I don't want to toot my own horn on here too much, but this is one of my favourite chapters in this story. Thanks, as always, to Minaethiel and BrambleStar14 for beta reading for me. And thanks to Bramble for letting me build this chapter on the back of one of his. Let's go!
High Pressure System
Written by TunelessLyric ft. BrambleStar14
Ten feet tall behind your wall
Telling yourself that you're not small
Roll yourself into a tight ball
You can't be lost if you've gone AWOL
-Starset, 'Other Worlds Than These'
I'm not the mercy type
This is what walking away looks like
-New Years Day, 'Sorry Not Sorry'
It felt unnatural to get off the Pelican with her weapons, but no armour. The rifle felt strange in her hands, alien, as she clattered down the ramp behind Harper and Phil. The facility before them was squat and narrow, more like a bump in the landscape than a proper building. Hannah had to wonder if she was already on top of most of it, or if it was just as narrow all the way down.
"See, now this is a nice locale, Boss. Coulda brought us here, but no, had to pick the ball of nothing we moved to just because it was a few planets down the line, right?" said Firefly, lugging his jetpack in the centre of the group. The sight of him juggling his equipment made Hannah glad she hadn't adopted such a stylized set of tactics.
Harper marched on with only a grunt of acknowledgement. He'd been extremely one-minded today. Even more than usual. Which was fine, it wasn't as if his chatter was missed that much by the entire team. It was easier to ignore him when they were on base or strapped in the back of the Pelican. Harder to crush the desire to simply empty a magazine in his skull and be done with it when he opened his mouth.
The whole team piled into the elevator on the ground floor, resulting in a few elbows as Lucas jostled larger comrades out of the way. In the end, he managed to squish himself into a corner with Geist, who looked particularly nonplussed at the cramped situation. Hannah waited several minutes for the second lift, avoiding having a pyro's jetpack jammed into her shoulder blade, by the look of things.
There was a brief squabble at the bottom, judging by Lucas' wild gesturing and Aaron's single-finger salute in response. Hannah stepped out of her roomy lift, linked arms with both of them, and plastered on a broad grin.
"Don't make me get your get-along shirt."
Now they could get comfortable in their home away from home for the next several weeks. Construction on the MAC was going to take some time to get it fully functional, and it wasn't likely this new Freelancer group would let that happen.
The unit seemed to be the new babysitters on the block. Barely a skirmish between URF and UNSC happened without at least half a dozen of the black ops Agents putting in an appearance these days. For all of Harper's eagerness to punch a few of their colourful faces, Allen had sent them on cannon duty to collect their updated gear and wait to see if the Mother of Invention showed for a dust up.
Given the general restlessness lately, Hannah was also looking forward to something more strenuous than their usual shooting galleries.
The armoury was far smaller than Phoenix's current posting; it was, even after several months, strange to think of that dustbowl as home. Judging from the lockers lining the walls, this place was more of a factory for all of the last months' scavenged parts than it was a real military installation. Still, there was a dedicated space to all active members of Fireteam Phoenix.
Checking hers out, Hannah found a replacement suit of drab, unpainted steel highlighted only by a few stripes of pale blue on the shoulders. At least the production team had provided a knockoff ODST-style helmet, which prompted a grudging smile. She set to work pulling the undersuit on, pleasantly surprised by the way the weave flexed with higher mobility than she was used to. Tapping it with a fingernail produced a metallic ringing, which promised an interesting experience. Each of the plates buckled into more or less the same places as her old suit, so points for familiarity. A form-fitting vest slid over her chestplate, offering more pockets for magazines. It was going to take some practice time to adjust to that, but at least it felt more secure than typical belt webbing.
Once she was fully armoured, she glanced over to check on her teammates' progress. The rest of them were clad in nearly identical suits, differing only in that their accents mimicked the colour scheme of their castoff sets.
"That's trippy," said Aaron, looking around. "Good thing we've got FOFs or I'd never even recognize you."
Geist gave him a weak shove.
"A'ight, I'd recognize you, you big softy. No need to get in a huff."
Harper stood with his helmet lazily tucked between arm and hip, crooked grin hanging off his lips. "Who wants to see the big fuckin' gun downstairs?"
