He nearly rolled an ankle racing down the rubble from the roof. He hadn’t stopped shouting since spotting the airborne dolorium. “Up above! Up! Above!” The squad had finally reacted once he’d gotten close enough, but it was too late. The creatures were upon them.

There were exactly ten of them—the very same species that had stung and poisoned August back in the field. August aimed his skybeam and blasted. The gun was just outside of its optimal range, and the beam sailed past the jittering swarm.

Belmont, Slupman, and Sterling fired their pistols wildly, clipping a few dolo in the wing, legs, or even shaving bits of chitin off. General Wolf did the same with his skybeam. He blew two of them open in the air. Their yellow blood hissed and pattered to the ground, the squad’s armor only getting hit with a bit of mist that sizzled all the same.

West had bolted, which surprised August. Perhaps Sterling had been right to question the old man’s courage. Rosek cocked her left arm, eager for the first dolo who was foolish enough to come within her range. In the meantime, she fired with the canon on her right arm and blew another pair to mist with her left. Rosek’s beam launched the creatures back a few yards before they popped from the heat.

Two more erupted in mid-air as Dalton West blasted them with his sniper rifle from a healthy distance. He wasn’t running after all. Only three dolo remained as the combined pistol work of Belmont, Sterling, and the injured Slupman finally took one down.

One of the bugs flew away in the opposite direction West had gone. The other two continued downward. They crashed into Rosek, the most obvious target, and took her down with an ease the rhino types could have only wished for. August increased his speed what little he could.

General Wolf wrapped a mean bear hug around a dolo that had cocked its butt-end, ready to stab Rosek. The stinger had been strong enough to pierce August’s armor, and the mech suit wasn’t much tougher—especially Rosek’s more mobile model.

The dolo screeched as the general applied pressure. The general twisted and pulled the thing to the ground despite its desperate wings buzzing. Wolf mounted the creature and rained a steady stream of cermet-gloved fists onto its hard carapace, hoping one lucky punch might find a soft spot.

Rosek launched the other one that had been on her away with a fierce left hook. Only a mech suit could muster so much energy from a punch while laying on its back. The dolo looked dazed as it spiraled through the air. It regained its composure, steadied itself, and darted back toward the fallen mech.

A thick, white beam intercepted it as Dalton West spent his rifle’s last shot. The dolo blew up into a million brilliant droplets of yellow that shone in the sun. “I’m out,” Dalton called, setting his rifle on the ground and drawing his pistol.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The dolo beneath the general had not weakened or slowed even with the endless punches it had taken. Sterling pulled a small bottle from a pocket on the front of his vest, popped the lid, dropped a capsule in his palm, put the bottle away, and crouched beside the general and his enemy.

“Hold it down,” Sterling said.

The general stopped his storm of punches and pushed all his weight onto the creature. August collapsed to lend some of his own weight to the effort when he finally arrived. The rookie eyed the stinger and used his knee to limit the butt-end’s mobility.

The exterminator dropped the capsule into the creature’s gaping, screeching maw. He rose, produced a cigarette in a quick motion, and popped it between his lips. By the time he lighted it, the dolo had stilled and turned hard like stone.

Sterling took a long drag while Wolf got back to his feet, exhausted and straining to catch his breath. The exterminator glared at August, who didn’t look or act much different than the general. The look in Sterling’s eyes chilled August to the bone. Despite his plan working, he knew he was about to get it.

The words never came. Something caught Sterling’s eye just as the corner of his mouth not holding the cigarette had parted. The other half fell agape. The cigarette dropped. “Get down!”

August turned just in time to find a dripping stinger thrust for his chest. He dropped like a rag, applying heavy strain to his groin as he nearly did the splits. The general wasn’t as fast.

Wolf grunted as the stinger entered him. It penetrated kevlar, cermet, cotton, flesh, then cotton, cermet, and Kevlar again as it pierced through to the other side. The stinger ejaculated a nasty string of venom that slapped heavily on the concrete behind Wolf. The general would have been dead in seconds had the stinger released its shot into flesh.

August rolled away, swung to his feet, aimed the skybeam, and put his finger on the trigger.

“Hold your fire!” Rosek screeched, her face shield drawn open.

He raised the tip of the rifle against every screaming muscle in his vengeful being.

Rosek grabbed the dolo with mechanical grips, pulled it from the general as if it were no more than another thorny bit latched on to his Kevlar, and slammed the creature to the ground. General Wolf fell to his knees, his eyes blank, and his face feeble and pallid. August rushed and caught him just as he fell forward. Belmont was there not two seconds later.

The dolo shrieked. Its butt-end thrust and swayed, thirsty for more flesh. Rosek cocked another left hook and let it drop. Splat. The creature was obliterated.

“I could’ve shot it,” August said to her.

“It would’ve exploded poison blood all over the general’s armor.”

August let his eyes drop. He hadn’t thought of that.

Strong arms caught him by the aching shoulder. He must’ve tweaked it at some point in the fight. Sterling pulled the rookie to his feet, spun him so that they were eye to eye, and stared him down with burning eyes.

“Take off your helmet,” Sterling said.

August looked at him, bewildered.

“Dammit, Rookie,” Sterling said, his mouth frothing in the corners. “Take off your fucking helmet! That’s an order.”

He stood erect at the word ‘order’ and did as he was told. The fist flew at him the second he was done brushing the short shag from his eyes. It caught him square on the nose. The blow summoned stars and watered his eyes. He reeled back a few steps, still more confused than anything.

Another fist. August side-stepped it.

“Take your beating, you little shit,” Sterling barked. “That’s an order.”

Soldiers didn’t have many rights, but refusing to take such an order was one of them. He side-stepped another punch. He refused to hit back, but he wasn’t going to take another.