Author's note: My thanks again to my kind reviewers. Well, so much for a chapter a week. This one blew out on me, twice as long as planned and still not as far along as intended. This whole boarding action thing is really just a prologue, too…
Apparently I still don't own Final Fantasy 8. I know, I know, I was surprised too…
WHIRLWIND
Chapter 4: Hammer and Anvil
"Seifer."
Quistis' voice sounded tired, even to her, but she stood straight and defiant as she faced him.
His eyes took in her visible bruises, the glistening bloodstain at her side, the weapons slung about her as he paced slowly, casually towards her, "Been busy?"
"Cleaning up your mess," she said bitterly, "Again."
He was perhaps five metres from her when she raised one hand to the grip of her gunblade. Taking the hint or perhaps just humoring her, he stayed his advance, reaching up to pull his helmet off with his free hand.
He hadn't changed much. A little older, a little leaner, perhaps, his golden hair darkened by sweat and plastered to his scalp, but the scar and the eyes and the smirk were just as they had always been.
"Thought it might have been you," he said, almost conversationally, "You left your assignments in the elevator."
She didn't reply. Her gaze searched his face, hoping to see there some clue as to what had gone wrong, what might have been done to prevent it coming to this. He endured her silence, and her eyes, for only a few moments. "If you're looking for reasons, you're not going to find them there."
"Well then perhaps you'd be kind enough to volunteer them," she spat angrily, fury burning the weariness from her spirit. "What are you doing here, Seifer? Chasing another romantic dream? – Did you always want to be a commando when you grew up?"
Seifer's smirk faded a little. "This has nothing to do with dreams." His expression became contemptuous. "Believe me; I've learned the folly of chasing those. This… this is simply business."
As he spoke he drew the gunblade slung over his shoulder. Not one of the machine-pistol models the other commandos carried, though it shared their matt-black finish, but a classic revolver design such as he had always favoured. At least it's not Hyperion, she thought; his signature weapon was locked in the armoury as it had been since it was taken from him at the end of the war.
"So." Seifer hefted the weighty weapon effortlessly, rolling broad shoulders like a boxer warming up for a bout. "Any other questions, Instructor?"
We're past the time where the questions matter anyway, she thought sadly, shaking her head. It didn't really matter why he was doing it; it only mattered that he was.
"Good. Now, as they say in the classics," he smiled grimly, raising the blade to point at her, "we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. It's your choice."
Inwardly, Quistis sighed. She had known that it would come to this, but still… he had been one of them, long ago. Carefully, deliberately, she filed the sorrow away; it would not help her now. That done, her mind paced through her options. No whip, no Guardian Forces, no backup, and one of the most powerful swordsmen in the world blocking my path. She glanced at Rinoa with faint hope, but the young sorceress was still unconscious. She looked back to Seifer.
But there's nobody else. Just remember which one of you was a SeeD at fifteen and which one never made that grade.
"It was your choice," she replied, resolve lending strength to her voice, "and you've clearly already made it." She quashed the fear still roiling within her and readied herself. "Let's get this over with." she concluded, the bravado strangely satisfying.
Bracing herself, she opened fire.
*
The gunship designated Piccolo-2 growled along the curving hull of the Garden, its spotlights playing across the immense domed structure as it sought out its landing site.
One pool of light washed across a narrow ventilation outlet, briefly illuminating a pale face within. Xu winced back from the light, her eyes still sensitive from the flashbang which had gone off almost in her face.
She had fired an instant after it blew, but the shock must have thrown off her aim; the commando most certainly hadn't been dead when she knifed Xu in the thigh and threw her off a moment later. Wounded, blinded and deafened, she had no clear idea how she had managed to get out the door, firing wildly back to cover her escape. Perhaps she had hit the woman; she had not been pursued.
She had not been so deaf that the distinctive detonation of the mag charges in Environmental had gone unnoticed, though. That failure hurt far more than the deep gash in her leg, still raw since she had managed to lose her Potions somewhere between the fight and her escape, along with her pistol. She supposed she was lucky the blade hadn't nicked an artery.
