Pioneers: Creation

Hell Week (Part 2)

Hell Week (Part 2)


         Alanya sat with her arms around her knees and a blanket over her shoulders, teeth pulling hard at her lip and marring her features.  It had been fine only a short period ago, if worrisome.  At least things had been quiet.  Now, however, there were the deep, distant thuds which couldn’t be mistaken for much aside from explosions.


         Sometimes they were barely heard, other times it was as if they were distorted only by the hull itself, but they all made her nervous.  Any one of those thuds could be Kenshi’s or Ruki’s life and any one could be that small repair more which would keep them stuck on the planet.  All this merely scratched on the surface of the young princess’ troubled thoughts, unfortunately.


         ‘They’re killing MMC.’  It was a simple, undeniable truth.  The organization and power her father used to enforce and protect his rule - the same one which had been touted as everything good and honorable to her since childhood and Kenshi was out there right now killing them off.


         ‘Can I really trust him or is it another lie?’  The princess’ arms tightened about her legs.  Right and wrong had long since been lost on her.  Even if he was telling the truth did it make things alright?  Surely if they explained the situation so many lives would be saved and the data secured.  ‘Or maybe the MMC is more corrupt than I ever would have believed.’


         Whatever the case may be she’d withdrawn into herself, unable to cope with what was happening and unable to do anything about it even if she could.


         ‘Some princess you are,’ she thought, ashamed.  ‘How many times in the past week now have you been without control?  Pathetic.’  Her frown grew.  ‘I will learn not to be useless.  I will not be this pathetic for the rest of my life.’


         For the time being, however, she had little choice.


-------------------------


         A mild frown crossed Quinn’s lips as the explosions seemed to subside.  She wondered for a moment what it had taken for them to stop.  Victory, one way or another.  Neither thought appealed much to her, but at least the distractions were over.


         The frown deepened in concentration as the engineer took another once-over of the modified programming she was prepping to upload into Quicksilver.  As much as she was getting the hang of the complicated nature of the ship, there were still glaring questions she had in much of the technology and she admittedly didn’t know it half as well as she was comfortable with.


         Fortunately Quicksilver seemed to have a mind of it’s own, of sorts.  A sort of background AI which rooted through it’s programming and determined what was a virus, what was not and potentially connected the dots between the old programming and anything new added.  It was an ingenious system to erase errors and could become a great potential ally in uncovering the many secrets of the ship without damaging it beyond repair.  In the meantime, however, it was a very large reason they had any hope of getting off Terla VII at all.


         “Please work how I think you do,” Quinn pleaded, finally tapping a button on her terminal and watching the status bar fill within seconds.  Taking a glance at the new programming, she was annoyed to find the AI deleting much of her work on the spot without so much as the smallest explanation.  It did do one thing in particular she wanted, however, which gave her all the explanation she needed.


         ‘And just in time,’ she thought as the outer hatch opened revealing a battered, yet very much alive, Terran on the other side.  Kenshi stepped in heavily, a cold wind following behind him, his armor so scorched it was difficult to recognize at first glance black was not it’s original color.


         “How much time left?” he asked simply, still on the other end of the corridor.  Quinn took a quick glance at the terminal.  The new programming which had gone through was simple.  Instead of giving a broad repair time for everything it separated the individual parts of the ship.  What made her programming so worthless, it seemed, was the fact that the ship already agreed with which parts needed repairing in which order and found her new lines of code less efficient.  Bloody computer.  “Well?” he said, finally stepping beside her.


         “I’m adding it up now,” she replied.  Instead of broad sections such as hyperdrive or weapons systems the ship was giving her bits and pieces.  She’d have to streamline it later.  Typing up the list of numbers, Quinn’s frown only grew.  “112 hours for the hyperdrive system, 40 for the stealth system.  That’s all you need, correct?”  Glancing back up at him she found his frown matched her own.


         “Over six days,” he said as if tasting it.  “I don’t suppose there’s any way to speed this up.”


         “I don’t want to know what would happen if I tampered with much more.  I’m doing enough guesswork as it is, Kenshi.”  He nodded then threw down a small bit of plastic.  A headset she found, examining it.  Thin, black and elongated to reach just below and behind her left cheek, it was probably the least advanced thing she’d seen on the ship aside from paint.


         ‘Then again, I haven’t taken a close look at the paint,’ she thought.  “What’s this for?”


         “I’ll keep in touch, tell you if there’s anything we need.  You keep me informed of changes.”  That said, the Terran turned and headed back for the hatch.


         “How’s the fight going?” she called after him.


         “You don’t want to know,” Kenshi replied over his shoulder just before the hatch closed behind him, leaving a scowl on her face.  Oh, this was all just wonderful.


-------------------------


         “They’re reorganizing,” Baragossa noted for everyone in the room.  Terrace didn’t know whether to take that as a good or bad thing, but he settled on good for the sake of optimism.


         “Then we’ve put a dent into them,” the commander replied.


         “Or they’re one step ahead of us and preparing better for our next attack.”  Terrace nodded at that.  That was the pessimistic side of it.


         “Both,” he said seconds later, correcting his first opinion.  “We had to have caused some damage, but they have to know we aren’t going to be using infantry so bluntly any longer, making anti infantry weapons worth little.”  Baragossa smiled a bit at his lower ranked superior and, not for the first time, Terrace was given the distinct impression the man actually liked him.


         ‘He’s a smart man,’ Burlai thought.  ‘He knows I wasn’t the one responsible for taking his command and he seems to agree with me at least partially more often than not.’  Despite everything a rare, if small, grin crept onto the commander’s lips.  ‘I guess if you’re going to have your command taken unfairly it might as well be by somebody you can stand behind.’


         Off in the corner of the overhead map on the main display a confirmation signal bleeped into view.  The army was finishing their own preparations.  Maybe Tamaki could take on an army of marines, but Terrace would like to see him survive a tank battalion nearly single-handedly from a fixed position.  Or a single Peacemaker, for that matter, much less the four headed his way.


         Another bleep came in, this time on the small terminal directly before the commander.  Giznek’s reinforcements would be due in another day.  Preparations might take awhile, but Terrace would very much like to see how Tamaki could survive all that armor while the orbital guns took potshots at he and Ruki.


-------------------------


         “The turret’s scrap,” Ruki said, landing beside him.  “The gears are misaligned and pounded out of shape and the magnets are as like to blow the remains up as any MMC.”


         “One down two to go,” Kenshi muttered.  “We’re down to one third our GL ammo, a blast cannon is out and I’m not sure about a couple of the ARs lasting long.  Scattered ammunition damage.  Nothing too horrible.”


         “Not as bad as I’d have thought.”


         “Nowhere near good though.  We need to keep weapons and ammo not in use under armor and try to stick with the few weapons we have with a rechargeable ammunition source.”


         “No more grenades?” Ruki pouted.


         “Doubt they’ll do much good.  Do you honestly think they’ll waste another infantry wave on us?”


         “Honestly?”  She shrugged and leaned a hand on her hip.  “I’ve never stuck around past the infantry wave.  Either I got the hell out or they thought I was dead.”  Kenshi gave her a blank look, though she couldn’t see it through his helmet.


         “Well at least this will be educational,” he said, hefting an RPG and pushing it into the pirate’s arms to stow away.  “I figure they’ll take 15 hours to organize and make it into the clearing, two to count up the dead and wounded and send them back then they’ll wait eight more until high noon to help ward off potential night ambush.”


         “So basically 15 hours until we blow them to shit then another day for them to reorganize, whereupon we fuck up their ranks further and hope that we can leave them confused enough for, say, a three day rest.”  Kenshi raised his eyebrows.


         “Yeah, that sounds about right.”


         Despite her mask, Kenshi had the distinct impression the pirate wore one of her trademark grins as she stared back at him.  For a moment he had to wonder if Ruki actually thought this would turn out that easy, like they could actually hold off the MMC for six more days.


         ‘No,’ he thought after a moment.  ‘She knows our odds.  She just revels in the challenge.’  Looking over the scorched battlefield of branches and snow, Kenshi had to admit, even with the guilt of so many lost, ‘So do I.’


         Then he turned back to the pirate and said, “Start gathering the turrets back up.  I’ll prep a meal.  It’s gonna be a hard wait.”


-------------------------


         Three long lines of wounded and dead covered the southeast end of the clearing, the former being treated by the four medics still able enough to work, the latter covered in blankets, canvas or whatever else they could scrounge up which wasn’t burnt to carbon.  The numbers were ugly.  Those lucky enough to survive without major injury were a bare 42 with another 237 by last count wounded bad enough to be kept on the ground under the eye of the bare few left with medical training.  That left nearly 3000 dead and counting by the minute, most of who were stuck beyond the safe zone Arch had called up and some of who may even then be drawing their last breath, hopeless in their isolation.


