**********
February 27, 2229
Finally out of that goddamn swamp
". . . and so the farmer asks, 'Wow, how did you manage to control yourself?' and the last guy goes 'Arwahahwhawhahaaaaa,' because his tongue is all bloody," I concluded.
"HAH!" Four laughed. "That's a good one!" The big frog-man roared in laughter, slapping his partially-webbed hand against his uniformed thigh. "All right, here's a short one. What's better than fnakrakhing a Dreggha against a chain link fence?"
"I dunno, what?" I asked.
"NOTHING!" roared Four, and he started laughing even louder.
"Shut up," One snapped. "Stay tactical, you two are making enough noise to alert every sentry from here to. . ."
"Oh, quit being such a fuddy duddy, One," Seven pouted. She threw her arms around the taciturn soldier's neck and gave her a kiss on the cheek despite her struggling, and the sight of those two female soldiers in such close proximity was wondrous to behold. "We're fine, no one's around."
"We can't be certain of that, we're deep within enemy territory," One said bluntly, breaking the hold and rubbing her cheek with the back of her hand. "We could be ambushed at any minute."
"Awww, don't be such a worrywart, One, live a little," Seven cooed. Then her eyes hardened, and she dropped her airhead Playboy bunny act. "Seriously, we're fine," she said, tapping her earbud. "Intercepted Yor transmissions indicate that the machines are having trouble with a group of "fleshlings" setting up a remarkably effective resistance in the high mountains. They're taking heavy casualties, and in the meantime, fleshling mortar teams are bombarding their research centers from the high mountains. It's driving them absolutely bonkers, or as close to it as a bunch of toaster-heads can get. They've diverted resources to wipe them out there, convinced that it's the last pocket of resistance remaining."
"Two and Eight?"
"Looks like. I'm also hearing reports of two "demon-fleshlings" who are racking up an impressive number of Yor kills. They've put out special directives to eliminate those two on sight. Indications are they got a piece of one of them: 'Target partially disabled' were the words they used in the last report."
"They're good soldiers, they'll do fine," One said curtly. "We can count on them to complete the mission. Yad Chia Kalia."
"I know," Seven said, but her eyes were flat and emotionless, and I realized then that they didn't expect to see Two and Eight again.
"We're here," Six said, putting up his big gun. The two girls nodded and made their way up to the treeline, next to where the big guy was setting up his massive cannon in a nice little dry defile, a few hundred meters from the city outskirts. "Looks quiet. We haven't been detected."
"Of course it's quiet, you wanker, what did you think, Five and I were going to leave you two holding your tallywackers all alone? Unlike you tossers, we complete our bloody missions," someone growled in my ear, and I felt the muzzle of a gun being pressed to the back of my head. "Fos Natha?"
"Fos Soth," One replied. "Hi there, Three."
"Fos Soth. Good to see you again, One." The gun was removed from the back of my head, and I turned around to see. . . nothing. "What the heck?"
"Down here, retard."
I looked down at the source of the noise and my world did another somersault. There was a little rodent there with a bushy tail, wearing a camouflage headband and carrying a plasma pistol power pack on his back, the barrel held in both hands like Six's cannon. "A squirrel. A fuckin' squirrel?"
"Hey, call me a squirrel again, and I'll collect your balls with a rusty knife!" The 'squirrel' drew a bowie knife he had slung across his back like a sword and waved it threateningly in the direction of my crotch with both hands. "Can I eat his balls, One? Please?"
"No, he needs them," One said dismissively. "Where is Five?"
"Where I left him, standing by to cut the power on my mark. We'll have a seventeen minute window to get through the palace security and into the central core. After that. . ." he shrugged. "We do what we do best. Sovek Yad Chia."
"Yad Chia Kalia," One replied emphatically. "All right, so we've got our plan of action once we reach the palace. How about getting to the palace, what is the plan there?"
Three grinned. "Oh, you're going to love this," he cackled, tightening his camouflage headband and sheathing his knife with a fancy little fillip. "Absolutely adore it."
*****
"You know, when we were in that swamp, I never thought I would want to be back in there ever, but this. . . this is worse than the swamp," I groused. "This is. . . this makes the swamp feel like a day in paradise. This makes the swamp feel like an island vacation. This makes the swamp feel like. . ."
"Shut up," One growled, "You're being annoying and untactical."