She had managed to find her way into the environment system, where she had waited for her senses to recover enough that she wouldn't stumble into anything too obvious. As she had waited she had gone through her options, deciding to head to the living quarters to hopefully link up with Quistis. The sight of the gunship made her reevaluate her decision. She had recognized it, even in the dark – an LT220 Huscarl, a vectored-thrust craft used by the Galbadian army's elite troops. She had ridden in one on her last visit to Galbadia, touring SeeD deployments.
Enemy reinforcements.
It was heading for the hangar bay, she was sure. Running through the Garden's schematics she mapped a path to its assumed destination; she couldn't beat it there, but perhaps she could make it in time to do some good.
Shifting her position to begin her journey she winced as pain lanced through her leg. There was an aid kit in the hangar, too; she made a mental note to seek it out, though she doubted she'd need the reminder.
Gritting her teeth, she set out.
*
The gunblade clattered across the floor, sliding to a stop against one wall. In the aftermath of its passage the corridor fell silent, the two black-clad figures motionless.
Quistis stared at the fallen weapon, then at Seifer. What is he playing at?
Nothing was as she had expected. Striking swiftly he had dodged her opening burst and lunged at her in a ferocious charge that she had deftly turned aside. He had struck again and again, shifting his attack pattern from the simple but powerful triple-eight to the intricate, unpredictable Archon's Helix, and she had blocked him high and low. On their last pass he had given her a painful slash along her left arm an instant before she had double-wrapped his blade and sent it spinning from his grip to where it now lay.
It had been hard work, requiring all her focus, strength, and skill, and yet… it should have been harder. Was he playing some kind of game? If he was, she decided, the more fool him. She'd take the chance it offered, and ram it down his throat.
Across the hall Seifer was struggling hard not to sound as though he was gasping for breath. No idea, he thought angrily, all the training and preparation and I had no idea just how weak I have become. He stared at Quistis who barely seemed to have broken a sweat, saw the confusion in her eyes in spite of her impassive front, and saw her gathering herself to renew the battle. She's going to work it out. Whatever his opinion of the woman, he knew she was no fool.
His earcomm chirped and with a curse he pulled it loose; he couldn't afford any distractions now. Blinking stinging sweat from his eyes he almost missed the sudden shift in stance which warned of her charge. He barely sidestepped her rush, making a dive for his gunblade and rolling into a crouch against the wall with the weapon in hand.
She was right on him, her blade spearing towards his chest. He turned the thrust with his own sword, grunting with the exertion – had she been so strong the last time they had fought? – and pushing off the wall, drove her back with a fierce effort.
Pressing forward he hammered at her guard, driving her back with every blow. He had to end this quickly.
*
Piccolo-2 swooped out of the night, a vast steel bird of prey, its nose swinging up at the last moment as the roar of its turbines flared, slowing it enough that its landing was merely bone-jarring.
The Huscarl was still rocking on its clawed landing feet when the long doors along its hull yawned open and the half-dozen armoured troops within vaulted to the ground, the hangar seeming to shudder again with the impacts of their landings.
The troopers were monstrous figures - squat, armoured ten-foot behemoths bristling with armament and weighing in at over five tonnes apiece. Spreading out from the gunship they searched the cavernous bay for activity.
Captain Eric Shiro relaxed somewhat on receiving the last all-clear from his squad some minutes later. While he had no doubts about his troops, this was the first operational deployment of their Dragoon battle gears and that knowledge made him edgy.
None of his concern was reflected in his voice as he made his report.
"Hammer Leader, Anvil Leader, insertion successful, proceeding to objectives."
"All received Anvil Leader," Maze's voice crackled in response, "Good hunting." After a moment, she added: "Last one to Checkpoint Sigma buys the first round."
"Understood, Hammer Leader." Shiro chuckled, grinning under his helmet as he switched to his squad channel, "Anvils, proceed as ordered."
"Leader, Four, sir, you might want to see this."
Shiro swung his Gear about and strode to where Anvil Four was waiting. Sprawled at the Gear's feet was a young man in the black uniform of a SeeD.
"What's the problem, Four?"
There was a long silence before Four replied.
"He's… uh, he's still alive, sir."
It took Shiro a moment to process the statement and realize just why the SeeD's condition was a problem. He sighed.
Eliminate all hostile personnel encountered was the standing order for the mission. He had no problem with it in principle; he was a soldier, had been one all his adult life, with more than a few friends to avenge and reason enough to hate SeeDs. Standing over the unconscious figure there in the hangar, though, it seemed less cut and dried.