         Looking the wounded and dead over, the SEALS felt strangely numb.  He knew there should be disgust or sadness, but the day’s events had burnt out such feelings.  Even as he watched passing marines checked the wounded and occasionally dragged a blanket over one’s head and Arch found, try as he might, he simply could not care.  By now they all even looked and sounded the same.  Male, female, black, white, human, avariel...  They were all a bunch of uniforms to his senses.


         “The armor is 10 minutes out, sir,” some random marine chimed in beside him.  The attacks had left the marine chain of command devastated.  Horvath was one of many yet unidentified charred bits lying under a sheet from the men in the command tent and of the three officers who had initially survived the battle, one died from shock and the other two were unfit for duty with the amount of painkillers running through them.  That left the SEALS Lieutenant to pick up the pieces.


         “Make a round of the perimeter.  Everyone stays frosty or I’ll know of it.”


         “Yes sir,” the young marine said.


         ‘Young...’  Arch grunted.  ‘I’m barely 24.’


         Flimsy as they were, the marines were all running on autopilot by now.  Orders were obeyed without complaint and to the letter, the basic need for survival putting them in the hands of their chain of command.  The “perimeter” consisted of a full half of the uninjured marines spread out a bit thin for the officer’s liking, keeping their eyes on the forest.  Each knew well enough if any of them spotted the enemy they probably already had a foot in the grave, but perhaps that warning would be enough to keep the rest of them safe.


         “Sir, I have Commander Burlai on the line,” another marine said, coming up dragging a salvaged SEALS radio.


         Arch snatched the handset from the soldier and said, “Lt. Keverall.”


         “Statrep,” Burlai’s deep voice came gruffly and Arch shooed the marine away for the time being.


         “42 marines alive and well, plus myself.  In the vicinity of 230 wounded and decreasing.  We have a medical team coming in with the rest, correct sir?”


         “That is correct.  When they arrive I want you and any marines fit for duty to stay put.  The army may be coming to relieve you, but I want anyone who knows anything there to brief them.”


         “With all due respect, sir, I doubt there is much these men could offer which I could not and many are close to cracking as is.”  There was a pause on the other end where the commander considered the SEALS’ words.


         Then, “Your concern is noted.  Pick out 10 men, clear-headed and hard-boiled.  Understood, Lieutenant?”


         “Yes sir,” Arch responded, not bothering to keep the disappointment from his tone.


         “Good.  Command out.”  The speaker clicked and the line went dead.  Dropping the handset, Arch began walking through between the thin lines of marines with the single difficult task of actually trying to find a handful who weren’t in a state of near shock.


-------------------------


         Light had come and gone without much trouble.  Once the turrets in the forest had been collected and stashed it had been a simple waiting job.  Kenshi seemed well enough with it, taking the time for a couple meals, a few cigars and a light sleep he’d snap out of every time a bird chirped.  The man was beat up and exhausted well before Quicksilver, as he called it, came to it’s current resting place.  Now he was just trying to keep his body running until a time came in which he could get a decent, uninterrupted rest.


         Ruki, on the other hand, was simply bored.  Her body didn’t need much rest or sustenance, per se, but the Terran was right in saving energy.  Come the end of this whole fight, if she felt as good as Kenshi looked then she’d be lucky.


         Instead the pirate decided to enjoy a hobby she only rarely got the time to partake in.  Fine by her, seeing as how it’d become one of her favorites over the years; teasing Kenshi.  Even now he was leaning back against the dark grey hull, arms and legs lying dead on the ground, head dangling nearly limp to the side, eyes closed and a mostly finished, burned-out cigar hanging from his lips.  He shoulda known better after the dozen snowballs, the surprise piggy back ride, the wake-up call to being smothered by cleavage and the sloppy wet ‘waking up Prince Charming’ kiss.  But she had to hand it to him.  He was determined to get every ounce of rest he could.


         Carefully straddling the bulky Terran, Ruki frowned at the armor hiding all but his head from her.  Her vision distorted as she felt her mask peel back, the cold air hitting her uncomfortably.


         ‘He has to be insane to enjoy being this frozen,’ she thought.  The pirate’s body could withstand the dead cold of space for limited periods, but that didn’t make it feel any better.  Here was Kenshi, however, without the slightest warmth over his head in sub zero temperature, comfortably asleep.


         Ruki frowned at that, looking over his features.  Kenshi was a normally pale person, but the recent events made him look near death.  No huge surprise, she supposed.  A bare few days ago he’d been skewered by her own plasma sword and the fights hadn’t let up much since.  A wound he’d suffered to the side of his neck still showed brightly and she doubted even he knew where else his body was still suffering.


         Fingering the armor of his chest, Ruki suddenly remembered a similar position following Orlius.  Beaten, broken and still alive.  Fighting until he couldn’t anymore.  Her fingers curled at a seam in his breastplate and she pouted at the pain it would be dragging him out of it without waking him up.  Instead she rested her hands over his shoulders and leaned in close, lying her head just beside his neck and wondering how he’d react if he woke up right now, her tangled into his lap comfortably.


         ‘Don’t wanna know,’ she thought, a faint blush coming to her cheeks.  The pirate frowned at that.  What the hell did Kenshi offer to make the likes of her blush?  The question shot a pang of rage through her, but Ruki forced it into submission before she did anything stupid.  She wanted to enjoy the moment while she could, after all, and the dread pirate didn’t want to see how he’d react to her being all soft.


         An alarm went off on the terminal, signaling something approaching the clearing to the south.


         Ruki’s blood went cold and her eyes snapped wide, her thoughts a collective, ‘Oh shit,’ repeating over and over.  Yet Kenshi didn’t move.  Gathering the courage to look up, the pirate timidly raised her eyes only to meet green, one eyebrow raised at her position.


         “Good morning, sunshine,” she chirped, letting out an innocent grin.


         “It’s night,” he replied gruffly, slowly standing with a grunt and letting her lithe figure slip off of him.  He took a moment to check the terminal then said, “The armor’s in.”


         “Guess that’s my cue.”  Her mask pulled back into place and Ruki took the detonator in hand.


         “Remember to wait until you can cause the most damage possible.  They’ll probably be bringing in medical supplies first and evacuate the injured.  Wait for them...”


         “I got it, I got it,” she interrupted.  “Injured are worthless, tanks are the real trophies.”  Floating into the air, she turned to get a last look of the Terran, now recovering his helmet and brushing off a few stray snowflakes.  Then she took off with wicked smile, dodging treetops as she raced for the clearing.


         “A shame you’re gonna miss the explosion, Kenshi,” she said after a moment, giving him time to reattach his helmet.  “Wouldn’t it be oh so lovely watching the fireworks with me?”


         “I’m sure we’ll see plenty.”


         “Ooo.  A date then.”  He didn’t take the bait.


-------------------------


         Over 15 hours of nothing.  It kept Terrace on edge and he couldn’t even imagine how FUBAR the soldiers left on the ground felt.


         But there Tamaki and Ruki were, waiting.  Figured whoever remained was out of the fight.  They were correct, of course, but it was still an annoying arrogance.  The commander had the personal pleasure to witness one of the many short snowball fights reported.  What did they have up their sleeves to be able to remain so calm, even carefree?  What other traps had they laid?


         Looking over the viewscreen in his quarters, Terrace watched as the tank battalion came ever closer, little by little to the clearing.  By morning, should Tamaki not have any other traps set, they’d be all but leveling the foreign gunship and anything perceived as a threat.  For the time being, however, they were but a minute or two out from the clearing the marines were using to “protect” their wounded.


         Terrace lay his face in his hands, trying to rub the grogginess away.  He would need to take a short rest sometime soon.  An exhausted commander was a hindrance.  Stretching his face as he pulled his hands away, Burlai scrolled the screen back toward the target of this mess.


         ‘Ruki’s gone,’ he noticed almost immediately.  And Kenshi was active.  Could mean anything.  Hell, she could be taking a piss and him preparing for a late dinner for all he knew.  Even so...


         “Statrep on the targets,” he called in to the bridge.  Baragossa must have taken a nap all his own for it was an unfamiliar voice which responded.


         “We were just about to call in, sir.  Ruki disappeared a minute ago, no sign.”  Terrace frowned.  It was likely to be nothing, but with these two...


         “Report it to both ground teams.  Tell them Ruki may be headed their way and to expect...”  He paused for a moment.  An ambush?  Trap?  Sudden assault?  What could Ruki possibly do alone out there against all that armor?  “...anything.”


-------------------------


         “Get to the perimeter!  Move, move!  I want everyone in their assigned place of cover!” Arch yelled out, trying put everyone in place fast.  To hell if he knew if Ruki was really coming, but these boys were in no shape to take her on in the open and they’d all seen enough death to last them awhile.


         “Sir, the wounded...” a medic trailed off, coming up beside him.


         “Whoever can be moved, bring them behind cover,” he ordered gruffly, not liking the thought of leaving any man in the open for what this could turn into.


         “Yes sir,” the medic replied, pulling a few extra marines aside to help move the men out.


