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Chapter 19: Desperate Measures.

Despite the temperatures approaching 35C, Violetta Dragen was quite comfortable within the air-conditioned confines of her armor. The nearly ten year old Venomian Eradicator-class power armor was still some of the most advanced which had ever been fielded during the war and handily outclassed all but the most advanced prototypes to come out of Cornerian defense contractors.

The Eradicators were heavy assault troops meant to board capital ships. EVA capabilities and heavy damage resistance was already built into the armor, as well as a miniaturized sensor package normally mounted on starfighters. Eradicators were amongst some of the most feared infantry units Andross fielded during the war, and Dragen was one of a select few who had survived the war and the previous eight years fighting as a mercenary.

The onboard diagnostic software was giving out some very interesting readings as they descended into the mines. The air had become increasingly toxic; volcanic gasses and carbon dioxide were present in dangerous quantities as they entered what the armor's internal mapping system indicated as the lowest level of the complex.

Resistance had been quite light, sporadic challenges by the native Saurian soldiers were quashed very quickly by projectile rifle fire. Dragen carried the heavier HPR-74 variant which was intended to be used as a squad support weapon. Compared to the plasma rifles, rocket launchers and scaled-down laser cannons the armor had been designed to effectively field, using the rifle was child's play. The significant recoil on automatic fire was practically nonexistent.

"Looks like we've got CO2 levels of twelve percent down here. Switch to internal oxygen supplies." Kale Duesett advised, scanning the area with his personal LP-37 blaster pistol. The heavy PMR-3 sniper rifle he had been using earlier was slung upon his back.

Their team medic, a slender chameleon by the name of Tet Rudar chimed in. "At these levels they're looking at maybe fifteen minutes before passing out. Death in twenty or thirty." He paused for a moment, flanked by the remaining member of the team: Kalina Marsen. "We could simply wait them out. I didn't see any environmental armor or breathing gear. We take our time and let them come to us or die."

"Not good enough for me." Violetta's voice growled, the speakers on her helmet distorting the phrase into a robotic tone. Despite its artificial nature, the words were positively dripping with malice. "I want that alien taken alive."

"That's not our objective here, Dragen." Marsen huffed. "We need to make sure that blue bitch is dead. If that bastard gets in the way, I'm dusting it like anyone else. I'm not risking any more lives here. I don't care that it killed your boy-toy..."

Dragen cut her off. "You'd be wise to curb your tongue, vixen. What do you think our client would pay for an alien and its technology? I'll even keep it alive. I'll make it pay for what it did until we drag it in."

"Fine." Marsen spat, gesturing to the open doorway to the mine's main chamber. "If we catch it alive, we will. But don't assume it will be so easy. You didn't get shot by it."

"Neither did you." Dragen pointed out, motioning to the spiderweb of cracks running throughout her armor. "You got shot by the Cerinian instead."

Marsen decided to ignore the slight. "She was using the same type of rifle the alien was, so I'm assuming it armed her. My advice is to not get hit; you all saw what happened to Fetger. Our armor is tough, but we don't know what other tricks it will use against us. So, let's kill this Cerinian and get paid."

A sequence of muted pops distracted everyone's attention. Within milliseconds the networked software within the four mercs' helmets had isolated the noise and provided an analysis. The same message flashed in front of everyone's HUD: 'Projectile weapon discharge, approximate range 450-500 meters.'

"Somehow I doubt they're succumbing to the CO2 levels down here." Duesett shook his head, replacing his blaster and opting for the sniper rifle. "We may have another long-range engagement on our hands. Anyone willing to draw their fire so I can make this quick and easy?"

"I'll do it." Rudar nodded, hefting his rifle. "Looks like the armor will take at least a few rounds so it'll be relatively safe." With that he sprinted out of the doorway, emerging into the cavern. His armor-augmented senses were put to the test, attempting to figure out where their targets were.

Not immediately seeing anything or getting shot provided a false sense of security. The medic was well aware he was in a compromised position, doubly so if the Cerinian and her alien bodyguard had positioned themselves in the catwalks. Yet, everything was quiet. Duesett's voice echoed into his earpiece. "Got two bodies down there, about a hundred fifty meters from your position. Saurian by the looks of it."

"Could have been them." Rudar replied, grimacing as he spotted the dead Sharpclaw. They had been guarding a spiral ramp which wound around one of the thick support pillars that was hopefully keeping the cavern from caving in onto itself; there were likely thousands of tons of rock above their heads. That meant they likely went into the catwalks to escape the deadly gasses. That also gave them a very good firing position.

"Get under cover. I'm going to see if we can wait them out." The command was met with a protest from Dragen, but Marsen stopped the former Eradicator's attitude quickly enough. They had to settle down for the long haul. Seconds turned into minutes, the former Ranger scanning the veritable web of catwalks which linked the pillars together at multiple levels.

"Contact! Natives!" Rudar called out, snapping his rifle into a firing position. The local Sharpclaw had tired of being shot at and returned fire, the far more primitive projectile weapons belching flame and smoke into the cavern. Rudar's grunt was heard over the comm channel, his armor's integrity rating flashing slightly. His own rifle returned fire, the rattling PR-74 cutting down two natives like wheat before a scythe.

"I'm hit! Nothing serious; armor took it!" Rudar stood up to survey his handiwork, offering a muttered curse to the Sharpclaw. "Can't say the same for them, though."

