Fall of Icarus (15 page)

           
“Nothing at all,” he hissed.

           
Yen barely heard him as the air around him began to shimmer.
 
He had the utmost trust in Penchant, but couldn’t shake a nervous feeling as though they were overlooking something obvious.
 
Expanding his consciousness, Yen searched the area nearby for any hint of sentient life, knowing that a positive search would reveal any Terran ambushes waiting to be sprung.
 
At first, he received only feedback from his own team.
 
Slowly filtering familiar brain patterns from his search, Yen sought Terran thought patterns instead.
 
The pain built slowly in his temple, distracting his focus.
 
Shaking his head, he saw Penchant preparing to step around the corner.
 
Concentrating once more, Yen was visibly stunned as the echoes from two distinct minds rolled back from down the hall they were getting ready to pass.
 
His hand shooting out, Yen grabbed a hold of Penchant’s weapons bandolier, jerking him back to safety less than a second before the Terran soldiers opened fire.
 

           
Gunfire split the uncomfortable silence, as rounds slammed into the wall across from the opening to the new hallway.
 
Round ricocheted, peppering Yen’s team with flying debris and molten metal.
 
Dropping to the ground in order to avoid the sprays of gunfire, Yen and Penchant eased backward into the relative safety of the main hall.

           
“I didn’t see them, sir,” Penchant growled over the din of gunfire.
 
“I swear I didn’t.”

           
Yen nodded, understanding.
 
“They were in the alcoves.
 
They’re using the thick walls as cover.”

           
“That’s going to make it almost impossible to get to them,” Penchant said.

           
“Nothing’s impossible,” Yen said, his dark eyes glowing excitedly.
 
Opening his palm, Yen began to coalesce a thin blue tendril, similar to the one with which he had teased Keryn after dinner.
 
Not stopping at a mere foot long serpentine tendril, however, Yen pushed
himself
as the blue psychic manifestation grew increasingly longer.
 
As it extended past four feet, it began wrapping back around his arm, making more room in the spacious hallway as it continued to extend.
 
While Yen worked on creating his weapon, the rest of the team moved closer to the entrance to the hallway, positions from which they could lean out and fire at the newest threat.
 
Yen hardly noticed their movements.
 
His brain felt as though it were on fire as the tendril cleared ten feet and continued to grow.
 
Not much more, Yen knew, before it would be ready.
 
At nearly fifteen feet, the tendril now wrapped fully around his arm and wound around his shoulders and chest.
 
Yen relaxed and smiled softly.

           
Stepping gingerly over his prone teammates, Yen took one more opportunity to scan the area, marking the location of the nearest Terran soldier.
 
The gunfire had fallen silent as the Terrans eagerly awaited their next target.
 
Yen gave them credit for their patience, but mocked their ignorance, thinking they were safe around something as insubstantial as a metal wall.
 
Extending his upper body just far enough to see down the hall, Yen jerked his arm forward.
 
The psychic whip passed through his body with no effect, but launched forward, extending fifteen feet down the hall.
 
The blue tendril struck the wall behind which one of the two Terrans was hiding and passed through it unobstructed.
 
Protruding out the other side of the seemingly solid wall, the glowing blue tip of the tendril surprised the Terran soldier, who was unable to move as it passed undeterred through his armor and into his body.
 
His nerves felt as though they had caught fire and boiling magma pumped through his veins.
 
Screaming in agony, the Terran stumbled backward, exposing himself for the rest of Yen’s insertion team.
 
Opening fire, rounds tore through the thick armor of the soldier.
 
His body danced and jerked as more and more bullets penetrated his body before, in a heap of gore, he fell to the floor.
 
The remaining Terran returned fire, though it seemed weak in comparison.
 
Leaning back around the corner, the team hid safely away from the Terran’s barrage.

           
Yen’s temples pulsed, sending shockwaves of pain down his neck and radiating through his shoulders.
 
Though the whip had been effective, he felt drained and struggled to maintain his control.
 
As the pain washed over his forehead and took root in the deepest recesses of his brain, the blue tendril flickered before dissipating, as though caught in a strong wind.
 
The dim glow it had offered disappeared and, gratefully, the pressure within Yen’s head eased.

           
Noticing the furrowed brow and beads of sweat forming on Yen’s brow, Adam approached from the back of the group.
 
“Need me to take care of this last one?” he offered.

           
Without speaking and afraid to move his head more than a little, Yen nodded gently.
 
He could feel the bile churning in his stomach and was more focused on suppressing his urge to vomit than eliminating the remaining Terran.
 
Smiling, Adam tightened his grip on the top hand guards on his heavy machine gun before stepping around the corner.

           
Adam knew which alcove the Terran hid behind, though he was unable to see any exposed flesh, as he would have hoped.
 
Moving slightly to his right, Adam knew that it barely mattered where the Terran hid.
 
There was a reason he had brought so large a weapon.
 
As he squeezed the trigger, the jerk of the first round leaving the barrel nearly drove Adam backward.
 
Pressing down on the front grip to keep the barrel from rising too much, Adam poured hundreds of rounds per minute into the thick metal wall.
 
