Chapter 17 - New In Town

 “Alright,” the Commander started. “As you can see, We've brought on a new recruit, who I believe you've all met.” She was standing at the front of the briefing room with Standish, Tony sheepishly between them, arms in front of her body, clawing at where the front of her shirt would be if it weren't tucked in.

“I haven't met her, yet,” Adrian said from the rear left corner. He was leaning in near-full recline, balancing the chair on it's rear legs, feet kicked onto the chair back in front of him. “I'm Adrian.” He saluted with a wink, chin pressed into his muscular chest.

“Tony Un,” she responded with a bow.

“Oh, DRPC's TriMil wunderkind,” Adrian pulled his feet off the chair in front of him and planted both the front legs of the chair and his feet back on the ground, legs splayed, arms around the backs of the adjacent chairs. “Haven't seen you since you dominated a few Olympics ago. You've...grown,” he stopped for an uncomfortable chuckle. “You had so much potential. Kinda fell off the face of the Earth if I remember correctly.”

“Yes,” she nodded with an eye-squitingly large smile. “I was recruited into the Homeland's engineering corps directly afterward as reward to my talent. It is there that I became involved with their Mech program, and what has lead me to you.”

“The 'Mech' program is the DPRC's version of the CORE project,” the Commander interjected. “She spent significant time researching and repairing their 'Mechs' and has critical knowledge of their operating systems.”

“That sounds like a pretty sweet gig, what pulled you away?” Adrian inquired.

“It is not a very good life in the Homeland unless you are part of the Nobility,” Tony rocked back and forth nervously, reminding Jim of Molly again. “Our nation is not so friendly to those of poor means. Unlike the Allied Axis, we do not provide basic amenity to our citizens, and allow for a deeply stratified society based on personal wealth and influence. I come from a small commune in the farming country of our Dome. Our life was very hard. My father worked with a woman from the Axis and she offered to smuggle us out of the country if we would betray the Homeland and inform.” Tony looked at her shoes and pulled a face Jim couldn't read. “It was shameful, but he did what he needed to do to provide for his family, and I honor his choice. I met Carol here while I was serving my compulsory service.”

“Tony,” the Commander put a hand on her shoulder, a wistful softness smoothing her otherwise hard face. “Thank you. Mr. Rothgur has run into issues while refurbishing Ehecatl, and we're hoping she can help out and eventually pilot him.”

“I built a hierarchical map of the MechOS and decoded the EFI layer,” Tony replied with a beaming grin. “The chat I just had with Mr. Rothgur would imply that the issue he is having is a driver-related problem. Ehecatl appears to be an older-generation Mech and the parts he is attempting to repair the machine with are not properly accounted for. I believe that if I modify some middle-ware files, the Mech will begin operating correctly.”

“See what I mean?” Standish said audibly to Carol, though he obviously meant it for only her ears. “This is why I think she should have been recruited in as an engineer, not a pilot. She could accelerate our understanding of the Cores by years!” He gesticulated passionately in the Commander's direction.

“I am standing right here Eli,” Tony turned at the waist to scowl at him.

“Was I talking to you?” Standish snarled and stuck out his tongue at her.

The commander turned full to face Standish and took a step back, putting both hands on Tony's shoulders, “You know that part of her conditions for joining the CORE program was that she be allowed to pilot, and I support her. Having a tech-savvy engineer in one of the plugs can only be a positive thing.” She gestured to the seats with one of her free arms, “Tony, please sit down.” She took a seat several chairs away from Jim and the others. “Now, for the reason I called you in. As you all know, the IA will have us resume operations in the next few weeks. Mr. Kuiriston, however, wants me to spend less time working with you guys and more time recruiting. In spite of our new higher profile, Mr. Kuiriston has talked our allies into doubling down on the CORE project. He wants Ehecatl running and Tony in the driver's seat by the end of this year and all three of our remaining properties operational by the end of next year.”

“That's quick,” Marion said, a stern expression riveting her well-defined features.

“Which is why,” the Commander crossed her arm and shifted into her T-stance, “You will be taking over for me.”