"Dammit, Rudar!" Duesett growled. "Stay under cover! You're exposed out there! Repeat, get..." He didn't finish the sentence. The back of the chameleon's helmet caved in, bright red blood spraying out of the armored structure as their medic toppled to the ground. The dreaded four beeps echoed in the Ranger's ear as a report from a high-powered rifle echoed off the walls of the cavern.

The software suite tried to compensate for the cavern's echo chamber effect to get a precise location for the shot. Unfortunately it wasn't able to, instead giving three likely candidates for the shooter's position. "Hells take that bastard!" Duesett spat, methodically scanning the areas with his scope.

"How?" Marsen's voice snapped over the comm system. "This armor held up to much more than one shot before!"

"The alien had a larger projectile rifle with a scope on it. That must be what it's using." Duesett snarled. "We're dealing with what has to be military training and experience, and that bastard's just going to sit on that entrance until... wait."

"The drones?" Dragen suggested, her normal, slightly gravelly voice carrying over the channel rather than from the disquieting external speakers she used to mask it. "Overwhelm them with firepower. Cause them to expose themselves."

"That might work." Marsen nodded. "Adjust the sensor arrays to hone in on EM anomalies. If the Cerinian's using her witchcraft we'll be able to find their position. We've got two more. Dragen, you're still controller. Quit using the stun rods and just bring them down."

Dragen was silent as the two combat drones that were holding in a static rear guard position peeled off, repulsor systems whining as they approached the archway. Marsen highly suspected the raccoon was busily cursing her species and parentage from underneath her soundproof helmet, but she really didn't care. They had a job to do.

The two separate combat drones acted as one, entering the cavern without regard for anything other than the instructions streamed to them through the network links embedded within their cold, durasteel chassis. The machines extended their sensor range, probing for lifesigns and electromagnetic fields. Several creatures were analyzed and detected, the software easily able to differentiate the larger-massed, cold blooded Saurian natives against the two mammalian lifeforms on a platform one hundred meters high and three hundred meters from their current position.

Damage. One of the drones attempted to send instructions to its two blaster cannons, receiving no response. A damage report was obtained in milliseconds and sent to the controlling node, even before the sound of the weapon discharge was detected. Its twin was able to respond, servos shifting the cannons' point of impact onto the platform the attack was detected from. The source was pinpointed to one of the mammalian lifeforms that were detected half a second before. The order to engage was received, initiating the removal of several software blocks and mechanical safeties controlling the weapon systems the drone had at its disposal. Twin crimson beams were projected from the cannon, slamming into the flimsy wooden platform.

A portion of the platform ripped apart, smoldering wood indicated by hot spots on thermal scans. The EM scan started to reveal something as well, faint waves of energy broadcast from one of the lifeforms. The primary target had been found, a marker being placed on its position and broadcast to all friendly sensor systems in the area.

The remaining operational drone continued to push forward, sensors guiding it to the best position to make a more optimal shot. The sensors kept locked onto its targets, regarding any damage the reptilian belligerents could deal to its chassis as minimal. The targets, however, had weaponry capable of piercing the drone's armor with relative ease.

The sensors, however, did keep track of the remaining Sharpclaws' movements. A few attempted to storm the platform the targets were on yet were driven back by weapons fire from them as well as errant shots from the drone itself. Others appeared to be fleeing down a path that didn't appear to be an exit from the mine complex; the mapping radar seemed to indicate a large secondary chamber that didn't lead anywhere. Uncaring and unfeeling, the drone ignored the information to concentrate on its original orders: eliminate its primary and secondary targets.

The drone's sensor suite ceased to operate, along with its weapons. Its main processor board was cracked in half within milliseconds, shutting the unmanned vehicle down without even an error message. Its less disabled counterpart's sensors recorded exactly what had happened; an iron ball launched from a Sharpclaw weapons emplacement stationed near the top of the cavern had smashed through it and exploded, thereby eliminating the mercs' primary advantage against the Cerinian they had marked for death.

The Saurian stood there, his body shaking with anger at what was happening. The mine complex Scales himself trusted them to guard was already being overrun by the blue-furred one and the strange armored things with the firesticks that never stopped working. Their only advantages were in numbers and the surprise they had waiting for anyone who defied Scales' rightful rule.

"You two! Keep the blue female and her ugly monkey-pet busy!" The Sharpclaw lieutenant growled out to a couple of his underlings, who immediately headed for the ramp leading to their hiding place. They knew better than to question his orders. Strength equaled authority in their society, and that was why they were destined to rule over the scattered, squabbling tribes. The Sharpclaw checked his own firestick; it was loaded. "The rest of you go to holding place. We wake it up!"

The angry Saurians rushed forward, covered by the cannon they put on top of the big cave. They already had success in destroying the moving metal things that followed the armored ones like a pet. They were paying too much attention to the blue one and her pet monkey to notice the several Sharpclaw warriors that ran across the cavern floor.

They reached the bridge over the lava pit which led to the holding area without any battle. That caused some of them to become angry. They wanted to fight. They wanted to kill the strange armored things. They wanted to catch the blue one. They wanted to present her to Scales. Whoever did would be rewarded with a generous rank. Why were they being pushed to the holding area? They could crush the intruders without the Galdon's help.

The lieutenant's shout shook them from their nearly rebellious thoughts. "Quit being lazy! I told you to wake Galdon up! Now do it!"