The boy would be dead in a few hours anyway, if matters went according to plan. What difference would it make if he died now?
There was a difference, he knew, even if it existed only in his mind. It was a line he drew for himself, a line he would not cross.
He was a soldier. If pressed on the point, he would admit that he was a killer.
He would not be a murderer.
"Leave him." he said sharply, wheeling away. Four complied with some relief, joining the rest in following Shiro as he strode from the hangar bay.
*
Xu watched as the last of the hulking figures left the hangar. She could hardly believe what she had seen.
Battle gears? She had read several vague intelligence reports from sources in Galbadia on the development of the machines over the past years, but none had suggested they were anywhere near being ready for deployment. Although Xu knew that intelligence gathering was a difficult, hit-and-miss business, she couldn't help but feel a little irritated right now that there hadn't been a few more hits. A warning about this little nocturnal visit would have been especially nice. If wishes were horses, we'd all ride, she thought wryly, and turned her attention back to the situation at hand.
There were two plasma charges on her webbing which might have a chance against their armour, but that was hardly going to be enough. She could try the armoury, though it was sure to be guarded, but there were other things to attend to first.
Shifting her position she peeked warily at the Huscarl, the growl of its turbines fading as they spun down. She could see the figures of the pilot and weapons officer through their tinted armourplast bubbles, apparently busy with their instruments for the time being. After a moment she turned her attention to the unconscious SeeD across the hangar. His prone form was in full view of the two officers in the cockpit.
Well, that decides that, she mused. Checking the magazine of her gunblade she began to make her way around to the Huscarl's open bay doors.
*
Seifer's arms were burning, his heart jackhammering in his chest and his legs heavy as lead, but he did not falter in his onslaught. Quistis had halted her retreat, stubbornly refusing to give more ground, but she was still on the defensive; for all her determination, she was not a gunblade expert and could not match him blade to blade. As their weapons clashed and locked yet again, Seifer growled ferally and hurled all of his strength into the lock.
A knee exploded into his midsection, almost winding him in spite of the highly vaunted reflex cloth softening the blow. Twisting with the impact, his fist drove into her stomach before she could pull clear, but even as she rocked back she hammered the heel of one hand into his jaw hard enough to lift him off the ground and they stumbled apart, he staggering back against the wall as she fell back to one knee, breathing hard.
He wasn't playing, she realized with a shock; he was giving it everything he had. As she struggled with the thought her glance fell upon Rinoa's supine form, her mind on a conversation the two of them had had some months after the end of the War. They had been talking about Squall really, but still… her eyes swung back to Seifer, her gaze speculative.
"One last chance, Seifer," she offered boldly, rising once again to her feet, "Surrender now and you might live to see the sunrise."
Seifer's habitual smirk became a sneer. "Memory problems again, Instructor? Perhaps you don't recall it took three of you to beat me last time?"
"I remember," Quistis replied softly, "but I don't think you're quite the man you were back then."
The silence which followed lasted barely a heartbeat before Seifer snorted derisively, and yet in that moment Quistis was certain that Rinoa had been right. His hesitation had been fleeting - but it had been there.
Seifer saw the realization strike her; saw it in her demeanour, the shift from desperate determination to sudden hope. She knows. Damn it. His grip tightened reflexively on his weapon. Damn it.
Again he sprang at her, ebony gunblade scything through a lethal arc.
*
"Marauder One, we've dropped the hammer. All units proceeding to objectives."
"All received, Hammer Leader."
Meridar listened to the exchange with satisfaction. With Corley and Shiro's Dragoons landed successfully it was all but over. He turned to Bretten.
"Aden, bring us in and have the marines standing by to debark, and signal Pike to commence boarding operations." He checked the time, "I want us ready to wrap this within two hours."
"Yes, sir."
*
Nida. Nida! Wake up, damn it!
The young SeeD felt like he was rising out of the depths of a long slumber, his mind still sluggish as it tried to make sense of the words ringing in his ears. Before it could do so, he was shaken like a leaf, startling him into full consciousness.