“What?!” Marion shot up, again knocking her chair over.

“You're being upgraded,” Standish said, flanking the commander and resting a hand on her shoulder. The commander stared disdainfully as the hand and then scowled at Standish, who nervously removed it and then used it to cut in front of the commander, sashaying around her and almost lunging into view. “We're promoting you from team captain to coach. Welcome aboard!” He began clapping and scanning the empty chairs with a large, toothy grin.

“Would you cut that out?” The commander smacked him across the back, sending him jolting forward as he caught himself unceremoniously, straightening the rumples in his suit as he composed himself. “I am putting you in charge of mission command. One of our lead techs will be stepping up to take over the back end work, so you will still be required to keep up with your training and piloting duties, but now you will have a direct interface with Mr. Kuiriston and will be required to operate with the larger picture in mind when you are in the field.”

“And when do I start?” Marion pulled her chair back underneath her and flopped down in semi-shock.

“Effective immediately,” The commander stepped forward to stand abreast of Standish. “Tomah, you'll be shifting into the Gold-one position. You two should meet up in the Ops room after this with whomever base command has nominated.”

“As for our next campaign,” Standish spoke up, leaning a shoulder-bump into the commander, who took a step back and conceded the floor with a sweep of the arm, “we're getting some reports of Outsider activity in one of the southern farming districts. We don't need all of you, so we'll be sending Tomah and Jim out in the heavies to shake them down. Meet at the docks tomorrow at oh-nine-hundred for a quick brief on the specifics.”

“And, more change is coming down,” the commander stepped up. “Good news and bad. The good news is that all non-support staff with A+ clearance and above are now allowed to travel off base without shore leave.”

“Woah, no way!” Blaize leaned forward in his chair, “we can go topside whenever we want? Wicked!”

“The bad news, though,” Standish interrupted, “is that this base, and the CORE project as a whole, is no longer affiliated with the IA's military, and is now officially a New Roman Industries office campus. Meaning all of our military titles and accommodations are stripped away.”

“What about our salary and benefits?” Jim asked gravely as he too sat up in his seat, the rest following suit in stunned awe.

“Well,” the commander began, “That's where it gets complicated. NRI will be taking over your salary compensation, and most all of the associated benefit.”
“That's good, then,” Adrian piped up after a long sigh.

“Most,” Commander Cecilia, began, “not all. In an effort to allay the new costs, NRI is converting this bunker to its new Central Command headquarters, and will be reallocating space to 'maximize the real estate,'” air quotes, “meaning that the Styx and Ritz are getting cleared out and turned into executive dorms. And the Mall is getting cleared out, as well, and filled with more traditional commercial outlets.”

“You mean...” Tomah trailed off.

“We tried everything we could,” Standish picked up. “Carol and I used all of our weight to try and keep you in the Ritz. But...” Standish himself trailed off.

“But,” the commander tagged in, “Kuiriston's order was final.”

“What about Molly,” Jim piped up, the realization dawning on him mid-thought.

“You and Molly, as with all of you, are being given a series of flats in the office building you all use to access the city,” the the commander replied.

“Wait, they're kicking us off base, too, Commander?” Adrian piped in angrily.

“The entire base is being converted into an office space. All non-essential support staff are being moved into the building. The underground train stop is going to get connected into the subway system and the lift is getting converted into a service entrance,” the commander responded. “Technically, it's against the law for you guys to call me 'commander' anymore, either.”

“So what do we call you?” Marion replied, her voice sounding shattered.

“Well,” she began, “probably just Carol, now. We'll be giving you more information on all of this as it develops. You'll have ample notice before they kick you out of the dorms and there'll be a lag-time between when everything comes online and now, but this is really happening, guys. It's the only way we can keep operating. You're all dismissed.” Everyone except Jim and Tony stood up and made their way out of the room. Carol turned, “Tony, can you stay behind? Jim, what're you still doing here?”
“Oh,” Jim said, shaking his head and standing, “you usually ask me to stay behind.”

