Pinwheel Remastered

She left me standing there red-faced as she stalked over to her pack, her mantle of Alpha reclaimed. She hefted her own XMR off the rack, barking orders at them as they began to copy her design, fumbling with the attachments.

Harry had been close enough to overhear our exchange, and I gave him a rather sheepish shrug.

"I guess I don't need to worry about you losing your nerve in a fight if that's your idea of fun," he said. "Come on, let's gear up."

***

We burst out onto the torus, the Krell that I had taken to calling Blackjack taking point, protected by the massive gun shield that was mounted on the end of his LMG. It was such an imposing weapon, but he lifted it effortlessly. The drum magazine alone probably weighed as much as my entire XMR. The humans fanned out behind him with their rifles shouldered, covering one another as they took up position around the door to the armory. They hid behind planters and barriers, scanning for signs of movement. The newly reformed pack of Borealans loped out after us, their round ears swiveling in all directions, their pink noses sampling the air.

We had no armor, we were clad only in our Navy uniforms, but we did have chest rigs for carrying extra magazines and receivers. The Krell were wearing their leather ponchos, using the pockets to store their ammo and gear.

It was a warzone outside. Everything was still lit in crimson, and the fires had created a fog of dark smoke that seemed to cling to the ceiling like an acrid rain cloud. There were plasma burns scarring everything, from the facades of buildings to the planters, the trees charred here and there where the crackling energy had passed too close and had ignited them. There were perfect, round holes where railgun slugs had penetrated, along with blast marks that might have come from grenades.

I could see a good distance down the torus before it curved out of sight beneath the ceiling, and besides for a few Drone bodies scattered around, there was no sign of anyone. There had been fighting here, but it had moved off to other areas of the station. The lack of human bodies suggested that the Marines might have won this engagement, and had subsequently evacuated their dead and wounded.

"On the right," Raz said. "The scent of Bugs is stronger."

"Then we go upspin," I said, looking around as I waited for someone to protest. Nobody had any objections, and so we set off, keeping to cover as we moved through the ravaged torus. The dim, red lighting made every shadow a potential hiding place for a Bug surprise attack, my eyes darting about as we slowly advanced. As afraid as I was, I had never felt so alive, so aware. Every footstep and every rustle of the leaves drew my attention, I felt like I could have heard a penny drop on the other side of the torus.

We cleared every alleyway and checked behind every kiosk with mechanical efficiency, knowing that one mistake could result in injury or death. The Borealans were hypervigilant, their ears swiveling like furry little radar dishes, twitching in the direction of any sound that they heard.

Due to the way that the torus had been designed, there were surprisingly few clear lines of sight. The decorations that I had once praised for their aesthetic appeal now provided us with cover and potentially concealed our enemies.

Our footsteps echoed on the deck, the claws of the Borealans clicking against the metal, the two Krell stomping around like elephants. There wasn't much cover that could conceal the giant reptiles, and so they made little effort to stay hidden, marching along with their machine guns at the ready. A few of the humans had taken to walking behind them in single-file, as though they were living APCs. They might well serve as cover in much the same way if the plasma started flying.

"Where is everyone?" Harry muttered. "Shouldn't we have encountered some Marines by now?"

"Maybe," I replied, sweeping my rifle across the walkway. Its weight was a comfort, I finally had a weapon that I knew how to use. I had felt so naked, armed with only the pistol. "They've either cornered the remaining Bugs in another quarter of the torus, or they've retreated to the central hub. That's what they'd do, right? It's the most defensible place on the station."

"Contact!" Raz hissed.

I followed her gaze, seeing the glint of Bug carapaces as a squad of the squat little creates came wandering out of one of the buildings. There were maybe a dozen of them, and they hadn't seen us yet. They had their pistols at the ready, and they seemed to be searching for something, their green eyes glowing as they examined their surroundings. They might be lost, or perhaps they were seeking out new targets.

There was no time to come up with a plan, they'd notice us any second now.

