It had been an hour and a half since the testfiring of our Hawking pulsewave cannon. I was about to land in the passenger compartment of one of our shuttles about 200 meters from the edge of the crater where a mountain used to be. “Thirty seconds, Captain!” the pilot communicated with me via a headset. I gave them a thumbs-up and checked my gear over one final time.

I chose a heavy shotgun and a smaller submachine gun chambered in a 5.6x33mm cartridge. Since Iridians are more fragile than human beings, even an intermediate cartridge will likely be overkill for their slender bodies where organs are packed together tighter. I chamber the first round in my Zetter & Metz 56, pulling the rear-mounted charging handle back. Simultaneously, I tilt the weapon to the left, checking the right-hand ejection port as the dust cover flips up to ensure the first round feeds correctly into the chamber.

The weapon is another weapon I had since the end of my service. Having been modified over the years to fit my tastes and preferences - I included a folding, adjustable stock, a sound suppressor, laser sight, and a flip-up mGlass-enabled red-dot sight that gave me an ammo counter and a very clean sight picture.

As the shuttle landed I heard the spool-down of the Phizon engines and the side bay door opened, hinging upwards and extending a boarding ramp, which hinged downwards to the ground. “Good hunting, captain!” I heard the pilot on my com as I headed down the ramp and crouched on one knee to scope out my surroundings as the shuttle dusted off.

With the shuttle’s engine noise fading in the distance, I start moving towards the curled edge of the crater. Peering over the side, I can see that the side walls of the crater still glow a faint red and I can feel the heat, the bedrock melted away into ash and the sky above was cloudy black with the soot of vaporized rocks and dirt. A fire was burning in the distance, a direct result of the destruction of the mountain that once stood where I now stand and peer into the depths of the moon’s crust.

After a moment of thought, I decided that I needed to make it somehow down there. So I remove a 1.5 Liter rigid polymer backpack from my shoulders and open it. Inside I find a grappling gun with a 4-hooked grappling hook head. The gun itself was a CO2-driven gun that was more than enough to hurl the grappling hook to the crater lip to allow me to scale the walls of the crater.

After bringing it out, I press a few buttons simultaneously on the barrel muzzle to remove the hook. After finding somewhere to secure it, I tie the rope to a petrified tree, then after shouldering my backpack and Shotgun, I begin the descent.

Rappelling down the side wall of the crater, I can feel the scorching heat the further I descend. As my body sweats to cool off the deeper and deeper I descend, I also begin to see an emergency access panel with a surrounding metallic bulkhead.

“Here it is,” I say to no one in particular, more to myself than anything. After ensuring the rope is secure, I try to rip the hatch open and find it fused shut by the sheer heat down in the crater. I was 150 meters down in the crust of the moon and if not for the Hawking pulsewave, I would have had to find the entrance, but I do not have the luxury of time.

I remove my pack again and open it, finding a black, hockey-puck-sized object inside with a pair of buttons on the top. A matter-antimatter fueled, shaped breaching charge. I press the left-side button and a red light lights up alongside it around the right-hand button, indicating it is armed.

I press the red-lined button and it beeps steadily in a 10-second countdown. The beeping speeds up as the countdown drags on for 10 seconds. After sticking the charge to the metal bulkhead, I leap over the side of the bulkhead and hang onto the edge. Feeling the heat of the rock lava beneath me, a result of the intense heat.

The charge detonates and I feel the bulkhead shudder under the shaped charge blast. Nearly lost my grip Before managing to swing a hand back up to the edge to pull myself and my 27-kilogram kit back up over the side with a labored growl. I peer down in the hole with my sidearm pointed into the dark. After jumping down into the hole I am greeted by… Nothing! Not even an attack Kreegu.

I holster my sidearm and inspect the surroundings inside the space I now stand in. I consulted the structure layout on my mGlass, which was compiled with data from our recon drone. Data was gathered using ground-penetrating LIDAR (Light-based detection and ranging).

After a scowl at my device, I slot it in its rightful place in a pouch on my belt. Letting my Z&M 56 dangle by its sling at my stomach as I shoulder the shotgun I brought as a backup. I lower a set of low-light vision goggles over my face to allow me to see in the dark. The LLV filter kicks on and I can see the interior of a corridor of the facility.

There are a few charred corpses littered in the hallways and the exits have been sealed off. It seems they had evacuated this space. This meant they knew I was coming. Internally I weighed my options carefully in my mind.

First option: breach the door using another breaching explosive. The most direct route. Too risky.

Second option: seek an alternative entry such as an unused entrance on the surface. Eats up valuable time. likely the safest route.

Third option: find a grate for the ventilation shafts to bypass the obvious chokepoint that I was standing in. Likely they will have security forces behind both sealed blast doors lying in wait for the intruder.

I sling my shotgun over a shoulder and look around, Finding a grate on the wall that was just a few centimeters above my height. I frown, as there was a fastener that was too high for me to reach up above. So, I decide on the finesse route.

Keeping my eyes on the grate, I focus on the presence of the fasteners and I imagine in my mind’s eye a socket wrench turning them loose. The fasteners start to unscrew from their tightened position and out of the grate. I then imagine two arms reaching up and lowering the grate. As I do, the grate lowers to lean on the bulkhead.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Using both arms, I hoist myself up onto the lip of the ductwork. My hands dent the metal duct slightly as I strain to keep a firm grip to pull my weight up. I manage to get a foot over the ledge and pull myself up the rest of the way.