“Well,” she replied, “I don't have anything. So, you can go.”

“Oh,” Jim stood and dug his hands into his flight suit's pockets. “I actually was wondering something.”

“What's that?”

“I had kinda thought you were prepping me to take over for Marion,” Jim looked at his shoes and rocked his body back and forth.

“Everyone on the team is much older and has spent much more time in the field than you. Tomah has a good rapport with everyone and was next in line behind Marion,” The commander replied indignantly, almost condescendingly.

“Oh. I see. I had just thought that with all this talk of me being the 'Big Gun' and all the hushed tones surrounding me, that I was...I don't know, that you'd make some kind of exception for me,” Jim made nervous eye contact with the commander's stone face, trying hard to hold her gaze.

“Jim,” she started softly, her face relaxing. “You're a prodigy, not a virtuoso. One day you'll make a great leader, but you've still got a lot to learn and need a lot more practice. Technical perfection can only get you so far, you need just as much time in the field to really learn how a campaign is run. Plus, no battle-tested soldier is going to listen to some hot-shot Poindexter fresh out of Lyceum who hasn't even served his compulsory time. You need to earn your stripes, Jim.” The commander turned to Tony and signaled her to come over. “Come on, Tony, I want to talk to you about a few things.”

Tony stood as Jim shuffled away and grabbed his bicep with a lung, “I think you would have made a very good commander, Jim.” She smiled warmly, forcing her eyes to squint, as she let go and made her way over to Carol with a skip.

As he exited the room, Blaize and Adrian were standing off to the side, as though they had been listening in. Blaize slapped Jim on the back, his thumb and finger grasping the back of his neck at the nape. “Welcome to the group, man. Let's go to the cafeteria. I'll get you a sandwich.” He pushed Jim down the hall as Adrian flanked his other side and wrapped an arm around his back.

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“It's cozy, Jim.” Molly rested a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie. The space was actually quite huge. The opposite of cozy. Overly modern, would be how Jim would describe it. Stark. The walls were a neutral grey, the floor a brown concrete. The ceiling was a flat white, pock-marked with little recessed light sources. “Carol said that NRI would cover all of our furniture and domestic supply costs, and they're going to keep providing a maid service.”

Jim shook his head into place. The kitchen was along the rear wall, separated from the main room by a giant island. It was truly impressive: a gourmet-quality food printer, full open-flame range, and an industrial-sized refrigerator, all matte silvery metal to match the walls. There was an elaborate bank of cupboards and cabinets, as well as a large pantry creating a symmetry with the fridge. “At least we have a nice kitchen,” Jim replied as he wandered through the space, inspecting the empty shelves and cabinets.

“You should see this bedroom, too,” Molly's muffled voice echoed through the flat. Jim made his way over to the hallway next to the kitchen. It led into a white carpeted room that smelled of fresh paint and chemical cleaner. The space was massive, a walk-in closet filled the left part of the back wall, a huge bathroom taking up the right. It was tiled in gray slate, a glass-encased waterfall shower occupying its back corner. “We could get a four-post bed. I've always wanted a four-post bed.”

“We could,” Jim agreed, still daunted by the space. “We'll make it ours, I promise.”

“Did you hear that?” Molly held up a finger, pausing Jim. The knock on the door was louder this time.

“I'll go get it. Think of some ideas to do with the bedroom, ok?” Molly ran off.

“Hey!” Jim heard what sounded like Blaize's voice from the other room. He went out to see what was going on and caught Marion and Blaize huddled outside the doorway, chatting with Molly.

“Jim!” Marion said as he approached them to see what was going on. She held up a half finished case of beer. Blaize had a card table under one arm and a bunch of chairs under the other. “We're crashing your place. You don't get a say in this,” she said as she muscled past Molly and plopped the case of beer down on the kitchen island. “Blaize and I were playing cards in my room and realized that you were just down the hall from us.”

“Jim, I...” Molly started, a bit bewildered.

“It's OK,” Jim held up his hand.

“Also, I'm pretty sure you've never introduced us formally,” Blaize said to Molly after he leaned the card table and chairs against the island next to the beer.