"Ow! Hey! What's the big..." as his eyes adjusted to the light he was able to make out the figure kneeling over him, gripping his lapels "…uh, sorry, sir. Um…" She let him go and his head banged against the floor as his mind sorted through his memories trying to work out why the deputy commander might be shaking him awake. The first few scenarios it came up with were as absurd as they were pleasant; when he realized he was in the hangar bay it added a new variable to the equations that bewildered him even more. He remembered being down here familiarizing himself with the new hoverskiffs and… had he fallen asleep? That was a much more plausible explanation than the earlier ones, he thought sadly.
Xu evidently wasn't in the mood to wait for his conclusions. "Snap out of it, Nida. Are you hurt?" she checked him over mechanically as she asked; he didn't dare mention that the only thing that hurt was the back of his head. "Okay, good. C'mon, on your feet."
Again, she didn't seem inclined to wait for him to comply; as she stood she dragged him to his feet by the front of his uniform jacket, roughly dusting him off as though he were an old carpet hung out to dry. As she did so he noticed her condition with a shock.
"Are- are you – you're hurt!" he stammered, paling.
Xu frowned, apparently irritated by his pointing out what was after all blazingly obvious. After a moment, though, her expression softened a little.
"I'll live. Now listen: We've been attacked. There are hostiles on board, and more on the way." That was a guess, but an educated one; she was certain that the contacts she had picked up from the bridge had been much bigger than the Huscarl. "We need to…" her voice trailed off as a new possibility struck her and she eyed him thoughtfully. "…Nida..."
"Yes, sir?" Nida was certain he didn't like the gleam in her eye.
"Can you fly that thing?"
He followed the toss of her head, a little startled to see what she was indicating. Where did that come from? he wondered, before realizing that Xu was waiting for an answer. "You mean the LT220, sir? Sure."
If the gleam in her eye had been unsettling, the broad smile that followed his reply was positively alarming. It took a conscious effort on Nida's part not to flinch back from it.
"Excellent."
*
He was on the offensive, driving her backwards again, and yet Seifer couldn't shake the conviction that he wasn't in control of the battle. He was nearing the end of his endurance, but his opponent seemed as strong as ever. Stronger, perhaps, fueled by hope. Whatever the case, he couldn't afford to let up on the pressure. Shifting patterns yet again he willed his exhausted body to press the attack.
Quistis ducked one more powerful swing, coming up under his guard and, grabbing him by his webbing, pulled him with her as she threw herself backwards. Planting one foot in his stomach as she rolled, she threw him bodily through the air to crash heavily to the ground several feet behind her. He recovered swiftly, rolling to his feet, but she wasn't where he expected her to be; she had taken the momentary advantage to sprint across the corridor to another doorway.
Even as he gave chase he wondered what she was up to; surely the door led to another set of private quarters, a dead end unless she planned on jumping out the window…
She had barely entered the doorway when she whirled to face him, gripping her weapon halfway along the blade. He barely had time to register her intent before she hurled it at him spear-like with all of her considerable strength. Acting on pure instinct he smashed the hurtling blade aside with his own, the force of the impact staggering him for a moment before he could recover.
Shaking his head he snapped around to face the doorway, ready to give chase, but Quistis was still there, stepping back into the corridor. She was smiling, but there was no warmth in it; it was the expression of a long-starved predator scenting blood.
When his eyes lit upon the chainwhip coiled in her grip, he at last understood why he hadn't felt in control: he hadn't been. She had let him shepherd her here, to her own quarters, where her own weapons were.
Still smiling she let the whip uncoil, raised one arm and mockingly beckoned him forth, unconsciously mirroring his own gesture to Squall in their duel so long ago.
And this time, when he charged, she met him eagerly.
*
"Saber One, Hammer Leader, please respond."
Corley repeated her request, to no avail. Tsking in irritation she switched channels.
"Saber Team, Hammer Leader, any available units respond."
There was a long silence. Corley was on the verge of switching to yet another channel when Lieutenant Tanz' voice came through her headset.
"Hammer Leader, this is Saber Two." Her voice was faint, and Corley was pretty sure the connection wasn't the reason. "Saber One is investigating enemy activity in the living quarters." There was a pause, then: "Saber Three is KIA."
"All understood, Saber Two… do you require assistance?" Corley felt the need to ask, though she knew what the response would be.
"Negative, Hammer Leader, I'll be fine. Thanks for asking."
