“Great work, Thea. I knew you wouldn't let us down,” Corvus said, his voice tinged with relief.
“With those las-cannons disabled, we've bought ourselves a bit of breathing room. A few more minutes under their barrage, and Lucas' shield would have been toast. But, we can't afford to rest,” he added.
Turning his gaze to Thea, he instructed, “Focus on those snipers targeting Isabella next. If you can neutralise any other heavy weapons en route, that’d be great. And be cautious; without a medic, we can't afford any injuries.”
Despite a renewed wave of dizziness washing over her from using her Focus, Thea nodded in understanding. The situation demanded her full attention, leaving no room for self-doubt or fatigue. However, a nagging question creased her brow behind the visor of her helmet, ‘Why are we without a medic? Isn’t Kara a medic...?’
“Desmond, how much longer until that drone is operational?” Corvus queried, allowing Thea to focus on her own task.
“3:42. Pushing it faster risks burning out crucial components,” Desmond replied swiftly, glancing at the countdown on his wristband.
Corvus murmured a terse, “We need that drone in the air yesterday,” just low enough for Thea's high Perception to catch. The weight of leadership was clearly straining him in this tense situation.
“Once that drone is ready, launch it immediately. I want a scan of the rear of their formation, check for additional mortars. And get your forge on that explosive model you mentioned earlier. If they regroup for another barrage, we'll need that firepower. You're our last drone operator with equipment still in play. We're counting on you, Desmond. No margin for error,” Corvus asserted with firm emphasis.
“Understood,” Desmond acknowledged with a determined nod. “My EXPO drone will handle any new setups they throw at us. But, be prepared for a wait time of around 15 minutes before I can deploy it. I can adjust the current model to carry explosives, but it’ll extend the prep by another couple of minutes. Thoughts?”
Corvus quickly considered it, then shook his head, “Priority is recon. We need eyes in the sky before we need the firepower. Continue with the scout configuration.”
“You’re on,” Desmond responded, before taking up his rifle once again. He began picking his shots with precision, ensuring he didn’t overexpose himself to enemy fire.
Thea noticed his actions peripherally and found herself begrudgingly impressed. ‘He may be an asshole, but at least he’s competent. I can work with that,’ she mused.
Clutching her Gram, she sidled up to Isabella. Aware of the deafening roars from Isabella’s Devastation, she opted to use the comms system instead. Being so close to Isabella, she was somewhat happy about her clogged ears.
The volume of the Devastation’s gunfire was downright dangerous for any unprotected hearing. “Ella, point out those snipers giving you a headache. Corvus said you might need a hand with them.”
“Fuck, Thea, you have no idea how glad I am to hear that,” Isabella responded, her voice straining against the chaos, “There are some snipers around the 250-270 mark. Also, the heavy weaponry around 190-210 is making me stick to this shield more than I'd like. Help with any of those would be brilliant.”
“Consider it done. I'll scope them out,” Thea assured her, then moved slightly further away from her to get a better visual on Isabella’s tormentors.
Hunkering down behind Lucas' shield, Thea peered through the scope of her Gram, seeking her targets. Just to her side, Isabella's Devastation erupted in a renewed cacophony of relentless firepower, its explosive shots targeting dense clusters of Stellar Republic forces. The rhythmic pulses of the Devastation combined with the scattered staccato of other gunfire to create an almost maddening backdrop for Thea's focused task.
For a fleeting moment, Thea wished she could tap into her [Sensory Overdrive], however, the gnawing realisation that her Focus reserves were dangerously low held her back.
‘Can’t always rely on it, I guess…’
Diligently scanning the enemy lines, she quickly noted a few figures that stood out. Their movement patterns were eerily synchronised, a hint of their true nature. "Clones," she whispered to herself. Through her scope, she looked around more intently at the realisation, trying to find the distinct markings of the T1 Duplicators.
It didn’t take long for her to find two of them, huddled fairly close together near a fortified position around 900 metres away from her.
Quickly keying her comms to Corvus, she reported, "Corvus, we've got T1 Duplicators in the mix. Spotted two of them, but there’s likely more. They could pose a problem if left unchecked. Want me to continue with the snipers or work on these first?"