“We met at the holiday party, actually,” Molly said with a wave and a smile. “But you were already a few cocktails deep, so I don't blame you for not remembering.”

“You've got a beautiful wife, Jim,” Marion continued as she pulled a beer out of the case and pulled the tab to make a satisfying “kutsch” sound. Another ancient hold-over that never seemed to be dethroned by any of the modern inventions of the past.

“Fiance,” Molly said, flashing the back of her hand to her and Blaize, showing off the sparkling gem on her finger.

“You got her a ring? Really?” Blaize let out a deep laugh. “Man, you really are obsessed with that old-school shit. Next thing you know, I'll see you waltzing around the office in those hideous suits Standish wears,” he let out a deep guffaw. He, as did they all, wore a sleek, seamless set of slacks and a fitted white button-down, the buttons made of small magnets holding the shirt tight, courtesy of the IA Quartermaster's store.

“You might have last year,” Jim replied with a friendly chuckle. “I idolized him when I first came on board.”

“He was wearing that stupid fedora that that guy always wears on our first date,” Molly giggled as she and Marion grabbed the card table and set up the folding chairs.

“Did you seriously wear a stupid fedora to a date?” Marion pulled her chin into her chest.

“Standish gave it to me when I first met him,” Jim replied, his cheeks turning red.

“Let me guess, on the train?” Blaize sat down at the table.

“Yeah!” Jim took a seat at the table, too.

“No shit,” Marion added in. “I met him on the train, too. Said something that I thought was really profound at the time...”

“'The truth is on the trains!'” They all said at the same time and broke out laughing.

“It's really all just a highly coordinated act, isn't it?” Jim stared down at his hands on the table. “Did Standish and Carol actually ever even have a thing?” Jim shook his head into place.

“Yeah, back when I knew them, at least,” Marion took a long draw off of her beer. “CORE was still pretty new back then. They had a place in this building, actually. Standish was head-over-heels for her. Still is, I think. I think a lot of his act is just bluster trying to piss her off.”

“What broke them up?” Molly asked as she took her seat next to Jim, cracking her own beer open and handing one to Jim. “Oh, and you don't mind, do you?” She angled the can at Blaize.

“Oh no,” he made a dismissive gesture with the back of his hand. “Something about a cat, if memory serves, though. Carol had this incredibly annoying cat, if I remember correctly,” he rotated his head at the neck to look inquisitively at Marion.

“Yeah. I don't know the details, me and Tomah were pretty new,” Marion confirmed after taking a long draw off her beer, shaking it, hearing a lack of slosh, and pushing away to grab the case and what remained within. “We went over there one time for Winter Holiday dinner. General says 'Come over,' you go, you know what I mean? So I don't know for sure,” she pulled a beer out of the case after lazily flopping into her chair. “Well, they had this cat. Just the most annoying thing in the world.” She set her beer down on the table and was gesticulating very animatedly, scanning side to side to engage everyone as she spoke. “Fat gray thing. The rumor goes, Standish had just got out of the shower and saw the cat sitting on the suit he had just laid out for the day. He yelled at the thing to scram, but when he went over to inspect, the cat had left a brown and yellow surprise all over it, if you know what I'm saying,” she elbow-checked Jim and Adrian, who were sitting on either side of her. “Next thing you know, Standish is standing in a fine red mist. Apparently he couldn't take the cat ruining his suit, so he grabbed his pistol from the nightstand and turned the thing into thin air.” She paused to grab her beer and pop it open. “And that is why they broke up and secretly hate each other.” She angled here beer can at Molly and Jim as she pulled the tab and lowered her head, giving Jim and Molly a comically devious look.

“Anyway,” Blaize carried on as Marion quickly chugged half a beer. “You guys play bridge?” He pulled a pack of cards out of his breast pocket.

“I learned from my grandma when I was really young,” Molly nodded as she set her beer down and put her hands flat on the table.

“I'm pretty sure I remember. It's the one with trumps and points and tricks, right?” Jim took a long swig of his own beer and accepted the cards that Blaize began dealing to him.

