Hard Drop (7 page)

“While it’s just the three of us,” he growled, “You wanna talk about what we’re doing out here?”

Tyco shook his head. “When we reach the rally point.”
 

Ringo snorted. “Fucking need-to-know bullshit.”
 

Tyco glanced at Ghost and smiled thinly. “Saving my breath for the right audience.”
 

“What audience?” Ringo was instantly, bristling at the thought of being disrespected.
 

“The others, at the rendezvous. Wouldn’t be efficient for me to tell you now.” Tyco watched Ringo carefully, watched the anger build in his eyes. It was a dangerous game he was playing, needling Ringo this early, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Beyond the vague outline he’d given the troopers in the launch bay, he had little more information to give. Until they reached their rendezvous and the satellite updated the information in his rifle display, he couldn’t give him the answers he wanted, and what little he did know would only frustrate him further. So it was better to keep Ringo in the dark and slightly angry, thinking he was being slighted, than try to answer him and allow the seed of doubt to plant in his head. Had it been anyone else asking, Ghost included, he might have felt differently, but with Ringo…
 

A pinging on his display broke the silence between the men. Ghost and Tyco checked their displays instinctively, ignoring Ringo’s menacing stare.
 

“Contact.” Tyco looked up at Ghost, seeing the same glimmer of hope in his eyes. “At last.” He turned into the woods, pulling his rifle off his shoulder and setting course directly for the beacon.

They found the pod in a small, green clearing. It was unopened, but not alone. Three of the local soldiers had found it first, and were now trying to force its latch. They laughed easily, making a game of it, taking turns slamming the dark glass with their rifle butts and kicking at it with their boots. The bulletproof door was unresponsive, and Tyco could see through his scope that they were making very little headway.
 

The soldiers soon grew bored, and their efforts became more focused and earnest. When a quick burst of gunfire did nothing to break the glass, one of the men forced his rifle tip deep into the crack between the latch and the pod's body. He set about throwing his weight against it, working the hard metal deeper into the groove.

The distracted soldiers didn't notice as Tyco crept up on them. They didn’t hear Ringo's machete clanging against his rifle barrel as he took up a flanking position, and they certainly heard nothing of Ghost’s creeping advance along the forest floor. Nor did they hear the crackle of the comms wavelength as Tyco tapped in, trying to reach the trooper in the pod and getting no response.

The rifle rattled in the gap, slowly widening it with each shove. As the hatch creaked open, the soldiers fell silent. They trained their guns on the pod, fingers on triggers, anticipating the moment when the gap would be wide enough to fire through.

Tyco covered his mouth to dampen the sound and tapped in quickly. They were going to need to move fast if they didn’t want to lose this soldier.
 

“Chip – “ he whispered.

“Sorry, Cap, the trees –“ Chip answered.
 

Tyco clicked twice in acknowledgment. He turned to Ringo, making a great show of quietly unlatching his safety. Ringo smiled broadly and followed suit. Tyco pointed to the left soldier, then at Ghost. To the right, and at Ringo. The middle soldier, the one forcing the latch, he would take down himself. He sighted in and slid forward even as the gun rattled harshly in the groove its barrel had worn. He took aim at the soldier’s head and raised his hand, preparing for another silent countdown.

It never came to that. The wedged rifle groaned against the latch, forcing it open until it finally gave.
 

The pod door swung open suddenly and with surprising force. To Tyco’s relief, the pod contained no soldier. Unfortunately for the local soldiers, it contained something else: a dense cluster of wires, a small package of plastic explosive, and a blinking red light. And Tyco smiled, knowing instantly who had been in the pod. In the brief instant the device had been exposed, he had recognized her handiwork.

The pod exploded, the impact roaring through the trees and throwing a giant tongue of flame skywards. The soldiers had had no time to react: one second, they had stood casually, attacking the pod and preparing to dispatch its occupant, the next, they had disappeared, swallowed by the flames erupting from the makeshift explosive.

The team emerged slowly from their cover, staring at the wreckage.
 

“Clever girl.” Tyco muttered, smiling.
 

“Well I’ll be – “ Ringo said, and then, “Was that a rig?”