         “Hurry up, marines!” Arch called, himself throwing one half conscious man over his shoulder and laying him behind a particularly dense bit of foliage before coming back for more.


         When the Lieutenant had set down his third man is when he heard it.  Deep in the woods to the south, the sounds of cracking trees and a rumble which seemed to make the ground shake.  If he could smile right then he would have, but Arch needed to keep discipline until they were all safe.


         “Keep behind cover,” he said over radio.  “Don’t come out until I give the all clear.  South perimeter, watch that you don’t get rolled over by armor.”  No reply came, but then nobody stepped out, even as the headlights to the many tanks started coming into view.


         ‘A good set of soldiers,’ he thought, looking over the clearing.  Aside from a few wounded, the area looked deserted.  Not a soul to be seen, even among the trees packed thin with nearly 270 marines.  They were ready to fight, even as their allies came to relieve them.


         When the Peacemaker literally broke through a set of trees Arch couldn’t help it.  His lips broke into a wide smile at a sight he couldn’t call anything less than beautiful.  The behemoth wearing weapons like jewelry was the most gorgeous thing he could think of at that moment.


         Where it came three more followed and behind, hovering a meter off the ground, dozens of medium tanks - P-99 Sweepers by the looks of them - came in heavy, covering much of the clearing in moments with more still behind.  And even further behind dozens upon dozens of cargo trucks came, stopping off in the clearing and unloading hundreds, perhaps thousands of army grunts armed and armored to the teeth.


         It was a military force ready to take a fortress and here they were with a bare two foes to face.  It seemed an insult, looking at all the weapons now at their disposal.  To sully their likes with two so insignificant as Ruki and Kenshi Tamaki.  They would finally be getting the spanking they deserved.


         ‘Let’s see what they can do to stop this,’ Arch thought with a grin, finally standing and preparing himself to approach the army which had just claimed the clearing.


         A flash of white and orange and a colossal boom sent the SEALS flying back and for a few moments everything was dark, the ringing in his ears helping to keep him from figuring out what was wrong.  Then his vision started to return, little by little.


         ‘No.’


         He was on his back.  There was fire everywhere.  Little movement.  Dirt was covering everything and wide craters in the ground explained where it had come from.  And the tanks and people...


         ‘No.’


         Of the armor he could see, it was all laying still on the ground, scrapped.  He could only find one Peacemaker, but it was on it’s side, having apparently taken the brunt of one of the explosions.


         ‘No!’


         The line of wounded and dead had disappeared as far as Arch could see.  Disintegrated or blown every which way was up for debate, all he knew was that they were gone.  And with them all the grunts who’d unloaded into the clearing.


         ‘NO!’


         Arch picked himself up carefully, making sure he’d suffered no further wounds, then made his way toward the clearing.  The surviving marines were still along the perimeter, all dumbstruck at the devastation brought so suddenly into their sight.  He had to stop just before the clearing, the heat from the fire and explosion too much for him.


         ‘NO!!!’


         His eyes scanned the area, trying to find any survivors, anyone at all.  To the south he caught a glimpse of a couple tanks and cargo trucks, the army grunts unloading to look just as dumbstruck as the marines.  To the north he saw a Peacemaker roll into view, a charred and dented side showing it’s survival had probably depended upon the destruction of another tank shielding it from most of the explosion.  A good deal of survivors, but not nearly as many as had been so suddenly taken.  Not by a longshot.


         “They’re monsters,” he whispered to himself.


-------------------------


         “What the hell is going on down there?” Terrace asked as soon as he stepped into the bridge.  Baragossa was already there, looking grim and sleep-deprived, but altogether alert.


         “It looks like the safe zone we picked out was one huge trap in waiting,” the lower admiral replied.


         “Statrep,” the commander ordered, a murderous frown over his features.  How the fuck could they have missed this?


         “Too soon to tell, sir,” the radio man said.  “They’re still licking their wounds down there.  At least 65% casualty rate.”


         “It’ll take at least another day to organize another attack,” Terrace muttered and Baragossa nodded.


         “Recommend we pull everyone back until then,” the admiral said.


         Terrace nodded, said, “Agreed.  Begin dropping our own armor, 10 kilometers south of the clearing.  I want survivors to rendezvous, load wounded onto the dropships and set up a new base of operations.  I want every available grunt and vehicle with two centimeters of armor within two systems down there.  I want minesweepers to clear anything before they set up.”


         “That all?” Baragossa asked after a moment.  The Terran commander glanced around a moment before setting his eyes onto the grey ship displayed on the viewscreen.  His eyes narrowed.


         “Organize a bombing wing.  I want their air defenses gone.”


-------------------------


         Kenshi adjusted the scope of the blast cannon as he twisted it into the stand, frowning at Ruki’s laughter over the line.  She could’ve just as easily kept the line closed, but the pirate had a sick way of letting him know her success.


         ‘Is she trying to tease me on missing out on the “fun” or is she trying to torture me with what she just accomplished?’ he wondered, glancing at the black smoke which had been billowing into the sky for close on 20 minutes now.  Thinking of the devil, a black silhouette, difficult to spot at first in the night, landed before him and performed a pirouette ending in a deep bow.  Her mask pulled back, revealing a face-splitting grin.


         “Did you see the pretty fireworks?” she said by way of greeting.


         “Hard to miss.”


         “Well you should’ve taken the front row with me.  You know those seats where you’re so close in you get bits of debris falling over you?”  Ruki sighed wistfully.  “Beautiful.”  The Terran took a moment from his calibrations to glance up at the mass murderer being friendly with him.  “What?”


         “Christ, you’re a psychopath.”  Ruki stood tall at that, showing off a canine in her trademark crooked grin.


         “What are you doing with that thing anyway?  I thought you cleared the ships.”


         “We’ve devastated them quicker than I’d anticipated,” Kenshi replied, putting his eye back on the scope.  “There will be repercussions.  Desperation will...”


         “...lead to them putting aside Miss High and Mighty faster.  What’re you expecting?”  The Terran frowned as he swept through the many targets hovering above his position, finally focusing on a super carrier.


         “Don’t know yet,” he said after a moment.  “I thought they’d come up with reinforcements and try again with orbital guns, but I guess they’ll wait for an attack where we’ll be distracted.”


         “They’re not gonna leave us be,” Ruki said, walking to stand over him.  Kenshi frowned further as a bit of movement caught his eye, barely contrasted against the pale grey of the super carrier.  Zooming in further, he counted the discrepancies.


         “You’re right,” he said as the shapes became clearer.  “20 bombers are heading straight toward us.”


         Kenshi couldn’t see her facial expression, but the way she said, “Oh,” didn’t make the pirate sound pleased.


         “Don’t worry,” he said, locking the reticle onto one of the bombers.  “Just like shooting fish in a barrel.”


-------------------------


         Sitting in the command chair with his arms folded and eyelids heavy, Terrace watched the viewscreen closely.  It was split into three sections with a background showing a real time map of the battlefield.  The three sections consisted of the rubble-marked clearing full of army grunts and marines wading through the destruction to salvage anything of immediate worth, Tamaki and Ruki kneeling in the scorched snow before the orbital scope and blast cannon and finally the bombing wing en route and closing in fast on the atmosphere - from left to right, respectively.


         The central picture gave him some pause.  Was Tamaki good enough to hit and bring down 20 bombers in flight?  He doubted it, but then he’d also doubted there was much he could do against a small fleet as well.


         “He’ll begin firing soon.  While they’re burning through the atmosphere they won’t be able to maneuver without destroying themselves,” Baragossa said quietly beside him.


         “Hopefully they’ll still be moving too fast to shoot.  And hopefully there will be too many for him to hit before even one can release it’s payload,” Terrace replied.


         “That’s two too many hopefully’s than I’m comfortable with,” the admiral said, even quieter.


         “Anything to weaken them for the long haul,” the commander replied again, matching his tone.  From the corner of his eye Terrace watched Baragossa nod, but he had to silently agree with the man.  Would this be another vain loss of life for a petty scratch in Tamaki’s defenses, if that?


         Before he could answer that question the right display showed an eruption of fire and Terrace tensed, eyes darting intensely to the picture.  No damage.  The bombers had simply met the atmosphere, bright heat billowing from their bellies.


         Of course no sooner had he relaxed than a lance of red speared through the cockpit of the furthest bomber, vaporizing the occupant and sending the ship careening out of control.  Unable to hold up as such in the intense heat, the bomber exploded, sending a nearby ship into it’s own wild turn and subsequent explosion.  All the while the lances of red continued to dart upward.


         Status reports flew in from around the bridge, radio chiming dying voices while the radio operator demanded orders and the navigator shouted out casualties.  Terrace closed his eyes and shut the sound out, knowing there was nothing more to be done.  Again Tamaki was being underestimated and again the great Commander Burlai had sent young men to their deaths.


         When the sound died down again Terrace opened his eyes.  Tamaki was still checking the scope with Ruki leaning over him, but all eyes were on the third screen  - now showing little more than scattered debris falling to the planet.  It was over.  Terrace stood.