“Yeah,” Blaize nodded solemnly as he deftly dealt the cards. He threw each one with just the right amount of spin so that they wheeled into the piles that were forming in front of each of them and stuck underneath without overshooting. “It's the one where you count the points in your hand and bid based on what you have to try and 'win' a round of hands, each set of four called a 'trick.' I used to play it on a competitive circuit before I joined the force.”

“Jim,” Marion prodded, “It's your bid.”

“Oh,” he shook his head into place as he reassessed his cards and counted his points.

“How do you live with that?” Marion prodded Molly with a sideways point.
“It's worse when he gets in his Aug-world,” Molly leaned across and bypassed Blaize and Jim. “He gets into this little 'realm,'” she air-quoted with a chuckle, “and I swear I can lose him for the day if I don't remind him that there's a physical existence he needs to be paying attention to.”

“Oh god, yeah!” Marion nodded enthusiastically in response, “When Blaize or Tomah get lost, I swear, they're just in their own little zone.”

“It's just too easy” Blaize started as he organized his cards, “I have a feed that gives me a slight buzzing at the top of my head whenever something happens that I think will mean we have go out on mission.” He shuffled a card from the front of his hand into the rear. “I have my body trigger a sort of, I don't know how to describe it,” he cocked his head to the side as his deep green-white eyes stared into the middle distance. “I get this sort of dull thrumming sensation whenever something that requires our attention is about to happen. One-Clubs, by the way,” he bid as he made a nodding gesture to Jim. “Like, I knew we were going to get pulled off the SU retribution mission way before the briefing. My sensors thrummed and I just knew.”

“How does that work?” Molly continued shuffling her cards in her hand to organize them. “Two-Hearts, for me.”

“Well, your brain is a very plastic...wait Two-Hearts, really?” Jim interrupted himself as he finished organizing his hand. He had the Ace and King of hearts, several low diamonds, no spades and a bunch of low clubs. “Anyway, the brain is a really plastic thing. Think about reading. You don't really need to decipher every letter and the more you do it, the less it becomes a sort of conscious act and instead becomes, well, a sort of 'sense.' We can use the data streams we get fed from our implants to trigger feelings based on input. I personally have a sense in place when someone is talking about me in the news. I get a sort of pressure on my back and can just 'feel' someone mentioned my name in a public forum. Also, Three-Clubs.”

“Yeah, and it's too easy to get overwhelmed, if you ask me,” Marion finished unshuffling her cards, “Three-Diamonds.”

“Well, if I were a techer, maybe,” Blaize moved a card in his hand to a different position. “But, in case you can't tell by the fact that I play fucking bridge, with physical cards, at a physical table, I've always been an analog guy. Four-Clubs.”

“Heh, Four-Diamonds I say to that,” Molly beamed from behind her cards across to Marion. “Jim's never been a techer, either, thank heavens. I was paranoid when we first started dating, what with the pro-gaming background and all.”

“Not like Standish,” Jim picked up. “That guy has always been a serious techer from what I can tell. Carol,” Jim stuck his tongue out and made a face. “God I am so not used to saying her name. It doesn't taste right,” he paused to wash his mouth out with beer. “Anyway, she said that even before they started dating he lived in front of his computer. Social networking, media streams, computer gaming, code hacking, you name it. Apparently he was a screen-addict to the core. Also, Pass.”

“Understatement of the century if ever there was one,” Marion said through a guffaw. “Swear to god, when I first met the guy, Carol was always at his throat about how much time he spent at the terminal, and when he first got those implants, he lost touch with reality. That's how he got so hard-nosed. Pass, also.”

“Too much access to information,” Blaize said as he tapped his free hand to his temple and took a long pull from his beer. “It's hard to remember how badass humanity is when you see how the sausage is made. Standish knows too much about the world to see it optimistically anymore. Also, you're a wimp, Jim. Six-Clubs.”