There were only a handful of times Phoenix moved that fast. Chased by enemies, pancakes in the mess hall, and oversized weapons of mass destruction. Though Hannah had to admit, after the blood, sweat and swears that had gone into acquiring the hardware for the Insurrection, she really damn well wanted to see the MAC, too. Unfortunately, their new armour meant there was no way everyone would fit in the same elevator all at once. Harper, Firefly, Geist and Crosshair headed down together while Falcon, Circuit and Blizzard had to wait their turn.
Two techs wearing Innie fatigues met them at the end of the hall, each with a data pad in hand that they consulted every so often. One stepped forward and beamed at Phoenix. "Right this way, Lieutenant, I'm here for your facility tour. It's thanks in part to your team that we're even up and running already, and I think you'll like the progress we've made."
Blizzard was content to let them blabber about this and that piece of equipment while Circuit stuck close to them. She lagged behind with Firefly, who was far more interested in just taking in the organized chaos. More engineers and technicians jogged past either solo or in large groups all talking over each other.
The cannon was obscene. Normally mounted on an orbital defense platform or frigate, the massive weapon, control room and its various terminals took up an entire wing that had been gutted specifically for housing it. Row after row of lights glared down on the technicians swarming over the cannon, armed with every tool imaginable.
"I've never been this close to one of these before," Firefly sighed in envy. "You?"
Blizzard nodded. "Once." She pointed away down the barrel. "Had to board an ODP in the middle of an attack while it was prepping to fire."
He clapped her on the shoulder. "You've got some big balls hidden in that suit of yours, Bliz. I wouldn't wanna be anywhere near that muzzle when there's a slug coming through."
"It wasn't that bad, really. Was more worried about the plasma cannons firing past us and the Seraphs landing in our LZ," she argued with a shrug.
Firefly gave her another firm pat before he joined Circuit near one of the terminals. Left to her own devices, Blizzard drifted down the cannon to reach out and touch it where the main body turned into the hundred-metre barrel. Six hundred tons. That was the size of the slugs it fired. Enough to punch a hole straight through a frigate without issue. It took three to drop a Covenant ship's shields. The inertia had to be counteracted by either the frigate's NAV officer or an ODP's rockets. And the fucking Innies had thrown one together underground.
"How is it even going to fire?" she asked aloud to nobody in particular. There were dozens of floors overhead. If it was intended to be used in space battles, it was going to be one bitch of a job to somehow get it to the surface.
"Bold assumption there." Geist had sidled up without a sound. He stood with both hands resting on the hilt of his sword.
"After all the trouble we went through to get the materials for this, it better be fired at least a dozen times. Even if it's just through the wall to make a shitty tunnel. My shoulder still gets stiff in the morning."
He shrugged. "Unless they pull the top half of the base off, it won't fire."
"I know. Circuit's going to cry. I think he's in love."
Geist turned, watching the engineer's hands wave over his head while he addressed a group of techs. The faint smile was utterly invisible behind the assassin's faceplate, but Blizzard could tell it was there all the same.
"What a waste." She shook her head and ran a hand over the smooth metal of the barrel. "And for what? Money, manpower, morons. And I thought we were fighting two wars."
Silence was the only reply as the two of them stood next to a weapon specifically designed to win space battles. Space battles that they had been losing for twenty-some years. There was no sense in building ship-to-ship missiles for sub-surface-to-atmo use. Surely the UNSC had to see it was a joke.
"What the fuck is the right hand doing?" she grumbled, mostly to herself. If Geist had no answers up until that point, he wouldn't have one now. But she had absolutely no doubt they were the left hand and it was up to them to play the part to perfection. Phoenix wouldn't have been called otherwise.
There was no paint to speak of in this sham of an Insurrection base. Hannah sat on her cot, staring at the blank grey suit piled in the corner, chewing her lip thoughtfully. She was full of nervous energy. Waiting for the hammer to fall. There was no way in hell a black ops outfit would drag themselves to the ass-end of nowhere after an underground MAC. It was too stupid to even consider. A tactical blunder that, even explained away, was too tenuous to seriously consider. It was an impossible hope for this trap to draw anyone in, let alone the supposedly elite soldiers Freelancer liked to shove into every conflict from here to Earth.
