Be sure to read Part 1 here
and Part 2 here
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 

The team is clearly elite.  

I rub my bloody hands together over my spare clothes as I watch them.

Each of them has a unique style different than the short-cropped hair and clean shaven appearance of most agents.  One of them sports a bald head with a massive beard sprouting from his chin.  Another has his head shaved into low and wide double mohawks.  The woman in the group has blonde braids down the sides of her head that connect into one large braid in the back; the top of her head is dyed black.  She and the youngest of the men have tattoos like circuitry running up one side of their necks and curling around their brows.  Another of the men has a similar tattoo running up the shaved side of his head, but his is intermixed with numbers and images of various weapons, both modern and historical.

Their loud conversation is easy to understand in the dark bunkroom.

“Seriously.  I thought for sure you were all dead,” the man with the double mohawk says.

“C’mon Fahr, my little brother would never let that happen,” the woman says.

“That’s right, no self-destruct system can get by me,” the man with the tattoo matching hers says.

I touch the box again to let it close, then scoop my clothes up off my cot.

“I still can’t believe they didn’t let us blow it up though,” the bald, bearded man says.  “I mean they gave us a nano-bomb, why wouldn’t they let us set it off?”

“You were really hoping to use that thing weren’t you Tye?” the woman asks.

I start toward the door they are crowded in front of.

“Of course I was!  Have you ever seen a nano-bomb go off?  It’s brilliant.”

“You say that about all explosives.”

“Yeah, but nanos are especially magnificent.”

I skirt through the shadows at the base of the wall, but to no avail.  The sixth member of the team, a tall man with a tattoo of stitching over his left eye and blood red hair with the sides shaved off, steps forward and stops me.  “Elian.  How’d your mission go?”

With bowed head, I slide around him.  The entire team watches me with narrowed eyes and frowns.  

“What happened?” the sixth man asks again.

Just then, the seventh member of their team enters the room.  His eyes are lowered and his feet drag on the metal floor.

“Farl,” I say.  

The man stops and looks at me.  “Elle.”

“Are you alright?  I know you were close.”

“We were recruited together.  We were both born on the Thrawn.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

“Wait, he’s dead?” the younger brother asks.

I nod.

 
 
 

“Woo!”  Tharn’s voice comes through the mic.  I turn away from the UDS team in time to see an armored pickup truck with a top-mounted minigun whip around the end of the tower and slide sideways into the wall.  Before the dust settles, he climbs out of the passenger side window.  The other three Jumpers climb out over the high walls of the bed.

I shake my head and adjust my gloves.

“Oh man, that was wicked.  Jumping into the middle of the base like that, damn,” one of the UDS members says as he approaches us.  “I’d heard stories of teams like yours, but man, I had no idea.  And that armor.  Sick.”

Luckily, that armor hides my face.  The smile that pushes its way onto my lips isn’t very professional.

“Robert, quiet,” Will says.

“Oh we don’t mind,” Tharn says, walking over to us.  “Always nice to meet a fan.”

“That was pretty sick, and you can’t deny the badassery that is their armor,” another UDS team member says.

“Yeah, it looks cool and is clearly effective.  Now move on,” Will says.

The low growl of VTOL engines resonates around us moments before the craft itself makes an appearance.  It stops over the corpse littered street and lowers to the ground.  The door on our side slides open, showing George and the two Mechanics.

I dodge around Tharn and head for the craft.  As I walk, I pull the DMOTER off my back and pop the magazine out.

Will follows me through the gate.  Instead of going around the fallen tower, he jumps on top.

“Dang, nice vertical,” Tharn says.  “That’s something they don’t focus on in our training.”

Will scrambles over the rest of the rubble and drops down in front of the VTOL just as I reach it.  I climb inside and hand the DMOTER over to Jordan.

George drops out of the craft and walks to Will.

“Hey Elle, grab me the emblem while you’re in there,” Tharn shouts.

“Only if you stop yelling with your mic on and stop calling me Elle,” I say.

“I second the first demand,” Martin says.

“Right, sorry.  No promises on the second though,” Tharn says.

Shaking my head, I make my way to the rear wall of the VTOL.  The metal reacts to my touch, a rectangular seam forming near my hand and retreating to reveal a small compartment.  Two objects sit inside: a spray can filled with paint and a handprint cut from a thin alloy and painted red.  I grab both and exit the VTOL.  The compartment seals behind me.

I toss the can to Tharn, then flick the cutout at him like a frisbee.  He catches the paint and deflects the hand down with his arm.

“Careful, that could hurt someone,” he says, scooping the cutout from the ground.  

“I’m sorry, I thought you weren’t a wuss.  My bad,” I say.