The platform was already shaking with their combined weight, several sections blown away by the NME that had been firing on them up until the last few seconds. Help came from the unlikeliest of sources; the Sharpclaw were apparently fighting back against the mercenaries. Brian was busy slinging his M16 on his back and preparing to bug out; he was under no illusions the platform would stay standing for much longer.

Krystal was already struggling to her feet, her unstable stance a testament to the past several days of torture her body had undergone. The vixen could tell she wasn't even fully recovered from waking up from stasis, let alone being nearly killed more than once over the past few days. Brian's presence was a welcome one, the Marine gently taking her rifle from her hand and once again wrapping her arm around his shoulders to carry her.

"I need a vacation." His voice called out in a strange accent, distorted by the mask he wore. His normal tone returned, as if he was making some sort of joke she had no ability to understand. "We're going to cross over to that platform on the other pillar. Can you make it?"

"Yes!" Krystal rasped out, once again forcing back the pain and exhaustion. "The Sharpclaw are running away, but they're not going to an exit!" Her senses stretched out and touched the minds of the retreating Saurians. There was too much distance between them to fully decipher their thoughts, but the nagging urge they were planning something just wouldn't go away.

"Keep tabs on them! We've got bigger fish to fry at the moment!" Brian pushed forward, rushing across the bridge between the pillars with Krystal in tow. He made sure his body shielded her as much as possible from the sniper they most assuredly had below; his armor would hopefully hold for at least one more shot. His concerns turned out to be warranted as the sharp pop of a passing round sailed right behind them, followed by the sharp crack of a rifle. They were still being targeted.

The two made it across the bridge despite another close call with a bullet. The mercs weren't giving up. Neither were they. Brian set her down against the other pillar as gingerly as he could, yet with the adrenaline and urgency of their situation he accidentally tweaked her bad shoulder. The vixen uttered a squeak of pain, which caused him to grimace. "Shit. Sorry."

"It's... okay." Krystal took in a few gulps of canned air before scanning the area once again. As Brian hefted his weapon and went to return to the fray she thrust her good arm out, gripping his bicep with as much strength as she could muster. "Brian! Stay here! The Sharpclaw..."

She didn't have to finish her sentence. The platform rumbled again, yet not from the force of a blaster cannon striking it. Ominous slamming sounds which could only be footsteps reverberated up to them, punctuated by an occasional muted roar. Whatever was making all that noise, it was big and it was very angry_._

Dragen noticed it first after her attention had been torn from the flight of their targets. Duesett had missed with two shots; the cat's poor marksmanship causing her to growl. Why had their client staffed this job with a bunch of amateurs? She concentrated on controlling the remaining drone, getting it out of the way of the Saurian-operated cannon. A warning warbled in her ears; the lifesign sensors screaming bloody murder at the former Eradicator. Either there had been a hundred Saurians clustered together in stasis within the secondary chamber, or they had some sort of bioweapon at their disposal. Whatever it was, it was heading their way. She shut off the link to the drone, hefting the light machine gun as if it were a toy. "The natives have something big headed this way!"

"What?" Marsen inquired, shaking her head at the sensor feed she brought up. "Impossible. Their technology base is at least a thousand years behind ours. They don't have access to bioweapons!" The rumbling, heavy footsteps that shook the ground suggested otherwise.

"Believe it or not, we've got some huge ugly fucker wandering around out here!" Duesett flattened himself against the wall, hoping to escape notice from the nightmarish creature that had emerged into the cavern. Standing at over fifteen meters tall on four legs, the reptilian horror had a nearly arachnid-like pattern to its movement, skittering along on the cavern floor like a giant spider. It emitted a screech which was thankfully muted by the hearing protection systems in their helmets, raising a head that was about the size of an economy-class hovercar. Its maw was full of sharp teeth, glistening with pale green saliva. For some reason it was adorned with some sort of large jewel which dangled on a heavy chain wrapped around its throat; a sick individual's attempt at giving the beast a necklace.

The most frightening aspect of all was the fact the horrific creature was staring right at the three mercs. It knew they were there. "Why couldn't you have shot that bitch back on Cerinia, vixen?" Dragen snapped, tucking the HPR against her armored shoulder. "I swear,you Cornerians can't shoot worth a damn!" Without giving her comrades a chance to respond she squeezed the trigger. The light machine gun roared its challenge to the creature, the combination of Dragen's strength and the bulk of the Eradicator's armor keeping the weapon far more stable than its original designer could have ever hoped to accomplish.

The torrent of bullets slammed into the Galdon's scaled hide, simply sparking off the beast. The other mercs shook off the initial shock of seeing the beast bore down on them and readied their own weapons, adding to the cacophony of gunfire. Duesett's rifle fared little better against their new opponent, whose angry roar echoed over the battleground.

"Break into the cavern!" Marsen's voice called out over the channel. "Divide its attention! It must have a glass jaw somewhere!" Urgently yet without panic the mercs rushed into the cavern, attempting to flank the creature while driving it back with gunfire. The beast shrieked in response, lashing out with a bedroom-sized foot in an attempt to stomp on Dragen.

The former Eradicator rolled out of the way, her agility enhanced by the bulky armor. The nearly empty magazine in her HPR was ejected after she reached her feet, slamming another large ammo drum into place. The beast roared as it bore down on her, yet the mercenary stood her ground. As it opened its maw she fired, sending a series of tungsten-jacketed slugs quite literally down its throat. The Galdon made a sickening, wet choking noise and halted its attack, choosing instead to cough up a ball of blood-coated bile directly on her.