With a sigh, she slid from her bed and stomped into the hall, boots untied and hands shoved into her pockets. It wasn't worth trying to sit still anymore. After about ten minutes of aimless walking, Hannah found herself on the other side of the glass from the MAC. Bedraggled red hair shone like a beacon, hunched over one of the terminals as streams of code washed past on one of the monitors.
"What are you doing, Lucas?" she asked, flopping into a rolling chair and sliding across the desk to him.
His lips stopped moving a beat before his hands stilled. He dragged down a long breath. "Keeping busy."
"Even though this whole thing—?"
"Yeah. If they want it to be this convincing, I might as well do the time on it."
She tapped her fingers on the desk, watching Lucas sit incredibly still for once. After a moment she asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"The usual. I appreciate it, Hannah, but I don't feel like talking. No use when there's nothing worth saying, yeah?" he said flatly. He resumed typing.
Without knowing what else to do, she sat and watched letters and numbers scroll past in a flurry. For a long time, Lucas let her swing back and forth by his elbow, apparently undisturbed by the unconscious movement. Half an hour slipped away into the dark. One hour. After two, he spun around and caught Hannah's eye.
"How's it coming?" she asked, shaking herself from her grim thoughts. Freelancers, war, Shaw brothers. Threat of the Covenant hanging over them all.
"The programming was atrocious. Managed to streamline it," he said. His mouth opened, closed, opened again.
She patted his hand. "It's okay. You can tell me."
"I don't think I want to do this anymore." Blue-green eyes sank to the floor with the admission.
"You don't have to if you don't want to, Lucas. You can go anywhere you like and be whoever you want to be. But you don't get to just throw up your hands and dig yourself a hole. You stay in this galaxy. What would I do without you in it?" she demanded, grabbing his fingers and squeezing them tightly.
"I miss him, Hannah," he murmured, voice below breathing. Like the words were blades in his mouth.
"I know." Because he had been right. There wasn't anything left worth saying. He'd been over it with Phil. With Mike and a therapist. With her. Hours and hours of talking and trying to clean the wound so it could heal. Hannah knew that sometimes they never would. "You're entitled to miss him."
"What am I going to do when you leave, too?" he asked, still studying the floor.
When they went back to pointing guns in opposite directions.
"The same thing you always did," she answered, squeezing and releasing his hand in turns. "You're going to fight for what you believe in. You're going to protect the people who have no one else to stand for them. You're going to put your armour on and stand beside your family and carry his memory. Someone has to."
Lucas finally looked up, expression trying to break into a joyless smile. "What a group we are. Short-circuited soldiers."
Unable to help it, she barked out a laugh. "I'll have to get Harper to change your name."
"Don't you dare." It was weak, but it was an attempt at his usual easy joking.
"I'll get Aaron on my side. He'll have to listen." Hannah forced a grin.
"That's cheating."
When Lucas turned back to the terminal, Hannah could see the weight on his shoulders lift a little.
They were sitting in the mess hall, cards and poker chips spread across their table, when the lights flashed red. Harper tossed down his hands and crowed, "You lie like a rug, Phil, you owe me six credits!"
In response, Aaron stabbed an accusatory finger at Lucas. "How could you fold like that, I needed you to bluff!"
Lucas flipped Aaron off. Phil sighed, digging in his pocket to throw money at Harper.
Somehow this all happened between the emergency lights kicking on and the PA bellowing, "Unauthorized craft detected. Incoming unidentified force."
"Show time, mates, get dressed. Hop to and all that shit." Harper snapped his fingers a few times and waved with his other hand.
Hannah slipped between shoulders and backs, using her small frame to her advantage in the press of bodies all moving toward the armoury. At some point in the hall, she had lost the presence of Mike at her heels, held up no doubt by his broad shoulders. An imposing figure was useless when there wasn't any space to give.
She wasn't the first to the rows of lockers off to the side of the armoury, but she was the first Phoenix. Lucas arrived before she was able to start hauling on her undersuit, no doubt thanks to his own small stature. They exchanged grins, grateful for a break in the tedium of waiting for this.
