size overwhelming. Trent danced to the left, avoiding the charge but drew blue blood when he slashed the knife along an exposed piece of shoulder. The breast swung an arm around with all its might but only found air.
Anger took over the Bearcat’s actions while Trent coldly studied him for a moment of weakness he could use to strike a lethal blow.
The beast charged again. Again, Trent avoided the attack. This time, his slashing blade glanced off black body armor.
As the Bearcat began to turn, Trent gripped the knife with both hands. When the hairy animal had almost completed his turn, Trent threw himself into the air. As he came down, the huge blade drove past the body armor, sinking it deep into the Bearcat’s upper right chest. It let out a thunderous roar. Trent continued to put all of his weight behind the blade before twisting the handle as hard as he could. The roar stopped and the creature fell dead.
In the ancient Chinese war manual, The Art of War, Sun Tzu spent considerable time on the importance of intelligence to know one’s enemy. When the medics finished autopsying the Bearcats in the forest, Trent asked them one question, “Where is their weak point?”
They informed him that the Bearcat heart was in a different position, in the upper right chest. A well place blow there would result in near instant death.
He yanked the soaked blade from the lifeless body and smiled at the blue trophy in his hand.
The fleeting sense of satisfaction disappeared as he moved quickly to what he assumed was a computer panel. The monitor showed something happening, but he suffered from extreme ignorance as to what. He feared a self-destruct or data erase protocol procedure taking place before his eyes. Not knowing how to stop it, Trent did the only thing he could think of. He walked around to the back of the computer station and severed what looked like a power cord.
Whatever he did, it appeared to work. The monitor went black.
With another mission objective achieved, he rushed to check on Roth’s condition. Her suit had self-sealed the hole created when the shoulder socket gave way, both saving her life and preventing him from checking the wound.
“CAL, report on Roth’s medical status!”
Traumatic injury to right arm—
Gee, thanks, CAL.
—Sergeant Roth is stable. Currently unconscious.
“Ping the medics with her location and status.”
Out of ways to assist Roth, Trent cautiously moved outside. He found the results of battle, death, and damage, but he didn’t hear or see continued combat.
“Jones, Thomas, Simms, report.”
Thomas answered first, “Area secured, sir. No more enemy resistance. Meet us at Tower C. You’re going to love this.”
Trent snatched up a dead private’s MRG and hurried to Thomas’ position. After coming around one of the smaller domes, he witnessed two dozen blood spattered legionnaires standing in a half circle before the corner of the fence that once supported Tower C. He worked forward to stand next to Thomas. She held her MRG squarely at an unarmed Bearcat sporting a fresh stump where his left hand had been.
“Well, well, Lieutenant. What do you have here?”
“Your live prisoner. I took your advice and disarmed him, literally.”
“Well done.”
The wounded Bearcat looked confused and scared. Less than half an hour ago, his race was the undisputed rulers of this world. Now he was beaten, alone, and captured.
Not so tough against humanity’s warriors are you? Lot different than eating civilians. Oh...I guess you don’t even know the instrument of your defeat. For all you can tell, we’re a bunch of blurs. I’ll do you a favor. One of you should know who beat you.
“CAL, prepare to remove helmet.”
Warning: Atmosphere is not breathable.
Trent ignored the warning. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the helmet off. The suit sealed tight around the neck.
Despite massive differences in language and culture, Trent read the Bearcat’s face as easily as a page
Anger took over the Bearcat’s actions while Trent coldly studied him for a moment of weakness he could use to strike a lethal blow.
The beast charged again. Again, Trent avoided the attack. This time, his slashing blade glanced off black body armor.
As the Bearcat began to turn, Trent gripped the knife with both hands. When the hairy animal had almost completed his turn, Trent threw himself into the air. As he came down, the huge blade drove past the body armor, sinking it deep into the Bearcat’s upper right chest. It let out a thunderous roar. Trent continued to put all of his weight behind the blade before twisting the handle as hard as he could. The roar stopped and the creature fell dead.
In the ancient Chinese war manual, The Art of War, Sun Tzu spent considerable time on the importance of intelligence to know one’s enemy. When the medics finished autopsying the Bearcats in the forest, Trent asked them one question, “Where is their weak point?”
They informed him that the Bearcat heart was in a different position, in the upper right chest. A well place blow there would result in near instant death.
He yanked the soaked blade from the lifeless body and smiled at the blue trophy in his hand.
The fleeting sense of satisfaction disappeared as he moved quickly to what he assumed was a computer panel. The monitor showed something happening, but he suffered from extreme ignorance as to what. He feared a self-destruct or data erase protocol procedure taking place before his eyes. Not knowing how to stop it, Trent did the only thing he could think of. He walked around to the back of the computer station and severed what looked like a power cord.
Whatever he did, it appeared to work. The monitor went black.
With another mission objective achieved, he rushed to check on Roth’s condition. Her suit had self-sealed the hole created when the shoulder socket gave way, both saving her life and preventing him from checking the wound.
“CAL, report on Roth’s medical status!”
Traumatic injury to right arm—
Gee, thanks, CAL.
—Sergeant Roth is stable. Currently unconscious.
“Ping the medics with her location and status.”
Out of ways to assist Roth, Trent cautiously moved outside. He found the results of battle, death, and damage, but he didn’t hear or see continued combat.
“Jones, Thomas, Simms, report.”
Thomas answered first, “Area secured, sir. No more enemy resistance. Meet us at Tower C. You’re going to love this.”
Trent snatched up a dead private’s MRG and hurried to Thomas’ position. After coming around one of the smaller domes, he witnessed two dozen blood spattered legionnaires standing in a half circle before the corner of the fence that once supported Tower C. He worked forward to stand next to Thomas. She held her MRG squarely at an unarmed Bearcat sporting a fresh stump where his left hand had been.
“Well, well, Lieutenant. What do you have here?”
“Your live prisoner. I took your advice and disarmed him, literally.”
“Well done.”
The wounded Bearcat looked confused and scared. Less than half an hour ago, his race was the undisputed rulers of this world. Now he was beaten, alone, and captured.
Not so tough against humanity’s warriors are you? Lot different than eating civilians. Oh...I guess you don’t even know the instrument of your defeat. For all you can tell, we’re a bunch of blurs. I’ll do you a favor. One of you should know who beat you.
“CAL, prepare to remove helmet.”
Warning: Atmosphere is not breathable.
Trent ignored the warning. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the helmet off. The suit sealed tight around the neck.
Despite massive differences in language and culture, Trent read the Bearcat’s face as easily as a page
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