Bello gives Hugh an incredulous look. "They're not going to like this, but no matter what I tell them there will be some who are going to follow their infatuation with Narsai over their common sense. I admit, if you actually survive the Imperium's net they're no doubt casting over this planet as we speak, your value as an ally would be inarguable."
Davis runs over and helps her stand. "I can't take you anywhere without you getting shot," he says. "Okay folks, I hope they taught you how to shoot and run, because that's exactly what we're doing. Form a perimeter around Ngawai and me and we'll head for the monument rubble and take cover there until the Morningstar arrives. Get down and clear the first floor, we'll be right behind you."
He waits for the rebels to leave, and the two of them start down the stairs. He looks at her, concerned. "Can you run?"
"Right," Davis says. They hurry down to the door where the four rebels are waiting. "Alright, on three, one, two, three!" They burst out and start hauling ass for the monument, looking for a good place to hide in the rubble.
Angel continues looking down the rifle, his pose tense.
"Get our friend here and yourselves clear of the wreckage and out of sight first, I'll bring up the rear. We'll figure out what we're doing once we're not quite such obvious targets."
Angel continues looking down the rifle, his pose tense.
"Get our friend here and yourselves clear of the wreckage and out of sight first, I'll bring up the rear. We'll figure out what we're doing once we're not quite such obvious targets."
"Agreed. Ok, Arketta...you heard the man. Let's get our prisoner outta here." replies Max, hooking his arm under the Nebbish man.
Angel listens to Arketta and Max drag their bleeding prisoner away from the gravcar. Leaving him would increase their speed and stop the blood trail, but it'd be a shame to be on the run with absolutely no local intel.
Angel's seen a lot of shit in the past year. On Whiirr, the primal oddness of that alien jungle threw him off. It threw everybody off. Here, however, it almost feels normal. Like the North Carolina forests near Fort Bragg, except with a B-movie's orange camera filter thrown on at the last minute to make everything seem otherworldly.
Max and Arketta wish their balding, bleeding friend would wake up and at least carry some of his own weight. It's like dragging Paul Giamatti through the Blair Witch Project. Max hears water at least, and the mostly-mobile trio half drags, half-slides their way down to a muddy creek. The water's (again, "water" being Max's best guess at this time) carved out a filthy overhang through some of the trees' root systems, creating a sort of tangled shallow cave.
Back at the car, Angel doesn't see or hear anything coming for them. It's only been a minute, though, and although Max's wild ride took them a fair distance into the forest those Kansat drones were pretty fast as well. It's a good bet that if they have some on their tail that they'll be on their way in the next few moments.
---
Davis, Ngawai, and the four rebels wriggle their way out of the first floor rubble and into Aikoro's sunlight. Ngawai holds her arm to her shoulder stump and pushes with her legs as Davis pulls her the last few feet. It's not a stealthy exit, but the group is soon up and crouch-running between the stopped and scrapped grav-vehicles towards the concourse.
One pulse-beam from the roof sprays Davis with stinging street fragments. The rest of the dropteam the skimmer ejected are lining up shots as their targets zigzag for safety. As for the skimmer, it floats downward, drifting back and forth on its damaged stabilizers. Bello and the D-boys inside the gravsled watch gleaming streaks obscure their comrades with smoke and fire. The rebels run on unscathed, although several nearby gravcars burst into flame, sending pillars of black smoke skyward.
The Morningstar's impellers create visible ripples in the air as it comes in low and fast from the southeast. It's still maybe 10 seconds from the LZ; an eternity when you're under fire.
Angel doesn't have to wait long. The skimmer's high-pitched whine filters through the forest canopy. Angel can't see the Kansat vehicle, but he can imagine it slowing as its drones close on the gravcar, a blue eyesore in the midst of the trees.
There are only two drones; Kansat models, with the flashers and the sirens. The disorienting strobes are currently off, and the spheres pick their way through the forest following the trail of scattered foliage. As soon as they see Angel, the skimmer's turret might as well have a direct line of sight to the Delta operator.
Luckily, Angel's got the drop on the little machines. They're about 30 meters out and moving fairly erratically. It's a hard two shots, but without its eyes on the ground the skimmer would have to drop its troops, wait for backup, or break through the trees itself.
---
Gunfire - real gunfire - rings out over Aikoro! Muzzle flashes illuminate Bello's plain white gravsled while the handful of surrounding rubber-neckers start spreading out away from this new souce of panic.
The skimmer shudders under the pounding. A hailstorm of 7.62mm from Hugh and Mellish sprinkled with Stanhill's .45 slugs patter off the skimmer's armor. Some of the rounds find purchase in the Kansat skimmer's tough skin, prompting the pilot to swing the holed and smoking skimmer round towards the new threat. Semo's 25mm shell rocks the flyer and the pilot loses control for a heartbeat.