He looks at me with what I imagine is some sort of mock-hurt look before turning to the truck.  He plants the cutout on the passenger door, where it magnetizes and stays, then sprays the red paint over a wide area around it.  After emptying the can, he peels the emblem off the truck.  The door is now ordained with the silhouette of a hand on a red background.

“This I claim for the Grip of Vengeance!” Tharn says.

Will looks away from George and at the truck.  His brow furrows for a brief moment.  Then his face returns to normal and he goes back to his conversation with our Commander.  

Robert walks past us and approaches the VTOL.  “Pretty advanced ship you’ve got here.  Where’d you get it?”

Jordan steps up to the edge and places a hand on his PDW.  “Step back.”

Tharn, who followed Robert and is now climbing into the craft, looks at the UDS operator.  “I’d do as he says.”

Robert frowns and takes a few steps backward.  “Don’t want anyone seeing your tech and stealing it, I get it.  Still, we’re on the same side here, wouldn’t hurt to be a little friendlier.”

I exchange a faceless look with Tharn.

“Get back to the truck, Robert,” Will says.  “That goes for everyone.”

The UDS team hesitates before following orders.

“Alright, here’s the plan,” George says.  “Everyone is going to take the trucks to the coordinates for the rebel leader.  We don’t know exactly where he is so we can’t drop on him and we don’t want to risk the VTOL.  Once you locate him, if it is safe, then we will provide air support.  We kill him, send our report to Garrett and get out of here.  We clear?”

“Yessir,” the six Jumpers say in unison.

“Good.  We’re behind enemy lines, so anyone with a weapon is a hostile.”

“Kill anyone with a gun, roger,” Tharn says.

“Exactly.  Now load up and move out.”

“I’ll drive.”  Tharn darts to the truck.  He pulls himself in through the passenger side window.  Drex opens the same door and climbs into the seat.

I hoist myself into the back of the truck and sink into the deep bed after pulling my ONYX off my back.  In my seated position, I can see over the sides if I stretch my neck.  Discolored spots line the inside of the walls, about shoulder height and two feet apart.  Four of them dot the long sides, two on the rear.  I touch the nearest one and a slit opens up next to it, just large enough to aim a rifle through.

The other three Jumpers climb in and situate themselves around the edges.  We all sit in the same position; heels on the ground with a straight back and arms resting on slightly bent knees is the only way to sit in this armor.  Each of our ONYX’s rest in our laps, aimed at the sides of the truck.

A roar accompanies the vibrating of the truck as the vehicle is powered on.  The shaking of the metal bounces its way up my spine and takes to my head.

“If you could drive in a controlled manner, we would all appreciate it,” Drex says.

“I’m always controlled,” Tharn says and punches the gas.  Dirt rockets into the air behind the truck and we careen through the gate.  The four of us in the back bounce against the sides as the rear end slides back and forth.

“Just try to get the truck to the location,” George says.  “I would hate to see you flip it in front of the UDS.”

 
 
 

“Don’t worry about that,” Farl says.  

“And you Elian?” the man with the stitching tattoo asks.

I look up from the clothes clasped in my stained hands.  “What?”

“You’re not going to lose it, are you?  The first loss is hard.”

“No, I’m good.  I can handle it.”

“Good.  Then you’d better get that blood washed off.”

“That’s where I’m headed.”

“Good.  And pass on our condolences to your team.”

I nod and slip through the door.  I take my time through the corridor, letting the silence and loneliness that comes with the closing of the door rush over me.  My eyes shut and I lose myself in the void.  The clothes in my arms scrunch up in my fists.  Each step I take resonates through the air.  My chest shakes with every breath.

I stop and lean against the wall.  After a few steadying moments, I push back off and and open my eyes.  Slow footfalls carry me to the door at the end of the hall.  With a hiss, it slides back into the wall.

 
 
 

I push the barrel of my ONYX into the opening.  My glove rolls under my index finger as I rub it on the side of my rifle.

“Ten o’clock.  Keep an eye on him,” Drex says.

I sweep the trees with my sights until I spot a crouched orange form.  Movement in the edge of my vision marks another man.  “He’s not alone.”

The other Jumpers in the back of the truck rise to their knees and open their own firing ports.

“I’ve got more readings ahead.  I think you’ve found him,” George says.  More outlines appear.

“Weapon!”  Drex says.  “Take them all.”

The outline centered in my aim raises its arms.  It drops to four of my bullets.  Every bit of orange in my view vanishes.

“Uh, they’ve got friends,” Tharn says.  A semi-circular wall of orange pops up rounding in front of our truck.  “I think we found the trappers’ den.”

“Weapons free,” Drex says.