“Oh man, I'll double that,” Molly made a “this guy” face to Marion and pointed her free hand at Blaize. “And I don't believe that. I think you can know a lot about the world and still be optimistic. I'm an ancient literature scholar. When I read some of the shit our ancestors did, it makes me weep for humanity. But then I realize where we are and that we're just animals who evolved all of these crazy abilities and we're just another generation in a long line of animals trying to understand the universe.”

“Redouble that,” Blaize snarked with a wink. “Don't look so tense Jim, we got this. Unless you're terrible at bidding.”

“I am not terrible at bidding,” Jim said with a stern smirk.

“Alright, pass on that, then. Boys, let's see you do this,” Molly said as she pulled her cards in front of her face. “Oh!” She pulled her cards to her chest, “No cheating! If I see either of your eyes start glowing, you forfeit the hand,”she squinted at them as she re-erected her picket fence of cards.

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There was a boom from the other side of the trench Jim, Tomah, and Adrian were hiding in. “Third Legion confirms the artillery blast was a hit, The turret is down,” Tomah's portrait said from the Upper-right-hand corner of his HUD, his words translated into text. Adrian was on the left side, but because he was un-Auged and couldn't share a mental rendering to Jim, it was a static animation. Jim had spent a considerable amount of his down-time from the CORE program suspension developing a really cool graphical user interface and trained Tomah and Blaize how to use it so they could all “pool” their perceptions together. “Move up, on my mark. Go!”

Heimdall stood up and chopped his arm forward. Vishnu and Cúchulainn stormed over the ledge and sprinted past a burnt-out crater where the makeshift turret had been set up. They stormed from the dried river bed that served as their impromptu-trench into a thick of wood the turret was defending. The tree cover was dense but the trees were reasonably short, unable to hide the massive cores just standing. They rushed forward and hit the deck, full-grown trees collapsing like grass in explosions of splinters beneath them, just as a wave of mass-driver rounds came ripping through the air. Two giant mobile platforms were flanking the either side of a low-slung blue Dome.

“I'm in place with the Sixth,” Standish came over. He was in full camouflage garb, but no longer wore his medals of decoration or any signifier of rank. They were mercenaries, now. “We just need you to level those platforms and get the dome open so we can capture this enclave. This is the last mission on the campaign, guys. You can do it!” Standish's portrait, which took up the center-top portion of the screen, made a wide mouthed, toothy smile and gave two thumbs-up, his assault weapon hanging across his chest, angled down on the body harness it was attached to. Soldiers in the Sixth Robotic, decked out in sleek exoskeletons, were marching past him in the background, giant gattling artillery and energy weapons mounted on their shoulders, heavy-packs full of ammunition clipped on underneath.

“Alright. We need to engage directly. What did we decide was the best strategy in the sims, Jim?” Tomah's portrait inquired.

“I believe we settled on rocket launchers and a cross-lattice charging path,” Jim replied as he peeked his head up over the treetops.

“I can invoke my power,” Vishnu responded in Jim's head.

“Vishnu says he can activate the hyperspeed field engines,” Jim parroted over the intercom.

“Vishnu says,” Adrian repeated. “That still freaks me out. I'm glad you finally came clean about the AI after the new kid mentioned it, but it's still weird as hell to think these things have personalities programmed into them. I'm excited for her to unlock them in our Cores, but it's still weird.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Jim came across, “I didn't want you guys thinking I was hearing voices in my head, and honestly, it just never really came up.”

“But you do hear voices in your head,” Vishnu replied.

“You know what I mean,” Jim replied to himself. “So, go-no go on the badass sonic boom shit?” He addressed to the others.

“I think we should hold off, for now,” Tomah responded in a very calculated tone. “I don't want to freak out the Sixth Legion, and the last time we used it, the press had a field day. I have no idea how many eyes are on us. If things get dicey, we'll reconsider but this should be pretty surgical. Let's use the assault pattern we've rehearsed.”

“Roger that, Gold-one. Ready to charge on your mark,” Jim unclipped the large mass driver strapped across his back. It expanded into a rifle with a satisfying clunk as he swept into a prone shooting position.