"I love my job," declared Aaron, spring in his step as he joined them. He threw open his locker enthusiastically, humming a song Hannah recognized, though she didn't remember the words. "Quit looking at me like that, Thorpe, you folded like a cheap chair and it's not my fault. Put your shit on, mate, tired of looking at that pale ass of yours."
Hannah covered her snort by bending to tighten the bindings of her boots.
"Aw, fuck you, Bliz, I heard that." But Aaron winked the second she straightened to reach for the next section of armoured plates.
Harper, Geist and Mike forced their way through the choked threshold, fighting against Innies trying to get back out of the armoury to reach their assigned posts. Harper took one glance around and started to frown. "Where's Phil?"
"Thought he was with you." Circuit offered a helpless shrug. He and Blizzard moved to the weapons lockers.
Unconsciously loading magazines, Blizzard searched the various feeds her HUD could access. Nothing showed her either the team second or the incoming operators. She tapped Circuit on the shoulder before making way for Firefly. Her battle buddy stepped away from the tables with her, spot taken by Geist already shaking a handful of rounds from a box for his sidearm.
The pair of Phoenixes stood near the door, craning their necks for a familiar face or a glimpse of brown hair. People pushed and elbowed their way past each other, making a search nearly impossible. Geist's calm aura slid over Blizzard's armour, finding the weak spots in her joints and soaking through. She pointed. "There."
The assassin parted the confusion with one hand, twisting sideways to slide between impatient soldiers with hot tempers. Slick grey armour wove through the empty spaces he found, spaces that hadn't existed before. He grabbed Phil by the arm and towed him along with an ease Blizzard had to admire. Efficient, silent, steady. Geist and Phil traded nods before the team second finally made his way to his equipment.
Harper and Crosshair arrived where the others had gathered, team lead spinning his knife between armoured fingers and that same cocky grin hanging off his lips. "I can't even begin to explain how much I've been looking forward to this," he said.
Crosshair calmly finished securing the scope to his rifle without commenting.
"Yeah, yeah, Boss, you ain't slept in three weeks. I ain't slept in three weeks. Geist keeps threatening to smother me in the middle of the night because I'm too noisy when I get out of bed." Firefly's helmet tipped back and carved a short arc as he mimed an eyeroll.
Geist cuffed him upside the head. His visor squared on Harper, expectant.
He flipped his knife twice more, wickedly sharp blade flirting with his fingertips. Watching Falcon clip himself into his suit. "As if you lot thought we'd be going anywhere except the MAC room." He snorted. "Front and centre, mates, right where Allen wants us. Right where we wanna be."
Blizzard leaned back, letting Firefly's elbow glance off her abdomen instead of digging into her side. He practically vibrated on the spot with anticipation of a fight with someone other than the boring, bland UNSC fare.
"Bliz, Circuit, Firefly, go with Falcon when he's ready. Crosshair, Geist and I are gonna make a quick detour topside to see what we're dealing with," said Harper, as if he'd never been interrupted by his teammates' dicking around. He darted from the cramped armoury, blade falling still in his cybernetic hand so he could hold it before his chest. He cleared a path far more efficiently than even Geist had.
Crosshair walked backwards, two fingers touched to the top of his visor, before turning and disappearing with Geist at his side.
"I miss him already." Firefly shook his head sadly. Circuit cuffed him upside the head.
Falcon arrived a moment later, still juggling magazines, loose bullets and his helmet. "I take it we're meeting up later?" He lifted a brow at Blizzard.
"Harper got impatient," she confirmed, stepping forward to head down to the MAC room. By now the crowd had started to thin out, courtesy of Harper and other soldiers forcing their way through.
As always, Blizzard took point with Circuit, Falcon taking up rearguard while Firefly managed to contain himself. There wasn't much to be done in the halls, but they stayed alert regardless. All it took was one badass to find the security centre and the Innies would never see the Freelancers coming. Still, the walk was clear straight to their destination.
"Are these guys for real?" Harper's voice was in Blizzard's ear as she clambered up onto the MAC itself.
"What's going on up there?" asked Falcon. He and Firefly were looking up at the catwalks overhead, gauging the best spots to lie in wait. But to Blizzard, it looked as if they were trying to see through the base to the surface.