I squeeze the trigger and hold it down, letting the motion of the truck drag my aim across line.  Orange outlines blink out without leaving so much as a crack in the wall.  The number on the side of my magazine cycles down in a blur.  When it hits zero, I drop the magazine into my pinkie and slide it back into place.

Metallic pings mix with the pops of our rifles.  Bullets punch dents into side of the truck, one after another.  One of the mounds next to me bursts, exploding inward.  The bullet responsible spins through the air, bouncing off the wall behind me.  It lands in the pile of casings around my knee.

My ONYX jerks to the side, forcing me to pause in my onslaught.  A moment later my head gets thrust backward and my display wavers.  

“Shit,” I say and duck back from the firing port.  I tuck my rifle against my torso and take a couple of breaths, shaking my head.

“Rocket!”  Tharn says.  

My head jerks up.

“Brace!”

In an explosion of fire and dirt, gravity vanishes.  The truck is launched into the air and twists sideways.  Those of us in the back are ejected.  

My hand tightens on the grip it grasps as I crash to the ground.  My head and shoulder hit first, shooting fire through my neck.  The armor around it strains to keep it intact.  After I gouge a shallow ditch across the ground, the rest of my body flops to the dirt.  My hand strikes a rock and my ONYX flies free; pulsating pain runs to the tip of my fingers.  I come to a stop with my head against the trunk of a tree.

Groaning, I push myself into a seated position.  I check my body for any sign of injury.  Red seeps out from under my glove.  I yank it off to see a shallow gash up the back of my hand.

Before I recover my thoughts and situate myself, I am yanked back into the fight by a bullet to the chest.  I cough, then curse as another shot hits me in the side of the head.

“Sound off, who’s hurt?” Drex says.

I search for each of the Jumpers as they respond.  Martin rolls off a large root with a short “I’m good.”  Billy lays face-down and still, but responds with “I’ll live.”  Phil places a hand on his back and looks at the tree he broke; “I see back pain in my future.”  None of them have a hold on their rifles.

“Get back to the truck,” Drex orders.  He and Tharn crawl out of the windows of the overturned vehicle.  Sparks fly out all around them as the rebels unleash their endless ammo supply.

The UDS truck skids to a stop a dozen yards away.  The operators fire through windows and firing ports, doing their best to offer cover and take out the rocket launchers.

I scan the ground for my ONYX.  It lies propped up on a root just out of arm’s reach.  Another shot to the head pushes me into action.  I spring to my feet and snatch my rifle up.  The exo on my legs propels me toward the truck.  Drex barely has his feet out of the window by the time I slide up next to him.  The other three that were thrown clear aren’t far behind.

Dirt and sparks are thrown up all around and not one of us is spared the pounding of the projectiles hurled against our armor.

“Elian, get this thing flipped.  Everyone else, unleash Hell,” Drex says.

The others form a rough circle around me, shielding me as best they can from the orange wall moving to surround us.

I stick my ONYX to my back and slide my hands under to sidewalls of the truck.  My bleeding hand screams as I drive my exo-aided legs into the ground and begin to tip the vehicle.  A bullet to my arm forces me to drop the truck.

Will rounds the rear of our transport and comes to a stop next to me.

“Seriously, what kind of training do you do?”  Tharn asks.  “You’re almost as fast as we are with our exos.”

“Maybe if we get out of this I’ll tell you,” Will says, then turns to me.  “Let’s get this flipped.”

“And hurry, I don’t think our armor will be able to hold this much longer,” Martin says.

I nod and fit my hands back in place under the truck. We have the vehicle off its back in moments.  Once the truck is on its side, a gaping hole in the hood becomes apparent.

“This thing isn’t going anywhere.  We need to find a better place to hold up,” Drex says.

“There’s an abandoned post two hundred yards just south of you.  Placing a beacon,” George says.  A glowing orb appears in the sky above the trees to the south.

“Will, take your men, punch a hole through and set up a defense to cover us.  It’s straight that way,” Drex says, pointing.

“Are you sure you’ll get there?” the UDS Lead asks.

“We’ll make it.  Our armor will hold.”

As if on queue, a bullet strikes my shoulder.  A thin crack snakes its way around my arm.

“As long as we hurry,” Drex says.

“Good luck,” Will says.  “My team, pick me up.”

I pull my rifle off my back and step into the small perimeter next to Tharn, providing Will with extra shielding while he waits.  I let off five shots before the other Jumper jerks sideways.

“Shit!” he says.  “Son of a bitch.  It broke through.”

Drex lowers his aim and slides over to Tharn’s side.  He pulls the man’s hand away and inspects the contact point.  “It’s just a small piece.  Does anyone have foam?”