“I have a mark on objective Alpha-one,” Tomah replied. “Bull-three, charge at will.”

“Roger that,” Adrian acknowledged as Cúchulainn pushed himself upward flat, as a plank, and held level, levitating parallel to the ground for what seemed like several seconds. He folded slightly at the waist and bounded forward in a roll as his feet connected with the ground, his torso thrown forward into a full roll, narrowly avoiding mass driver bullets as they hissed through his former location in the air like an after-image. As he rolled out of his position, trees exploding in wooden shards as the avalanche of advanced metals and sinewy cables plowed through the forest, he engaged in a mad-dash sprint, kilt flapping off his knees as he pulled his own mass driver off of his back.

No sooner had Cúchulainn begun his run then did the lightning-streak vortex of a Longinus charge, the rocket-launcher-sized version of the Javelin round, whiz by Jim's position and slam into the mobile platform Adrian was charging. Jim took his cue and snapped into action, and, in a single push-up, swung full-vertical like a hinge centered on his feet. Two mass-driver rounds whizzed past his front and rear, Jim between the cone of their convergence. After holding a split second in his ramrod-straight posture, like Standish's walking sticks whenever he dropped it from under his arm, he too began a sprint, this time charging to the flank of the other platform's position, at a ninety-degree angle from Cúchulainn.

Just as Jim took his first stride, a rumbling shook through the ground. “First round has positive connection,” Tomah conveyed from his portrait overhead. “Target Alpha-one hit front left, lower quartile. Momentum absorbers anticipated and mitigated most of the force. No internal damage sustained. Hardening is polling at 75%. We need to get a round into the soft side or the rocket tubes. Chambering second round.”

Jim was now in full sprint. “The path winds ahead warrior, My omniscience tells me that our foes will soon understand us and we must confound them yet again,” Vishnu informed Jim of the upcoming “zag.” With a thunderous plant of his forward foot, Jim bounded parallel to the ground through a hail of mass rounds, carried his momentum into a twisted roll, pushing vertical as his feet swung over his head and connected with the earth. He then did a one and a quarter gainer landing at a vector 90 degrees from his current path, still carrying enough sufficiently-redirected momentum to resume his hell-sprint with only marginal lateral tracking. As Vishnu cleared the cross-point between he and Cúchulainn's interwoven lattice path, a second Longinus round ripped through the air in a near-deafening vortex of blue light, followed by another earth-rumbling shock. Jim was close enough now that the wave caused him to falter. He caught himself in a roll, but his rebound absorbers couldn't absorb all of the unexpected force, leaving a deep divot in the earth where his shoulder bit in, scrubbing a sufficient amount of speed from his line.

“You ok, Bull-five?” Adrian came over.

“I'm fine, shock caught me off-guard,” Jim replied as he pushed hard to regain the lost ground. “Trying to get some speed back so I can make the next cross in time.”

“I worry for you, Warrior,” Vishnu came over.

“I'm showing that you're several seconds behind, Bull-five,” Tomah stated flatly. “Hurry up. Second volley was successful. Alpha-one hit on medial-right, central point. Soft-plate was breached and functionality is polling at 40%. Anterior artillery is crippled. Chambering round three.”

Jim thrust hard on the ground with every step, his rebound-absorption engine redlining with every plant, leaving thundering footprints with each step.

“Careful, Bull-five,” Adrian came through, “You're generating an acoustic wave. The tracking will catch up too qui-”

The word hung in Adrian's mouth as a searing pain burned in Jim's left shoulder. Red buzzers whined through his world and his vision was temporarily tinted a deep red. “I am wounded, Warrior!” Vishnu thundered into Jim's head, the omnipotent voice crashing into his perception from the heavens on high.

“Bull-five, I'm showing damage, status report, now!” Tomah's frantic portrait screamed to Jim.

“Mass driver planted,” Jim said, the soreness in his shoulder soothing as compensators took over. “Oh point six meters into my left shoulder. I am back on track for the cross. Shoulder functionality is still at 66%. I am within gunning range. Engaging Alpha-one after cross.”