         “Brief the incoming support ships on the situation and keep them on the other side of the planet until they are needed.  I want strategies laid out for a simultaneous attack the morning our ground forces have reorganized, including a second bombing wing and every unit participating fully briefed on every mission aspect.  Contact me when this is complete.”


         That said, Terrace exited the bridge, knowing at least now he had time for sleep.


-------------------------


         The frown stayed true on Kenshi’s face as he pulled away from the blaster.  Glancing over to Ruki, he saw her watching the sky intently.  He took a look, saw the dispersing remains of the explosions the bombers had created, and rolled his eyes.


         “I knew you cared,” she said after a moment then grinned to him.  “You heard my talk about fireworks then created your own just for me.”


         “That may not be the last time they try that.  There’s a lot more where those came from and I don’t doubt they’ll try to catch us unawares.”


         “Nah, they’ll wait for the next attack.  Try to organize some big multi-dimensional offensive to catch a weak point anywhere.”


         “I don’t trust that.  I’m going to see what Ally has for orbital radar.  Any way it goes I need to stay by the ship in case of further attack.  No more bailing you out if you’re in trouble.”  Ruki pouted.


         “You act like that’s a normal occurrence.”


         “It will be if you get cocky now,” he shot back.  “This is only the beginning.  The SEALS?  The orbital guns?  The infantry assault?  The armor?  The bombers?  Tip of the iceberg.  We have over six days of repairs left and one day maximum before another attack.  You can bet your ass that as we start warding off attacks directly and wiping out everything we come across they’re going to care less and less about how they attack us as long as it works.”


         “You’re talking...”


         “Chemical, biological, nuclear.”


         There was a long pause from the pair as those three words sunk in.  Taking the princess and Titan info was one thing, but once you got into killing thousands of MMC, destroying millions, perhaps billions in equipment and vehicles and still had nothing to show for it then you were well on your way from being a serious threat.  No, by then you’d become what you’d threatened.


         ‘Is it worth it?’ Kenshi thought upon that realization.  ‘Could Malcom do as much damage with a titan as we will in the following days?’  Then he recalled the original titan battle and clenched his fingers.  ‘Down here we are threatening maybe a few thousand lives.  A titan threatens tens of thousands at least and trillions given correct circumstances.’  Even so, his stomach turned a bit at the thought that, for a bare instant, he’d compared the damage he might accomplish to that of a planet-sized death machine.  Enough to bring in weaponry made for a last ditch effort against an army.


         “We have to delay the attack,” Ruki said.


         “By days.”


         “So, what?  I go in, alone, kill everything that...” the Terran shook his head, much to her distaste.  “What?”


         “Killing them is exactly what will drive them to it.  It will only make this faster.  You need to disorganize them.”


         “You mean...hold back.”  He nodded.  “If I do it quick and early it might shut them down, though.”


         “It would shut down whatever ground forces they’ve managed to send.  There are many more ways to deliver a bomb.”  Ruki took a moment to absorb that.


         Then, “That’s just fucking great, Kenshi.  You don’t hire a psychotic mass-murderer to carefully calculate and be reserved, you know.  It just doesn’t happen!”


         “Nuke.”  That had the pirate shutting up for a good, long moment.


         Then, “Reserved it is.”


-------------------------


         When morning hit Arch didn’t even realize it at first.  Hell, he’d not realized it at all until a few snowflakes fell into his vision and he’d glanced into the sky to find a bright grey mass near the horizon.


         ‘Just the thing to help morale.  A reminder it’s freezing and there’s more snow to slow us down.’  But as the snow continued the battle-weary lieutenant had to admit it was a peaceful sight in the face of a ravaged battalion.


         Flicking his cigarette away, Arch made his way to the new command tent the army had set up a quarter mile south of the clearing.  The brush and snow here had been well worn during the night with armor and grunts constantly moving back and forth, rescuing who and what they could before they all made their way south.


         The tent itself had been salvaged from the marines, the army’s CV, or Command Vehicle, having been destroyed during the explosion.  At least some officers had survived this time around with an experienced squad leader taking over until they met up with the forces the Bema had sent down.  It was surrounded by heavy APCs in case a quick getaway was needed with tanks patrolling 25 meters out and the two remaining Peacekeepers spread out another 30.


         Arch stopped in his tracks as he passed the ring of APCs, frowning.  Each of the vehicles had hovering capabilities, but were settled on the ground to save power.  They were each manned with a gunner and driver, but even so the officers had set up two entrance guards, neither of which was present.  A normal day the SEALS wouldn’t have two thoughts about it, but today...


         Pulling his rifle from behind him, Arch went in a crouch, stepping his way slow to the tent and wishing snow wasn’t so damn loud.  Approaching the entrance from the side, Arch tore open the flap and eased his way in, taking the sights of his weapon from one corner to the other as he revealed himself to the room in search of life.  It was only when he’d cleared the area of hostiles that he stood up, let his gun drop to his side and took in the butchery.


         “What in the hell?” he asked the still room.  Blood was splashed in long slashes along the floor and tent walls, the two guards laying face-down and near-decapitated by the entrance and nearly a dozen officers thrown about haphazardly, their cuts so vicious and deep it seemed as if they’d been mauled by a wild animal.


         “You should see the look on your face,” a husky, feminine voice whispered into his ear.  Spinning and raising his rifle, a strong blow threw the weapon across the room and the Lieutenant felt his wrist snap.  The black silhouette again stood before him, five claws elongating before his eyes.  “I thought the fun was over, but I guess there was one surprise left.”


         Ruki, or who he guess was the pirate, drove the clawed hand toward him like lightning and it was all the SEALS could do just to move enough so only his shoulder was stabbed.  Screaming pain, he pulled out his sidearm only to have his arm kicked and pinned under one slender black foot.  Both arms crippled and his body pinned, Arch shook violently under the pirate - whether from rage, pain or fear, he would never know.


         “You’re that SEALS,” she said after a long, torturous moment.  The dark mask of her suit peeled away from her face like she was water surfacing from a pool of oil, revealing the beautifully angular and pale features of the dread pirate, her lips cracked in a bemused grin.  And those eyes...feral, monstrous, haunting things.  “Such a survivor.  You remind me of Kenshi, you know that?”  Leaning toward him, Arch flinched away.  “He was a better fighter, though,” she whispered into his ear.  “Such a shame.  I think the two of you would get along oh so well.”  The pirate’s lips brushed his cheek and again he flinched away.  “I’ll leave you alive for his sake.”


         And then she was gone.  Her touch, her form, everything, leaving Arch a heavily-breathing, shivering mass on the floor of the command tent, contemplating fearfully the monsters he was fighting.


-------------------------


         Ruki watched in annoyance as the battered MMC finally finished their salvaging to head south.  Sooner than anticipated, she’d thought taking out leadership would provide a few more hours, but apparently it’d been too late.


         The convoy was paced slow, but unless they were headed for a city to regroup the trip would only take them a few hours, allowing an evening or early morning attack.  Much too little time.


         “Cutting off their head didn’t do much, Kenshi.  The fuckers are moving.”


         “Apparently you didn’t quite cut it off then,” was the cold response.


         Growling, the pirate said, “Don’t give me that, I am the fucking master of decapitation.  I killed all the officers I found and bugged out, just like you said.  What else do you expect me to do?”  A sigh came over the radio and she could imagine Kenshi standing there, trying to compose himself so as not to anger her further with whatever followed.


         “Think of this as a surgery,” he said after a moment.  “Lopping off chunks might help, but it doesn’t get the job done.”  Ruki bit back a line about telling her how to do things when she’d been doing them a few centuries longer, but stowed it.  As much combat experience as she’d earned, it’d never been for a prolonged engagement and now wasn’t the time to get pissy over details.


         ‘I’ll pay him back later.  Something involving strong cuffs and a sharp knife.’  She had to repress a giggle.


         “Kill a chunk of officers, you’ll stall them long enough to replace leadership,” he continued.  “Kill them all and you’ll throw them into disarray.  It’ll stall them, but without the actual force destroyed the MMC brass won’t be as bothered.”


         “Fine,” Ruki replied, trying her damndest to ignore the fact she was being lectured.  “You don’t have a fix on where they’re headed do you?”


         “None.  Much as we destroyed, they’re still jamming our signal into local satellites.  You’ll have to follow them.”


         “Tch,” she grunted with a sneer, watching the injured stragglers try to keep up with the rest of the convoy.  “That’ll be all day by this point.”


         “Good.  Better, try slowing them down.  Force them to set up camp for the night.”


         “Right, right.  Leave all the hard work to me.”


         “If you’d rather keep watch...”


         “No,” she interrupted quickly.  Following these snails would try her patience enough.  The pirate could only imagine what sitting, watching blips move across a monitor would do to her psych.