We all give negatory responses.
“The bullet bounced off and the rest of your armor’s intact.  You’re good.”  He moves back into his position and raises his rifle.

The UDS truck skids to a stop next to us and the back lowers.  Two of the operators kneel on either side and let off an uncontrolled stream of fire, pausing only when Will scrambles up between them.  The back raises itself up and the truck bounces across roots and rocks.

A bullet glances off my gloved hand, tearing the fabric, but leaving my skin intact.  I yank the remains of it off with my teeth.  

“We’re losing armor here,” Tharn says.

“Go.  Ignore them and run,” Drex says.

All six Jumpers rise to our feet and turn south.

 
 
 

I drive myself forward.  Through the door, light batters my eyes.  I resist rubbing them with with my stained fingers as I enter the main passage.

The wide hall has grown in population.  The walls on the floor are lined and the entire ceiling is now full of agents.  The gathered crowd left a gap along the opposite wall next to the hallway to the hanger.  All heads are turned toward the front of the ship, where cheers ring out.

I push through the wall of bodies and crane my neck to see what is happening.  A massive tank rotates its feet down, lowering itself back onto four tracks, which then fuse into two.  The turret set atop it swings in a full circle and the thirteen machine guns mounted around it wave back and forth.

Twenty fully-equipped men walk on either side of the vehicle with one taking the lead.  Most of them wear the same black vests and long uniforms with helmets hanging from their backpacks; a pair wears heavier armor and another wears no vest at all.  Each one holds a rifle in his hands, mostly UMBRAs, and has at least one sidearm holstered somewhere on his body.

The part of the wall left open by the crowd splits and begins to open as the force nears it.  A wide hallway leading straight to the hanger is exposed.

When the leading agent gets close enough, I step out.  “Bight!  What’s going on?”

The man turns to me.  The youthful glee of a man twenty years younger burns behind his eyes.  “With your successful execution of Shade, Tumbar is attacking Solpolis.  I get a tank!”

I shake my head at the cheers his statement brings on.  As he continues ahead of the tank, I retreat behind the crowd once more and pick a route to the showers.  I pause when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Elian.”

 
 
 

“I see him,” I say.  My steps slow just enough for me to raise my ONYX to my shoulder and squeeze the trigger with my exposed finger.  The rebel taking potshots at my team drops to the ground and I pick up my pace again.

A cluster of broken concrete structures breaks the endless sea of trees ahead of us.  The UDS team has already set up a defense in the bombed-out outpost.  Their shots are sporadic, taking down rebels that make the mistake of exposing themselves to shoot at those of us running.

I am the last of the Jumpers to join the UDS team among the ruins.  I slide behind a standing half-wall, just behind Robert.  I rest my rifle on the concrete and look through the sights.

“Scans suggest they are preparing for an all-out assault.  They seem to be collecting around a central point, my guess is it’s our guy.  Hold your position and let him come to you or wait until his men are destroyed,” George says.

“Why’d we get stuck with this?”  Tharn says.  “We’re not open combat specialists.  What’s the point of having Blind Unit on the ship if we get sent for shit like this?”

“You know why we got this job,” Drex says.

“Yeah, I’m aware of the real objective, I’m just beginning wondering if it’s worth the trouble.”

“Command says it is, so it is.  The mission is almost over, just keep your head in the right place and stay alive,” George says.

“Yeah, let’s kill some trappers.”

“They’re headed your way.”

My vision blinks green and the forest lights up with a solid wall of color.  I pick the tallest head and set my sights on it.

“They appear to have a single vehicle at their center, other than that, it’s just foot soldiers.  Hold nothing back,” George says.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Tharn says.

My display fades back to normal, but I keep my aim set on the path the tallest man was on.  His hairy mug makes an appearance just as the first shots ring out.  I add to the sudden explosion of noise tearing through the forest.  The man disappears behind a bush, the bark behind him painted red.  I sweep for my next target.

“We are here to supply air support as needed.  Branches are nothing to our weapons,” George says.

“I see rockets,” I say, my gaze resting on a pair of men carrying the distinct tubes.

“Let us thin them out,” Drex says.

The counter on the side of my magazine loses five numbers and the two rocket launchers hit the ground.

“Elle, I’m not hearing enough bullets coming out of that rifle of yours,” Tharn says as he reloads for the third time.

With a half-smile, I stop searching for another target and squeeze the trigger.  My shots create a chest-height line through the trees, the only hiccups being a fraction of a second as I tame the kick in my shoulder.  When my rifle clicks I swing my aim back to the beginning of my line and start again with a full thirty rounds.

