the largest blister dome and a shaped-charge explosion blasted open the hatch to let them loose, Rader’s squadmates boiled out, swinging their laser rifles and yelling; they exercised just enough restraint to keep from shooting one another.
The alarms inside the hatching base sounded like staccato clacking beetles. Rader bolted forward and used his laser rifle to cut down any aliens he encountered. It wasn’t his place to decide whether the roaches were civilians, politicians, medical personnel, or soldiers.
In the back of his mind, he wondered if the Jaxxan assault squad on Cephei Outpost had operated under similar orders.
As they rounded a corner into the main base, a Jaxxan in front of them raised his thin forearms and wove a deadly psychic energy-web. Gonzalez let out a cry more of surprise than pain, then the incandescent green lines disintegrated him.
Astonished, Rader used the sudden jolt of shock and fired. He blasted the Jaxxan before he could move his angular arms again.
Behind the main squad, the Deathguard lurched into the fray, mowing down targets, yet never coming close to hitting one of his human comrades. The cyborg blew open door hatches, thrust his armored body into well-lit research chambers, annihilated any aliens he found working in their labs. Then the Deathguard pushed forward, leading the way along skewed corridors and through angled intersections, deeper into the hatching base.
Still off-balance and angry from the loss of Gonzalez, Rader ran headlong with four of his comrades into a chamber of horrors—a nursery. Five Jaxxan attendants had lined up to protect more than a dozen fat, squirming grubs, white segmented things like maggots the size of alligators.
Coleman said, “That’s just wrong !” He opened fire, and the grubs spilled open like fleshy sacs filled with entrails and ichor.
Frantic, one of the Jaxxan caretakers cried out in English, “No! Not the offspring.” The alien’s comprehensible words were so startling that Rader hesitated. But it was just a ruse: other aliens nearby worked together to weave a sparkling energy-web, filling the air with a mesh of green that they cast toward the human soldiers.
Rader focused and shot one of the roaches, then the next, working his way down the line, just like in the simulation. Huff knocked out the other two, and their incomplete energy-web dispersed. The rest of the Earth League soldiers made swift work of the remaining grubs in the nursery, chopping them into chunks of meat.
The Deathguard, who wasn’t part of the formal operation, had already moved ahead on his own, continuing his rampage. Apparently, the cyborg soldier wanted to make the most of his second chance.
Over the implanted radio, Rader heard Sergeant Blunt yelling from a different sector of the asteroid, “Just woke up a hundred roach warriors in the deep tunnels! And they look angry. Called Base for reinforcements. Another ship should be here in an hour or two, so hold the roaches off till then.”
“Roger that, Sarge,” came a chorus of responses.
The Sarge added, “We know they sent off a distress signal too. It’ll be a race to see who gets here first.”
Rader said with genuine bravado, “Won’t leave anything for them to rescue, Sarge.”
As the squad pushed into the asteroid’s most secure chambers, desperate Jaxxans fought harder and harder. Energy-webs rippled down the angled corridors, ricocheting off stone walls and frying several more human soldiers. Rader kept a rough score in the back of his mind, tried not to name his friends who lay dead. Concentrate on the operation, on the objective .
So far, he thought the humans were taking a greater toll.
Explosions rippled through the nesting base, and overpressure waves made his ears pop. Sergeant Blunt shouted over the implanted radio, “Heavy resistance—fresh warriors from below.” He paused, as if to listen to a report. “Ah, crap—there’s a roach ship coming in! Don’t know if we can
The alarms inside the hatching base sounded like staccato clacking beetles. Rader bolted forward and used his laser rifle to cut down any aliens he encountered. It wasn’t his place to decide whether the roaches were civilians, politicians, medical personnel, or soldiers.
In the back of his mind, he wondered if the Jaxxan assault squad on Cephei Outpost had operated under similar orders.
As they rounded a corner into the main base, a Jaxxan in front of them raised his thin forearms and wove a deadly psychic energy-web. Gonzalez let out a cry more of surprise than pain, then the incandescent green lines disintegrated him.
Astonished, Rader used the sudden jolt of shock and fired. He blasted the Jaxxan before he could move his angular arms again.
Behind the main squad, the Deathguard lurched into the fray, mowing down targets, yet never coming close to hitting one of his human comrades. The cyborg blew open door hatches, thrust his armored body into well-lit research chambers, annihilated any aliens he found working in their labs. Then the Deathguard pushed forward, leading the way along skewed corridors and through angled intersections, deeper into the hatching base.
Still off-balance and angry from the loss of Gonzalez, Rader ran headlong with four of his comrades into a chamber of horrors—a nursery. Five Jaxxan attendants had lined up to protect more than a dozen fat, squirming grubs, white segmented things like maggots the size of alligators.
Coleman said, “That’s just wrong !” He opened fire, and the grubs spilled open like fleshy sacs filled with entrails and ichor.
Frantic, one of the Jaxxan caretakers cried out in English, “No! Not the offspring.” The alien’s comprehensible words were so startling that Rader hesitated. But it was just a ruse: other aliens nearby worked together to weave a sparkling energy-web, filling the air with a mesh of green that they cast toward the human soldiers.
Rader focused and shot one of the roaches, then the next, working his way down the line, just like in the simulation. Huff knocked out the other two, and their incomplete energy-web dispersed. The rest of the Earth League soldiers made swift work of the remaining grubs in the nursery, chopping them into chunks of meat.
The Deathguard, who wasn’t part of the formal operation, had already moved ahead on his own, continuing his rampage. Apparently, the cyborg soldier wanted to make the most of his second chance.
Over the implanted radio, Rader heard Sergeant Blunt yelling from a different sector of the asteroid, “Just woke up a hundred roach warriors in the deep tunnels! And they look angry. Called Base for reinforcements. Another ship should be here in an hour or two, so hold the roaches off till then.”
“Roger that, Sarge,” came a chorus of responses.
The Sarge added, “We know they sent off a distress signal too. It’ll be a race to see who gets here first.”
Rader said with genuine bravado, “Won’t leave anything for them to rescue, Sarge.”
As the squad pushed into the asteroid’s most secure chambers, desperate Jaxxans fought harder and harder. Energy-webs rippled down the angled corridors, ricocheting off stone walls and frying several more human soldiers. Rader kept a rough score in the back of his mind, tried not to name his friends who lay dead. Concentrate on the operation, on the objective .
So far, he thought the humans were taking a greater toll.
Explosions rippled through the nesting base, and overpressure waves made his ears pop. Sergeant Blunt shouted over the implanted radio, “Heavy resistance—fresh warriors from below.” He paused, as if to listen to a report. “Ah, crap—there’s a roach ship coming in! Don’t know if we can
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