No problem, Corley thought as she closed the channel, shaking her head. She admired the tech-commandos for their skills and determination, but they really had to learn to ask for help when they needed it even if it was from grunts like her. A glance at her squad status display showed the rest of the Hammers standing ready.
"Strader, Malik, come with me. Farrar, we're going to the living quarters; you and the others stand guard here until Captain Shiro arrives. Tell him where we've gone."
"You got it, ma'am."
"And remind him he's buying tonight."
*
The cruiser Pike edged into position alongside the Garden, boarding ramp extended towards one of the exterior balconies. Within its huge loading bay its marine contingent waited, a full company almost a hundred strong.
In its command centre Captain Eram Tyce watched his pilots closely. Pike's mass made her almost immune to normal winds, but the storm was gusting at close to a hundred kilometers an hour and the docking maneuver was delicate even under ideal conditions. Still, he noted with satisfaction, they were handling the task admirably.
"Captain?" The voice belonged to Pike's chief radar officer. Tyce crossed to her station, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Sir, Piccolo-2 just launched. It looks like it's coming back."
"Really?" The captain's brow furrowed as he took in her displays. The gunships were supposed to remain on Garden to extract the Dragoons once the operation was over, but from what he could see she was right; Piccolo-2 was inbound to Pike's position.
He turned to Communications. "Have we received anything from Piccolo-2?"
"Uh, no sir, not since they reported making the drop."
"Raise them for me." Tyce directed. As the young officer bent to his task the captain turned his attention back to the status screens.
The radar officer jumped in her seat an instant before klaxons sounded across the bridge.
"Piccolo-2's targeting radar just went live!" she shouted, "They're painting us! Sir, we-"
She got no farther. The gunship fired full salvos from both of the huge rocket pods hanging from its weapons pylons, releasing a stream of almost two hundred high-explosive warheads in a breathtaking show of firepower. The rockets crossed the two hundred-metre gap between the Huscarl and Pike in less than a second.
*
"We're lit up—Piccolo-2--" Meridar whirled at the scream; the voice was barely recognizable as Pike's communications officer. Before he could react the transmission ended in a garbled howl which almost made his ears bleed.
"What the hell-" his bellowed question halted abruptly as his gaze took in what his status boards were reporting.
Pike was gone.
*
Xu restrained the urge to whoop and settled for a savage grin as the huge cruiser, its armoured hull holed in a score of places, began to slide towards the waves below. Flames painted a blazing trail in its wake, brilliant against the night sky.
"They're on to us," Nida spoke from the pilot's seat behind her, "We should get clear."
"Probably," Xu agreed, cycling through the remaining weapons inventory, "Take us around. I need a shot at that other cruiser."
Nida sighed to himself, swinging the Huscarl into a tight turn, "Right."
As he did so Xu switched the gunship's radio to general broadcast.
"This is Balamb Garden to all stations," she began.
*
"-we have been attacked by elements of the Galbadian military. Garden has been boarded and is currently under Galbadian occupation. We require urgent assistance. Our position is-"
Meridar signaled the communications station to mute the transmission, and then wheeled on Bretten. "Signal all units – Piccolo-2 now coded hostile," he barked, "Get Piccolo-1 back here now! Activate CIDS, full defense mode, and get us some altitude!"
Bretten snapped orders to the helm officers and Moray began to pull away from the Garden – slowly, so slowly.
Meridar watched the icons on his screens. Hugging the Garden's flank, the rogue gunship was closing fast.
It was going to be close.
*
With a desperate effort Seifer twisted aside as Red Scorpion slashed past, a razor-edged serpent thirsting for blood. Just as he thought he had evaded it Quistis gave her wrist one final twitch and the whip lashed about and ripped across his back, its honed edge parting the reflex cloth as though it were butter.
He did not cry out, though the pain was excruciating, nor did he fall. Leaning heavily on the hilt of his gunblade he glared at his opponent, not bothering now to conceal his laboured breathing. He was bleeding from a half-dozen gashes, his left arm mauled and almost useless. She's tearing me apart.
She wasn't smiling any more, though, which surprised him a little. He would have been, in her position.
Quistis watched Seifer gather himself, catching her breath. Her anger, her hatred had faded as she had gained the upper hand, but it had not taken her resolve with it. With a flick of the wrist she brought her whip back to pool at her feet.