The power armor's life support system kept the smell out of her nostrils; a stench which one of her targets would later describe as 'about as bad as sticking your head inside a honey wagon.' The powerful digestive acids started attacking the starship-grade armor plating; Dragen's new paintjob was ruined within a few seconds. A corrosion alarm started beeping in her head, drawing her attention to the fact the creature's vomit was potent enough to start eating through her armor. Growling out another curse, she scraped as much of the sticky substance as she could off of her while making an attempt to seek cover. The massive bioweapon wouldn't be much of a pushover, and standing there exposed with the alien sniper still around was a very good way to get killed.

Marsen and Duesett were caught up in a deadly game of cat and mouse with the roaring, enraged creature. The vixen merc dove out of the way of its thrashing feet, tucking into a combat roll before ending up behind its bulk. Practiced eyes spotted a relatively unarmored protrusion at its hind end, capped by a wickedly barbed stinger which glistened with purple, foul-looking venom. She tucked the rifle to her shoulder and fired, the PR74 bucking in her armored gloves as its bullets tore into the building-sized belligerent.

That got the Galdon's attention, voiced by an ear-piercing shriek of agony which threatened to overpower their hearing protection. Marsen winced as the beast made an about-face, sending the merc running for some sort of cover. Something slammed into her armor as she ran, dividing her attention between the monster wishing to eat her as a snack and the collection of Saurian natives using her for target practice. She turned her rifle on the latter, firing a few bursts at the Sharpclaw. The sight of a few lizard-like combatants tumbling to the ground was cause for a grim smile of satisfaction as she cursed her rotten luck.

Unbeknownst to her, Kalina's luck had actually turned for the better. She was being watched through a standard mil-dot reticule rifle scope, the crosshairs held to account for the angle of the shot and the gravitational drop of a 7.62mm bullet. Brian's finger pressed against his M14's trigger, anticipating a clean break and the death of the merc he was aiming at.

Nothing happened. The trigger didn't snap, nor did the rifle crack and recoil against his shoulder. Biting back a curse the Marine pulled back behind the cover of the stone pillar, hands and eyes checking the rifle for any signs of malfunction. The bolt was wedged open slightly, not quite coming to rest against the breech. He pulled it back, the action grinding and jamming halfway down its length of travel rather than smoothly drawing back. Brian's eyes narrowed as he saw the source of the weapon's malfunction as well as the aftermath of the last shot he took with the rifle.

Using the M14 as an impromptu shield had taken its toll. Over the past few rounds the bolt and extractor became slightly dislodged, not quite returning to battery. The normal match rounds functioned more or less correctly, yet the added forces placed on the action had ensured a catastrophic failure when firing the hotter, heavier AP rounds. As a result most of the brass casing was stuck inside the M14's chamber, its base having ripped completely away. "Son of a bitch!" His outburst caused Krystal to glance up.

"Are you okay?" Her shout struggled to make it the few yards of distance between them. Her heart leapt into her throat; was he injured? He didn't appear to be bleeding and she couldn't sense any pain from him. Frustration, however, greeted her senses like a black cloud.

"This thing's FUBAR, Krys. Looks like we're down to the ARs, now." With a disgusted sigh he forced the M14's magazine out of the rifle before preparing his M16 to take up the slack. The additional firepower was going to be sorely missed. "Not sure how we're going to get out of this one. We've got everyone and their brother after us."

"Just take it one step at a time, Brian!" She had to almost shout her response back to him to overcome the chaotic soundtrack of the raging battlefield around them. "They're busy fighting each other. This gives us a little time to plan!"

"If you've got any suggestions, this would be the time to share them!" His mind struggled to figure out what represented the greater threat. Would the mercs be able to defeat the big, ugly mini Godzilla-spider thing or would it kill them and they would be left to finish it off? The Sharpclaw were also a serious threat and their cannon needed to be taken out.

The Cerinian nodded at him. "The Sharpclaw, first. They aren't our most dangerous opponent, but that cannon and their numbers can easily overwhelm--look out! They're coming!" Her mind touched those of the two Saurians sent to fight them; with all the anger, fear, suppressed grief and bloodlust swarming her clouded, strained senses from so many other minds, it was getting difficult to pinpoint separate enemies amongst the chaos.

"Where? I can't see the sons of--" The rifle's report was barely louder than the din of battle. What Brian noticed instead was the sensation of having a red-hot poker shoved into his side and twisted around for good measure. The Marine uttered a pained groan as he slid to the deck, a hand brushing against where he had most likely taken a bullet. His eyes were greeted with the sight of a blood-covered palm. "Fuck, I'm hit!"

Krystal had little time to react as her blood ran cold, fear and adrenaline replacing the exhaustion and pain. The human-made blaster rifle she was holding somehow felt light as a feather, her perception of the world narrowing down to her eye, the weapon in her hand, and the pair of Sharpclaw rushing up to where they were seeking shelter. Their thoughts were crystal clear. They were going to kill Brian. They were going to disarm her and drag her back to Scales. She wasn't going to let that happen.

As the Saurians reached the platform across from their own, the vixen planted the carbine against her shoulder as tightly as she could and pulled the trigger. She didn't hear the crack of it going off, nor did she feel it kicking into her shoulder. Time slowed for her perception, the weapon ejecting metal shells in a lazy arc as fire spat out the front end. The Sharpclaw were suddenly thrust backward, bright red splotches of blood flaring up on their armor, as if the metal and leather did nothing to prevent the act of defending herself and her friend.