All around me, concrete fractures and scatters under the heavy barrage of bullets.  My own half-wall breaks away in front of me, crumbling to dust one pockmark at a time.  The occasional rebel gets a lucky shot that hits my ONYX or my armor.  The metal around my shoulder continues to crack, fissures reaching down toward my elbow.  One bullet grazes my hand, leaving it burning.

The other Jumpers let out the rare curse as their own armor threatens to fail.  The UDS team stays silent; even their weapons offer less to the chorus of cracks bouncing between the trees.  The operators peek out from their cover for only brief moments, afraid that a stray shot will find a way around their vests and helmets.

It isn’t long before their fears are realized.  Off to my right, one of Will’s men leans around his crumbling pillar.  In the next moment, his neck explodes.  Blood spews from torn artery and vein, soaring through the air and coming raining down on the white concrete.  The UDS operator collapses to the ground, his hand scrambling to stop the pulsating geyser of cardinal liquid before going limp.

“One down,” Tharn says as Will makes a massive leap to his fallen man’s side.

“Your focus should be on the rebels now,” Drex says.

“You mean like the fact that that wasn’t a standard round, but rather one that might just shatter our armor?”

“Exactly.  So shoot them all before that happens.”

None of us speak for a time.  The silence is broken by George.  “The vehicle is almost to you, we’ve called for an orbital image of it.  We think it’s Shade, and he’s got heavy weaponry.  We are still ready to jump in,” he says.

“No, I’m still seeing rockets, and they’re watching the sky,” Drex says.

“Thankfully,” Tharn says.

“Then take out the truck on your own.  After that, it should be easy to finish this.  You’ve killed most of them,” George says.

“Sure feels like they’re not thinning out,” Tharn says.

“Shut up Tharn,” I say.  “I see the truck.”  The vehicle lights up with moving red and orange stripes.

“We’ve got the vehicle, UDS keep focusing on the light forces,” Drex says.  None of the UDS operators respond.

My aim settles on the cab of the truck.  I don’t bother waiting for it to turn red before lighting it up.  It doesn’t swerve under the pelting hail brought on by six ONYXs.  I put half of my magazine in the bulletproof windows to no effect.  Then my world becomes fire and stone.

A short whistle fills the air, then the inside of my helmet goes silent.  A force hits my chest like the punch of a god.  The air superheats around me, biting at my exposed hands.  Splinters of my half-wall pelt me.  My feet leave the ground.  I float backward then crash shoulder-first into the sharp gravel.  My legs slap back to floor, sending a shock up through the metal around them.

With the blast over, the harsh sounds of the battle begin to return to my ears.  A louder, deeper droning has entered the mix, evidence that the truck has joined the fight.

“Those rockets aren’t aiming at the sky anymore,” Tharn says.

“We’re doing our best,” Will says.

“You good Elian?” Drex asks.

I groan as I push myself to my knees.  A layer of powdered concrete contrasts with my black uniform.  Both shoulders now have cracks ringing them.  The cut on my hand no longer bleeds.  My joints scream as I stand.  “I’ll live.”

“Good, then help us take out that truck.”

Staying low, I pick my way around the remains of my cover.  I pick a spot next to Robert and kneel.

“I need to get me some of that armor,” he says, looking at the blood soaking through his shirt where shrapnel pinned it to his body.

“It might have helped you today,” I say.  “But since you don’t have it, taking out those rocket launchers is your best bet.”

“Which would be easier if their heavy machine gun wasn’t trained on us.”

“I just got blown up, give me a minute.”  

“We may not have a minute.”

Fire shoots up my arms from my seared knuckles as my grip tightens on my ONYX.  I fit the rifle to my shoulder and lean out into the open.  A large round rocks me back on my heels.  I fight my reflexes and aim where I can only assume the truck is.  My display corrects itself after a few shots and I adjust my aim a few feet to the left.

A remote machine gun mounted on the top of the truck’s cab swings around, spraying the entire outpost.  When it reaches me, I duck; bits of my cover rain down on top of me.  As soon as it moves on toward Tharn, I raise back up.  Smaller arms fire continues to pelt me, coming from the dwindling reinforcements in the trees as well as through the firing ports in the back of the truck

“Camera, tip of the barrel,” Drex says.

“That’d be one hell of a shot,” Martin says.

“You do realize we have access to nearly unlimited rounds, right?” Tharn asks.  “Just saturate the area.”

“Right.”

Six ONYX’s begin filling the air above the truck. It only takes a few seconds for sparks to explode off the front of the machine gun.  The weapon stops moving.

“See, that’s wasn’t so hard,” Tharn says, then concludes the statement with, “oh shit!”  

A rocket launcher has appeared over the back of the truck and it fires its projectile straight at Tharn.  He is thrown out of the collapsed building he was using for cover as the structure itself is broken to pieces.