         Sighing in defeat, Ruki skipped along the tree tops, trying to figure a way to stall the convoy’s advance.  Oh, would she make this hell for them.  Maybe she couldn’t kill them, but the dread pirate was far from limited in methods of torture.


-------------------------


         Puffing hard at his cigarette, Arch squinted into the blurry mass of light which was the planet’s sun trying to poke through the clouds.  It must’ve been close to high noon on the planet, if it followed the set 24 hour cycle most planet engineers set on a newly colonized world.


         ‘It’ll be another five hours until we reach the next wave.’  Letting out a sigh and watching his breath frost in the air, Arch put his eyes back to the forest.


         Their infantry numbers were relatively small, but the dozen remaining APCs and trucks had been quickly converted into mobile medical transports for the many wounded, the few hundred remaining grunts having to walk in a foot of snow, give or take a few inches, all while the miserable cold tried to seep into their insulation.  The Lieutenant had to feel sorry for those few wounded who weren’t given a spot in an APC.  This’d be a helluva trek for them.


         ‘As if I’m not wounded.’  The shoulder and arm wounds would keep him out of any more fighting, but as long as he could still walk he was fine.  Cold made the throbbing worse, but between painkillers and the losses he’d witnessed it was barely a thought.


         The six remaining hover tanks took perimeter for the group, the two Peacemakers making up point and anchor.  Lucky bastards.


         ‘What I wouldn’t give for a heater and a God damn foot of armor between me and the rest of this world right now,’ the SEALS thought, flicking away his dead cigarette and clumsily fishing for another with his left hand.  ‘I’m running low.  Will have to check the wounded once we stop.’


         Suddenly a loud crack echoed past the trees and the convoy stopped dead in it’s tracks, soldiers ducking low and looking about wildly for the source.  The cracking continued for a few seconds before a loud thud was heard.  Then the cracking began anew.


         ‘Sounds like a tree going down,’ Arch realized.  He ran up to the point and hopped onto the Peacemaker there, knocking seven times on the hatch on top.  A second later it swung up and one of the two remaining functional officers, a Saugin with especially pale skin and stocky features, poked their head out.


         “Any idea what the hell’s going on?” the man, Lt. Commander Metass, asked before Arch could say anything.


         “Sounds like a tree falling.”


         “Then your guess is as good as mine.”  Metass put his hand to the radio in his ear and spoke, presumably to the officer in the rear Peacemaker, “Keverall says the same thing.”  He paused.  “I’ll ask him.”  He turned his attention back onto the SEALS.  “Any ideas?  What are we looking at?”


         Arch looked back into the forest where the cracking still sounded off loudly with the occasional thud interrupting.  There weren’t all that many possibilities.


         “We’re being blocked off.”


         “I guessed as much, but what’s your advice?”


         “Proceed,” Arch said instantly.  “With hope we can make it over without much problem.  If not they’re going to double back anyway and block us off so we might as well deal with the problem now.”


         “Could take hours clearing a path,” the Lt. Commander reminded.


         “It’ll take even longer to clear a path behind us and make a new one around.  Then who’s to say the same thing won’t happen?”


         Sighing, Metass nodded his agreement.  “I’m beginning to realize why you’ve had such a problem with these two.”


         “You hadn’t already?” Arch asked, eyebrow raised.  “Just count your blessings it isn’t an attack.”


         “Yet,” Metass added and now it was Arch nodding his agreement.


-------------------------


         ‘It’s like watching paint peel,’ Ruki thought, watching from high up as the MMC’s sappers set their charges between the many fallen tree trunks blocking their path.  ‘The more I do it the more I want to blow shit up.’


         She’d made a line of fallen trees close to a kilometer wide to block the convoy’s path.  Sure, the hover vehicles could make it over without much problem, but the Peacemakers would have trouble pushing past the pile safely and infantry wouldn’t be able to step over without risking injury.


         By the books, it would take MMC a few hours to clear the mess safely without risk of starting a forest fire.  Personally, she’d have just blasted the blockade away until there was only a pile of smoldering wood chips.  It was boring how predictable they were.


         Balancing herself on her perch in the trees, Ruki lay back, folded her arms under her head and closed her eyes.  Who said she couldn’t relax while she waited for these snails?


         ‘Kenshi would if he saw me now,’ she reminded herself and frowned.  Poor Kenshi, all alone with that stick up his ass.  If things went to plan it’d be a long few days for the poor sonofa bitch.


         “Kenshiiii,” she drawled, flipping on her radio.  A second later the explosion sounded off and Ruki glanced over to check they hadn’t broken through yet.  They hadn’t.  The trees here were too dense and massive for any quick “safe” solution.


         “If you’re in a firefight and killing everybody I will kill you, I hope you know,” was the annoyed response.


         “I’m not, I’m not.  They’re being all slow and I’m bored.”


         “...too bad?”


         “C’mon, Kenshi.  Here we both are, nothing better to do...”


         “I’m making sure they don’t bomb us,” he interrupted.


         “...and suddenly it hit me,” she continued on, ignoring the comment.  There was a pause on the other line while she waited for a response.


         “A grenade?”


         “No, something to do in the mean...”


         “We’re not having phone sex,” he interrupted again.


         “Why not?!”  But by then the line was already closed.  “Spoil sport.”


         Beneath her another charge went off.


-------------------------


         The sun was perhaps an hour from the horizon when the charges finally cleared a wide enough, safe enough path through the damn logs for the convoy to move through.  It was like art, the way they’d fell the trees to stack and tangle as they had.


         ‘And did it for a kilometer,’ Arch reminded himself.  ‘These truly are monsters we’re dealing with.’


         “It puts the theory of building something taking longer than destroying it to rest, aye?”  Turning, Arch watched as Lieutenant Veran sat beside him.  Veran was much more amiable than the colder Metass could be, as in you could drop a bomb on his family and he’d still have a grin for the situation.  He was a mixed race, so much so that it could difficult picking out any single one.  The violet eyes were a sign of a Midollonian, tall build a sign of a Terran and downright hairiness the sign of any one of the gordos races, but who could say where the thin body, dusky complexion and strawberry hair came from.


         “That’s what defensive walls were made for,” Arch replied.


         “True enough.  I’m just glad nobody had to use them as such.”


         “Yet.”  At that Veran rolled his eyes.


         “You’re like a grimmer version of Metass, you know that?”


         “It’s been a bad couple of days”


         “Yeah, well, at least you’ll finally get some R&R.  Metass passed down judgement.  We’re setting up camp and continuing on in the morning.”  As much as rest appealed to the SEALS, Arch shook his head in disagreement.


         “That’s what they wanted.  To delay us.  We should continue through the night, keep the plan solid.”


         Varen shrugged, said, “Not my call to make.  Metass doesn’t like the idea of a nighttime convoy with the enemies we have and the few of us left who’ll be in the fight need rest beforehand.  Might be we’re giving them what they want, but at least for now they don’t want us dead, aye?”


         “Point taken,” Arch finally agreed then stood up.  “At least set up past the blockade.  I don’t feel like waking up in the morning just to find they’ve crashed another tree in our way.”


         “Aye aye, L.T.”


         The SEALS froze at the nickname, suddenly hearing Breggs’ deeper voice in his head.  No, Breggs was gone.  Last of his teammates cut down by Ruki, in his case literally.  Arch shook his head, trying to get the image of Breggs’ bloody, torn form and Ruki’s claws, dripping in gore, out of his mind.


         “Problem, Keverall?” Veran’s voice cut through his head.


         “Fine.  Need sleep more than I’d thought.”  A sharp slap to his armor had the SEALS stumbling forward a step.


         “Get yourself set up and your bandages checked.  Metass and I can take care of all this.”  Arch nodded his thanks and moved to gather supplies for a cold, rough sleep.


-------------------------


         The convoy was moving steadily again once first light hit, but that didn’t comfort Terrace any.  The damage had been done.  Barring any further delays they’d reach the main force in two hours and wouldn’t make it back to the ship until evening.  That meant either a night attack or a full day without pressuring Tamaki.


         But that assumed there would be no further delays.


         “You seem to be burning it into memory,” Baragossa said, stepping up beside him.  He was speaking of the large real-time map displayed across the viewscreen in the bridge Terrace had been staring at unmoving for the last half hour.  Tamaki was down there still, in plain sight, watching.  Waiting.


         “To every problem there is a solution,” the commander quietly replied.


         “Naive thinking.”  Terrace glanced up to the admiral, raising his eyebrows.  “Some commanders believe that, should they strategize correctly, they could potentially solve any problem without loss.”


         “It is possible,” Terrace said, looking back to the viewscreen.


         “Not without full knowledge of every situation, every outcome.  That’s what is not possible.  At some point you must assume.”


         “We don’t have time for assumptions.”  There was a pause in the conversation and he knew Baragossa didn’t know what he was speaking of.  “They delayed our attack.  They didn’t strip it away like all the others.  Meaning they’re buying time.  For what, though?”


