cannon, but at least they had something more potent to throw at an enemy than foul language.
What surprised him most was the complete ease with which she piloted the craft. She never said anything about being able to fly, but if she was put into an F15 and told to hang with Top Gun instructors, she could likely do it. Even with their incredibly awkward start to the day he couldn't help but look at her with a sense of renewed awe. A switch had been flipped and she was all business.
Once the asteroid content had died down somewhat, Brian thought it was safe enough to talk. "How far out are we?" He was hoping that they were at least relatively close to their objective.
Krystal's voice was, surprisingly, devoid of the confusion, anger, and pain she had experienced a couple of hours before. There wasn't much room in her mind to delve into what had happened, even though it was lurking all around. His 'elephant in the room,' metaphorically. If she lost her concentration and let her emotions take over, they were dead. "About three thousand kilometers. We're past the worst of the debris field, so it should take us about fifteen minutes."
"Sounds like I should make a last minute check and get our loadouts ready." Brian started to stand, only to be thwarted by Krystal reaching over and grasping his shoulder. Something about the way she looked at him, that professional determination flashing behind those emerald eyes of hers, caused him to sit back down without struggling.
"Stay. We have some time." Her tone was insistent as she returned to piloting the shuttle. "We can't go into battle like this. We both know that. I apologize for my previous behavior, but we need to get this taken care of." She was tense, thankful that her tail's erratic twitching was hidden by the standard channel built into the seat. Being a telepath and an empath meant controlling her surface emotions; even though her outward appearance was calm her inner thoughts were in complete turmoil.
This was something he dreaded, but guessed the least painful way to do things was to just get it over with. She did apologize, although this mess still felt like it was his fault. "I'll just say my piece." Taking a deep breath he prepared for a pretty stout backlash after he had said this, but this was on his mind and she didn't deserve anything less than complete honesty. "Your actions aren't to blame in any of this. You're not experienced with any of this, and these sorts of circumstances either draw people together or tear them apart. I'm no shrink, but you're dealing with some very heavy shit right now. Frankly, you're not ready for combat."
As she glanced back over to him to deliver a retort, he continued. "However, we're alone in all of this. No support, no logistics, nobody to bail us out of a tight spot. I know you say I've saved your life like you owe me some unpayable debt, but in war, that's what you do. It's not about going out there and killing the enemy. Only the psychos think that. It's about watching your friends' backs, and it's about them watching yours. We're in this together. I might be rejecting your advances, but that doesn't mean I'm not your friend. I've got your back."
Krystal sat there for a moment, thankful for the reprieve the 'clear spot' in the debris field that surrounded the planet had bought her. Safely piloting the ship through that was a task that demanded every last bit of concentration she could muster. Brian was right, at least partially. Even the bit about not being ready for combat, painful as that was to admit.
"You've been through a lot. I get that. I don't know if I'm fully able to understand it, but the fact is that as far as we know, we're the only ones out here who know the full score." He leaned back in the seat, noting a blue-white dot out in the vast darkness that seemed to be drawing closer with each passing second. "Those bastards committed genocide against your people. You need to live to get the word out so they can't do it again."
The vixen nodded silently, a quick glance at her instruments revealing nothing but a few errant asteroids en route to the chunk of floating planet which housed the mine complex. She kept trying to bring up positive thoughts, the fact that what had happened didn't irreparably damage their friendship. Yet, who else could she count on, if not Brian? Despite coming from an entirely different culture he had the same character traits that were highly valued in her society. Honor, loyalty, compassion, and duty. What he wouldn't admit was the fact he was going through as taxing a trial as she was. Yet, as they agreed on earlier she would keep her muzzle shut until they were relatively free from danger. That didn't mean, however, she couldn't try a different approach.
"What are you going to do if you get back home?" It was an innocent enough question, albeit one which had been burning on her mind since he expressed that desire. He hadn't talked about what his life was really like on his homeworld. When it came down to the silver hitting the counter, all she knew was the fact he had ended his pairing with his disloyal lifemate and that his 'nation' had what sounded to be an extremely inefficient, strange form of government.
Brian let a sigh into the still, recycled air. "I don't know. There's the fact that back in the US, I'm legally dead. If I can get away with draining my savings account I could get a fake identity and find somewhere to settle down. Perhaps after a few years I can go back and at least let my family know I'm alive, but I may be faced with severing all ties with them for my own safety." He stared ahead at their objective, thoughts swirling through his head. He kept a significant chunk of his combat pay in a savings account Erica couldn't touch; a mutual decision after her sister persuaded her into a pretty substantial loan she never repaid. But, could he even get to that after he was dead? Beyond that, even if he was insane enough to come out with his story, who would believe it? Perhaps a gullible crowd at a UFO convention?