"Open fire!" I yelled, throwing myself behind the cover of a planter and resting the barrel of my XMR on the metal. I fired around the tree that occupied the pot, my shouting and the sudden crack of gunfire sending the Drones scrambling. I was in my element now, this was what I had trained for, what I had spent untold hours drilling to perfection. The first burst caught one of the Bugs in the back, the three slugs tearing it apart. Ichor sprayed as fragments of its broken shell flew through the air, the insect keeling over as its comrades dove into nearby cover.

The other humans followed my lead, ducking behind barriers and planters as they opened fire, cutting down two more of the aliens. They leaned out from behind kiosks and benches, the muzzle flashes from their XMRs illuminating the scene intermittently, the noise deafening. The Krell were not to be outdone, standing their ground and firing their light machine guns from the hip, the barrels starting to glow orange as they peppered the Bugs with a hail of tungsten slugs. They were like walking machine gun nests, no other species could have controlled that kind of recoil. The velocity of the rounds meant that much of the cover provided by the planters and other decorations was rendered moot, and I watched as one of the Bugs was torn apart from behind the apparent safety of an information terminal. The slugs cut straight through the metal, electricity sparking as the internal components were eviscerated, a monitor that was displaying a map of the station fizzling out as it was perforated. The Bug was hit with half a dozen rounds or more, the projectiles shattering its protective shell, tearing it limb from limb as the kinetic energy was transferred to its body with brutal results.

There was return fire coming in now, the tree above me bursting into roaring flames as a plasma bolt passed just over my head, the heat of it making me recoil. The plasma lacked the penetration of the railgun slugs, but it had other attributes. I watched as the plastic housing of a kiosk slagged, the recruit that had been taking refuge behind it leaping out of the way, crawling on his belly as another volley reduced his cover to a melting pool of polymer.

The Krell took fire, much of it splashing harmlessly off their gun shields, leaving dark smears on the metal. One of them caught a bolt to the shoulder, a low rumbling making my bones shake as he loosed a roar of pain, swinging his weapon toward his attackers. The LMG shredded the trees and bushes with the efficiency of a chainsaw, cutting them down, along with the aliens that had been firing from behind them.

There were flashes of colorful light as the remaining Bugs ignited their plasma shields, grouping up and forming a wall, the stream of slugs melting on contact and showering the Drones with flecks of molten metal. The glow from the barriers lit up everything around them, the vibrant hues of the alien carapaces shining and glittering in a way that might have been beautiful under less deadly circumstances. I had seen these tactics before, I knew what to expect.

"They're gonna use those shields to close in on us, then they're gonna come after us with knives!" I shouted over the din. The Bugs were now occupying the entire walkway, seven or eight of them standing side by side as they advanced, laying down suppressing fire with their pistols. The Krell had to draw back, taking cover behind their gun shields and putting more objects between them and the enemy.

"Switch to plasma receivers if you got 'em!" someone shouted. I huddled down with my back to the planter, rummaging through my chest rig, my hands trembling as I swapped out my magazine for a plasma canister. I flipped up the rail on top of my XMR frame and popped out the railgun receiver, then switched them, closing the hinged rail again with a slap of my hand. It wasn't quite second nature yet, as Vasiliev had said, but it was becoming familiar enough. I rose to aim over the planter again, and soon a volley of plasma was pounding the Bug phalanx. Their shields dissipated the bolts, seeming to absorb them, but the flow of the magnetically-contained energy began to grow erratic.

"Focus your fire!" Harry shouted, leaning out from an alleyway as he shouldered his rifle and fired off a full-auto burst of plasma. His XMR of choice had an extended mag and a shorter barrel with a forward grip, like an assault rifle. "The one in the middle!"

I spotted the one that he was referring to, its shield wavering as it absorbed the fire. I closed one eye and looked down my scope, intent on landing the shots. The XMR kicked into my shoulder as a trio of plasma bolts joined Harry's volley, the Bug's shield overloading and collapsing to leave it exposed.

"Brace!" I heard Raz shout, and I turned to see that she had formed a line with her pack. They had moved out of cover, and their four identical rifles were raised. They braced the weapons against their shoulders at her command, waiting for her order.

"Fire!" Raz shouted, and the four aliens loosed a volley in perfect sync. Their XMRs were all clones of the one that I had assisted Raz in creating, semi-automatic, with extended barrels and sharp bayonets. The aliens treated them like their native breech-loaders, that was what they had trained for, and their archaic firing line formation further hammered that point home. It was hard to criticize their outdated tactics when we were facing down a shield wall, however.

