“Demons, I want a status report.” He managed to keep his voice level despite what the info-screen was telling him.
“This… Carthage. I am in section… Repeat… …tion 02-12A with Lucifer.” The voice was barely audible through the thundering of her minigun. “Made contact with the en.... peat, made… enemy.”
“Can you hold them Carthage?”
“Sure thing, Puppeteer… They’d need… breath fire if they… past me.” The rasping of Lucifer joined the feed. The man was clearly having fun.
“Damn it, Lucifer!” The curse was underlined by another volley of fire from the heavy weapons specialist. “Stop yapping and…” Whatever she had to add was lost in static and volume overload.
“Carthage, you need to extract to section 01-15. Multiple breaches detected around you. I repeat, extract to section 01-15.”
“Acknowledged.” He heard her voice before it was cut off by a new one.
“This is Rage. Me and Discharge have prepared the red carpet. Please advice on ETA of friendlies.” He heard the gruff voice of the assault trooper leader far more clearer than he had expected.
“Helix, report.” Only static answered his order. “Helix, do you read me?”
“Busy…” He could not make out if the medic was angry, frustrated or completely out of it. The feed was too disrupted, but he recognised the sound of plasma discharges.
“Helix, repeat.” Again, only static. “Hornet, is Helix with you?”
“He is boss…” The only veteran in his command sounded angry for sure. “…ching me… Wall… blast…”
“Hornet, repeat. The feed is too cluttered.” He turned to the comm specialist standing next to him in the command centre. “Come on Preacher, clear the damned signal.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing.” Puppeteer might not have been able to see his face hidden behind the helmet, but he knew the glare he was receiving was not a kind one.
“Got it.” The communications specialist’s voice boomed from the speakers of his helmet after a gruelling minute.
“Hornet come in!”
“I hear you, Puppeteer…” The strained voice of the veteran came through the feed. “Boarding craft came through the wall. Got caught in the blast. Helix is patching me up. Need support.”
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“What is your location?” He asked, knowing full well, there was no one to send to them.
“Cryogenics…” The link was cut off by a noise that had overloaded it.
“Carthage, do you copy?”
“Loud and clear, Puppeteer.” The nose of battle was sporadic but nonetheless present in the background.
“New orders. Change heading to section 01-02 – Cryogenics.”
“What?! How in hell’s name are we supposed to get there? Going through the Hanger is going to be the death of us…”
“Lucifer is to proceed to the original destination. Only you Carthage. Hornet and Helix are pinned there.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Cannot comply, Puppeteer. Bogies are on our ass. We are coming in hot to section 01-15. ETA 10 minutes.” There was anger in her voice, understandable.
“Copy that, Carthage. Caution, red carpet is set and primed.” Rage’s voice joined the feed.
“We cannot lose Helix…”
“Then why did you station him there? You knew he is the only one who can fix us and the suits. And to top it all, he is equipped with nothing but a Predator…” He was prepared for the accusation, but it stung him all the same.
“The Mark 3s are in short supply…”
“Don’t give me that…” Her voice was cut off by Helix.
“I’ll see you on the other side.” They all knew the phrase. They had uttered it a hundred times before and each time it froze their hearts.
“I’m under heavy fire. Hornet has expired. Cannot extract cortex.” Helix’s panicked voice returned a few seconds later, dominating the feed. “Puppeteer… you have to purge Cryogenics.”
“I cannot do that Helix. The specimens are highest priority.” He took a deep breath and gave out his next command. “The enemy cannot get a hold of the Mark 3. You’ll have to overload the core.” Silence grasped the feed.
“Repeat last command, Puppeteer. I thought you said I need to overload Hornet’s core?!” There was genuine confusion in the medic’s voice.
“That is correct, Helix.”
“I am pinned! Repeat, bloody pinned!”
“I know. Command stands. Overload Mark 3’s core.” Puppeteer felt every second like an hour. “I am sorry my friend.”
“Puppeteer, you can’t…” He could hear both Lucifer and Discharge speak at the same time over the feed.
“Restrict the channel.”
He gave the command to the communications specialist next to him. He knew what he was asking of the medic. He knew he was dooming them all to a slow death. But he was their commander. He had to think of the larger picture. He saw Preacher hesitated for a moment, but he complied. As they all would, as long as he did not order the impossible. After all, they were conditioned to obey and the chain of command was absolute.
“Helix, I’ll see you…”
“No! Don’t you dare say it! You cannot say it, after that order!” The outburst was cut short by several controlled bursts from the medic’s combat rifle.
“Helix, this is a direct order from your commander. Overload the Mark 3’s core.” Somehow, he managed to keep his voice from shaking.
“Acknowledged, sir.” The voice that answered him was cold and level. “I hate you, Virgil. You made Julius’ death pointless and you have killed me. Not the enemy. You.”
Puppeteer wanted to give some excuse. To say anything to justify his order. But everything that came to his mind was meaningless propaganda. Thirty-nine seconds after Helix’s last word, the entirety of section 01 trembled from the detonation of the Mark 3 Battlesuit’s overloaded fusion core.