         “Reinforcements, most likely.”  Terrace nodded at that.  Ruki had commanded quite a force at one time - he knew that first-hand.  But it’d been years now since she’d assembled anything more than a couple ships and he wondered at her ability to call for allies.  His impression was there were as many who’d leave her to die than be frightened into helping should shit hit the fan and, of those few, none commanded a sizeable force any longer.


         “I don’t like it.  Time allows preparation.  Preparation allows them more chance to fend off yet another attack, buying yet more time for whatever they need.”


         “There’s nothing to be liked,” Baragossa said.  “But what can be done without sustaining yet more futile losses?”


         “Something...” Terrace trailed off, narrowing his eyes toward Tamaki’s defenses.  Yes, something could be done - would have to be done.


         The admiral nodded, his agreement and the pair sat there, staring.


-------------------------


         Ruki smiled as she looked upon the new camp.  Quite the busy ants they were.  So much weaponry and armor...  The battered convoy and their relief were quick to merge, unloading wounded into dropships which would likely take them back to a waiting city hospital.  Meanwhile the commanders were split, likely learning their lesson from the previous few incidents, and were gradually reorganizing their forces to remain efficient.


         The pirate watched for a good half hour, one of the few times she’d ever claim to use reconnaissance before an attack.  Taking out key pieces would be a chore, but she had to admit it’d be a helluva fight.


         “Officers first,” Kenshi reminded.  “Then any ranged radio equipment you can find.  If you have the ability, take out the treads of as many Peacemakers as you can - they’ll take the time to repair them before they leave them behind.”


         “Oooo, priority objectives.  I feel like I’m a soldier now.”  There was a pause from the other line.


         Then, “Keep safe.  There’s no backup this time.”


         For a moment Ruki was tempted with a smart-assed reply, but the note of actual worry stayed the comment.  Instead she gave a simple, “I will.”  Then cut the transmission.


         Looking back upon the clearing, Ruki began picking her targets.  Centering her eyes and a thought later, thin green lines formed a square around them and they began appearing on a small map at the corner of her HUD.  This would be a tough one.  Hundreds of targets, advanced weaponry and a need for survival to get it right.


         Cracking her knuckles the pirate sang, “Time for surgery.”


-------------------------


         Nervousness was paramount between the ragged survivors.  Since the delay the night before it was a commonly accepted belief they were being watched closely even though no tracker showed any movement following close by, top wasn’t seeing anything following and there hadn’t been a single real attack since the officers of the group had been slaughtered.


         Even so, the weary convoy was growing more tense by the minute.  Maybe lookouts in orbit hadn’t spotted anyone, but that was part of the problem.  Ruki hadn’t appeared once in the past day except to kill off the leadership.  And now that there was a fresh batch of officers...


         Arch scanned the trees as he watched for the dread pirate.  A futile effort.  The camp had been set up in a gathering of clearings, some makeshift, well over a kilometer long.  It was a stretch of vehicles with troops rummaging about in various tasks while turrets on the outskirts kept watch.  Finding a random person in camp would be difficult, much less a person hiding in the stretch of trees.  Between new and old leadership, not to mention better use of radio headsets, they were better organized and better separated, but how much would that mean when a lithe black figure started slinging fire at will?


         “SEALS, if ya got nothing better to do then move some cargo!” a light voice called over the radio more gruffly than it sounded.  Colonel Lilinda, from the little Arch had seen, tried to keep a tight ship like the best of them, but there had to be a reason a higher officer such as him was stuck on a backwater planet such as Terla VII.  Equipment and manpower he had, certainly, but Arch had to wonder at his tactical ability and experience.


         “Sorry, sir,” Arch said a bit stiffly then moved to help along the wounded, favoring his right arm more than a little.  One by one, grunts carried the burned men from APC or cargo truck to dropship, loading up the bulky vehicles to the brim.  Lilinda wanted only one trip to impede their progress further and, unfortunately, that meant loading the ships past their recommended allowance.


         ‘Would rather be discussing tactics,’ he thought, eyes on a poor man with bandages covering most of the upper right side of his body.  ‘This is mind-numbing, useless work.  I’d even prefer taking over troop deployment.’


         Glancing over, Arch watched Metass and Veran organizing the few troops they kept.  It was easy, mind-numbing and nearly pointless work without any real objective, at least not for another day or so, but at least it wasn’t manhandling the nearly dead.


         Setting down the half-burned man, the dropship door slowly swung up as a quartet of grunts cleared the area surrounding the craft.  Arch turned and started for another prone wounded when it began.


         An explosion sounded and the SEALS had time to spin around and watch before the flaming ship crashed down, taking with it one of the grunts charged with traffic control.  Before he could process what was happening the pistol was in his hand and he was in a crouch, searching the trees for a source.


         Screams of rage and pain seemed to sound off from all directions at once.  Weapons fired every which way, but the Lieutenant couldn’t get a bead on where the damn mercenary was attacking from.  In his frantic searching he saw occasional flashes of blood from a corpse here or fire there, but it wasn’t until his eyes set upon Metass’ body, ribs blown outward and dark blue blood splattered everywhere that he realized the officers were again being hunted.


         “Protect the officers!” he shouted through the radio to anybody who would listen and no sooner than he’d said it than he felt a sharp pain at the base of his skull and watched the snowy floor rushing toward him.


-------------------------


         Confusion ran rampant in the overlarge camp.  Nobody could keep a target on her.  It was...exhilarating.  Laughing as the remaining dropships took off, Ruki chucked a ball of glowing red energy at each, careening them into the thick forest or the mess of armor and people in fiery wrecks.


         ‘Focus,’ she had to remind herself as the bloodlust came.  It would be so, so simple to unleash a wave a destruction upon these insects, but her job was to delay, not destroy.


         Turning toward the nearest target, she launched another beam of red into the treads of a massive tank as she sped past, the officer in her focus falling back wide-eyed as the pirate blurred toward him then screamed as her claws punched through his armor into his stomach, spread wide, twisted and pulled out.


         Surrounding soldiers fired and she felt heat along her chest.  Ruki had to will herself not to phase through the ground, remembering all too well the blinding pain it caused to be bombarded with plasma as her body became ethereal.  Instead she sped through them, feet only touching the ground in liftoff, and clawed the weapons away in passing as she headed toward her next target.


         Again and again she struck, preferring her claws to keep some semblance of stealth amidst the chaos.  Every time she passed a radio she punched through it or flung another bit of energy.  Every tread was blasted apart.  Every officer ripped to pieces.


         ‘All but the SEALS,’ she thought with a grin as she passed the prone form for the third time.  It wouldn’t keep him from cursing her, but hell, he’d provided her with fun.


         Still, it wasn’t without difficulty.  Her armor was good, but not impenetrable.  Plasma still burned lightly against her skin, sometimes even puncturing through and occasionally a tank would find it’s barrels pointed her direction, often without her noticing.  It was pure speed, resistance and armor which kept her alive in those rare moments, but she was feeling the pain.


         Breathing heavily after ripping the throat from an officer, Ruki took a split second too long recovering from the kill when burning filled her right side.  The dread pirate let out a scream of blinding pain as she fell to the packed snow, trying to force her mind to focus.


         She was moving before she could see clearly again, not even aware of what had struck or from where - only that there was damage done.  The pirate raised her arm to blast away a tank only to find nothing lifted.  Ruki glanced down and nearly collapsed at what she saw.


         Her upper right body, from neck to just above her lowest rib, was simply gone.  Ruki was far from a bleeder, but even her body couldn’t prevent drops of red splattering to her feet from the grizzly damage.


         ‘Need to finish,’ she willed herself against dizziness, raising her left arm instead.  Blowing away the tread, she continued onto her next target.


         They were becoming organized now.  Officers were hiding in tanks, APCs, whatever might protect them that little bit longer and she was nearing the end of her strength.  Yet she continued.


         ‘Surgical,’ a voice in her mind whispered faintly.  Awareness was growing thin.  Heat kept exploding around her as she blew off the hatch of a hovertank and threw a lance of energy down through the officer within.  ‘If one remains it’s for nothing.’


         Her vision was narrowing, her body numb.  ‘Too much...’  Scanning quickly for her next target, it took a long moment to find none were left.


         ‘I win,’ she thought with a slight grin.  Willing her body into the air, the half-dead mercenary hung limply in her suit, mind forcing the material back to Kenshi as quickly as possible.  It was too late, however.


         Too much blood lost, too much damage done.  Her mind finally losing it’s grip, Ruki forced one more tiny movement.  As the snow fell up to meet her, the dread pirate whispered faintly, “Kenshi...”


-------------------------


         “It’s a mess,” Rykov stated simply, standing before Terrace’s desk.  The young Lieutenant looked downright pale, his lean, somewhat frail-looking body earned from a Nindathu heritage seeming as if it could collapse under pressure at any moment.


         “Obviously,” the commander replied dryly.  “Details.”  Since the last attack it’d been difficult to figure out what was what, even with giant screens showing a picture for all to see.  Although damage was surprisingly minimal, it had the annoying effect of knocking down most communication with the ground forces.  What little was left nobody planetside could seem to use  to get in touch with their command.