The four slugs hit the Bug whose barrier had collapsed, the densely packed magnetic coils on the long barrels propelling them to incredible velocities. Their target practically disintegrated, lifted clear off its feet, the projectiles shattering its carapace like a rock thrown through a glass window. The transfer of kinetic energy tore it apart, a cloud of misted gore spraying its comrades to either side of it.

As its ruined body tumbled across the deck, the other Bugs closed ranks to fill the hole in their formation, not showing any sign of fear or reacting in any way to the grisly death of their squadmate. They returned fire, the Borealans scattering, diving into cover with a speed and agility that gave the Bugs little time to get a bead on them.

The incoming barrage was too much for the Bugs to weather. With every shield that they lost, their ability to absorb our fire was reduced. Two more dropped, one of the Bugs cut cleanly in half by a Krell LMG, while the second was sent flailing to the ground by a burst of plasma fire. Those that remained fired indiscriminately with their pistols in an attempt to get us to duck back into cover.

Outnumbered and routed, they quickly succumbed, falling to the deck as their insectoid bodies were slagged and perforated.

"Yeah!" Harry yelled, emerging from cover and raising his rifle above his head in triumph. "Weren't expecting to meet us today, were you? Fucking cockroaches!"

"Is everyone alright?" I asked, lowering my weapon. I was careful not to let the barrel touch me, the coils were glowing red-hot. One of the Krell rummaged in the many pockets of his poncho, withdrawing a heat-resistant glove. It was Blackjack, I could see some of his plasma burns beneath the garment. He used it to remove the barrel of his XMR, which had partially melted during the sustained fire, discarding it and slotting in a fresh one.

Everyone was accounted for, and so we pressed on, stepping around the remains of the Bug squad. Raz sidled up beside me, her pack trailing behind her obediently.

"Looks like you're all getting along," I said, glancing back over my shoulder at the aliens.

"I am Alpha again, they will obey me without question."

"That went...really well," I added, laughing nervously. "When I saw those Marines on the torus go down, I thought that we'd get shredded if we tried to take on the Bugs ourselves. But back in the service tunnels, and now out here...we've got this. We're winning."

"There is merit to mixed units," Raz conceded. "The Krell drew their fire and kept them pinned, while the humans whittled down their shields. If they had closed into knife range, we would have been able to handle them, but they never had the opportunity. We compliment one another well."

"So what do your buddies think about the XMRs now?" I asked, "do they still want to go get their breech-loaders from their shuttle?"

"They're warming up to them," she replied, shooting me a smirk.

"You seem to know what you're doing, you were commanding your pack like it was routine."

"My father had me trained extensively in Borealan battlefield tactics," she explained, keeping her yellow eyes on the walkway ahead of us. "I was to serve as an example of Elysian martial prowess, of what the Patriarch can offer the Coalition. I am bred of royal stock, the largest and the strongest of my carefully selected pack. We trained for months, tutored by the best marksmen and tacticians that my territory has produced, all so that I could impress the humans."

That gave her anger and frustration at not being permitted to use the Borealan breech-loaders back at the range some more context. It sounded like the aliens had drilled with them until their trigger fingers were blistered, and not being allowed to show that off meant potentially failing their mission. Judging by the way that they valued their social hierarchy, an order by the Patriarch might as well be engraved on a stone tablet.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I'm pretty impressed." She gave me a playful whip with her tail, making me stumble. "Come on," I grumbled, "we're in like...combat."

"Heads up," Harry said, jogging forward to catch up with us. "It's one of those Bug ships."

He pointed ahead of us, and beneath the curvature of the ceiling, one of the organic breaching pods came into view. We raised our weapons, hunkering down and keeping to cover as we advanced. Much like the one that I had seen earlier, it was made from the same irregular, organic material. The expanding foam had poured over it like a lava flow before setting, sealing the jagged tear in the hull behind the vehicle. This one had come in at a slightly different angle, tearing into the buildings on the other side of the torus. It was almost long enough to block the walkway.