"These idiots are on some skydiving excursion. Jumped out of their fucking Pelican at three thousand feet like a vacation outing. Made Bliz look like an amateur. No offense, Bliz."
She simply rolled her eyes. "Focus, please." She slung her rifle to reach a hand down to help Circuit join her on the cannon. Circuit grunted as he scrambled up beside her. He slapped the side of her helmet lightly and she stood to punch him in the shoulder.
"Five of them dove out of their bird with a bomb on what I can only describe as a wagon with parachutes. You lot are lucky I remembered to record this shit," babbled Harper, barely pausing to breathe despite the rapid shifting of armour being transmitted to them from an external mic as he hurried back inside. "Honestly, I think Firefly would fit right in with these morons."
"I'd be offended if it wasn't true," the pyro weighed in, launching himself upward with a boost from his jetpack. He settled into place directly above the door.
Their grounded Falcon took up position below him, next to the door for when the Freelancers inevitably breached their way through. Blizzard walked out to the centre of the barrel while Circuit made his way to one of the cannon's supports. Now they were all ready, just waiting for the rest of the team and something to shoot at.
"So then two of them start strolling to the base while the other three push the wagon. It's the craziest shit I've ever seen."
"Coming from the man who sees his reflection on a daily basis," Crosshair interjected.
"I'm hurt. I thought you were on my side."
Blizzard rolled her eyes again. From the other end of the MAC, Circuit simply shook his head and crouched down to fiddle with the hardware. From the way his head moved subtly, she could tell he was talking to the expensive farce with his mic switched off. Probably saying his farewells. She settled in to wait, patching herself into the main URF frequency so she could listen to the other squads holding their positions elsewhere.
The red emergency lights switched off, making everything seem to ooze pale green while her eyes adjusted. Harper, Geist and Crosshair let themselves into the room only a minute after that. Harper joined Falcon near the door. Crosshair headed into the control room to check the limited cameras Circuit had routed through one of the terminals. Geist took one look at Firefly on the catwalk, shook his head, and shimmered out of sight. A couple of minutes later, Firefly's posture shifted, turning lazy as he leaned back on one foot. Blizzard caught a hazy refraction over his shoulder.
Harper wisely spent his time cutting and editing his recording into a tacky montage in the style of a low-budget action vid and forwarding it to all of their HUDs. The finished product earned more than a few chuckles as shaky footage of the Pelican showed a hulk of a man in bright white and orange—and very expensive-looking—armour very similar to Phoenix's previous set being kicked out by a turquoise boot. He flailed all the way down, steel cable unravelling behind him, to some god-awful remix of last year's metal chart topper.
"Everyone tag yourself. I'm the dumb fuck in white and Harper's the blue boot," said Firefly.
"I'm the bomb being dragged by your ass," Circuit volunteered immediately.
"Steel cable trying its best," added Crosshair.
"I'm definitely the Pelican getting out of there as fast as possible." Falcon's shoulders shook in silent laughter.
"Cloud in the background looking like a frowning face," said Geist.
Blizzard deleted the file. "I'm the shitty soundtrack to the entire travesty." But she was smiling. For being about to face an unknown quantity, even on their own terms, it was a hell of a tactic for breaking the tension.
"Friendlies," Crosshair announced. "Baddies about a minute out. The ones not pushing the bomb are wrecking shop with the patrols. State of some of the rabble around here, not saying much. Still, dramatics aside, yeah?"
The door opened and a squad of the rabble slipped past Falcon and Harper. The leader paused for a brief exchange with Harper before the two of them directed her team into cover around the MAC's supports. Circuit glanced down and pointed a few into specific places. Through the glass, Blizzard watched Crosshair stand and slide the door open enough to poke the very muzzle of his rifle out.
"Show time," sang Harper.
The words were barely out of his mouth when the door blew off its track. Metal folded inward and slammed into the floor, skittering a dozen feet before coming to rest against a pair of shiny black boots. The Innie's gun was up and pointed through the breach at the thin smoke still hanging in the doorway.
In the hall stood several figures. The lead one's head turned slightly, rolling their shoulders a little and lifting a pair of magnums. The one the leader addressed drew a data pad from their belt and tapped away. The emergency lights flashed back to life.