"I really don't know what'll happen to me, but I've got to try. Yeah, this'll be a permanent event for me to deal with, but there's worse things that can happen. I guess until then, we just make sure both of us get out alive." He took a quick glance at their destination, by now visible enough to distinguish the features of mountains and valleys in the planet chunk's surface. Taking a deep breath, he extended his hand to fall on her shoulder. "I've got your back. Let's do this."
The beaten, battered luxury shuttle's thrusters screamed as they slowed the craft down over the desolate landscape. It was hauntingly beautiful; ice-covered mountains sloping down to meet a lake of boiling magma. Unfortunately, the aforementioned lake housed the only stable, safe place to land; the shuttle's sensor suite revealed the more hospitable areas to be crawling with Sharpclaw or situated over iced-over lakes which had absolutely no chance at holding their craft's weight.
To Brian, the pit they descended into bore more than a passing resemblance to Dante's depiction of Hell. Simply add some damned souls and some angry demons to torment them. The outside temperature gauge was reading a very nasty 63 degrees centigrade. If he remembered his math right, that was well over 140F. Even Baghdad didn't get that hot. There was a gentle shudder as the shuttle set down on the rock platform, nearly thirty yards above the surface of the lava.
Krystal was the one who broke the silence. "We have arrived. Now we need to free the captive Snowhorns, fight our way into the mines, and retrieve the Spellstone. This should be easy." The last part was dripping with sarcasm. "How do you believe we should handle this?"
The Marine stood up, taking a glance at the inhospitable landscape beyond. A narrow stone path led from the shuttle's makeshift landing pad to what he assumed was a staging area for the mine complex itself. With all the noise they made coming in, they would be waiting. Tactically speaking they couldn't be in a worse position. Defenders would have a clear line of fire; there was absolutely no cover or concealment to be had when on the stone. The heat would be almost unbearable, and one misstep could send them falling off to their certain death. Frankly, he would have preferred to clear a house armed only with a knife than do this. "We're going to have to move very quickly. They're going to know we're here, and even these Sharpclaw will have enough smarts to set up an ambush as soon as we get on that stone catwalk. My suggestion is to leapfrog it up to the entrance, but that means you're going to need a rifle."
Krystal blinked as he stepped out of the cockpit, motioning for her to follow. As she strode behind him, her reply was laced with curiosity. "Why? My staff's fire blaster should be powerful enough to defeat any Sharpclaw we come across." They wound their way down a set of stairs, entering the garage area which Brian had co-opted. Weapons were strewn across the workbench, loaded and ready for the hard use they were about to receive.
"Your staff runs out of energy pretty quickly." Her friend plucked a weapon identical to the one he had given her before from the bench, presenting it to her as if it were a kit's prized toy. "Leapfrogging is a tactic we use when there's little to no cover and we need to close in on a particular position. I'll be providing covering fire as you move ahead. After a short distance you stop and lay down fire for my advance, so on and so forth. The object is to keep whoever's shooting at us pinned down until we can reach some real cover. Your staff's far too valuable to waste energy suppressing hostiles."
He had a point. While the strange metallic projectiles his weapons fired weren't able to be replenished, they had far more of them than the energy gems which fueled her staff. Brian at least understood the limitations of his weapons and the advantages of hers, which meant he was paying attention. She took the projectile rifle from his waiting grasp, as well as a belt loaded with ammunition magazines and a hand blaster similar to the one he possessed. "You're expecting heavy resistance." It was a statement, not a question. She buckled the belt over her flight suit, adjusting the weight of the various pouches and handgun to find a better center of balance. The additional firepower would be useless if she couldn't effectively fight with her staff.
"If they have any sort of tactical acumen, yes." Brian replied, slipping on his armor and the load bearing vest which he had already equipped with the ammunition and gear he had selected. He placed his pistol back into the holster hanging from it, and buckled down all the gear. Unlike Krystal he tried to fight at a distance; if he could keep the bastards pinned down with well-placed shots they had a much better chance of surviving. "I know our tactics were different. We are trained for months in order to do this with minimal risk, and even then lives are lost. "
He didn't outright say it, but the surface thoughts that flitted across his mind were of the friends who had been killed on the battlefield. She knew he didn't try to hide it. The sadness, the anger, and the grief were muted, hidden behind the veil of stoicism that was the part of his personality he hid everything beneath. She placed her hands on his shoulders, a determined gaze meeting his eyes. "Then trust me. We will get through this. You have a telepath watching your back, right?" She offered a slight smile before pulling away.