“Now they’ve got one in the protection of the truck,” he says as he regains composure.  

“We’ve got a grenade launcher in our truck if we can get to it,” Will says.

“You’re just now telling us this?” Tharn says.

“Phil, get it,” Drex says.

The Jumper bolts from behind his cover.  Bullets whistle by him as he sprints, a couple pinging off of his armor and at least one coming a rest in his vest with a thump.  When he takes a flying leap into the back of the UDS truck, he mutters a series of curses.  He breaks the string to ask, “where is this grenade launcher?”

“In the front, behind the seat,” Will says and Phil returns to his cursing.

I pick out each of the rebels trying to stop Phil.  One by one, they fall to my ONYX until I have to pause to search for an exposed fighter.  The next to show his face, I see out of the corner of my eye.  He stands up in the back of the truck, pointing a rocket launcher at me.

“Oh shit,” Robert says from beside me.

I brace myself for the fiery beating, but when the explosion comes, it does not hit me.  The rear axle of the truck rockets into the air.  The men in the bed catapult into the branches.  The vehicle crashes down onto the machine gun mounted on the roof.

Phil lowers the grenade launcher and looks at us.  “Found it.”  

I straighten up, shaking my head.  My armor remains untouched.  

“The survivors are fleeing,” George says.

“Hopefully that means we got him,” Martin says.

“Movement in the truck,” I say as the door pointed at us shakes and falls open.  “Someone’s alive in there.”

“Dibs,” Tharn says.  A moment later, three quick shots fill the quiet forest and the movement stops.

“You’re clear.  Check the vehicle for Shade,” George says.

Phil jogs away from the UDS truck, his ONYX back in his hand, and toward the rebels’.  I watch him out of the corner of my eye, keeping my attention on the trees for any enemies that may have fooled George’s sensors.

“I think it’s him,” Phil says.  “Hard to say though, Tharn got him right in the nose.  Running recog on what’s left.  Do we have DNA on him?”

“We don’t,” George says.

“That’s a shame.  We can only get a 50% match from this mess.”

“Then it’s him.  I’m ready to finish this mission and get back to the ship,” Tharn says.

“I second that.  I’m calling it,” George says.  “If it’s not, then they can send Blind Unit when he pops up again.”

“Then we’re done,” Will says.  “Send confirmation to Garrett and let’s get out of here.  Load up the dead.”

“Man, that was insane.  Glad we had you guys with us.  It was an honor to fight beside you,” Robert says.  His hand comes down on my shoulder.

 
 
 

The small, smooth fingers squeeze my shoulder.  My eyes trace the lithe arm over the sweater rolled up to the elbow and to the shoulder.  My fist, which I had been twisting into my spare clothes, relaxes as my eyes come to rest on the face behind me.  Two olive eyes regard me from above drawn back lips.  From the corner of the worried mouth, a thin scar run back over an otherwise flawless cheek and over a tipless ear.  Silky black hair is pulled aside, leaving the scar visible for its full length to the back of the head.

I shut my eyes and rest my cheek on the hand for a moment.  The rancid scent of chemicals wafts off the fingers.  “Forget your gloves in your experiment?”

“I could ask you the same,” the woman, Amy, says.

I look at my stained hand.  “They weren’t up to the job.”

The dark worry in her face brightens with a grin.  “I’m glad you’re back safely.”

The smile that started to grow on my face dies before it breaks ground.  “Yeah.  I did.”

Amy wraps her arms around me and pulls me close to her chest.

“Everyone says they’re sorry, that it’s hard when we lose someone, but they don’t really care.  His body hasn’t even been brought in yet and another team is already going out.  And they’re gleeful.  Everyone here is so excited that they get to see a tank that they seem to have forgotten one of their own just died.  One of the best of them.”  I bury my face in her sweater.

“They haven’t felt his loss yet.  They weren’t there and they didn’t know him.  When his name disappears from the stories of your legendary missions, then they will realize who they’ve lost.  Hard as it is to accept, that’s all he was to them.  He wasn’t their friend and he wasn’t their brother.  That’s a privilege only you and your team had.  Ignore everyone else and grieve with your brothers.”

I look up.  “Where is my brother?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him since this morning.”

“Telan was called back to headquarters.  One of his super secret trainings or whatever.  He refused to say, as always,” another agent says, pushing through the crowd to meet us.

“Rit, you should know better than to ask us scientists about our work,” Amy says.

“I never learn.  I thought that was pretty clear by the third time I asked you out.”

“I still think going a round with me would teach you,” I say.

“Nah, you wouldn’t last ten and you know it.  Otherwise you’d have beat me up already.”

I extract myself from Amy’s embrace and turn on the agent.  “You think you could beat a member of the team with the highest success to failure rate?”

