basked in the carnage. The world slowed while he took in the scene. Wailing of the dying from both races filled the air. The dead littered the ground. Fighting raged on to the right.
A secondary explosion near the battery lifted Trent off his feet and slammed him into the vehicle. He bounced off, landing hard on the ground where he laid motionless.
“Major! Are you okay?” Roth kneeled next to Trent taking him into her arms. “Medic!”
Thoughts of Anna and Madison flashed in his mind as he felt himself loss consciousness.
Please forgive me. I’m so tired. My promise...
Trent’s eyes shot open. Adrenaline filled him with newly tapped resolve. His surprise at awakening in Roth’s arms faded fast. Only one thing mattered.
He jumped to his feet and yelled to all those who could hear, “Follow me to the command center!”
With a wave of his arm, he charged forward yet again.
***
The suspected command center earned that distinction due to the abundance of what appeared to be communications equipment on the roof.
Trent, Roth, and one of the privates in her squad raced toward the building at high speed. More than likely, a Bearcat was inside, erasing valuable information and destroying important equipment. They moved with reckless abandon, disregarding all concerns about their flanks or other tactical necessities. All that mattered was beating the ticking clock.
In the final meters, Trent used a rapid combination of hand signals, quicker than communicating via the CALs, to order Roth and the private to the sides of the entrance. Then he stopped and fired a grenade into the door, blasting it open. He sped forward to take full advantage of the carnage caused by the explosion.
Trent dove head first through the short-lived swirling haze. Thanks to his enhanced reflexes and agility, he rolled on impact, ending in a kneeling position with the MRG raised and ready for a fight.
Two Bearcats waited in the command center. The first one charged Trent, but the creature was no match for the MRG. His weapon made quick work of the flesh. The other initially tried firing his rifle at the private coming through the door but either from a lack of ammunition or malfunction, the weapon failed to discharge. In frustration and brilliance, the remaining Bearcat hurled the useless weapon at Trent, striking the barrel of the MRG before charging the private and Roth.
Upon pulling the trigger, CAL flashing a warning, Warning. MRG malfunction.
In the time, it took CAL to let Trent know that he held a really expensive club, the Bearcat broke the private’s neck and knocked the weapon out of Roth’s hands. She lunged for her MRG, but the Bearcat caught her right arm. In one motion, he easily ripped the limb off her body like a strip of string cheese. Blood squirted out before the nanos could clot the gaping wound. She shrieked in pain.
Her cry sent a cold shiver up Trent’s spine. The Bearcat moved to finish the job when he threw the broken MRG, hitting it in the back. The move designed to grab the raging beast’s attention, worked.
The Bearcat jerked its mane-less lion’s head around, focusing an enraged yellow eye onto Trent. Its white fangs glistened with salvia. He looked right back with his own rage.
He struggled to his feet. As he did, he dragged his right hand along the boot to find and grip a piece of gear he personally insisted be made part of standard Legion issue – a Bowie knife.
Having witnessed the holo from New Earth, he knew when a fight inevitably degraded to hand-to-hand combat, the tiny humans would need something with a bit more kick then the standard issue field knife. The thick and wide, twenty-centimeter long blade of the Bowie knife, originally designed to skin the massive buffalo of the old American west, seemed a perfect fit.
The two warriors circled. The Bearcat made the first move by bolting forward in an attempt to make his advantage in strength and
A secondary explosion near the battery lifted Trent off his feet and slammed him into the vehicle. He bounced off, landing hard on the ground where he laid motionless.
“Major! Are you okay?” Roth kneeled next to Trent taking him into her arms. “Medic!”
Thoughts of Anna and Madison flashed in his mind as he felt himself loss consciousness.
Please forgive me. I’m so tired. My promise...
Trent’s eyes shot open. Adrenaline filled him with newly tapped resolve. His surprise at awakening in Roth’s arms faded fast. Only one thing mattered.
He jumped to his feet and yelled to all those who could hear, “Follow me to the command center!”
With a wave of his arm, he charged forward yet again.
***
The suspected command center earned that distinction due to the abundance of what appeared to be communications equipment on the roof.
Trent, Roth, and one of the privates in her squad raced toward the building at high speed. More than likely, a Bearcat was inside, erasing valuable information and destroying important equipment. They moved with reckless abandon, disregarding all concerns about their flanks or other tactical necessities. All that mattered was beating the ticking clock.
In the final meters, Trent used a rapid combination of hand signals, quicker than communicating via the CALs, to order Roth and the private to the sides of the entrance. Then he stopped and fired a grenade into the door, blasting it open. He sped forward to take full advantage of the carnage caused by the explosion.
Trent dove head first through the short-lived swirling haze. Thanks to his enhanced reflexes and agility, he rolled on impact, ending in a kneeling position with the MRG raised and ready for a fight.
Two Bearcats waited in the command center. The first one charged Trent, but the creature was no match for the MRG. His weapon made quick work of the flesh. The other initially tried firing his rifle at the private coming through the door but either from a lack of ammunition or malfunction, the weapon failed to discharge. In frustration and brilliance, the remaining Bearcat hurled the useless weapon at Trent, striking the barrel of the MRG before charging the private and Roth.
Upon pulling the trigger, CAL flashing a warning, Warning. MRG malfunction.
In the time, it took CAL to let Trent know that he held a really expensive club, the Bearcat broke the private’s neck and knocked the weapon out of Roth’s hands. She lunged for her MRG, but the Bearcat caught her right arm. In one motion, he easily ripped the limb off her body like a strip of string cheese. Blood squirted out before the nanos could clot the gaping wound. She shrieked in pain.
Her cry sent a cold shiver up Trent’s spine. The Bearcat moved to finish the job when he threw the broken MRG, hitting it in the back. The move designed to grab the raging beast’s attention, worked.
The Bearcat jerked its mane-less lion’s head around, focusing an enraged yellow eye onto Trent. Its white fangs glistened with salvia. He looked right back with his own rage.
He struggled to his feet. As he did, he dragged his right hand along the boot to find and grip a piece of gear he personally insisted be made part of standard Legion issue – a Bowie knife.
Having witnessed the holo from New Earth, he knew when a fight inevitably degraded to hand-to-hand combat, the tiny humans would need something with a bit more kick then the standard issue field knife. The thick and wide, twenty-centimeter long blade of the Bowie knife, originally designed to skin the massive buffalo of the old American west, seemed a perfect fit.
The two warriors circled. The Bearcat made the first move by bolting forward in an attempt to make his advantage in strength and
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