"True." He flashed one back for a split moment then picked up his rifles. The M14 was slung over his shoulder while the M16 was attached to his web gear, positioned to where he could have it in a firing position within less than a second. "Let's go. Follow my lead." As he reached the controls for the cargo door, a harsh buzz emitted from its embedded loudspeaker instead of the chime signaling it would open.
The two exchanged puzzled glances for a moment before the ship's automated voice provided an explanation. "Warning, hazardous external atmosphere detected. All normal exits are sealed. If outside access is desired please use the airlock. The hazardous external elements include sulfur dioxide, hydrogen sulfide, hydrogen chloride, and high levels of carbon dioxide. Recommended protection level: portable oxygen supply."
"Well, shit." Brian growled, turning away from the controls and making his way to the Humvee. He rummaged through it for a moment, taking a small bag and clipping it to his armor. "Volcanic gasses. Had an elective geology class in college and we went over it for a bit."
"Is it dangerous?" Krystal inquired as they exited the cargo area, making a left towards the airlock. Something felt a little wrong and his agitation was quite noticeable. They would need some sort of protection to survive, that much was obvious from what the ship was telling them.
"In small doses some of that is just irritating. I'm figuring it's a lethal concentration if it's warning us about it." He took a deep breath and let it out, glancing at the storage lockers next to the airlock's exit. They stored what they were looking for. "The problem is that with a high concentration of carbon dioxide we'll suffocate within a few moments. It's probably why they're not down here trying to beat the doors down." With a frown he started searching the storage lockers. Most everything in there were the spacesuits he had seen earlier, but a few devices which looked like oxygen masks lined the walls of one of the units.
He frowned as he pulled them out. They were reminiscent of what a fighter pilot would wear, constructed of thick gray plastic with a head harness to ensure it didn't get knocked out of place. It looked like it was tailor-made to someone of Krystal's species. That meant she would be fine, but the differences between their anatomies were enough that he wouldn't be able to wear one.
He glanced at the instructions on the oxygen bottle the mask was tethered to. It looked to be simple enough; a series of pictograms detailing how to put it on. "Here." He handed it to Krystal, who took it with an uneasy glance. "Looks like that packs three hours' worth of air, so you're covered."
"What about you?" She tried not to show it but her stomach churned, memories of the stasis pod flashing before her eyes like a grotesque movie. After that experience she wasn't looking forward to strapping another Lylatian contraption over her muzzle. While her expression remained stoic the tip of her tail twitched nervously, belying her facade.
He responded by pulling out what he had in the pouch, a scary-looking black faceplate of some sort. It looked like it would fit his features far better than the breathing devices stockpiled in the shuttle; they were designed for her kind, after all. "Going to have to take my chances like this."
"What is that thing?" Her inquiry was uttered as he removed his helmet and slipped the device over his face, tightening a series of straps meant for holding it on. When he was done he was transformed into a creature she could only describe as looking truly alien. The bulging features and large eyepieces disturbed her; the only feature of his she could make out was his familiar steel-gray eyes.
"It's a gas mask." Brian's voice was slightly muffled, yet still intelligible. "It's meant to filter out any poison gasses that we might be attacked with. Great protection during sandstorms, too. Only problem is that this won't be as protective as what you'll be using. We'll need to move quickly, get to higher ground." He motioned to the device in her hands. "You gotta gear up, too."
She braced herself as she slipped the confining amalgamation of rubber and plastic over her muzzle, wrinkling her nose at the strong scent that came from it. Her fingers fumbled with the straps that held it on, but she was rewarded with a breath of flat, recycled air once she was finished. "How's this?" Her voice sounded much more muffled than his; she likely looked as alien to him as he did her.
"Looks like you're good." Brian replied, turning to the airlock controls. "We need to move quickly. Follow my lead." He punched a few controls, a sharp, screeching hiss causing them both to jump. The temperature started to rise, becoming uncomfortably hot within a matter of seconds. A minute later the airlock chimed and the door opened, allowing the two a glimpse into the hellish landscape beyond.
The ship had been perched on a large shelf of volcanic rock, barely ten meters above the surface of a boiling pit of lava. Large columns surrounded the area, each lit by a dimly flickering torch. This was a good thing; if there was enough oxygen here to support fire he wouldn't suffocate immediately. While his mask was good enough to filter out the toxic gasses given off by the lava, the amount of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere was still quite dangerous.