She had lost too much time fighting him, she knew.
It was time – it was past time - to finish it.
She raised her arm and the Scorpion sprang up like a living thing, a beautiful, deadly spiral whirling about her near-motionless figure. Her eyes met his and her arm slashed forward and down, the whip's needle-sharp tip whispering through the air as it speared towards Seifer's heart with perfect, lethal precision.
With a final, desperate surge of strength and speed he twisted aside from the strike, driving forward with his gunblade gripped in both hands for a killing thrust at the centre of her body. An incoherent roar burst from his lips as he summoned every scrap of strength he had left, funneling it through his bloodied arms into the black blade before him.
Impossibly she swayed aside as he lunged, his blade scoring a shallow slash along her ribcage as her leg ensnared his and her elbow slammed into the back of his neck, driving him heavily to the floor.
Seifer pulled himself to his knees, looking around wildly for his gunblade. Just as his eyes fell on it a razor-edged necklace dropped around his throat and a knee was driven into the small of his back. He gasped, fingers scrabbling at the deadly noose as it pulled his head back, his spine arching. He could feel the links biting into his throat, blood streaming over his hands, and then a warm breath brushed his ear.
"You should have surrendered," she whispered. He closed his eyes.
With a swift movement she smashed the whip's heavy grip across the back of his skull, the blow more than enough to knock him out in his weakened state, and released its grip on his throat. No, Seifer. Killing you would be a kindness, but I'd be doing it for the worst reasons. You get to live, at least until you're tried and convicted.
She remained kneeling by him for a few seconds, then straightened wearily and fumbled for a Potion.
She had barely stood up when the doors at the end of the corridor exploded with a thunderclap. Shrapnel slashed past her as she stood momentarily dumbfounded by the blast. Now what?
Huge, squat figures strode heavily into view through the smoke, their leader halting to look straight at her. For a moment they stared at one another down the length of the corridor.
With a faint whirr, a long-barreled weapon folded down over the giant's shoulder. Quistis' eyes widened and she hurled herself to the floor as something hissed past with a sharp crack, blowing a neat two-inch hole in the steel wall behind her. Rolling out of her landing she made a dive for the still-open door to her quarters as the weapon fired again, taking a chunk out of her doorway.
Hauling herself to her feet she could hear their heavy tread pounding closer. She eyed the window dubiously. It overlooked the main concourse, but it was quite a drop.
For a moment she hesitated, remembering Rinoa and her other friends and comrades helpless before the attackers. She couldn't help them if she were dead, she knew, but the thought of leaving them almost paralyzed her.
The steady march of the approaching gears was interrupted by a hollow whump. Her mind categorized the sound instantly. Grenade launcher.
She was diving for the window when the fireball blossomed behind her.
*
Nida smiled thinly as the gunship thundered into view of the second Barracuda. The warship was turning into a banking climb, almost side on to them. Tracers began arcing from its flanks as a half dozen or more turrets acquired them and began firing, but it was clear that the massive vessel's main batteries were ill-suited to dealing with fast-moving targets at close quarters.
In front of him Xu ceased her transmission and switched to the targeting display. She had one rocket pod remaining, nestled under the gunship's belly, and a full load of air-to-air and air-to-ground missiles. Unfortunately her readouts showed this cruiser's CIDS close-in-defense system was fully active.
Experimentally she fired an AAM at the huge vessel. The missile had barely cleared the launch rail when three smaller turrets locked on to it, obliterating it in a hail of automatic fire.
"Their CIDS is up," she shouted, "Get us in closer." She switched control to the Huscarl's chin turret and spun up its triple-barreled autocannon. "Time to clear a path."
*
"What are they doing?" Meridar watched Piccolo-2 skitter across Moray's hull, weaving through the fire of the cruiser's heavy turrets.
Bretten's face was drawn and pale. "They're knocking out the CIDS turrets in our starboard rear quarter… trying to create a blind spot."
Meridar blanched as he took in the implications.
"Can't the CIDS take them down?"
"No," Bretten said heavily, "The CIDS turrets can track them all right, but the Husky's much too heavily armoured for them. If one of the main batteries gets lucky they're dead, otherwise…" he shrugged.