“Well that’s because you get armor on your missions, don’t ya?  And you go on like five missions a day.  I’m only sent when the best is needed.  Without your armor and your pretty little RAVEN, you wouldn’t touch the Grip.”

“And yet, I still outshot you yesterday.  And ran the course faster.  And had more kills.  All without my armor or my VTOL.”

Rit locks eyes with me.  His narrow while he tries to think of a snapping comeback.  Before he can give it to me, the hallway goes quiet.  All chatter cuts short and footsteps die off.

 
 
 

I exchange faceless looks with the rest of the Jumpers.  Not even static dares interrupt our thoughts as we prepare for what is about to happen.  My hands tighten on my assault rifle.  My head swivels, taking in the scene around me.  Shattered concrete litters the forest floor.  UDS operators limp around the collapsed buildings, hoisting their fallen comrades up and toward their truck.

Robert steps by me and around what remains of the low wall that saved his life.

Will stops a few feet to my left, rolling his shoulders.  Despite the relaxed look on his face, his hands are tense and his eyes dart back and forth between each of my team members.

To my right, another operator kneels down beside the man whose neck had been pulverized.  He leans his rifle on the pillar.  He removes his helmet and bows his head.

Not one sound enters the metal case around my head.

Until George speaks.  “Do it.”

My mask heats up as I let out the breath I’ve been holding.  As I pivot on my toe, my ONYX snaps to my shoulder.  With one squeeze of the trigger, the bowed head of the operator to my right caves.  I spin around and take aim at Will.

The UDS Lead has a new accessory.  Metal limbs are now visible reaching down the sides of his fleshy ones and up his back.  The exo opens and darker metal snakes out of it.  In a moment he is encased by unsightly armor.  

I put four bullets into the leg of my metallic foe.  Each one bounces off.  

He lunges forward and grabs the barrel of my ONYX.  With a flick of his arm, he wrenches it out of my fists and flings it to the ground.  I stumble straight into his oncoming elbow.  The armored joint strikes my mask like a hammer.  My neck snaps backward as far as my own armor will allow, sending shockwaves of pain up my head and down my spine.  My display fractures, then vanishes, leaving me throbbing in the dark.  A devastating blow connects with my chest, throwing me into the half wall.

My hand fumbles around my neck for the bottom of my mask.  It jabs at my chin until enough fingers hit at the same time.  Light floods through a thin perimeter around my face.  The slit grows as the mask falls away.  My eyes recoil at the unfiltered sight.  My nose jumps in shock at the sudden smells of forest and death.  My mind works to warn me of something.

Robert.  He’s about to shoot me.  His rifle is rising toward my exposed forehead.  My arm reaches out and slaps it away.  Following a deafening noise, my shoulder is thrust backward.

I step toward the UDS operator.  I’m inside the range of his rifle and the fear on his face means he knows it.  I grab my knife.  His throat caves to the honed point.  But he’s not dead yet.  I push his chin up with my left hand and use my right to transfer my blade to the underside of his jaw.  His mouth is pinned shut by the knife long enough to reach his brain.  My hands warm as blood gushes over them.  Only once it reaches my wrist do I let his corpse fall free of my blade.  The knife follows him to the concrete.

I become aware of a steady stream of curses running into my ear.  It seems every one of the other Jumpers is adding to the chorus, Tharn leading them in volume.  I seek him out, hoping to see what all the fuss is about.  I find him flailing a few inches off the ground.  Will’s metal arms are up by his head, one hand on his chin, the other on the back of his head.

“Shit,” I add to the unintelligible babble in my ear, realizing what is happening.

The other four Jumpers move in toward Will, bouncing bullets off of him.  They ignore the last writhing UDS operator, focusing all their attention on the lead.  

A web of cracks weaves itself around Tharn’s neck, originating at the hole in his armor.  

I scramble my way to my ONYX and fumble it up to my shoulder.  I settle my sights somewhere around Will’s head and guide my finger into the trigger guard.  

Tharn’s neck armor shatters.  His head twists around until his faceless mask is looking straight at Will’s.  His limbs stop flailing and crash to the ground.

Will steps back from the misshapen body and turns toward me.  My neck prickles as my heart drops.

Then the VTOL arrives.  With a roar worthy of the dragons of old, it enters the fight above me.  The doors slide open and a single PDW sticks out.

When the first bullet strikes Will’s shoulder, the outer shell shatters, thrusting the hardened core through the armor.  Each bullet after breaks on impact with the shell of the ones before, giving each consecutive core more velocity to puncture the armor until one breaks through the back and buries itself in the dirt.  Will falls backward on top of it.