"I think we're safe," I said, rising from cover to get a better look at it. "The armored plates have already popped off, looks like the Bugs who rode this one in are gone."

The massive pieces of bony carapace were resting on the deck around the thing, the grotesque openings that they had left behind them gaping like open wounds where the Drones had spilled out onto the station.

"Let's get a closer look," Harry said, hurrying ahead. I followed behind him as he gave the hull of the strange object a prod with his rifle. "It's hard," he muttered, "I thought it might be fleshy."

I reached out a hand and touched it, surprised, and somewhat repulsed to find that it was still warm. Was it alive in its own right?

"Hey Raz," I said, "gimme a boost."

She walked up behind me and gripped me by the straps on my rig, raising me off the floor one-handed so that I could get a look inside the Bug ship. The interior was gloomy, but what I could make out almost looked like the innards of an animal, with exposed flesh that was coated in a shining layer of fluid.

"Looks like it's full of raw meat," I said. "Maybe that helps cushion the Drones, so they don't get pasted when they land?"

"We shouldn't linger here," Raz added as she set me back down, "the Bugs might return to their ship."

"I don't see how they could use these things to get off the station," I said as I began to walk around the pod. I neared one of the pools of expanding foam, tapping it with the toe of my boot and finding that it was rock-hard. "What would they do, put the big pieces of shell back on it? I don't see any engines either, I think this was a one-way trip."

"We'll make sure of that," Harry added, switching out his receiver and slamming in a loaded magazine now that we had a moment. "Let's keep moving, there has to be someone still left on this station besides us."

***

As we made our way further up the torus, sounds of gunfire began to overpower our footsteps. There was something big happening ahead, but the curvature of the station's habitat prevented us from seeing it. We dove into the cover of the planters as we spotted movement at the far end of the walkway, but lowered our weapons when we saw that it was two men carrying a third. His arms were draped over their shoulders, and his feet were dragging limply, he looked unconscious.

They were Marines, their black combat armor reflecting the red glow, their rifles slung over their backs.

"Friendlies!" I shouted, and they turned their helmeted heads to look in our direction. Our ragtag band of humans and aliens jogged over to them, the two Krell keeping watch like living sentry turrets as the two Marines laid their wounded comrade on the deck. He had a nasty plasma burn that had melted through the armor on his chest piece, I didn't even want to look at what lay beneath.

"What the...what are recruits doing out here?" one of them asked, his face obscured by his opaque visor. He glanced at Raz and her pack for a moment, perhaps he hadn't seen a Borealan before. "Where's your Staff Sergeant?"

"We've come to help," I replied, "we were separated from the rest of the trainees near the barracks."

"You crossed the military quarter alone?" the second Marine added, sounding skeptical. "Didn't you run into any Bugs?"

"A few," Harry said, giving his XMR a tap.

"If you want to help, then lend us a Krell so that we can get this guy to the medbay," the first one said as he gestured to his prone friend. "He's in a bad state, caught a plasma bolt. It melted the plate to his chest, and we can't get it off to treat the wound."

"What's happening down there?" Raz asked, nodding in the direction that they had come.

"A bunch of critters have holed up in one of the hangar bays in the engineering section, they're dug in deep. Some of the Drones from the pods managed to meet up and form a larger force, and we pushed them back downspin, where they retreated into the bay. We've been trying to dislodge 'em, but they're still holding, it's a stalemate right now."

"Can't you send the Krell in?" Harry asked.

"Enough Bugs'll swarm over a Krell like ants and drag it down. They're hiding behind their shields, and there's no cover around the bay door because that's where they ship in cargo and shit like that."

"If that's where the fight is, then that's where we're going," I said.

"I don't care what you do, it's not my responsibility," the first Marine replied with a shrug. "Just help us carry this guy."

"Blackjack," I said, turning to the Krell. "Can you get this guy back to the infirmary?"

He rumbled affirmatively, lumbering over to the injured human and lifting him easily in his massive, scaly arms. He cradled his charge like a baby, turning about and setting off in the direction that we had come, the two other soldiers following after him. We had already cleared the path from the barracks, I wasn't sure exactly where the infirmary was, but it was likely somewhere in the military quarter. Blackjack should be fine.