“You bet your ass it was.” Hog emerged from the woods, strutting out towards them. “I saw those fuckers on the way down. Got cracking on that surprise as soon as I hit.”

“Bullshit.” Ringo countered, turning to Tyco for backup. “Cap, come on, that’s bullshit.”
 

“No kidding.” Tyco chuckled. “Even if she were looking down the whole way, the speed would be – “ He stopped short, seeing the unapologetically murderous look on Hog’s face. “Yeah, I’m not getting into this.” He finished, letting his eyes trail over the destroyed pod. There was little left of the pod, and no trace of the local soldiers. “Nice work.” He grinned at Hog.

Hog smiled at Ringo triumphantly, then glanced over his shoulder. Ghost waved at her shyly, brushing the dirt and leaves from his fatigues. “Is this it?” She asked.

“Well, and – “ Tyco started.

“Hi, Lover.” Chip was in rare form today, his sheer, incredible strangeness oozing across the comm. Recognizing his voice, Hog let him have it right back, her whole body turning lithe and playful as she tapped back her response.
 

“Come down here and say that, big boy.” She crooned into her mic.

Ringo stared at Tyco, mouthing ‘Big boy?!’ in disbelief. Tyco rolled his eyes and looked away.

“I can’t, Sugar, I’m on the clock.”
 

“I’ll take a rain check.” Hog shot back, licking her lips audibly, and added, “Stud.” Ringo watched her, open-mouthed. Oblivious to the sarcasm dripping through her voice.

“Are you guys done?” Tyco barked at last, taking pity on Ringo’s anguish. “Yeah? We’re five clicks from town, and I need you sharp when we get there.” Long silence was his answer, and he tapped in again. “Just saying.” He stepped off through the woods, shaking his head as he went.

Ringo, meanwhile, was looking Hog over with new eyes, running a well-practiced eye up and down her figure as if he’d just seen her for the first time.
 

The look on her face when he finally reached her eyes was enough to freeze the blood racing through his veins. She racked her shotgun meaningfully, without breaking his stare. Ringo wavered for the briefest of instants, then turned on his heel abruptly and strode off, putting distance between the two of them as quickly as possible.

“Women.” He muttered bitterly, to no one in particular, and moved off down the hill.

FIVE: INTO THE BREACH

Civilization came suddenly, in the form of a small, crude suspension bridge. Invisible until they had nearly emerged from the woods, it was little more than a collection of wooden slats laid parallel over thin steel beams. A rough and fraying rope held the swinging bridge in place over a thundering waterfall. Churned water droplets sprayed up from below, coating the wooden slats in a thin, slick foam. Heavy rubber tire tracks screamed across the wood, their width and the depth of the impressions they had left in the planks looking far in excess of what the flimsy construction could hold.
 

“They drive machinery over that?!” Hog turned to Tyco in disbelief.

“Hell.” Tyco muttered. “This is the main road to the city.”
 

The bridge was guarded by two bunkers, one on either side of the chasm below. Smoking, bored-looking soldiers sat and leaned against them. In a more advanced region, on one of the inner planets, the alarm would have been raised by now, and these troops would be on high alert. But here, within ten kilometers of the colony’s capital city, the locals seemed completely unaware, oblivious to the danger advancing towards them.
 

Tyco frowned. Lazy or not, the troops here outnumbered his team, and there was no way to cross the wide, roaring river either side of the falls without drawing attention. They would have to engage.
 

“Chip, you seeing anything I’m not?” Tyco tapped in, scanning the facility through his rifle sight from the cover of the woods.
 

“Little roadblock,” Chip answered helpfully. “Nothing we can’t deal with.”

Tyco sighed, rolling his eyes as Hog smirked at him.
 

“No, Chip, I meant, how many.”
 

Silence from the other end, then – “I count seven, but there’s probably a couple more.”
 

Ringo snorted. “Probably!?” Tyco shook his head, cutting him off before tapping back in.
 

“Probably?” He repeated.

“Well there’s – trees.”
 

Tyco sighed. “How about guns?”

A longer silence than before greeted him. Long enough that he had his finger on the comm when the answer came:

“Couple turrets behind some sandbags. That’s it.”
 