Shreds of metal and the polymer beneath flew into the air, filling the space between Adam and the Terran with a haze of white snow and glistening metal flakes.
 
The armor piercing rounds tore quickly through the remaining corner of the alcove before finding the softer flesh beneath.
 
As a round finally pierced through the metal plating against which the Terran leaned, the wall panel jerked, as the round slammed into the soldier’s shoulder.
 
Ripping through body armor, flesh, and bone alike, the wall beyond him was splashed with streaks of
red
as the Terran’s arm was nearly torn free of his body.
 
His howls of pain were cut short as a second and third round struck him in the lower back.
 
Shredding internal organs and soft skin, the large caliber rounds shattered the front plates of his body armor as the exiting bullets left massive, gaping holes in the Terran’s stomach.
 
Gurgling softly, he looked down before a final round lifted him from his feet, throwing him
head-first
into the wall.
 
Crumpling, the Terran slid to the ground without even so much as a twitch as his mind accepted the fact that he was now dead.
 
With a gentle whir, Adam released the trigger, letting the glowing barrel cool in the softly recycled air of the Destroyer’s circulation system.

           
Yen, his headache receding despite the noise, looked down the hall at the destruction beyond.
 
Blood and gore could be seen just beyond the sheet of falling debris.
 
Large holes scored the wall beyond the decimated alcove.
 
The bodies, or at least what remained of them, were strewn in awkward positions both on top and buried beneath the rubble.
 
Shaking his head and rubbing his ear in an attempt to remove the ringing, Yen smirked.

           
“Well,” Yen conceded, “at least they know we’re here.”

           
“I was never much for stealth anyway,” Adam admitted, smiling to himself.

           
Yen turned to the rest of the team.
 
“Check your ammunition and equipment.
 
If you’re short, let someone know so we can cross-level supplies.
 
Give me the thumbs up once you’re ready and we’ll move out.”

           
His own weapon still hung unused at his side, so Yen pulled free a magazine and handed it to one of his teammates.
 
As the rest collected their gear – supplies they had dropped during the
gun fight
– Penchant approached Yen.

           
“I almost got myself shot, sir,” the Lithid admitted with what seemed almost a tinge of embarrassment.
 
“You saved my life.”

           
“You’re right,” Yen replied, shutting off any hope of sympathy.
 
Turning toward Penchant, he glared at the Lithid.
 
Behind his dark eyes, Penchant swore he saw a flicker of soft blue light.
 
“Which means you now owe me your life.
 
If it ever comes down to it, I will expect to be able to collect on that debt.”

           
Though the Lithid was used to the traditional stern officers within the Infantry, something about Yen’s tone caught him off guard.
 
Flinching, Penchant wanted to shrink away from the half-crazed psychic.
 
Then, almost as quickly as it had appeared, the look in his eyes was gone and the soft smile returned.

           
“Alright team,” Yen called out as though nothing had happened.
 
“Let’s get ready to move out.”

CHAPTER TEN

           
Her stomach twisted in knots, as Keryn watched the radar.
 
Drumming her fingers on the console in front of her, Keryn tried to quell the rising nausea, an unfortunate side effect of her nervousness.
 
Nothing would have made her happier than fighting alongside the team as they raided the Terran Destroyer.
 
Instead, she was relegated to the
Cair Ilmun
, watching a screen of glowing blue dots signifying the members of the team.
 
Her heart had stopped when she saw the two red dots appear on the screen, though
they were quickly eliminated by Yen and his team
.
 
Frustrated, Keryn sank deeper into the pilot’s chair.
 
The radar was a direct update recorded by some of the equipment the team was carrying.
 
As it detected foreign contacts on the ship, Keryn’s screen updated.
 
As a result, she often didn’t receive an update until the group was fully entrenched in a battle against the Terrans.
 
It was like watching a sporting event two to three seconds after the action happened.
 
She could hear the explosions and yells long before the radar showed her any danger.
 
Though Keryn knew that wouldn’t always be the case, that the radar could detect enemies well in advance of the team engaging the Terrans in combat, it hadn’t been the case thus far.

           
Tracking their movements, Keryn had surmised that Yen was leading the team toward the engine room.
 
She had smiled at his decision, taking his team far from the chaos that would surround the Destroyer’s bridge and control center.
 
The infiltration team was comprised of some of the best Keryn had come across.
 
They were hardly glory-hounds, and the thought of charging the bridge in a suicidal attempt at martyrdom hardly appealed to the team.
 
The way they were moving now allowed them to do the most damage possible while engaging the fewest Terrans.
 
Yen was smart, and Keryn felt a swell of pride in her chest knowing that they stood a good chance of survival under his leadership.

           
On the console’s screen, the radar image flickered briefly.
 
Her brow furrowing, Keryn leaned forward and watched the monitor closely.
 
Again, for the briefest moment, the image wavered.
 
Slamming her palm into the side of the console, she expended the extent of her technical proficiency.
 
Beyond that, there wouldn’t be much she could do to fix the malfunctioning console.
 
To her dismay, the flickering continued, picking up a quicker pace as it continued to waver unsteadily.