“Closer!” Shalan yelled as she emptied what must have been half her magazine in the instant that the island no longer separated them from their target. “I can’t hit anything from here.”
Ormain smiled as Lysalya ignored her request, letting loose a few rounds of his own before gauging his accuracy using the subsequent kicks of spray on the surface. It was difficult see if he was overshooting or not due to the poor weather, although the wayward streak of rounds off to their side were most certainly Shalan’s and not his own. She would have been a lot better off if she hadn’t had so much to drink, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now. Regrettable, but it was starting to look like he was going to have to put his foot down on her misbehaviour in the very near future.
Furrowing his brows, he guessed that the distance between them and their target was roughly four hundred meters, a sweet spot considering that their traditional rifles were within their effective range while pulse weapons would struggle. Beishall and his remaining men would have to stray a little closer to get any value out of the junk that they were carrying, while anyone on board Nina’s ship with a pulse weapon would also have issues hitting a target. There were so many guns aboard her ship that it was practically a floating pillbox, and as long as it remained that way he was more than happy to take his chances from where they were. Difficult to hit the target sure, but ultimately they were the cream of the SuTSU crop. Hitting the hard shots was what they were about.
Firing in bursts of three, he lamented the fact that he hadn’t brought a better scope. If he was honest he would have said that he didn’t think he’d need a rifle at all when they had started out, but his favourite submachine guns remained holstered on his hips as nothing more than decoration. Up close and personal was where he would have preferred it to be, in a street shootout or inside a busy tavern perhaps, but this miserable excuse for a night on Areinis would have to suffice. Victory without any casualties on his side would make it worth it in the end, and if Beishall’s men ended up on the ocean floor in the process it would be perfect.
“Are we moving in?” Beishall asked as if on cue, his voice sounding out from the radio attached to Ormain’s jacket. “If we all go at once, we can finish them off.”
“Not yet,” Ormain replied as he ejected an empty magazine before reloading, ignoring the evident anger in Beishall’s tone. “We don’t know what other tricks they have up their sleeve, getting too close to them might be writing ourselves off. Don’t throw your life away.”
Pretending not to hear the insult that Beishall muttered out of frustration in response, he fired off another burst and was satisfied to see that he was getting close. Close enough to throw his opponents off their game through nerves hopefully, and he was yet to see them fire with any accuracy in return that would cause him concern. Beishall was at least proving to be useful for something then, attracting the unwanted attention after he had ordered his own boat in around fifty meters or so closer. Their constant pistol fire lighting them up like a multi-coloured chistmas tree certainly wasn’t helping, but Ormain would be the last person to tell them that.
“This sucks,” Shalan grumbled as she haphazardly fired off a burst which was too long for the second half to have any chance at hitting a target. He’d have to tell her to slow down before she chewed through all their ammunition, although in the beginning he had though that it would be impossible. “Can’t hit… Oh, I think I hit something.”
“Someone, or something?”
“Dunno, too hard to see in the dark. Can’t hear any screaming though.”
Ormain shook his head with a wry smile before taking a glance at her. Soaked hair was splayed across her face, but it didn’t hide the grin on her lips as she stood in the middle of the boat with an eye down the rifle’s sight. How she managed to keep herself steady considering how many cocktails she had chugged down was a mystery, and if he was in her position he would probably be bringing them back up over the side. She was an enigma, although a rather troublesome one at that. At least she was his enigma, because he wouldn’t ever want to see such an impulsive bundle of talent and unpredictability on the other side of the fence. If she was even remotely straight-laced she could have qualified as a captain, but apparently the image of her being in charge of a group of suits horrified the higher-ups just as much as it did him.
“The pulse rifle they’re using off the back is going to be a problem,” Vesche said through the radio, interrupting his thoughts. On board with Lieutenant, Vesche had remained behind the target with Beishall’s other crew while Ormain had moved up the flank. They were still wary of the mounted machinegun at the boat’s bow, but boxing them in would hopefully prevent them from using while limiting their options. “I don’t know what it is but I’m not confident against it, even at four hundred. The other group isn’t going to last long at this rate, so if you want to make use of the extra boat, it needs to happen soon.”
Frowning at the information, Ormain fired off another couple of measured shots only to see them fall drastically short. Back to square one. The constant moving up and down made it incredibly difficult to steadily correct his aim, but he wasn’t ready to put their skin on the line just yet by narrowing the distance. Getting up close to Nina’s boat would result in casualties, and if possible, he’d rather wait until the casualties on their side were guaranteed to be Beishall and his crew.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“They’re turning, heading is slowly moving northward,” Vesche continued. “Ninety… seventy… straightening out at around sixty. Pirates are cutting the curve, do we leave them?”