George jumps free of the VTOL before it reaches the ground and strides straight to Will’s side.  He plants a foot on the UDS Lead’s chest and aims at his head.  “Retract the armor and drop the exo or so help me, your urn will have more bullets than ashes.”

 
 
 

“Step aside.”  Rit pushes a few agents out of my way, then waves me forward to the front of the crowd.  

The tank and its guard have disappeared into the massive hallway to the hanger.  Now a smaller procession exits the hall I used.  George heads the cortege, behind him Jordan and Michael walk shoulder to shoulder.  Finn follows them.  As soon as the four of them enter the wide passage, they split into pairs and stand on either side of the hallway they exited; George and Michael take the left, Jordan and Finn the right.  They snap to attention and lift their chins high.

I mimic their movement, plastering my spare clothes against my hip.  My saliva fights its way down my throat.

The air fills with a clacking boom as hundreds of feet snap together.  Every agent in view follows our example, then bows their head.  Amy slinks behind the line of agents.

Then the door the first half of my team just entered through opens again.  Drex steps through, his steps smooth and proud and his head, now uncovered, held high.  Behind him, a stretcher floats into view.  

Tharn lies on his back in his black tactical clothes, devoid of armor.  His head is situated looking at the ceiling, a cloth laid over it and his neck.  His arms are crossed over the ONYX resting on his chest.  Beside him, lined on either side, are every patch taken from the men we killed, the bright red UDS stitched on their faces clear.

The rest of the Jumpers follow Tharn into the open.  They have all removed their helmets and masks, leaving their expressionless faces visible to all.  Following Drex’s example, they keep their heads up and steps proud.  

The three of them stop just before they reach George, allowing Drex and Tharn to move ahead alone.  The Commander falls in line behind the stretcher.  Nobody makes a sound until my two teammates guide our fallen brother away down the hallway.  Only then do I allow my head to fall.

 
 
 

Clattering brings my eyes up from the concrete beneath my feet.  Around me, my team is beginning to grasp what happened.  

Martin’s ONYX comes to rest on the ground, ending the sound that grabbed my attention.  He puts his hands on his head and takes a step back.

Billy and Phil slump backward against a fractured wall.  They both lower their rifles to the ground.  

Drex is on his knees, his weapon in the dirt next to him.

George has taken a step back to allow Will’s exo to fall free of his body.  The UDS Lead himself is panting, blood pumping out of the holes in his shoulder.  His jaw is set and eyes locked on the sky in a resigned but defiant expression.

Our Commander breaks the look with the butt of his PDW.  Then again.  Then twice more.  After a fifth blow, he steps away from the bloody mess of a face and turns to the VTOL.  “Take their patches.  Get Tharn on board.  We’re done here.”

Michael and Jordan jump out of the vehicle and set to work.

The Jumpers don’t move.

“Move before the rebels come back,” George says.

“Fuck!” Drex says.  He rocks up to his feet and takes long strides toward Will.  Faster than anyone can react, he has his pistol in his hand and the safety off.  He presses the barrel into Will’s knee.  The UDS Lead doesn’t react.

“Drex, stand down!”  George says.  “We’ve already done more damage than we were supposed to.”

Drex slides his finger down onto the trigger.

“He’ll get what’s coming to him.  Save his pain until it is productive.  He’ll suffer plenty when we hand him over.”

Drex doesn’t move.  His pistol shakes against Will’s kneecap.  Finally, he screams and shoots.  The bullet strikes the dirt next to Will’s leg.  Then a second hits the other side.  A third goes into the ground just above his head.  The fourth and fifth nearly take off each of his ears.  He spins around and stalks back to the VTOL, snatching his ONYX off the ground as he does.

I look away and take a few deep breaths.  My legs seize and threaten to dump me, so I sit back on the half wall.  I hunch over and rest my elbows on my knees.  My eyes settle on my upturned palms.

Blood is on my hands.  Red rivers run through canyons that make up my palm print.  It pools in the crooks of my curled fingers, creating lakes of a man that used to be.  Drops overflow and cascade over the backs of my knuckles where they draw together until they are strong enough to leap into the air.  They fall one by one between my boots, where they hit the ground and explode as scarlet stars over broken pieces of white concrete.

 
 
 
 
 

I broke him before I killed him.  The UDS Lead gave up the operation.  They call themselves Dream Harvesters.  The Phantom controls those on Tumbar.  Stop them and we devastate his income.  I could end their operations in hours.
Fine.  Send your specialists.  I could be discreet if those were your orders.
Why would you drag us back here for that?  The doctor and I were on the same ship.
Yeah, stay secret.  I know the drill.  I’ll see the doc.  Then send me for blood.  When the Panthers fail, I’ll be ready.