After they had fallen she didn't spare a second glance. Despite the sudden pain of moving around she forced back a scream and the urge to retch, gulping a few breaths of metallic-tasting air instead as she slid the few feet over to the fallen Marine. "Is it bad? Can you still move?"

Brian bit back a few curses as he nodded. "I think so, but it hurts pretty damn bad." His fingers were already pulling his first aid kit open. He had a few more patches of quick-clot available, and had already loosened his armor enough to get at the compromised section. "Lucky damn hit. Nailed me right where that other one tried to shank me. Broke through the armor like it wasn't even there." He bandaged himself, resisting the urge to toss the compromised Dragon Skin away. "Thanks for the save, Krys. You're doing good."

Once again she was slightly thankful for the stifling mask she was forced to wear; a blush and a sheepish grin crossing her muzzle. A small part of her mind chided her for the reaction, but it was quashed under the fact she was holding her own weight. A sobering thought stopped everything else. They were both grievously wounded. Everyone was out to either kill or capture them, and they had to somehow persevere against the Sharpclaw, the Lylatian mercenaries and the massive Galdon beast which were arrayed against them. Even now she could hear the torrents of gunfire mixed with the beast's triumphant roars; a horrific symphony indeed. "What are we going to do?" Her voice betrayed the pain, exhaustion, and uncertainty that coursed through her thoughts.

After a moment Brian responded. "I'm going after that damned cannon. It's the only thing I can think of that might hurt that mini-Godzilla down there." He forced himself to stand, the lightning bolts of agony that shot up and down his left side causing him to wince. They couldn't fail, otherwise they would both die. He caught the vixen's concerned glance and continued before she had a chance to voice her objections. "I can't risk you like this, and you're in a pretty defensible position. Just hang tight, and if you see something that isn't me, don't hesitate to put it down."

Without a second thought she extended her good arm, wrapping her hand around his. "Be careful. I..." Her voice broke at the urge that ran through her thoughts, admonishment and embarrassment running through her soul as she continued. "I don't want to lose you."

The Marine wasn't sure how to respond to that. There wasn't really any time to deal with frayed emotions and mistakes right now, not with everyone in the damned place out for their blood. They had already taken enough of it in the past couple of hours. Part of him wanted to deliver a snarky response; ask her exactly why she cared about him. Another train of thought derailed everything. She was in pain, suffering from severe blood loss and right along with him in this fight. Despite all of that she was more concerned for his safety than she was for hers. "You won't. On second thought, maybe we should tackle this together."

Kale barely made it behind the cover of a boulder as the bioweapon's vomit splashed against it, causing the rock itself to sizzle and pop as if it were simply meat on a grill. The remnants of his team were busy fighting off the monster as well as the multiple Sharpclaw appearing to harass them.

The former Ranger clenched his blaster pistol in one hand, thrusting it over the dissolving boulder to fire a few bolts at the menacing, shrieking creature. "Damn it, Dragen! Please tell me you got the drone back online!" He wasn't sure how much longer they could hold out against the reptilian horror.

An uncomfortable silence followed, yet Duesett could tell the former Eradicator was still alive. Her armor integrity was slightly down yet her vitals were stable; that alone told him she was still very much capable of fighting. The thundering rattle of her squad support weapon punctuated the battle, followed by another ear-piercing shriek from the creature. "Almost! I need another distraction so I can finish rerouting the power couplings. Cover me!"

"Acknowledged!" Marsen growled, reaching into a pouch on her belt. The crimson-painted orb was a very rare, highly illegal weapon which was usually only used in the most desperate situations. She was pretty certain this counted.

Nicknamed Okratt's Blanket in deference to the fire god worshipped by some pre-Unification Cornerian sects, the white phosphorous grenade was a very nasty surprise to those unfamiliar with it. The incendiary substance would stick to most surfaces and burn quite readily; with luck it would pass through the bioweapon's armored scales. "OB out, airburst!" Marsen flicked a switch on the side of the grenade that would trigger the detonation in midair before tossing it at the creature.

The grenade performed as advertised, detonating with a hollow thump. Streaks of smoke filled the air as the incendiary material cascaded upon the massive beast. Its reaction was immediate as the phosphorous started to burn into its scales; it shrieked in agony and turned towards its new targets. Kalina readied her rifle, but was cut off by Duesett.

"Marsen! The drone's online! Let's get up there and kill the target while we still can! Dragen, get that bioweapon taken care of!" The former Ranger rushed forward, firing blaster bolts at a few errant Sharpclaw as he crossed the distance over to the primary ramp leading up to the support pillars. Marsen was hot on his heels, her PR-74 rattling its deadly song as she went. The mission had been very costly, but it was coming to a close. A smile came to her muzzle as the thought of the payoff started to become a reality.

"Krys! Stay with me!" Brian's shout shook Krystal's rapidly-fogging mind from its daze, a cold, lethargic weight starting to settle over her senses as the adrenaline coursing through her body ran out and the blood loss, pain, and shock made their presence more than known. The vixen concentrated on breathing; the hollow, rasping noises carrying to her ears. Even the pain felt detached and distant.

A sinister voice whispered in her mind, the one compelling her to simply surrender to the dark embrace which threatened to sweep over her fatigued body. It would be over quickly, no more pain. She could quit fighting and finally be at peace; she could see her family again. Putting one foot in front of the other was exhausting. Pushing back was simply too hard. Even breathing was an antithesis to her rebelling, failing body.