"What a polite group. They knocked and rang the doorbell." The eye roll was clear in Circuit's tone.
On cue, the clatter of boots rang through the halls beyond the Freelancers. They were farther than Blizzard would have liked, but at least they were on their way. Unlike these shadowy operators, the Innies knew the facility. They'd find their way through whatever their tech had done.
Four Freelancers stepped into the MAC room, helmets twitching to their leader then amongst themselves. Apparently Phoenix wasn't the only squad in the galaxy fond of cross-talking while planning their shots.
"Is that what we look like when we chatty-chat?" asked Firefly, unable to contain himself while waiting for his green light.
"Exactly what you look like," answered Falcon. He and Harper were as still as the pyro and assassin above them, disguising themselves in the last ripples of smoke while fooling motion trackers.
Blizzard climbed to her feet, rifle slotted to her shoulder where it belonged. For every step the turquoise Freelancer took, she advanced another stride. Between them, Circuit had his pistol trained on the enemy tech. Across the room, Crosshair shifted behind several inches of safety glass, finding the best posture.
"Easy, boys, there's a fuck of a lot of explosives in the room," Blizzard cautioned.
Just off the leader's shoulder, the green-and-pink tech's shoulders dropped. Their helmet tipped toward the MAC, attention wandering from the shooting gallery they had walked straight into. Next to them, the dark blue Freelancer eyed a forklift. That's where they would run for cover. Except the white mountain looming in the back wouldn't fit there with the trio out front. The wide yellow visor swung Blizzard's direction. Good. She'd start with him.
Harper and Falcon shifted. Green, blue and amber lights flashed before Blizzard's eyes as a dozen Innies all signalled within the room.
The Freelancers dove into cover, the green and blue ones indeed sliding behind the forklift. The white one darted forward and snatched the warped door off the floor and retreated back to the hall to cover the last operator who lingered somewhere out of sight.
Blizzard let them run. Nearly two dozen muzzles roared semi-automatic fire even without her help, leaving craters in the floor and wall. A couple rounds pinged off the forklift.
"Circuit, get to that bomb. Bliz, make sure he gets there." Harper pulled his helmet off, tucking it under his cybernetic arm and strutting toward the MAC. "Must have been the ones to sound the alarm," he said loudly, "in order to clear out the room. What were they up to…?"
Even to her ears it sounded hollow. Forced. The characteristic fascination disconnected from the moment as he flipped his blade end over end without looking.
Falcon followed in Harper's wake, his weapon held at the ready. He let the safety off with a soft click that was entirely swallowed by Firefly's boots hitting the floor. Blizzard let them run their show, withdrawing her focus. She jumped down from the cannon, keeping her rifle aimed at the wounded door leaning halfway into the room. They had almost reached the forklift, moving loudly to avoid spooking the surrounded operators, when there was a series of crunching sounds and scuffing boots.
"Harper!"
Blizzard froze, Circuit walking straight into her and making both stagger. From the corner of her eye, she saw Harper slowly turn in place.
"I know that voice," he purred. "You wouldn't happen to know little—?"
"California!" The female voice snapped out from behind the forklift, crashing over Blizzard like glass smashed against her head, tiny fractures of it burrowing into her heart.
Two SMGs stepped around the door, attached to arms plated in white and red. She would have known him in her sleep. Dead, she would have recognized the bright presence filling the room like he owned it.
From the grin, Harper knew it, too. "Well, ain't that sweet. But you'll always be that little soldier to me, Cal," Blizzard winced, remembering the way Harper had nicknamed her immediately and how much it had stung to hear it, "screaming while he watched his—"
"Enough! This ends right here between you and me." But those SMGs wavered as they pointed at Harper.
Blizzard held a hand behind her, feeling Circuit's arm. She gave it a quick squeeze between the armoured plates, seeing a shimmer shifting off to her right. Leaving Circuit with Geist, she stepped forward with her rifle aimed at the floor. "California."
One SMG started moving her way on instinct before it swept back toward Harper. But his head turned and stayed locked. The visor depolarized and the ghosts of blue eyes she knew stared out of a ruined face. His cheek and the visible section of forehead were twisted into a permanent scowl, flesh the angry red and shiny white of burn scars.