There was a pause, before Corvus's voice came through, sharp with concern. "Acknowledged, Thea. Prioritise them if you can… Show me that trick of yours you mentioned during GalPol, alright?"
Thea's smirk at Corvus’ words was quickly replaced by a look of intense concentration as she toggled her comms twice, signalling her acknowledgment without uttering a word.
'Getting a clear shot without becoming a clear target... That's the game. Scoping them out is easy, but the instant I take a shot, I make myself a target. How do I get both of them…?' she pondered, taking in the confines of the safe haven Lucas' Stalwart provided.
The limited avenues of attack – one each to the left and right of the shield – certainly didn't make things easier. And with the Stellar Republic’s relentless assault ensuring the shield was under perpetual fire, venturing even a glance beyond its protective arc seemed a perilous endeavour. Every conceivable angle she could take was riddled with threats, leaving her to craft a new strategy once again.
Thea's gaze darted around the battlefield for a few heartbeats, her eyes searching, evaluating. Then, they settled on the trench system snaking its way behind her. Initially dug out as a network for safe movement and as a refuge for wounded Marines, they were never meant as sniping posts. The trenches were too deep for regular combat engagements. But maybe, just maybe, they held the key for her current predicament.
If she could find something – a crate, a pile of dirt, discarded gear – anything to give her a slight height advantage, she could potentially peek over the top just enough to aim and fire. Doing so would place her at an unexpected angle, perhaps catching the enemy off guard, granting her those precious few seconds she needed before the counter-fire would hone in on her position.
“I can't pull off the [Skystep] trick now. They'll be waiting for it, and I'm drained of Focus…” she whispered to herself, eyes now scanning the trenches for that perfect spot to make her stand. The adrenaline surge of a potential plan manifesting in her mind only heightened her awareness, her senses acutely tuned to every possible advantage the terrain might offer.
“It could work,” she finally muttered with rising confidence in her heart.
“I’ll be right back,” Thea swiftly relayed to her squad over the comms, not pausing for any acknowledgement. In an instant, she bolted towards the trenches a few metres behind her. The memory of her recent dash to the shield, with a barrage of fire tailing her, was still fresh in her mind. She wasn't going to leave anything to chance this time.
‘Improved Sprint.’
A surge of acceleration overcame her, propelling Thea forward with a velocity she hadn't quite anticipated. Covering the perilous expanse between the shield and the trench in what felt like the blink of an eye, she slid into the trench, narrowly evading the storm of incoming fire. The sharp hiss of superheated soil from the Stellar Republic’s laser weaponry impacting behind her told the story of just how dangerous their situation was—every moment exposed was a moment closer to death.
After a few heavy breaths, allowing the rush of adrenaline to momentarily subside, Thea navigated her way to retrieve her backpack. But she came to an abrupt halt. A pang of recognition hit her hard as she caught sight of the eerily familiar armour sprawled out before her.
“Kara…?” she murmured, dread and realisation knotting her stomach. Drawing closer, her worst fears were confirmed. The onslaught of memories was overwhelming—the recent resurfacing in the trench, the chilling realisation...
‘That’s right. Kara’s dead... How could I forget about this?’ Thea thought, a wave of numbness threatening to swallow her whole. Memories started flooding back to her as she looked at the dead body of her friend, from the moment she awoke in the trench just a few minutes ago.
Kneeling beside the lifeless form of her first ever friend, she whispered, “Thanks for saving me, Kara. I promise, I’ll settle the score,” a fierce determination ignited within her.
No one was allowed to harm her friend.
The ones that did, were about to pay dearly…
Swiftly, Thea snatched up her hefty backpack, swinging it onto her shoulder, and navigated towards an area in the trenches she had previously noticed to her right. As she manoeuvred through the zig-zag trenches, she soon reached a section slightly narrower than its counterparts.
‘Perfect spot,’ she thought, setting her backpack down and propping it against the trench's back wall.
Diving into the contents of her backpack, she retrieved three essential items.