Another voice broke through the haze. That one was full of strength, determination, and hope; incessant in reaching out to her dulling senses. "We're almost there! We've got a shot at finishing this. I need your eyes and ears. Where are they?"

"Where... what?" She managed to respond, the voice urging her on. Everything felt so cold, so distant. She remembered feeling pain, yet she didn't any longer. Only the cold and the dark edges hovering over her blurry vision.

"The ones trying to kill us! I need your voodoo here; if I can't figure out where they're at we're both dead!" The voice continued as the vixen found herself lowered to the floor; a rough texture of wood planking greeting her vision. "You've got to try to shake this off, you're going into shock!" A loud cracking noise replaced the voice, repeating several times before falling silent once more. "The cannon's down. C'mon, Krys... I need your help! Where are these bastards?"

The voice and the loud noises shook her mind out of the confused haze for a moment. The ones who had killed her mother, that's what he meant. Brian was trying to save her from the same fate. Despite the suggestions telling her to simply surrender to the darkness and rejoin her family in the Beyond... she couldn't. Not when it meant someone else's death, too. Extending her senses felt harder than lifting a boulder, but she had to try. Her friend's life lay in the balance.

After a moment two malevolent presences drifted across her thoughts, closing in quickly as they navigated the maze of platforms and catwalks they were on, curiously removed from the battles raging beneath them. Her reply was strained, barely audible over the stifling constriction that seemed to wrap around her muzzle and force her to shout. "Close... they know where we are. Please..."

"Don't worry." The voice continued as a comforting hand grasped her own. "I'm not about to let them take you." Despite her best efforts the darkness once again took over. The last thought to cross her mind was one of hope; perhaps she would wake up after all.

Brian pulled his gas mask off, cursing its fogged lenses as he took a deep breath of air laced with the stench of sulfur and smoke. He wasn't suffering from CO2 poisoning, although that was a likely danger close to the bottom of the cavern they were in. He needed unobscured vision and quick reflexes to pull this off. He was unarmored and outnumbered; his opponents possessed greater numbers, better armor and superior firepower. The only things that stood in the way of certain death were the rifle in his hands and the carbine at his feet.

Krystal wasn't the only one that was suffering. His ribs screamed at him every time he took a breath. The throbbing, burning sensation in his side was a constant reminder that getting shot wasn't something that should be on anyone's to-do list. The round that hit him was slowed considerably by the compromised Dragon Skin and by the lump just above his hip was stuck underneath his skin and not against anything vital. That didn't stop it from hurting like a son of a bitch, though.

The fatigue and shaking caused by copious amounts of adrenaline caused the Marine's hands to shake, so he braced himself against the wooden railing of the platform he was on and waited for his targets. If they wanted him, they would have to work for it. His mind recalled lessons drilled into him not only from boot camp in San Diego, but also the years of target shooting and hunting with his father in the woods of Montana. Steady your breathing. Focus on your front sight post. Hold over your target slightly to account for bullet drop. Tuck the stock in the natural pocket of your shoulder. Wait for your target to present itself.

Brian's thumb clicked the fire selector from safe to burst. He was as ready as he could be. The only route up to where he had decided to make his stand was covered with his sights. All he had to do was wait to take the shot when it presented itself. He didn't have to wait long.

A figure in matte black armor darted into view, holding one of the AK clones they had somehow managed to obtain. It raised its rifle, rattling off a burst of fire that struck the rock wall well above them. They likely had piss-poor trigger control and had little ideas of the capabilities of their weapon versus his. Brian squeezed the M16's trigger in response, the rifle roaring its retort into the cavern once more.

The sensors integrated into Kalina's armor pinpointed the Cerinian's position; as they closed in its lifesign monitor pinged in her ear. Their target had fallen unconscious. Shooting her had made a difference. All they had to do was to eliminate the alien guardian and they were in the clear. He was trying to find a decent shooting position, though they already had him in their sights. He was dead; he just didn't know it yet.

The vixen brought her rifle to her shoulder, sighting up her target. She stabbed the trigger, the rifle blasting out a staccato cacophony as automatic fire peppered the alien's position. With that kind of firepower she should have hit him. It was time to move.

A pale flash winked at her from the alien's position and it felt as if a Papetoon pack beast had kicked her in the stomach. She was sent to the ground with a pained grunt, an alarm blaring in her ears. The armor's integrity was nearly compromised. "Dammit! Kale, we're going to burn them!" They had to do something. The alien had already killed half their team. She wasn't going to be killed just because Dragen wanted it alive. "Just do it! We'll collect the bodies later!"

Several rifle projectiles chewed the wooden platform in front of her, the alien's uncannily accurate fire driving the mercs to the best cover they could find. The stone support pillar was better suited to the task than relying on their armor. Kale growled in frustration, glancing to his comrade as she struggled to stand back up. "Are you injured?" Despite his sensor suite telling him she had only received moderate bruising and a couple of lacerations he had to make sure she was still in the fight.

"Not badly." Kalina shot back, her voice full of venom and frustration. "DNA identification will be enough. Hand me your OB." She held her hand out expectantly. "Let's see her dodge this, right?" The former Ranger pulled the incendiary grenade from his belt and passed it over; she took it eagerly. "Just be ready to get back down to the lower level; I'm sure this will flare up very quickly!"