The heat hit them like it was a physical presence. Even though he was already used to the desert climate of Iraq it was quite unbearable. Despite the conditions they still had a mission to accomplish. Training took over as he tucked the M16's stock into his shoulder, scanning the area with a practiced eye. "All clear, move up." The two made their way down the ramp and outside the shuttle, noticing the natural 'ramp' which spiraled up towards the safer areas of the mines.
Krystal was panting, instantly grateful that the air she was breathing was cooler than the inferno they found themselves in. The Guardian frowned, glancing up at the path laid out before them. It was quite narrow; one misstep could easily spell out their death if they weren't careful. She kept a few meters behind them as they wound up the ramp, her hands wrapped around the firing grip and foreguard of the rifle he had given her.
They were attacked almost immediately, Krystal catching a burst of angry, primitive thought patterns a split second before seeing it. "Look out!" she cried, trying to sight in on the winged beast that swooped down on Brian. He hit the ground, barely missing a set of razor-sharp talons aimed for the back of his neck.
Krystal fired, the M4's report not as loud as it had been compared to her previous experience in the Krazoa Palace. The added bulk of the mask made it difficult for her to correctly target, but her abilities were able to pinpoint the beast's movement. It was a clean hit, their attacker knocked out of the sky and into the unforgiving magma below.
She lowered her weapon, extending a hand to Brian to help him up. Shaking, he stumbled into her as he reached his feet. "Thanks. You saved my ass right then. Good looking out." She gave a soft smile, a luxury afforded to her by the mask. Without another word they continued up the ramp, their senses working overtime to detect any more lurking attackers.
Brian's pace increased as he felt a slight headache coming on. That wasn't good. He needed to get to higher ground, quickly. That meant he had to focus more on moving and breathing than he did on watching his surroundings. Even though part of his mind really didn't like it, he had to trust in Krystal's abilities.
They saved him less than a minute later. Her arm shot out, fingers grasping the collar of his armor and physically yanking him backwards. A second later a glob of white-hot magma sailed just over a foot away, splashing back down in the pit. "Careful, Brian." Her muffled voice was barely audible over the chaos. "Are you okay?"
"Kinda, but I need to get out of here." He took another few deep breaths, his headache growing stronger. "Getting affected by the lack of air." Krystal nodded, keeping a grip on his armor. Her gaze tracked the errant magma balls. Without saying a word she guided him past them, worry for his safety fueling her focus.
The path took a bend to the left, a large portion of the volcanic rock blasted away by one of the magma balls. She frowned at this. "We're going to have to jump for it. Let me lead; I'll be here to grab you if something happens." Brian nodded his assent as she prepared to make a running jump, forcing her fear and her discomfort as far aside as she could.
The fact she was unburdened by a bunch of combat gear made the jump much easier. She cleared the gap without an issue, landing on the other side with the grace of an acrobat. The vixen turned around and motioned to the Marine. "I'm ready!" She had to shout to overcome both the stifling mask and the din of the lava pit.
Brian charged down the path and launched himself over the gap, probably overdoing it. Instead of landing on the path he crashed into Krystal, sending them both the ground in an impact that knocked the wind out of them both. "Shit!" He gasped. "Sorry!"
"It's okay." After a moment she got to her feet, helping him up once more. His slower reaction time and sluggish movements were worrisome, and she made the decision to hold onto him. "We're almost there. Can you make it?"
"Got... to." His response was labored as he glanced around. He could see salvation up ahead; another couple of clear bends and they would be exiting the pit. Part of him was embarrassed for her help, but another, larger part was glad she was around. She could think on her feet and was good in a scrap. His headache and swimming mind made it a little hard to think clearly, but even through all that happened she still gave a shit.
"I've got you." Through sheer determination she supported her friend against her side and carried on, her senses reaching out to make sure there wasn't another ambush waiting for them. To her dismay five Sharpclaw were waiting at the mouth of the pit they were trying to exit. Two of them had crossbows while the rest were carrying the slugthrowers that were similar to the rifle she had access to.
She let go of Brian, who still had enough presence of mind to ready his own weapon. "Get down!" she shouted, dropping to one knee; firing her M4 into the crowd. She wasn't sure if she hit any of them but at least that caused a crossbow bolt to go wide.
The Marine's rifle spoke, the roar of an automatic burst slamming into a couple of their attackers. They crumpled to the ground while the others fired frantically. Krystal had no time to check on her friend; she kept firing single shots into their adversaries. She wasn't as skilled or accurate with it as Brian was, but she managed to drop two of them. The remaining Sharpclaw turned tail and ran much to their relief; they were in a dangerous firing position.