First, she brought out the UHF standard-kit foldable shovel. She needed some dirt.
The next item was a white-foam grenade, an acquisition Alpha Squad had collectively invested in after their assessment prep session.
But it was the last piece of equipment that demanded utmost attention. Carefully extracting the netting, she unfurled it, pulling away the protective layer that prevented the adhesive side from sticking prematurely. Hastily using the shovel, she scooped up soil, sprinkling it over the netting. This makeshift camouflage would be vital to conceal her rifle while she scoped out her targets.
She then turned her attention to the white-foam grenade. Inspecting it, her gaze focused on the directional arrows indicating the expansion path of the foam.
White-foam grenades, akin to their blue-foam counterparts, were indispensable in modern warfare. Utilising a proprietary chemical blend, they expelled a substance that solidified almost instantly, providing users with the means to obstruct paths or craft temporary cover that was slightly stronger than standard rock-crete.
The distinction between the two, aside from the colour, was in their application. Blue-foam grenades spread out, occupying as much surrounding space as possible, whereas white-foam grenades fashioned a 2x2 metre, approximately 50 cm thick, barrier in the direction the arrows pointed.
Having aligned the grenade's arrows, Thea activated its timer, holding it until just the last fraction of a second remained. Then, she hurled it adjacent to her position within the trench. A subdued "thump" resonated, and in its wake, a solid white-foam platform materialised about 60 cm above the trench's base. Though the platform was slightly slanted due to the grenade's unexpected tilt, it would suit her needs perfectly.
A satisfied smirk played on her lips as she mused, ‘That turned out even better than expected.’
Easily ascending the platform, Thea maintained a low profile. Swiftly, she draped the soil-infused netting over both her and her Gram rifle, ensuring her silhouette remained inconspicuous. Rising gingerly, she peeked over the trench's edge, her movements deliberate and unhurried to avoid any inadvertent giveaways.
Glancing through the Gram's scope, she meticulously scanned the horizon to relocate her targets. They soon fell into her line of sight.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
‘Gotcha…’
Zooming in to the scope's full x16 magnification, she intently observed the pair of supposed Duplicators. To her chagrin, a significant obstacle presented itself immediately.
‘Shit… Heavy armour... My Gram can't penetrate it unless I aim for vulnerabilities. There’s no way I can hit two weak spots consecutively without [Sensory Overdrive] to assist…’
She assessed her constraints, mulling over potential strategies to overcome the armour's resistance. ‘Angles aren’t in my favour here. No chance to hit a visor. Can’t go for the neck on both cause they keep moving. Might hit one, but the second I hit them, the other one’s bound to act erratic… Is there a way to hit both at once…?’
She deliberated for several moments, seeking an alternative solution. A sigh of frustration escaped her, "No shot... My Gram won't be able to—"
She halted mid-sentence, her train of thought shifting gears. A realisation dawned, causing her eyes to gleam with newfound resolve.
"Right. My Gram may not be up to the task," her expression turned triumphant, "But my Caliburn should very much do the trick."
With measured movements, Thea retreated behind the protection of the trench, removing the netting from herself and her Gram. She settled at the trench floor, unclasping her Caliburn from her backpack. She clambered back to her vantage point, employing the same concealment tactics as before, and methodically activated the grav-lock on her Caliburn’s bipod.
‘With the Caliburn, penetrating heavy armour isn’t a concern… but my position will be compromised the instant I fire. Using the Nanobot Reserves won't shield my position with the massive trail left by it, so that strategy is a no-go…’ she pondered, arriving at a course of action. ‘I'll just have to use the one moment of surprise that I get. This spot won’t be viable after, but I'll make it count.’
Surveying her surroundings, she identified two heavy weapon emplacements situated relatively close-by the Duplicators, which seemed feasible for swift targeting. ‘This isn't how it was designed... But it should do. The Caliburn can handle three consecutive shots before being at a risk of blowing up. Three bullets, four objectives... If I calibrate the slugs accurately, this should be doable.’
Gently, with slow movements so as to not ruffle the netting too much, she accessed the Caliburn's integrated interface, selecting the ammunition configuration tool.