The vixen mercenary pressed the activation button and swung around, drawing her arm back to toss the lethal device. It would be a simple toss and move back to cover; a tactic she had used countless times in the former Corneria City Police Tactical Intervention Force she served with. Countless criminals had succumbed to stun grenades or knockout gas canisters by her hand. This would be no different.

Kalina found out a fraction of a second too late that her tactic was anticipated. The pale muzzle flash winked at her from the opposing platform once more, only this time the results were much different. The punch to her chest was more severe than it had been the last time she was hit; the integrity warning suddenly shutting off as her armor was completely compromised. The pain only lasted a moment, but the agony was excruciating as she slid to the ground. The OB grenade rolled out of her grip of its own volition as cold numbness washed over the pain, her eyes lazily tracking the object as it came to a stop against the stone pillar.

She glanced down to her chest, witnessing a series of tiny holes stitched below her right breast oozing dark red blood. She tried to cough but was only rewarded by a familiar, coppery taste flooding her tongue. Her final thought as the darkness and cold washed over her consciousness was the realization she somehow wasn't afraid. Perhaps her life really was meant to end like this.

The armored figure crumpled to the deck, its grenade rolling away from its hand as it struggled for a moment. It was a clean shot and hopefully a clean kill. Brian grit his teeth as the other figure burst around the corner, a strange-looking pistol in its grasp. A red beam snapped past his head and the Marine struggled to acquire his new target.

The world lit up in a scene straight out of Apocalypse Now. Fire and smoke cascaded from the platform next to the merc he had just shot; white-hot sparks filling the air and causing the platform his target was on to catch on fire like it had been soaked in gasoline. Training and experienced caused him to realize what had happened in an instant. The grenade he had stopped the merc from using was a white phosphorous bomb, or something similar.

The remaining merc was caught off guard for a split second, enough for Brian to unleash the remainder of his magazine into his opponent. The merc was driven back into the fire and smoke, though he quickly saw the tactical blunder he had wandered into. There wasn't much chance for escape. Except...

His hand reached out for Krystal's unconscious form, withdrawing the staff she had tucked into her belt. The weapon extended in his palm, reaching a length of about seven feet; enough to be considered a serious polearm. At the same time he slung his M16 over his shoulder and picked the M4 up off the deck. He had no idea if this would even work. If it did, they had a chance. If it didn't, they'd die just as surely as they would if they remained on the burning catwalks.

He thrust the M4 around the safety of the pillar, firing off a few random bursts to keep the remaining merc's head down as he tried to figure out how to activate her staff. A series of dimly glowing glyphs ran up and down the weapon's length, but he had no idea which one would project that strange energy shield or which one would cause all the slot machines in Vegas to hit a jackpot payout. He wasn't much of a gambling man, but his thumb pressed down upon one that just seemed to jump out at him.

It saved his life. The shield's purple glow enveloped him as a bright red laser beam slammed into it, stopping just a scant meter from his chest. It flashed red for a split instant, revealing the armored figure that had rushed his position while he was figuring out the staff. The ineffectiveness of the killshot caused the armored merc to balk for a moment; ample time for Brian to drop the M4 and smash it against the antagonist's knee.

The figure buckled as he put all his force into the blow, sending the merc off-balance. The laser pistol fired again, sending another bolt ineffectually into the rock ceiling several meters above their heads. A chilling, inhuman snarl echoed from the figure's helmet as it tried to bring its weapon to bear on his unconscious friend. He wasn't going to let that happen. Even if it meant dying with a high-tech stick in his hands instead of a gun.

Brian pressed the attack, thrusting the business end of the staff into the merc's chest. That drove him backwards, his body pressed against the railing of the platform as the Marine drew back for another strike. He never got to land it. The laser gun fired, the sound of its discharge some popping, pulsing whine the likes of which he had never heard before. The staff clattered to the ground as the sensation of someone extinguishing a lit cigar on his left bicep sent a shock of icy-hot pain through his body. Getting shot with a bullet was bad enough. Getting shot with a laser was far more agonizing.

Instinctively he kicked forward, driving his opponent on the defensive. In such close quarters a gun wasn't all that useful, but even when fighting an armored opponent a knife could be quite handy. His good hand slipped his Ka-Bar from his belt, taking a few experimental swipes at the merc. All Marines were trained in basic martial arts; though he preferred firearms Brian was no exception.

The merc responded with an attempt to brain him with the butt of his laser pistol, the Marine receiving a glancing blow behind the ear. A wave of stars filled his vision, but his strike was already underway. The pommel of his combat knife smashed into the eyepiece of his opponent's helmet, which gave with a crunching sound and a muffled yelp of surprise under the bulky material. The laser pistol clattered to the deck, which the Marine quickly kicked behind him.

The armored opponent assumed a ready stance not unlike his own, the damaged helmet revealing a bright green eye which glared at him in a combination of anger and barely restrained fear. An inhuman growl echoed through tinny speakers, the antagonist finally speaking. "What the fuck are you, alien? Some sort of Venom experiment unleashed on the system? How did you get your hands on projectile weapons?"

Brian kept at the ready, his own glare locked onto the figure. He made no attempt to reach for what looked like a Dragunov slung over his shoulder or the combat knife on his left hip. Likewise, the Marine didn't reach for his own firearms. Still, he had a couple of questions of his own to answer. "I'm just a Marine NCO that don't take bullshit. You shot me first, dickwad. Why're you trying to kill us, huh?"