I unholster my sidearm and crawl forward toward the first bulkhead fan. Looking around, I spot an electrical panel on the side wall of the ducts on my left. A motor relay service box, perhaps? I roll onto my side and with some effort, pry open the box. I jam my knife into the contents of the box blade first. The innards fry and I notice the duct fans seizing. After removing the blade from the box I crawl through them and press on to the next room, making sure to keep my noise to a minimum as my advance continues.

Eventually, I find another grate on the bulkhead in the next room, realizing I am now on the other side of the door. I catch sight of a group of Iridian guards behind a deployable barrier waiting for me to breach the door.

I inch forward little by little as I overhear them talking. “Who is on the other side?” One voice says, and I hear a snort “It does not matter, we have them bottled up in that corridor. Our sisters are on the other side to prevent their escape in the other direction. The only thing they can do is go back out of the breach they created.”

After some more slow movement in the confined space; I roll slowly onto my back and coil my legs tightly into my chest, positioning to kick the grate off the wall. I take a deep breath and thrust my feet forward. My feet impact the grate and dent it, shearing the bolts off at their stems and hurling the grate across the room into the opposing wall.

I vault out of the ducts and slide across the polished metallic floor as I exhale and aim up towards the first Iridian, the muzzle of my sidearm in perfect line with their chin as I pull the trigger and the suppressed sidearm goes off with a dull thump. Their skullcap hits the ceiling in fragments with a smear of brain matter and green blood. One down.

Wasting no time, I kick the dead body at the other three Iridian women and bowl them over with their deceased comrade as I lunge at the second one, grabbing their left wrist and with a twist, I force them to lock their arm with their palm against their waist, then I twist it again to lock their elbow and fully extend their arm, mounting their elbow over my shoulder and with an effortless pull, the snap of bone echoes in the room "ARGH!" followed by a shrill scream. whirling around, I kick them in the chest, throwing them back into the wall hard enough that the impact breaks every single vertebra of their spinal column and both shoulder blades. the impact of their body on the bulkhead leaves a smear of green blood on the wall. One down.

Letting go, I shoot the third Iridian in the gut, staggering her back before turning around again to deliver a heel kick to my previous opponent’s knee after they stood back up, the snap of bone and a scream follow as their knee disintegrates into several pieces and they are forced to kneel to account for the change in their balance.

Propping my arm on their shoulder, I shoot the fourth opponent in the inner-left shoulder, "Wegh!" sending them staggering backward with the impact of the bullet before I use a knee to deliver a blow to my opponent’s jaw, which knocks them out with a mortal wound. Two down. Turning again to look behind me, the third woman grabs my wrist, but it is futile. Iridians are physically weaker than humans and alone are no match for a Chimera. I palm their face and dig a nail into their eye socket. Coring out their eyeball as they scream.

After blinding them in one eye, I level the muzzle of my suppressed sidearm with their nose bridge and squeeze the trigger. The bullet drills a dime-sized hole in their nose bridge, passing through their brain and hippocampus before exiting out the other side of their head, taking fragments of their cervical vertebrae and brain matter with it before impacting the bulkhead. Three down.

I feel a sharp pain in my abdomen just below my left kidney and I grunt in pain. One final opponent had snuck up behind me. Using a balled fist to deliver a heavy blow to the new opponent’s abdomen just below the lowermost rib tip. "Weugh!" They grunt in pain and I deliver the same blow again, and then I find their arm with that hand, gripping their wrist tightly. The crackle of bone and the snapping of connective tissue accompanies my iron grip on their arm, loosening their grip on the blade now sunken into my flank.

I twist their wrist rather far over and their elbow creaks as I apply more and more pressure. Eventually, the woman’s eyes bulge in their sockets from strained effort against my strength, and the pain they are subject to with the stress on their arm before I apply even more pressure and torque their elbow laterally. A snapping noise similar to the snapping of a tree branch echoes and their elbow gives way under the strain of my application of lateral pressure. "AGH!" The woman shrieks and I throw them across the room into a wall by their shoulder. Dislocating it against the bulkhead with a similar snapping sound.

Walking up slowly to the disoriented, hurting, and dazed woman, I put one hand on the back of their head towards the top-left corner and the other arm wraps around their neck below their jaw line, lifting them to their feet. With a push of my hand atop their skullcap, a crackle of bone sounds as their cervical vertebrae crack and their spinal cord severs at the C3 and C4 vertebrae, killing them. Four down.

Looking around at the rest of the room, There are no more hostiles. Five enemy combatants were killed in action. Slipping a fresh magazine of ammunition out of my belt pouches nested between my palm and three fingers, while using my index finger and thumb in my left hand to extract the partially emptied magazine out of my sidearm. After sliding the new magazine into the mag well, ensuring it is locked in, I slide the partial into the pouch with haste and finesse before I approach the door.

There is a pause before I open the door to feel a stab wound in my lower back. I find the hilt of the weapon protruding from my back and slowly pull it out... I groan at the pain before I find a syringe on my belt in a series of small pouches, injecting my abdomen with the contents near the stab wound site. A quick hardening gel seals the wound and holds any broken bones in place. "HNGH." I groan as sharp pain follows as the gel hardens and pins any loose parts in place, allowing me to press on after riding through the pain a bit.