Davis chances a glance upwards when Semo's weapon rocks Gran's Hope with thunder. The skimmer's not chasing Davis' group anymore, not by a longshot. The three dropmen on the roof seem to be a little rattled by the gravsled's assault on their vehicle as well; they're still shooting at Davis and the rebels, but their shots fly wide, plummeting the neighborhood's value even further.
Angel frowns. It's a shit setup, but that skimmer having drones in operation is worse. He takes a deep breath and aims at the first of the two drones, hoping Max and Arketta are clever enough to go to ground when they hear him firing.
Max and Arketta are hunkered down under that muddy overhang, holding their prisoner's head above the creek water, when they hear two rifle shots, a second's worth of that drone siren, a rather startling explosion, a third shot, and then silence.
The first drone Angel shoots drops like a Gallagher watermelon. The second sphere's spun around by the shot but isn't destroyed outright. It lasts long enough to burst into its cacophonous song and give the skimmer Angel's location. The Delta boy is already running when the skimmer's beam fire ignites the gravcar, sending a pillar of flame skyward to scorch the canopy and drop gently falling burning leaves, like an autumn day in Hell. Angel hits a thick, knotted tree, turns, and finishes off the screaming drone with a third shot. He falls back to a fallen trunk and some bristly scrub about 20 meters further away in time to see the skimmer drop its nine Kansatai through the forest branches. They ride their grav-packs down on full power, coasting down rather than plummeting, finally coming to a tight formation silhouetted by the burning vehicle. They're 30-40 meters off. Three of the cops bring their beamers up and start peering through the forest while the others shed their depleted gear.
They may not be being shot at as much now that the rest of the team on the gravsled has opened fire, but they keep on running. "Keep going! Find a place to take cover and stay low!" Davis looks for a safe place for Ngawai where he can return fire at the Kansatai still shooting at them.
The rooftop shooters adjust their fire, bracketing the gravsled with particle beams. Two of the half-dozen or so beams hit the sled and spray molten bodywork into the air. Luis returns fire at the roof - a long-range shot against a prone target. His UMP45 pop-pops and kicks debris across one of the Kansatai. Close but no hits.
Semo's second 25mm shell passes the Kansat skimmer's return fire in midair. The airburst rips the side hatch from the skimmer and Semo can see a figure hanging on for dear life. The pulse-beams miss the gravsled by mere inches, scorching and bubbling the sled's skin like grill marks as they whip by.
The Morningstar hits the Kansat skimmer at about 60 miles an hour with a metal crunch that echoes across the buildings like Semo's cannon. The skimmer's about the size of a large van; the 'Star's bigger than a 747 and built to take micrometeor impacts. No contest. The Kansat vehicle's rear shreds and explodes as One-Ton clips it. The wreckage spirals down and ricochets off a nearby building before plowing an eighty-foot trail of fire into the street.
High above, the remaining unarmed Kansat skimmer banks warily away from the starship. The Morningstar hits the brakes, riding a wavering field of antigravity down to the lake's edge. The cargo bay doors start to cycle open.
Ngawai's staggering now, but she still keeps running. Now Davis and his rebel friends are splashing their way through the waterlogged monument rubble. They trail dirty wakes as the soil of battle wicks off of them.
Angel takes a second to catch his breath, and another one to ponder how fucking handy those drones are. If he could put down a request for 'what have we learned from all this', those would be high on it.
He removes a grenade from his belt, repositioning himself for a better throw. All nice and clustered, and thus far the Imperials haven't dealt with traditional explosives very well.
The Imperials continue their losing streak with explosives. Angel's throw isn't perfect, but close DOES count with hand grenades. There's a bassy BANG, a shower of black and crimson, and a cloud of roiling smoke.
Angel can't believe his luck. Only one of the nine dropteam is still up, and he's clearly stunned. One of his comrades is slowly getting to his feet as well. Blood streaks the orange and black armor but Angel can't tell whose it is. As for the rest of them, the ground is littered with the ruins of men. Of the downed Kansatai, only one other is even moving. He's looking for his legs and screaming but the officer soon gives up.
The best thing about grenades is that there's no muzzle flash or report to give away your position. If any of the Kansat dropteam saw the olive bomb sailing towards them, they didn't survive to tell their friends.
As Luis pases, studying the ground before letting off his next barrage, he notes that Swims is conspicuosly not visible with the group led by Davis and Nagwai. He notes as much to captain, and asks "Is it worth a vox?" Point raised, he sends another few rounds the way of the roof dropteam.
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