She had only recently come across this feature in the weapon’s user guide, but its timely discovery now seemed fortuitous.
This tool permitted users to adjust specifics of the Caliburn’s rounds, contingent upon the ammunition type. Naturally, a solid uranium round would offer no flexibility. However, Thea's selected rounds—a blend of armour-piercing and explosive capabilities—allowed adjustments to the force threshold to trigger detonation.
Designed primarily as a formidable anti-fortification railgun, the Caliburn's standard ammunition could easily annihilate a person, but continue its trajectory without detonation. In her current predicament, Thea needed the slug to detonate upon impact, neutralising both Duplicators at the same time, before they dispersed.
She swiftly fine-tuned the detonation threshold of her magazine's rounds, confirming her alterations. Drawing a deep breath to centre herself, she resolved, ‘Everything’s setup. Now I just need to pull the trigger and perform.’
Aiming centre-of-mass at the first Duplicator, she breathed out halfway before holding her breath.
‘This is for you, Kara.’
With a gentle squeeze of the trigger, her Caliburn came to life.
As she squeezed, that familiar predatory growl of the gun's capacitors vibrated through her very bones, the air around her tingling with electric energy. The trench was momentarily drowned in a blinding burst of light, and an overwhelming boom shattered the comparative silence of the battlefield - the continuous gunfire thereof unable to hold a candle to the deafening sound created by the hypervelocity round of the Caliburn.
The netting that had concealed her weapon and herself was sent hurtling into the distance, propelled by the formidable shockwave that emanated from the barrel's discharge.
The slug struck the Duplicator dead centre in the torso in what seemed like an instant, leaving a trail of ionised, blue-hued air behind that crackled with overcharged electricity. Before the kinetic energy could completely vaporise the body however, the slug detonated from within.
In a gruesome display of raw force, the Duplicator seemed to inflate for a fraction of a second before violently exploding outwards. Armour shards of the heavy-type frame, once meant to protect the soldier from harm, now became deadly weapons of their own. Propelled at super-velocities from the explosion, they shot out in all directions, turning into lethal projectiles.
Soldiers nearby, caught off-guard by the unforeseen occurrence, had no chance to react.
Some were struck down instantly, while others were gravely injured, shredded apart by the metal bits of the armour of their comrade, their cries of agony piercing the aftermath of the Caliburn's roar.
The second Duplicator, standing in close proximity to his ally and similarly garbed in formidable armour, found himself directly in the crosshairs of the explosive onslaught. The combined force of the explosion and the ensuing rain of deadly fragments eviscerated him. The once sturdy figure was reduced to a brutal display of torn metal and flesh, the leftover remnants of his being catapulted beyond the fortifications like a discarded bag.
In the vicinity, a group of soldiers, eerily identical in appearance to the two Duplicators, simultaneously collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
Without wasting a moment, Thea swivelled the Caliburn to the next targets. The same electrifying sequence followed, the gun’s cataclysmic crescendo building and releasing in two rapid successions.
Two Heavy Weapon Emplacements, previously a significant threat, were now in her sights.
The slugs, each packed with a destructive combination of penetrative force and explosive payload, made short work of them. On impact, the munitions stored within the emplacements were ignited by the Caliburn’s slug’s explosive force, triggering a fiery cascade of explosions. Bright orange and red flames mushroomed into the sky, swallowing the emplacements whole, vaporising anyone that was lucky enough to be close-by. Soldiers slightly further away burned alive as the fireball engulfed them, their screams dying in their burnt out lungs before they could even be mustered.
Within moments, where once stood two formidable weapon stations, now only smouldering craters remained.
With her heart pounding in her chest, Thea wasted no time.
Swiftly, she rolled off the platform, her fingers instinctively clutching her backpack as she ran.
Mud and earth churned beneath her boots as she sprinted with urgency through the labyrinthine trenches, aiming for the relative safety of where Alpha Squad was hunkered down. Every instinct screamed at her to move faster, and she heeded the call, activating her Ability.
‘Improved Sprint.’
The trench behind her erupted in fury.