Meridar nodded slowly. "So we can only wait," he said finally. Bretten nodded in silent assent.
*
"That should do it," Xu muttered, watching a fourth turret disintegrate under her cannon fire. "Let's take the shot."
Nida responded wordlessly, swinging the gunship through a wide circle to bring it to bear on the wounded Barracuda as Xu switched to the remaining rocket pod, her hand closing on the trigger.
Without warning a second Huscarl roared into sight around the cruiser, tracers spraying from its chin turret as it sideslipped across their view. Nida grimaced, wrenching the Husky into a diving roll under the cruiser as the enemy gunship spat a pair of missiles from its weapons pylons.
Xu gritted her teeth and tried to focus as Nida threw the gunship through a series of sickening swerves, the missiles flashing past harmlessly. Before they could catch their breath the Huscarl shuddered under the impact of 20-millimeter shells from its sister craft.
Ignoring the damage alerts which lit up his HUD Nida launched into another series of desperate evasive maneuvers, watching in dismay as the enemy gunship hung close on his tail as though tied there. The enemy pilot was good, and much more familiar with his craft than the young SeeD. Too close for missiles now, he was relying on his guns; tracers slashed past, spiraling from their pursuer in short bursts occasionally punctuated by a bone-jarring impact. Nida clenched his jaw; they couldn't take this for long.
"Jettison the weapons pods!" he hissed. Xu gave a startled glance over her shoulder, but did not argue.
In pairs the weapons pods arrayed under the Huscarl's pylons dropped free, tumbling away through the darkness. None came close to their pursuer – that was too much to hope for – but the loss of their weight and drag improved the gunship's performance dramatically. Nida hauled on the control column, fishtailing the Husky into a sliding hover which their heavier pursuer could not match.
The enemy gunship thundered past with only metres to spare as Nida slewed their vessel about, spinning it on its vertical axis to let Xu bring the autocannon to bear. She wasted no time in doing so, the Husky's frame trembling as she opened fire.
Terrible realization struck Nida an instant later; their maneuvers had brought them to a halt almost dead ahead of the cruiser. Even as he tightened his hands on the column Moray's salvo smashed into the gunship, almost cutting it in half.
*
"Nice shooting, Marauder One. Target destroyed."
Piccolo-1's report prompted muted celebration in Moray's command centre, the duty officers exchanging relieved smiles.
Meridar blew a harsh breath through his teeth, his hands unclenching at his sides; this could hardly be considered a victory. Pike's destruction was a body blow to the operation. Though valuable the cruiser itself was not irreplaceable, but its experienced crew and troops were another story.
Worse yet, if the distress call had reached the outside world the operation's time limit shortened dramatically. Garden was barely fifty kilometers from the Galbadian coast; even if air traffic was grounded by the storms, a response could conceivably arrive within the hour.
"Did their transmission get through?" Meridar demanded of Moray's communications chief.
"I can't be sure, sir" was the response.
"This jamming umbrella was supposed to be perfect."
"Yes, sir - with Marauder Two backing us up it was pretty much impenetrable. With her gone there's no way to be certain."
Meridar closed his eyes, breathing deeply. There was no point in arguing the issue; the officer knew his business. There was no option but to assume the call had gotten through.
"Are the target subjects secured?" he asked. After a moment the comms officer nodded.
"Hammer Leader reports all three targets are secured and preparing to transfer to the extraction point."
Not a total failure, then. "Good. Signal Hammer Leader and Saber One to pull all their people back to the hangar immediately and await pickup with the targets. Instruct Piccolo-1 to make the pickups, however many runs it takes. And get some skimmers out; see if there are any survivors."
As he considered further steps the officer turned back to him.
"Sir, Hammer Leader signals all received. Saber Two has assumed temporary command of the TC teams. She signals all received, but advises Scimitar and Falchion teams haven't finished placing the scuttling charges. They estimate at least another half-hour."
Meridar shook his head. Every minute might be critical. "They're to proceed to the hangar as instructed."
At least two thirds of the charges should be in position, he estimated. Even if they didn't succeed in destroying the Garden, it would be decisively crippled and they would have their primary targets.
It wasn't a perfect result by any means, but he had learned long ago not to expect such things.
***************
*Sigh* Cliffhangers are cheap, aren't they?