         “The dropships are damaged beyond what we estimate their repair capabilities to be, the Peacemakers have had, to a unit, all their treads detached, conventional long-range communication equipment has been completely destroyed...” the aide trailed off.


         “And?” Terrace asked impatiently and Rykov snapped it out.


         “...and there is only one surviving officer remaining.  Lt. Keverall from the SEALS detachment.”  The commander struck his fist onto his desk, red rage taking his mind.  He didn’t even know who he was angry with.


         ‘Calm.  A commander must remain calm,’ a voice soothed in his mind and slowly Terrace allowed himself to relax back into his chair.  Taking a long, staggered breath, he calmly ordered, “Brief Baragossa fully then send him here.”


         “Yes sir,” the aide replied, saluting stiffly before exiting, leaving the commander to ponder the next course of action.


-------------------------


         ‘The hell is she?’ Kenshi thought irritably, ducking low under a branch.  He’d decided it the wiser choice to stay off the main path the convoy had cleared to keep out of sight, but all it managed to do thus far was slow him down.


         Following the pirate’s last, brief transmission, Kenshi had taken a good 45 minutes trying to get in touch with Ruki only to go unanswered.  Deciding between protecting the ship and going after her, he’d settled reluctantly on the latter.  Now eight kilometers from Quicksilver with not so much as a blip on his tracker to show of her, he could feel his stomach tighten at the likely fate the dread pirate had met.


         ‘She’s survived worse.  Might be blown to bits, but she’s out there somewhere,’ he reassured himself.  Shrugging the mass of equipment on his back as he cleared yet another tight knot of branches, he hoped the effort wouldn’t cost him the ship’s defenses.  Though the blast cannon and scope were strapped to his back, without a decent clearing he would be lucky to so much as find all incoming targets.  And this close to the enemy without proper defenses and red piercing the sky for all to see, they’d likely swarm him within minutes.


         A blip showed up on his tracker and Kenshi went into a crouch, looking down the reticle of the hefty firestorm cannon.  The former soldier scanned the trees and watched the blip closely.  No movement.  Either an ambush, a large animal or the pirate had been found.


         Kenshi stood and began moving carefully between the snow and pines.  The convoy’s path came into view and he quickly glanced down either side of the rough road before sprinting across it and resuming his cautious speed.  More blips began showing up, slowly moving toward the first and Kenshi felt the adrenaline begin.  Little doubting what was coming.  But was the original blip Ruki or something else?


         Pushing past a last bit of brush, the Terran found a grizzly sight.  Lying sprawled in a mass of snow and frozen blood was Ruki, face to the ground and breathing raggedly.  Kenshi approached her slowly, afraid of surprising the obviously injured pirate and rewarded with a blast to the face for it, but then he caught sight of her wound.


         ‘She must’ve taken a direct shot from a blast cannon.  Probably a Peacemaker.’  Her advanced healing had stopped the bleeding, but even Ruki’s regenerative abilities had stalled at the brutal injury.  Her arm and shoulder were gone, probably part of a lung as well.  He could clearly see ribs, burned short with the blast, through the wide opening and beyond them the crispy remains of her chest cavity.


         He knelt beside her, wondering that she was probably the only creature in the universe which could survive such an injury, and checked the rest of her for wounds.  The strange exosuit she wore had been bombarded with plasma with tiny breaches here and there, but strangely, like the pirate herself, the suit seemed to repair itself quickly.


         “Can you hear me?” he dared a rough whisper, noticing the blips on his tracker fast approaching.  They must have followed the trail of blood she’d left and sent a squad to find the wounded pirate and finish her off.


         If Ruki heard him she gave no response.  Not that he could tell much with the black covering her every feature, but even so.  With a sigh Kenshi grabbed her arm and tossed her over his shoulder.  Through the woods he heard snow crunching under heavy boots and turned for his ship.  They’d be here soon and upon noticing his fresh tracks there was as good a chance they’d speed up their search as slow it down.


-------------------------


         “As much damage as was caused, there’s little doubt on intentions.  This was meant solely to delay our efforts,” Baragossa summed up, confirming what Terrace already knew.


         “Obviously,” Terrace responded, perhaps a more harshly than intended judging by how the lower admiral bristled.  “My intention isn’t to discuss what has been done but what next to do.”


         “Unfortunately our options by this point are rather limited, Commander.”


         “Limited but not depleted.”


         “Sir, a commander can only do so much for their troops.  We would not have been able to stop the att...”


         “Enough with the history lesson,” Terrace snapped and Baragossa grew red.  “What’s done is done.  The attack killed our contact with the ground as well as their order.  Fine.  But we will not simply watch them run around like a headless chicken.”


         “I assume you have an idea?” Baragossa asked, for the first time showing distaste for his newly appointed superior.


         “I want to know if the Bema carries a Sapper.”  The admiral’s eyebrows raised at that.  Sappers were EMP or electromagnetic pulse weapons, capable of sending a powerful wave for kilometers destroying most any circuitry.  They were simple weapons, but rare.  EMP did not decide between friend and foe and the MMC typically had better technology than whomever they were up against.  Thus the use of a Sapper was limited.


         “You’d be hard-pressed into finding a base which did, much less a ship,” Baragossa said after a moment.


         Terrace nodded grimly, said, “I thought as much.  Then we’ll have to go to the next best thing.”  The admiral was already a step ahead of him, shaking his head.


         “That’s too much.  The damage to the area could be catastrophic and if the winds are right...”


         “Then look into it,” Burlai ordered.  “I want to know if detonation of a nuke in the upper atmosphere is a viable option.”  Baragossa was stiff in his salute and his step as he walked away.  He probably felt as if the commander were losing it.  Hell, Terrace felt he was losing it.  A nuke in the upper atmosphere wouldn’t cause much damage, but positioned correctly the EMP it emitted could knock out Tamaki’s defenses with ease.  The problem?  Who knew how much land would be a danger zone for years to come and, if the winds blew right, it could irradiate Jerdal City.


         ‘But if the winds don’t blow that way...’


         Terrace looked up to the viewscreen, still displaying the real-time map.  His eyes narrowed as he looked upon Tamaki’s ship.


         ‘There’s nobody there,’ he realized.  Perhaps that meant something bad in store for the ground troops.  Perhaps they were just resting.  Neither mattered much to him as neither was within his control.  All he knew was that Tamaki’s defenses had been, as far as Terrace could see, left unguarded by the deadly precise blast cannon the MMC’s most wanted carried with him.


         Punching the intercom, he ordered, “I want a single bombing squadron prepped and launched within five minutes.”


-------------------------


         Between Ally’s upgrades and the robotic exosuit she’d provided him, Kenshi was fast.  It would be a rare person able to outrun him, either in speed or in distance.  The problem came more in the form of bulk.  The Terran was a large man by his lonesome, but the armor only added to that and the body over his shoulder and the large blast cannon, scope and gatling he carried spread his mass out considerably wider.  All that combined with the density of the section of forest he found himself in were slowing him down to practically a crawl.


         He couldn’t see the men behind him, but his HUD showed they were there, and gaining.  Damn tiny Midollonians and Frentans and whoever else was stupid enough to have joined the army.


         ‘You were in the army for a time,’ he reminded himself dryly then chided himself for lack of focus.  ‘Enough of this.  I’m too far out still to reach the Quicksilver before they engage me.’


         That thought in place, Kenshi spun on his heels and went to a knee, locking the machine gun up against his shoulder and keeping his eye down the sights.  He knelt like that for a long moment, watching the closest blip move ever closer, the crunching of snow coming louder to his ears.


         A hint of movement between the trees and the Terran tapped his finger against the trigger, at least five shots spraying out toward the target.  There was a crunch as the body fell and immediately the closing blips, numbering another score, halted.  Kenshi scowled and sprayed the forest quickly a moment before standing, turning, and continuing his impeded run through the mass of trees.


         Plasma fire was returned, but it was blind.  The grunts were slow to catch up at first but, after another minute, Kenshi was forced to kneel again and wait for another figure to approach.  Again, he caught a hint of movement, blasted it and ran, stuttering their movements whenever they came too close.


         It was the third time he knelt in which his fears came to pass.  The alarm blared loudly in his ear, making him jump and it took a second to realize what was happening.


         ‘Not now.  I don’t have time for this now.’  Instantly a wave of tactics ran through his mind, each as poor as the last.  Any way it went there was just under a score of pissed off soldiers ready to tear him apart via plasma and something, probably another wing of bombers, heading down to take out his defenses one by one and both were attacking right now.  ‘Soldiers first, then bombers.’  Pushing Ruki and the blast cannon off his shoulders, Kenshi prepared for a hopefully quick fight.