"Yeah, besides," Seven cooed, "what do you have to complain about? You're packed in a confined space next to a couple of gorgeous girls all covered in mud. There are guys who would pay good money to be in this situation. Or would you rather be in the other truck with Six and Four?"
I shuddered at the thought. The two big guys already took up most of the space in the other truck, and they were practically cheek to jowl in there. If I were in there, with all the jostling around and bumping, I'd probably wind up crushed like a grape in a steam press. "No thanks," I admitted.
Lentzlandians was a mostly wet planet, covered with a lot of wetlands and swamps, and the area around the capital city was no exception. Filters and processing plants and drainage pumps kept the ground from falling apart, but the problem was that the water they were pumping out was filled with organics, silt, and other sludge that built up on the equipment. For that reason, the Lentz had developed a system of trolleys and trains that cleaned and carted away the silt and buildup and carried it to other places for use as landfill.
Three's plan was to hitch a ride on one of the trains and hop out when it reached our destination. The silt would help hide our thermal signatures, and the Yor would not be unduly surprised to find organic material in one of these carts. The only danger now was that we could possibly be found by guards doing a search of the carts, but experience had shown that the Yor often didn't have the creativity to think sideways in that manner.
We hoped.
I shifted my weight a bit to try and relieve the pressure on my arm and wound up feeling something soft and round. "You know," Seven purred, "if you wanted that so badly, you could have just asked."
"Sorry, sorry," I muttered, knowing my face must be beet red in the darkness. "Didn't mean to do that."
"Don't be sorry," Seven said, and I felt her reach a hand up and fiddle with the zipper of my uniform shirt. "I mean, we've got at least an hour, and although things are a bit cramped, we could. . ."
"Seven, shut up, stay tactical, I'm serious about this," One hissed.
"Oh, I'm sorry, how rude of me, did you want in on this too? We could. . ."
"Shut up!"
"Fine, then, I'll let you go first. I'll even turn around. Be gentle with her Corporal, One here happens to be a virgin as far as I know, and she's as likely to. . ."
"NUMBER SEVEN, IF YOU DON'T SHUT THE HELL UP RIGHT NOW I WILL ACCIDENTALLY DISCHARGE MY PLASMA PISTOL RIGHT INTO YOUR HYPERACTIVE LOINS SO HELP ME WISP!" One hissed.
"Who the heck uses the word 'loins,' in this day and age? Want me to help you tie up your corset, darling, perhaps. . ."
"Quiet down in there, you stupid bints," Three whispered. He had his nose poking just above the surface of the truck, the lid opened a tiny crack so he could see outside. "Incoming Yor, stay down."
Everyone shut up. I could hear the pounding of my heart in my ears and the clomping of Yor feet on the pavement outside the slowly clanking train cart. "Please, oh please, don't come this way," Three whispered. "Shit." He dove down from the lip of the truck and dove down into the silt as far as he could.
The clanking got louder and louder, and I heard two steps stop right next to our cart. "Beep VrEeep," a Yor said, and with a loud clunk, the train stopped. There was a loud clang, and I knew that one of the Yor had opened up the lid of one of the other train cars. There was another clang, louder this time, and I knew they were getting closer. Six and One nodded and pressed a button: their ninja suits activated, and the two of them vanished from view.
Too bad I didn't have one.
I tried to sink as low into the sludge as possible. Maybe, if I were lucky, a Yor who opened the cart lid wouldn't see me amongst all the muck.
Oh, who was I kidding. If a Yor opened up the lid, I'd scream like a little girl.
A Yor did open the lid. I did scream like a little girl. About the same time, things started to blow up. The Yor dropped the lid and turned around just in time to see a massive mortar explosion wreck a nearby fountain and hurl a decapitated pissing cherub into its head. It stumbled over the edge of the cart and into the truck with us. Seven grabbed it by the torso and held it down while One grabbed it by the head, twisted, and pulled. It came off in a shower of sparks and orange hydraulic fluid. "Three, situation report!" One shouted.
"Some stupid bastard had the same idea we did, and didn't bother telling anyone!" the little rodent shouted. "We've got a battallion of Marines running around like idiots shooting things. . . shit!" Three leaped out of the cart. "They're locking down the palace, go gogogogogogo!"
"MOVE YOUR ASSES, TIR-QUAN!" One screamed. She vaulted out of the cart, scattering slime and sludge all over the place, and raced towards the palace entrance, firing both plasma pistols in tandem. "SOVEK YAD CHIA!"