“Leave them,” Ormain sighed before quickly flicking his radio over to communicate with Beishall. “Pull your men back, they’re getting too close.”
“What do you mean too close?” Beishall asked in return. “First you say they’re unarmed, and now you wanna sit and watch as they cruise towards the Fountain? They shredded three of my men, captain, and I’m planning on taking due compensation for it.”
Ormain sighed as Beishall’s boat changed course to follow the new heading, making no comment as Lysalya turned their nose to do the same. Once more they were directly behind their target, but the smaller profile to hit was the least of his new concerns. Lieutenant had followed the wake in pursuit which would quickly place him at their side in a moment, but Beishall’s men were becoming a third party in the conflict instead of a tool that could be used and discarded. The stupidity that he had valued before they had set off was quickly becoming a burden, and if he couldn’t convince them that their numbers were their most valuable asset then he was going to lose them.
A curse exploded from the radio as Ormain watched a trio of pulse rounds rip through the middle of the wayward boat, three streaks of green light burrowing into the bow without emerging from the other side. It was impossible to tell from this range what damage had been done, but it was evidently enough to stop them in their tracks as the craft flailed to one side before momentum rolled it over. Once and then twice the boat tumbled without grace before the out of control craft crashed back into the water on an awkward angle, Beishall’s pained roar into the night audible even without the radio. The odds that someone would have survived the impact were miniscule, and the fact that Beishall made no attempt to slow down and check on his comrades showed that he also thought the same.
“Idiots,” Ormain sighed, watching as debris from the shattered craft was flung over the surrounding area. Was listening to him that hard? It was true that he was using them, but at least he was trying to keep them alive so that he could use them in the first place. You couldn’t use dead people, not for this purpose at least. Instead he had been robbed of a boat for nothing in return, although if he was optimistic he could hope that some sense had finally been knocked into his last remaining partner. It was still a terrible trade, but there weren’t exactly many ways to put a positive spin on it. Ormain’s hopes of neatly pulling in around Nina with one of Beishall’s boats to eat up fire on each side had quickly evaporated, and so back to the drawing board it would be. If Shalan could just pick them off it would be nice, but things tended to be a little more difficult when he didn’t want to risk getting shot in return.
“Something’s coming up,” Lysalya informed him, taking her eyes off the ocean to peek at a map which she had pressed against her knee. “It’s a big rectangle of grey on the map, no idea what.”
Ormain looked in front of them to see that there was indeed something ahead of them, their target speeding directly towards it. The silhouette seemed too orderly to be an island considering how large it was, while he could also see the glow of lights at intermittent intervals from further in. Whatever it was, Nina’s group thought probably that it was going to play to their advantage, and that told him that he needed to know about it. He’d had enough setbacks already, and another one was the last thing that he wanted to deal with.
“What is it?” he asked Beishall through the radio after squeezing off another quick burst. Lieutenant had already fallen in beside them, each boat cutting across the waves with around ten meters between them. Beishall had also thankfully had some newfound sense after his second boat was destroyed right before his eyes, and as a result he kept steady some fifty meters in front of them. Hopefully he would be a little more malleable when it came to following orders now, because if he wasn’t then Ormain wouldn’t hesitate to gun them down himself before they had a change of heart.
“It’s a floating solar plant,” Beishall replied. “Nothing but countless rows of solar panels which track the sun across the sky, all strung together with some cables.”
“I’m assuming you can fit a boat in there then,” Ormain said as he watched their target continue to speed towards the plant. “There aren’t any obstacles?”
“Private property, wouldn’t have a clue. It stretches for quite a while though, rows as straight as an arrow.”
Ormain frowned as he thought about what their plan would be. They were still quite some distance from the Fire Fountain, but he couldn’t discount their target calling for reinforcements either. Backup would scupper their plans, and outward conflict so close to any of the Five Fountains would draw a lot of attention from the types of people that he wanted to avoid. Sooner was quickly becoming better than later, but the fact that they were heading into the plant blind caused him concern. It was somewhat mitigated by Beishall, of course, but now was probably the time to play the card and see what would happen. Taking another loss would be difficult, but Beishall was expendable and things weren’t over yet. Not by a long way.
“Take the centre and hold them at arm’s length,” he radioed to Beishall, watching as their target disappeared between two rows of solar panels that were now possible to make out. Neat rows of blue like a futuristic vineyard that stretched away to either side of him, all they could do was dive in and hope that there weren’t any obstacles hiding in the distance. “Vesche, take the row to their left, we’ll take the right.”
Ignoring Shalan’s suggestion to follow behind Beishall and shoot both him and Nina at the same time, Ormain chewed at his lip in a rare show of frustration as their boat shot into the adjacent channel.