-------------------------


         ‘How exactly did I get elected for this?’  Lueg asked himself as he glanced at the second downed man in passing.  As if being one of the handful of surviving and non-wounded marines from a crashed dropship followed by a doomed assault followed by a massive explosion followed by a day-long walk followed by a devastating counter-attack wasn’t enough, no, Gruodon had to send him out with the fucking army to finish off a wounded attacker who’d managed to kill off, as far as they could find, all their officers in a well-defended camp single-handedly.


         ‘And now we’re being killed off too.’  At least the marine was in the middle of the ragtag squad instead of the front of the pack.  Nice surprise that would’ve been, pushing past a tree only to fall dead with a dozen blaster shots tucked into his chest.


         A sudden explosion to his left sent the marine to the snow instinctively, another throwing dirt and debris from his right a half second later.  Lueg threw his eyes around frantically, trying to find his bearings in the sudden chaos, but seeing only a mass of branches and brush.  Soldiers ran by him and short red bolts of light shot off in opposition, occasionally dropping another man.  Another string of grenades pushed them back, clouding their senses as easily as they were killing.


         “Get down!” somebody yelled, for all the good it did them.  The blaster shots cut through the foliage as if it were paper, dropping men left and right as if the attacker could see right through the pines and branches.


         Within seconds the attack was halted.  None continued forward, no fire was returned.  Lueg breathed heavily upon the ground, attempting to stay still lest the enemy’s eyes turn upon him.  Was he alone or were there others in the snow as well, cowardly holding still in hopes of going unnoticed?  He dared not speak up and find out.


         A full minute passed when he heard a blast cannon fire and the large red shot gleamed through the trees.  Lueg looked up and watched shot after shot pierce the sky.  Then movement caught his eye and the marine saw a pair of grunts crawl forward, slow and quiet over the deep snow, toward the shooter.


-------------------------


         Too much time.  Too many soldiers, too much to block his vision, too much wasted time.  His tracker helped pin them down, but without an actual shape it was difficult to pinpoint any one of them.  ‘Something to work on later,’ he thought absently.  Mavis’ training must have been jump-started in the heat of battle.  It had been nearly a decade since he’d felt that ever-present need to perfect his...art.


         There were eight MMC out there still and, scared stiff though they were, they were still a threat.  Kenshi was out of time, however, and the bombers had to be knocking on atmo by now.


         ‘No vision,’ he thought with gritted teeth, glancing at the tall trees around him.  He’d be lucky to hit a carrier, much less a bomber or, worse, a missile.  Still, he worked triple time pushing the scope firmly down into the snow and securing the blast cannon into the scope.  ‘Calibrations are off.  No more time, though.’  The former soldier would have to adjust on the fly.  His chances were slimming by the second.


         Kenshi set the scope into a broad view, scanning the sky for direction before zooming in.  It took a moment for him to find them; a single squad of four already in their finishing moments of burn, barely seen past a particularly thin pine.  MMC brass had to be concerned with losses to send only a single squad, but it’d still be a pain trying to take them down in time.  He’d need to be fast or lose them once they went horizontal.


         ‘If you’re ever going to hit anything, do it now,’ he willed himself.  Then he fired.


         The first shot went wide right about three and a quarter slots on his scope and up two and a third more.  Still a hit, but on the wrong target and only glancing blow.  The pilot was good.  Cool-headed.  They didn’t flinch while still in burn, saving them a fiery death.  He leveled the scope to their movements, losing them behind a branch and fired again.  A miss.  Then again, hitting just behind the cockpit.  Little damage done, but the cockpit would be flooded with fumes, blinding the pilot.  This time he did flinch and the awkward angle blew the engine then the bomber.


         ‘One down, three to go.’  Again and again he fired, all focus put into the three enemies threatening his defenses.  Most were misses, but occasionally he’d find a piece of them.  Nothing critical and, as they were well past burn, nothing deadly.  A lucky shot into the engine of one bomber brought their number down to two, but then it was too late.


         Missiles of glowing red fell down from the bombers, a particularly explosive concentration of plasma magnetically charged then flung in the general direction of an object with the opposing charge.  Eight came down in tight concentration.


         ‘They’re taking out my AA,’ he realized.  ‘Don’t worry about what you can’t control,’ he reprimanded himself, continuing his shots into the remaining ships.  He got particularly lucky in one shot, spiking a wing as the bomber turned.  The turn was too tight and too much pressure was being put on the damaged wing.  Within a second the wing had broken off and the bomber was spiraling out of control.


         He launched a few more shots toward the remaining bomber, but it had already gone horizontal and was moving too quickly past the trees.  The shots were firing wide, not even coming close.  It began a U turn, presumably heading back for a second pass on his ship and Kenshi attempted to keep his cool.


         A sudden explosion sounded behind him, attempting to destroy that cool, but he forced his mind on the task at hand - a handful of soldiers spraying plasma on him would be nothing if the remaining guns on Quicksilver were taken out.


         ‘Focus,’ he told himself as another explosion sounded off.  ‘Focus,’ he told himself, leading the remaining bomber between the tangled branches.  ‘Focus,’ he told himself, locking onto the cockpit.  He pulled the trigger.


         The front of the ship blew open and, with the sudden loss of pressure, tore itself apart piece by piece within seconds.  Before it had even finished he had already spun around, AC pistol in hand, scanning for the source of the explosions.


         “Too slow, Kenshi,” Ruki said weakly.  He could only imagine the faint grin she held behind her mask.  The pirate’s outstretched hand told him all he needed to know on where the commotion had come from and the charred bodies explained her targets.  A quick glance at his tracker showed a quartet still out there, but the need to return to his ship outweighed the need to kill off four scared soldiers.


         “The officers?” he asked, setting the blast cannon and scope onto his back once more.


         “Dead,” she replied, allowing herself to settle back into the snow.  “Along with the long range radios and treads.”


         “You’re sure?  Your...”


         “I made sure,” she said harshly, the weakness in her voice working against the forceful tone.  Kenshi nodded then picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.  Ruki hissed in pain, but offered no further complaint.  Grabbing the firestorm cannon, the Terran resumed his staggered run back toward the Quicksilver.


-------------------------


         Terrace turned away as soon as the last of the bombers went down.  The price had been heavy, but well worth it.  Unless Tamaki had more AA in hiding they’d just opened up a lot of doors for further attacks.  Smart missiles, close range air support, gunships - all now within the realm of possibility.


          Scowling, the commander looked over the new damages beside Tamaki’s ship.  Four more lives and millions in equipment for a possibility.  Tamaki was certainly good at pushing others toward desperate.


         The nuke would hopefully open that possibility even further.  Knocking out weapons and equipment would cripple him beyond repair.


         ‘Doubtfully.’  Tamaki might be crippled, but if anybody could be dangerous with nothing but the skin on their backs it was him with Ruki coming up even.  Even so, it was a swing back in their direction, a sorely needed slide in momentum since the many defeats and huge damages suffered.


         Perhaps...just maybe it’d be enough.


-------------------------


         Though her body could stand the cold and the exosuit kept most of the chill out, Ruki’s gaping wound sucked in the freezing air to the point of outright pain.  That pain worsened once the warm air of the Quicksilver hit her, allowing blood to flow more freely.


         The pirate gritted her teeth to keep form crying out, but a whimper still escaped her lips.  For all Kenshi noticed.


         ‘Ever the stone,’ she thought as he carried her into the cockpit.  She frowned at that.  “No bed?” she asked with something of a pout.


         “You can make yourself useful monitoring the radar while you rest.  Besides, I don’t want Alanya seeing your shoulder.”


         “I’m the one missing part of their body and you’re concerned over what the princess will see?”  He nodded.  “Thanks Kenshi.”  The Terran set her down into the pilot’s seat more gently than she’d expect out of him, bringing a raised eyebrow from her.


         “Come when you’re able.  The MMC caused some damage.  They’re going to press hard on that.”  He turned to leave, but Ruki quickly grabbed his wrist, stopping him.  She willed her mask to pull back so he might see her, shitty as she probably looked about then, hoping he’d follow suit with his own helmet.  He didn’t.


         “You said I had no backup.  Said you wouldn’t come after me,” she stated.


         “I lied.”  More than anything she wished she could see his face right then, but Kenshi only pulled away and walked from the room.


         For a long minute the pirate watched the door he’d disappeared from.  Eventually she settled back and closed her eyes.  Danger was still very much present, perhaps more so than ever, but at least Kenshi had her back.  In the face of that everything else seemed insignificant.


         ‘Even so, he’s alone out there now and by the sounds of it we’ve had a major defensive breach.’  Her eyes went to the viewscreen.  The sun was pouring in from up high, peaking through the clouds to light up the snow like a light bulb.


         ‘Around noon.  Means we still have just over four days.’  Ruki frowned and closed her eyes again.  ‘And I’ll be out for at least one getting my arm back.’  She turned her head and looked to the side of the cockpit.  The viewscreen was wide, wrapping around the room and through it she could see Kenshi sorting through a terminal, probably determining just how much damage they’d taken.


         “Good luck, Kenshi.”