“Roger that,” Adrian confirmed, “I am within gunning range. Will plant after the cross and assault Alpha-two's flank.”

With another leap, hover, dive, and one-and-a-quarter twist, Jim had begun his cross, unleashing a torrent of retribution on the now-crippled Mobile platform. Adrian, too, completed his cross and peppered the opposite Mobile platform with unholy fury. “I shall not let your foolishness hinder me, Warrior,” Vishnu spoke more calmly. “I aim true that they may feel the sweet breath of Shiva.”

After several bounds, Cúchulainn and Vishnu crossed paths again and the third Longinus rocketed past in its characteristic torrent of force. Jim timed the impact perfectly and bound forward just as the rocket planted, rolling into a crouch and sliding along the ground, surfing a tsunami of dirt and earth to a halt on his plant point before the next volley of mass driver bullets came flying past his position. “Third round connection. Alpha-two's front-right, upper quartile. Hardening polling at 0%, no internal damage,” Tomah updated. “Get'em on the soft side guys!”

“Affirmative, Gold-one,” Adrian came over. From their squatted position, Jim and he propelled Cúchulainn and Vishnu into a football tackle against the side of the giant metal mountains. With a deafening whine, the behemoth mobile platforms began to shift in position, upending the earth as they slid closer to the center. Cúchulainn and Vishnu, all the while continuing to push like monstrous sumo wrestlers, punched furiously at the less-hardened plates along the outside flank of the triangular Mobile-10's, each fistfall pock-marking the heavy metal sheathing them.

“Alpha-two is breached, charge is loaded,” Adrian's unanimated portrait spoke into the log.

After a few more punches from Vishnu, the plate finally yielded and a smallish hole appeared in one of the pockmarks. Jim planted his shoulder against the platform as he continued to push, hidden in the structure's targeting shadow. He dug his hands in and pulled the rift open. With a conscious cue, a compartment resting on Vishnu's writhing, flexing, quadriceps-like left thigh actuator flung open. He took a large explosive charge out and threw it in the jagged hole. “Alpha-one breached,” Jim updated as he pushed away from the platorm, did a front flip, planting his feet on the side of the platform, and pushing as hard as he could, like a swimmer on his return lap, rocketing himself away from the tank and rolling into a tuck and continuing forward in yet another mad sprint in a wake of mass driver rounds as he left the targeting shadow.

“Clear of the blast zone,” Adrian came over after a few bounding strides.

“Roger that, clear as well,” Jim confirmed as he began to sweep back around to the empty river bed. After a brief pause, the rounds detonated. Jim again synced the blast wave with a forward bound and tuck, riding the shockwave into a more relaxed jog and wheeled around to see the damage. The steel hills were now smoldering craters, the shockwave knocking out the protective blue dome behind them.

“That,” Standish came over breathlessly, “Was the Coolest. Fucking. Thing. I have ever seen.” Jim felt his heart skip a beat with every dramatic pause. “Sixth Legion is now clear for ingress. Thanks for the assist! Fall back to the Valiant, we'll take it from here!”

“Roger that,” they all said in unison as they reconnoitered at the river bed.

“He's right,” Tomah confirmed, “that was probably the most flamboyant mission I've ever seen. Well choreographed Jim. Down to the second. Great job, guys, near-flawless execution.”

“Near-flawless,” Vishnu chided to Jim. “You are lucky I have allowed you such access. Do not squander my gifts.”

“I'm sorry, geez,” Jim replied indignantly, “it was an unforeseen anomaly.” The fatigue washed over him as he and the rest set out on the slow march back to the dropship. The adrenaline had finally faded from his system, and his metabolic levels were reading in the low thirties, his Core's energy reserves not faring much better.

“If you had spent more time practicing,” Vishnu again chided, “Maybe you could have 'foreseen' it.”

“Ugh,” Jim sighed in defeat. “I'm sorry about the shoulder. Tim will fix you up.”

“This time,” Vishnu's stern voice rumbling in Jim's perception. “Next stumble may not be so lucky.”