Tyco frowned. He didn’t trust the carefree ease in Chip’s voice. “Alright,” He said, peering down towards the roadblock warily. “Hold your position and wait for my mark.” He turned to the team and nodded ahead to his left and right, picking out positions he knew they’d find on their own. “Let’s get to work.”
 

They fanned out quickly, staying low and sneaking through the brush. Tyco settled in behind a fallen log, adjusting his scope to focus on the interior of the first bunker, making out the silhouette of a heavy machine gun wedged against a pile of sandbags. He inched his rifle upwards, tracing along the concrete wall until he found the gunner.
 

“Chip, what’s your range?” he asked.

“Close enough.” Chip responded helpfully.
 

“You sure?”

Chip didn’t answer. Tyco sighed.
 

“Ringo? Hog? Ghost?” A series of quick taps answered him. They were in position, too close to answer verbally.
 

One of the guards broke away from the far bunker and walked out halfway across the bridge. He stepped to the railing, and with a familiar, well-practiced motion, unzipped and leaned over the side.
 

Tyco chuckled and tapped in. “I’ve got my man.” He said. “Chip, take the far gun. Ringo, Ghost, take the near sentries. Hog, clean it up. Let’s keep it quiet, alright? No explosives.”
 

Another quick double-tap came in acknowledgment. Silence from Chip.
 

“Alright, on Chip –“ Tyco began, even as the shot rang out.
 

Tyco stared at the far gunner through his sight, pausing mid-sentence in tense expectation. But the man didn’t fall. The bullet zipped past his head and smashed into the concrete wall behind him, throwing up a small cloud of dust. The guard jerked to life, looking up and towards the hillside in alarm. He jumped on the turret and wheeled it towards the forest, blindly opening fire.

“Son of a Bit-“ The end of Chip’s word was lost, swallowed by radio static. All hell broke loose on the bridge. The second machine gun joined in, raking the forest, showering leaves and branches down on the Tyco.
 

Tyco opened up in response, targeting the near machine gun nest as best as he could. One of his bursts caught the gunner’s shoulder, and the angle of fire rocketed skyward briefly, then returned with a vengeance, zeroing in on Tyco's position. The log in front of him shuddered with the repeated impacts, and Tyco ducked, scrambling backwards, diving blindly for cover.
 

Ringo’s machine gun opened up closer to the bridge, pounding the gun placement loudly and mercilessly, seemingly immune to the hail of gunfire that turned on him. Whatever else you said about Ringo, the man had balls.
 

Tyco, safely out of the machine gun’s field of fire, tapped in angrily.
 

“Chip - ?!”

“He moved at the last sec – “ Chip’s response tailed away again as another shot rang out. Peering around the tree, Tyco was just in time to see the far gunner slump, his machine gun falling silent. He sighed in relief. “Second time’s the char –“

An explosion rocked the bridge, pulverizing the near guardhouse and throwing up a cloud of white cement dust and gravel. The shooting stopped abruptly.
 

“What did I say about explosives?” Tyco growled through his teeth.
 

“Yeah, I heard you.” Ringo roared back over the radio, between bursts of fire. “You also said you to keep it quiet, so - !”

Tyco rushed through the woods towards the bridge, making the most of the temporary cover the dust provided. He was three steps down the open road when a gust of wind cleared it abruptly, leaving him exposed. For a long, awful second, he found himself staring up at the wide-eyed, dusty-lipped machine gunner, still standing at his turret in the bombed-out bunker. Tyco ripped his rifle to his shoulder and fired –
 

Just as a second shot echoed against the hillside. The gunner flew backwards, thrown against the bunker wall, an angry red bullet hole in his forehead.
 

“Damn it, I had that one - !” Chip groaned over the radio.
 

“Hog -?” Tyco stared across the bridge, adrenaline coursing through him. He saw nothing but bodies on the ground ahead, caked in a muddy mixture of the grey concrete dust and the swirling, wet mist from the falls below. He reloaded and hurried forwards, fearing the worst.

A form loomed on the bridge ahead, coming into focus through the mist as they approached: the same sentry they had caught with his pants down, now stranded on the wide-open bridge. He stared at the troopers, flatfooted and shellshocked, blinking quickly to clear the dust from his eyes.