Once again she pulled Brian to his feet, dashing the last few meters to the relative safety of open air. The emergence into the freezing conditions beyond was as much a shock as she had emerging into the boiling pit. Taking advantage of the situation she set him down in the soft snow under their feet and yanked her mask off; the crisp, cold air a reward for enduring the time she spent wearing the infernal device. Stuffing it inside one of the pockets of her flightsuit, she turned to her friend, who was struggling getting his own respirator off.
"Christ, that was intense." he rasped, tucking his gas mask back inside its pouch. "I guess I owe you one." She held out her hand to once again help him up, yet instead of letting go she drew him into a tight embrace. Brian was a little too surprised to say anything, but after a moment she let him go.
"We'll call that even." She smirked, motioning to the rows of huts before them; the buildings definitely defended by Sharpclaw who had learned their lessons about getting into their lines of fire. "We need to free these Snowhorns, so let's get to it."
Taking a step back while catching his breath, he surveyed the area. A gravel path between the three large huts was kept clear of snow. Between them, several of the sapient mammoths were shackled to poles driven into the frozen earth; they looked sturdy enough to hold even their resistance. They would have to be extremely careful not to hit any of them. "They're going to be waiting for us to come running down that central path. We can try flanking them, using those huts as cover as long as there's nobody in them."
She nodded at him, reaching out with her mind to determine where everyone was at. Their thought patterns were easy to track, between the anxious, angry Sharpclaw and the nervous, frightened Snowhorn she managed to find the areas they weren't paying attention to. "I count six more Sharpclaw but only two of them are on the left side of that path. We could try to sneak up behind them."
"Solid plan." He flashed a smile which she warmly returned. "Just be very careful with your fire. We can do this. Follow my lead, and I promise not to screw this one up." With a chuckle he hefted his M16, keeping it at the ready while they skirted through a small copse of dead, leafless trees. The sound of boots crunching the snow was a telltale sign Krystal was right behind him.
The huts were quite large and to Brian's mind were evocative of old Viking longhouses. To Krystal, they were similar to the shelters used by rural Cerinian herdsmen who took care of the large gulmar herds throughout the cold winter months. Either way their bulk hid them from the Sharpclaw, who were about to be taught a harsh lesson in flanking tactics.
Brian's headache and mental sluggishness were fading now that he was out of the lava pit's dangerous atmosphere. The chill would be their next major environmental challenge, but in comparison to the boiling temperatures they had just emerged from it was invigorating. With speed and precision borne of months of training and years of battle experience, the Marine emerged around the back wall of the hut, his rifle already tracking the two Sharpclaw who had just turned around at the sound of their footsteps. They had already lost.
The M16 cracked twice in the freezing air, sending twin 62-grain 5.56mm rounds at the leftmost Sharpclaw at just over 3,000 feet per second. The twin rounds punched into its target, sending the reptile antagonist to the snowy ground in a flurry of spiraling limbs. A loud hiss and a flash at Brian's peripheral vision heralded a bolt of flame spitting towards the second Sharpclaw. It joined its friend, the flaming mass having scorched through most of its body.
The other Sharpclaw who were lying in wait for them were finding themselves victims of the ambush they tried to perpetrate. Brian's M16 competed with Krystal's staff, each delivering pinpoint accuracy compared to the Sharpclaw's slow, cumbersome single-shot rifles and crossbows. A few shots and staff blasts later found the Marine and Guardian victorious. Yet, it was only a minor one in a battle that was just beginning.
"Good support work." He glanced to her as she was tucking her staff back in its makeshift carrier on her borrowed utility belt. "As long as we can stick together we've got this. Do you think you can get those cuffs off those Snowhorn?"
Krystal nodded, grinning at his compliment. "I should be able to. I can use my staff's energy fields to cut through their chains. I'm... I'm just glad you're safe." Cooler emotions prevailed, but the urge to sweep him up into another embrace was more than present. The events that happened in the lava pit worried her; was death that close at hand? At that moment she made a solemn vow to herself; she wouldn't let any harm come to him or any innocent Saurians as long as she lived.
"I appreciate that. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you." Brian reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, meeting her gaze. They held it for a moment, her heart jumping in her chest. What did all this mean? "You're doing great. I'm going to keep an eye out down the road for more Sharpclaw. Just get the Snowhorn to safety and we'll carry on."
As he turned away Krystal tried to calm her feelings down through sheer willpower. While she made her way to the nearest Snowhorn the events of the past several hours played through her mind. There had to be a way to make sense of it all, or at least she hoped so.