"Cal," she breathed, willing him to hear his real name underneath. She depolarized her visor so he could see her own face, finger tapping the outside of the trigger guard to a familiar rhythm.
It was barely a flash. Gone before anyone except Blizzard and Harper could see. Then both visors were reflective yellow-orange once more. Just a flicker of warm relief before Jason Shaw sealed himself behind his armoured wall.
"I am going to kill you, Harper," the Agent growled, grip on his guns tightening.
A shrug. "Probably someday, Cal. Not today though," said Harper, unflappable in the face of total outsiders. There would be split knuckles in the gym to answer for the cold mask of a stranger now, Blizzard knew that.
The turquoise Freelancer slipped out from cover, pointing one pistol at Blizzard and one at Harper. "Cal, we have our orders. Let's get the mission done and go home."
"Carolina!"
A shot cracked out, snapping over the female Freelancer's shoulder and punching through bent steel. With Crosshair pressing on the massive white Freelancer guarding the bomb, Circuit and Geist darted out into the hallway. Firefly dropped from the roof of the forklift, joined quickly by Falcon. Chaos erupted when the Innies hidden around the room opened fire.
And at the eye of the hurricane, Blizzard, Harper and California stood still, waiting to find out who would flinch first. The turquoise Freelancer—Carolina—threw herself at Harper, who held his ground, hands loose at his sides. His manic grin turned genuine when California and Blizzard both stepped into the Freelancer's path. Unspoken, steel grey and snow white fingers slipped through each other as they spun, orbiting each other. California faced Harper. Blizzard found herself magnetizing her rifle to her back to meet the Carolina head-on.
The other woman was willowy and fast, flowing from a dead sprint to plant her weight for a brutal kick. Blizzard ducked, pressing forward while Carolina recovered. She lashed out, throwing one punch after another at the soft joints of the bright armour. Carolina blocked every single one. She stood, resolute, against the flurry. Until she had the moment to squeeze the trigger at Blizzard's faceplate. The only thing that saved her was the instinct to duck when the barrel swung up. Her head snapped down and stars swam before her eyes, but the bullet glanced off her head.
Blizzard thanked every god she had ever heard of.
"Just heads-up that this whole place goes up in eight minutes. Hate to rush you and all," announced Circuit, far too casual for the news.
"Bliz, move." In comparison, Crosshair's warning was steadying in the right way.
She didn't think, just threw herself sideways and away from Carolina. Tucking into a ball, she rolled back to her feet in time to see the dark blue Freelancer knock Falcon's gun from his hand, muzzle coming to bear on the team second without hesitation. Before Blizzard could even think, the Freelancer stumbled a faltering step back from Falcon, silvery-blue visor sinking to his chest in confusion. Falcon batted the shotgun and underslung grenade launcher aside with one hand, pulling Blizzard's knife from the man's shoulder and stabbing it back in with a cruel twist.
Leaving him to it, Blizzard whirled and saw Carolina dodging sniper rounds as she danced toward the control room. If anyone could handle that situation, it would be Crosshair and Falcon. Meanwhile, Firefly was finishing his brief tussle with the green-and-pink tech, ready to give chase to the team leader.
Decision made, she turned her back on Jason and Harper like they would have wanted, and crashed shoulder-first into the crippled door. Geist held the huge white Freelancer at bay while Circuit crouched next to the bomb, data pad hardlined to both the door's control panel and one of the wires leading from the bomb's display. He typed madly. Quickly recognizing Circuit's job as something far beyond her comprehension, Blizzard caught the butt of her rifle over her shoulder. The opening spray simply bounced off the Freelancer's chestplate as if they were rubber rounds.
Geist blinked a green light at her, withdrawing from the brawl to catch his breath. He held his combat knife in one hand, better suited in these close quarters, at the ready.
Telling herself it was like the time she had taunted the Hunter at the digsite, Blizzard squared up to the giant. "Don't be shy," she invited, finger tight on the trigger, "bigger things than you've tried."
With a wordless roar, he charged at her, fist near the size of her head already drawing back to rock her teeth loose. This was going to get messy.