"You have no idea how dangerous the Cerinian you're protecting really is, alien." The mercenary growled, tensing up to defend himself from a potential attack. "She is better off dying here than being used to resurrect Andross! That's why we're here, to kill her. She's worth six million credits to us, and the satisfaction that he stays dead. I'm sure we can work out a deal with you. A share for her life?"

Brian remained silent, unmoving. A cascade of thoughts ran through his mind. Was that why she was so special? Whatever that Andross was, the tone of disgust in their voice at the mention seemed genuine. There wasn't much of a debate. Kill her and become rich in a society he couldn't fit into anyway, or kill them and follow that particular rabbit hole where it went. How did they get their hands on AKs? Why was killing her so important? He wasn't duty bound to protect her, but he still had personal integrity and a sense of honor. He would no sooner sell her out than he would a member of his own squad.

"So what's it going to be?" The Lylatian inquired, still locked into a ready posture. "I'm former military as well. Cornerian Rangers. You're a Marine so I'm assuming you're trained in starship security. We could use someone like you. Freelance work can pay pretty damn well. Even an alien like you can be set up for life."

"I have one question." The merc perked off, offering a nod towards the Marine. "I had to swear an oath when I signed up to defend my nation, its laws, and its citizens as well as uphold the core values of the Corps. I'd think you'd have to do the same. My oath, laws, and honor specifically forbid me from murdering a defenseless civilian. Does yours?"

The merc jumped forwards, releasing a catch on the sling of his rifle and thrusting its stock with all his armor-augmented strength. The buttplate of the Dragunov clone smashed into Brian's armor, causing spikes of pain to shoot throughout his body. The bullet wound and his cracked ribs screamed at him as he fell backwards, slamming into the stone pillar. This was now or never; do or die time.

Brian bit back the pain and rushed forward, his left hand wrapping around the Dragunov's receiver. His knife flashed forward, the tip of the Ka-Bar glancing off the merc's armor with a metallic screech. He jumped back, but it was a diversion. Brian dropped the knife, his hand grabbing the rifle's stock. His momentum tore the rifle from the merc's grasp, giving him enough time to level the weapon at his chest. The Lylatian stood back in shock, yet a chuckle emanated from his speakers. "That's an advanced prototype and the safety's on. Good luck figuring out how to use it before I get to you."

"Wanna bet?" Brian's thumb flicked the fire selector down with an ominous click. The merc backed up as Brian continued, violently jabbing the Dragunov's muzzle towards him. "What I don't get is the fact you guys have laser guns and power armor and still think these damn AKs are hot shit. I'm giving you one chance and one chance only to drop your gear and get the fuck out of here. If you don't, I'm blowing a hole through you big enough to toss a football through. Got it?"

Kale took a deep breath, staring down the barrel of his own weapon and at the alien who held it on him. With a sigh he unbuckled his combat harness, letting it clatter to the deck. At that point Dragen's voice came over the comm net. "Duesett, what's going on up there? Marsen's hit and dying, and you're just standing there jabbering with that fucker? I'm coming up there, get back!"

Brian growled at the merc. "You heard me, asshole. Get moving." As the armored figure withdrew the Marine let out a sigh of relief. Now he had to figure out how to get them out of this increasingly fucked up situation.

There was no pain, only an all-encompassing numbness as she floated in the dark abyss. Was this what death felt like? A momentary pain, then nothing else? If so, where was everybody? Her family wasn't there, her friends weren't there. Her team wasn't there. They had all perished, so where was her reward? She had tried and she had failed. Just like she had failed to protect her family during the Venom War. Was this her punishment?

As if someone had flipped a switch the pain returned. Her chest flared up in agony as her senses returned to her; the life flooding back into her mind was both frightening and relieving. A squawking in her ears brought the presence of sound and the heavy scent of blood in her nostrils assured Kalina she was somehow still alive. The alien had shot her, and the grenade?

"...cious! Keep her stable. I'm going to finish this." Dragen's voice came over her headphones, a barely perceptible growl behind her words. Her eyes opened, regarding the charred wood around them and the blocky profile of Dragen's Eradicator armor standing over her body. She tried to speak but it was all she could do to breathe. The pain was excruciating.

"Hang in there, Kalina." Kale's voice called out to her. "Almost lost you. We'll get you back to the Shrike, but you've got a punctured lung. We've got them..." His voice was cut off by Dragen's.

"Heads up! The bitch is coming out. Going to dust her ass once I..." Dragen's voice stopped, a gasp coming to her lips. Kalina craned her neck, trying to figure out what had stopped her brusque comrade in her tracks. The effort almost caused her to lose consciousness, a bolt of lightning shooting up and down her back as she did so.

The target stumbled into view, despite the alien reaching out to her. As Dragen raised her HPR the Cerinian raised her staff. She was wearing a blue and white flightsuit splashed with blood. Her left arm was bandaged and in a sling and she appeared to be walking out of sheer will alone. An oxygen canister and mask dangled from her belt, yet even from thirty meters away she could see an almost unnatural glow to the other vixen's eyes. The tip of her staff glowed a bright yellow and as Dragen's finger stroked the trigger a searing, bright light enveloped them. The surprised shouts of her teammates drove into her ears as a sickening falling sensation added to her pain.

Before the darkness mercifully took her pain away, the last sight Kalina beheld was a flash of clear blue skies and a harsh sun glaring down upon a sea of fine sand.