Just fractions of a second after she vacated her sniping position, a relentless hailstorm of gunfire tore into the trench's rim, mercilessly devouring the earth. The very ground where she had lain concealed moments ago was now an inferno, with explosions tearing massive chunks from the walls. It was as if the very wrath of the Stellar Republic had concentrated on that single spot, hell-bent on obliterating the shadow that had momentarily been there.
Reaching the safety of the trench behind Alpha Squad’s position, Thea's chest heaved, drawing in ragged, steadying breaths. The rush of adrenaline that had carried her thus far was now making her arms and hands tremble uncontrollably.
Suddenly, a pungent odour of charred flesh assailed her senses, causing her brow to furrow in confusion. ‘Has the scent from the explosions wafted all the way over here?’ she wondered momentarily.
However, a swift realisation shattered that thought, as her hazy mind finally caught up to all the signs pointing towards something being horribly wrong.
Firstly, her Spectre armour's HUD was blaring in a downright defeaning alarm tone, while flashing bright red warning signs at the edges of her vision.
Judging simply by the amount of stacked-up alarms, it had been doing so for a while.
'HEAT WARNING: ARMOUR COMPROMISED.'
'HEALTH WARNING: AMBIENT HEAT EXCEEDING SAFE THRESHOLD.'
'CRITICAL HEALTH WARNING: USER TAKING IRREVOCABLE HEAT DAMAGE, REMOVE HEAT SOURCE IMMEDIATELY.'
'CRITICAL HEALTH WARNING: USER TAKING IRREVOCABLE HEAT DAMAGE, REMOVE HEAT SOURCE IMMEDIATELY.'
'CRITICAL HEALTH WARNING: USER TAKING IRREVOCABLE HEAT DAMAGE, REMOVE HEAT SOURCE IMMEDIATELY.'
'CRITICAL HEALTH WARNING: USER TAKING IRREVOCABLE HEAT DAMAGE, REMOVE HEAT SOURCE IMMEDIATELY.'
And secondly, the horrifying source of the smell itself became apparent as well: It was her own right hand.
“Fuck!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with shock.
The Caliburn, having been discharged three times in quick succession without any cool-down period, had reached an alarming temperature. It had become so intensely hot that it had melted through her Spectre's gauntlets.
The searing concoction of molten plasteel and synthweave from the gloves had fused with the flesh of her hand, which had encased the body of the Caliburn for carrying purposes and was now boiling her blood within the confluence that had become of her hand. Strangely, there was no pain – just a disconcerting numbness that had kept her oblivious to the severity of the injury.
Her continued numbness to any tactile feedback confused her thoroughly, but she had bigger issues than worrying about that at this point.
Desperately, she tried to free her right hand using her left, but within moments, the heat began to compromise that gauntlet as well. Panic surged within her as she thought, ‘Just how fucking hot did this thing get?!’
As anxiety clawed at her, she recognized the ineffectiveness of her first attempt at extraction. With little time to deliberate, and fearing the ongoing damage to her hand, she opted for the most immediate solution.
Drawing one of the Throatcutter’s knives from her side, she positioned it as closely as she could to the scalding body of the Caliburn. With a swift, decisive motion, she severed the melding of plasteel, synthweave, and her own scorched flesh.
The Caliburn, now free, clattered heavily onto the ground, immediately letting off sizzling sounds as the dirt underneath it started liquifying from the heat.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Eager to prevent further damage to her invaluable weapon, she quickly propped it up on both her Throatcutter knives, having momentarily ensured their T1 materials could withstand the extreme temperature. The Caliburn bore the evidence of its heat: one side coated with molten soil and the other marred by the liquified remnants of her seared hand and the Spectre’s gauntlets.
‘At least it doesn’t seem broken,’ she mused grimly. ‘I won’t be able to use it until it cools down a bit. I really don’t want to pull the heat-release lever right now, who the fuck knows what will happen if I do. Judging by the massive heat, it would probably evaporate my hand at best, maybe kill me outright at worst…’
“Haaa…” Thea sighed with heavy exasperation, as she took a closer look at her right hand.