"Hate to rush you," she hissed privately to Circuit, squeezing the trigger to land a solid burst to the Freelancer's shoulder.
Despite the spray of blood, among several other cuts left by Geist, the white monster threw his fist forward. Blizzard barely pivoted away in time. His punch bent the steel wall at her back. A second later, she brought her heel down on the back of his knee. Down he went with a snarl. She darted out of range.
Geist took her place, burying his blade deep in the small of the Freelancer's back and stepping aside to let the armoured fist pass harmlessly by. Blizzard added another burst that just barely went wide as her target jumped to his feet after Geist.
"Circuit!"
"I got it, I got it, even pinged the bitchface's data pad with the original timer. We gotta go," he answered, yanking cords free and coiling them around one arm.
"Harper!"
Didn't let herself imagine what was going on inside the MAC room. Couldn't let herself think about the two of them whirling with blades and scorching intent. Just the Freelancer shrugging off debilitating wounds like they didn't even touch him. Geist caught the next punch and twisted. He drove the side of his hand into the contorted elbow with a resounding crack. He got a kick to the chest for his trouble.
"Old ball and chain's calling, Cal-California," Harper shouted from within. "Better go see what she needs."
But Firefly was the first Phoenix to burst out into the hall, taking it all in with one swift glance. He rocketed into the white and orange Freelancer, dragging him several feet down the hall and away from Geist. Blizzard grabbed Geist by the edge of the chestplate and hoisted him to his feet. Shoving him toward Circuit, she slammed a fresh magazine into her assault rifle to see if she could make another burst stick. Caught between Blizzard and flamethrower, the Freelancer curled his arms protectively in front of his face and growled.
Falcon and Crosshair tumbled out of the MAC room, dragging a bloodied Harper between them. Green eyes glittered with delight as he called over his shoulder, "Until next time, Cal. Don't forget me, yeah?"
Once they were safely moving down the hall, Blizzard flashed an amber warning light at Firefly. The instant he responded with blue acknowledgement, she spun on a heel and sprinted after their teammates. She heard her friend's boots just behind. Trapped. Unable to peer inside the MAC room and assess the damage. She curled around the flickering flame deep in her heart.
Up ahead, Harper paused just long enough to spit blood at the floor. Fury lent a burst of energy to Blizzard, who chased him all the way out of the base and into Phoenix's waiting Pelican, hidden in the trees less than a hundred metres from the entrance.
Falcon was already seated at the controls, flipping switches and starting the engines. Geist collapsed into his usual seat, Firefly by his side a second later. Circuit and Crosshair were waiting for her, stepping forward together to catch a shoulder each to hold her just out of reach.
"You're a real piece of work after all of this, Ian," she snarled, not yet feeling any of her injuries while the storm screamed through her blood, freezing her into combat awareness. "If you ever go anywhere near Jason again, I'll kill you myself. I don't care who gets in my way, I'll put the bullet between your eyes."
Harper sagged into his own seat, cradling his crooked nose. "Yeah, yeah, Bliz. Sit the fuck down or I'll send you to Allen to explain why you wouldn't fight the enemy today."
She thrashed, desperate to throw those off restraining hands so she could crush the rest of Harper's face beneath her boot.
"Hannah, stop. Think about this."
"Shut up, Mike."
He wrestled her into a seat, nudging Lucas away gently. They stared into each other's blank faceplates. "This isn't a fight you'll win," he said, too quiet to be heard by anyone else. Firm. Unshakeable Mike. "Leave it here for today. Talk to Jason when you can. Remember who gives your orders now."
She wanted to hit something. Hard.
No, not really. She wanted Jason. Wanted to hold his face in her hands and tell him how much he meant to her. She forced herself to breathe, to think. Mike was right. Harper's threats were carefully calculated, backing her into a corner with no escape.
"You know what you did. Live with the knowledge he chose me over you today," she hissed across the troop bay.
Harper hid his flinch well, but she still saw it. Still saw the wound draw blood. He said nothing, getting back to his feet and stalking into the cockpit to talk to Phil.
Mike released Hannah, sitting back on the floor and rubbing the top of his helmet. "Some fucking day," he sighed.
She leaned into the wall at her back. "Some fucking day," she agreed.