"YAD CHIA KALIA!!!" they roared in reply. I stumbled out of the truck and glanced up in time to see Three unsling his modified plasma pistol from his back and open fire, knocking a couple of Yor back on their asses in the middle of converting from Worker to Hunter-Killer mode: it didn't drop them, but it slowed them down enough for One's guns to finish them off. Seven had found a nice mortar hole somewhere and was picking off Yor with surgical accuracy: boom boom boom, one shot, one kill. Six, meanwhile, was standing in the middle of the square with his cannon going full blast: BADADADADADADADADADADA and Yor Hunter-Killers were falling like wheat under a scythe.
Me?
I was hiding in a hole crying like a baby. I don't remember if I'd pissed my pants, but I remember I was completely out of it. Wasn't going anywhere. Just lay there in that hole holding that laser pistol while things blew up all around me. Don't know why. Maybe it was when that Yor opened up the lid and I saw my death in front of me. Maybe it was relief from being saved. Or maybe I was just a goddamn coward. All I know is, right then and there, I was a basket case.
The shooting stopped. "GOGOGO!" One shouted. "Three, get in contact with the Marines, now, tell them NOT to shell the palace, there are friendlies in here. All else, let's GO!"
Six and Seven got up and followed the hollering One into the palace, leaving me behind. I sighed in relief and rested my forehead on my arms. About then I felt a big hand tap me on the shoulder. "Well," Four asked, a huge grin on his face. "You coming, or not?"
"No, I am not coming," I didn't say. "I am staying right here and not racing into certain death with the rest of your madmen."
I didn't say it because just as the words were on my lips, I saw the decapitated head of that cherub statue, and I remembered seeing something like it before. There had been a little girl on the refugee transport who'd lost both her parents. She'd sat there hugging a doll that had lost its head somewhere along the line, not even having the strength to cry, just sitting there and rocking back and forth. Six years old and already with a thousand-yard stare.
I dunno. I guess. . . I'm no hero. But I remembered what that felt like, and hell, I didn't like sitting around and doing nothing while everyone else was fighting and dying.
I stood up and cleared my throat. "I w-w-. . . I was waiting for you, cocksucker," I said.
"Promises promises," Four grinned. He hefted his sniper rifle and slapped me on the back. "Run straight for the palace doors and don't look back," he said. "Wait for it. . . GO!"
I went.
The only thing I remember from that run is seeing a Yor railgun fletchette actually take off the heel of my boot as I ran: the little shard of metal skipped off the pavement and came a couple millimeters from taking off my foot entirely. I hit the ground bad on my next step, tumbled head-over-heels, hit my head against the bottom of the palace steps (thank God, or at least the Terran Alliance Marines Quartermaster, for the Mark VII Standard Issue Helmet.) I managed to stagger up the steps and get inside the door, turned around, started laying down some cover fire with my little laser pistol.
"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE IT!" Four shouted, and I turned just in time to see the big frog barrel right into me and shoulder-check me out of the doorway. A moment later, something big and explosive went off and collapsed the palace doorway. There was a shower of debris and dust, and things went black.
I woke up to find a big Jessuins laying on top of me, shaking his head and spitting out chunks of rock and tooth. "Shit, that hurt," he snarled.
"Why, Four, I didn't know you c-cared," I quipped in a shaky voice.
"Was gonna take you out to dinner and a florgath first, but I guess we don't have time for romance, baby," Four replied.
"Hey, I called dibs on that one!" Seven shouted back, cooly taking the head off of a Yor straggler with her rifle.
"All of you shut up and get tactical now!" One yelled. Her right pistol slide-locked, indicating it was out of ammo, so she threw it away and drew the sword. "GO GO GO GO GO!" She raced down the hallway, holding a sword and pistol like an old-time cavalry officer, blazing away with her gun.
"Crazy tart's gonna get herself killed," Four complained.
"Then I guess we'd better go rescue her," Seven said.
"Ours not to reason why, ours but to do or die," I muttered.
"Cannon to right of them," Six recited.
"Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of hell
Rode the six hundred."
We all turned to look at Six, who was calmly reloading his cannon. "Last box," he admitted. "I'll have to get a replacement weapon soon.
"We'll tear one off a Hunter Killer for you," Four promised.
"I'll hold you to that. Let's go."
And so we went.
Into the jaws of death.
Into the mouth of hell.