What met her gaze was a ghastly sight. The flesh was an angry mix of red, black, and charred gray, with parts of her skin melted together with the remnants of her Spectre gauntlet. The once recognizable lines and contours of her fingers were now mangled, a molten and deformed mess that looked like the aftermath of a horrific accident. Patches of the plasteel had bonded with the flesh, giving her hand an eerie, metallic sheen in places.
The bone was visible in sections where the flesh had been completely consumed, white and stark against the ruin.
Tendons and muscle fibres were exposed, glistening wetly, their structure altered from the intense heat. Strangely, amidst this grotesque tableau, her hand felt curiously numb, as if the nerves themselves had been seared into insensibility - she knew however, that this numbness has existed before as well.
She could see the small wisps of smoke still rising from parts of it, as the residual heat continued to smoulder and consume what little remained. The once agile and deft hand, which had mastered many a weapon and skill, was now reduced to an almost unrecognisable lump of pain and fused material.
Swallowing the bile that threatened to rise, Thea forced herself to think rationally. “I could really use you right about now, Kara…” she murmured, her voice betraying a hint of desperation and regret.
Recognizing the severity of her situation, Thea wasted no time lamenting and sprang into action. Isabella’s mission was still her priority, injured hand or not.
While her right hand was essentially rendered a clumsy weight, she meticulously began to construct a similar shooting position to the one before. Using the white-foam grenade and the netting, her movements were slower and more deliberate, compensating for the lack of dexterity.
The challenge presented itself most when handling the shovel and attempting to drape the netting atop the Gram and herself. Still, with determination, she managed to get it in place.
‘Hmm, I can’t exactly hold my rifle very well like this,’ Thea realised as she sat on top of the platform she had just created, trying to cradle the Gram in her arms as she would normally do, albeit mirrored to her left side. Even with her natural ambidexterity, the absence of a functioning second hand posed difficulties in stabilising the rifle.
As she tried searching for a solution, a certain old man’s voice rang in her mind, “Remember, Missy: Whatever your issue might be, there’s nothing an extremely generous application of adhesive tape can’t solve. Always bring adhesive tape. Tons of it.”
Chuckling at the memory and the sheer absurdity of the advice, she conceded, “Might be a long shot, but it’s worth a try. I don’t exactly have any other ideas…”
Fetching a roll of adhesive tape from her backpack, she began to meticulously bind her right hand to the Gram. Careful not to obstruct the Gram’s delicate mechanisms, she used a substantial portion of the roll before inspecting her handiwork.
To her astonishment, the tape held firm. With the Gram now secured with her right hand, she shouldered it and took a couple of mock-shots, quickly pivoting the gun from one side to another, as if to switch targets at a distance.
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and with a shake of her head, she murmured, “I can’t fucking believe he was right. This actually works way too well!”
With her weapon mostly usable now, she sat back up on the platform. Thinking for a brief moment, she decided that she’d try to keep this spot alive for as long as possible.
Swiping her hand over one of the Spectre’s small data screens, she activated the Nanobot Reserves.
As Thea activated them, a shimmering swarm emerged from the Spectre armour's specialised module. For a brief moment, as they poured out, the tiny nanobots were visible to her keen eyes, moving as a cohesive, concentrated mass. But as they began to disperse, they became increasingly difficult to discern, their minuscule forms blending seamlessly with the environment. Even with her heightened Perception, she soon lost sight of them entirely.
Moments later, the Spectre's data screen pulsed softly, indicating the successful deployment of the nanobots. Thea sat pondering, a hint of scepticism playing on her face. It was her first time utilising these Illusion-type Nanobot Reserves. The selling point had been their ability to obfuscate her exact location by manipulating and refracting light sources, effectively making her laser shots appear to emanate from various, misleading directions.
Yet, with them now effectively invisible, she had to trust in their operation without any visual feedback. "Will these really work as advertised…?" she mused quietly, the uncertainty evident in her tone. If they did function as described, they would be invaluable in keeping her enemies guessing and misdirected.
However, without being able to see them at work, it was all but a leap of faith on her part…