Distantly, I could make out the forms of the Gen 2 biotics. It would be hard to miss them, each one the size of a school bus and as wide as two of them set next to each other. Their heads were broad, like someone had mixed a hammerhead shark with a lobster. Spiked protrusions felt the way for them as they moved across the terrain, thundering steps from eight bulky legs clacked against coral. Two trailing arms, as thick as an oil drum even near the tips, flicked behind them irritably as an explosion erupted across the thick, chitinous exterior of the head.

It took the artillery shot, the fifth of such, dead-on and kept moving forward. There was minimal damage, primarily cosmetic, but it did look like it was uncomfortable, and more than once did I see it stagger and move in the wrong direction.

But that was all. It was durable, beyond anything I’d seen thus far. More durable than I thought was actually physically possible.

“Alright, fuck it.” I heard the incredulous voice that belonged to Patrick say over the comms, “All artillery, fire on target.”

It wasn’t a bad idea at all, and I watched with interest, and not the smallest amount of perplexion, as the mechanized artillery all rattled off rounds. An instant later, the biotic erupted in a mass of fire and explosions.

A deep rolling bass, much like the first call we’d heard, vibrated through my suit.

‘Surely, that was at least some damage.’ I thought, having a hard time imagining much of anything getting up and walking away from that.

As the smoke cleared, though, the grim fact that the biotic was still alive greeted us. More than that, the creature sported far less damage than I’d hoped. There were a few marks, some flaking armor, but that was all, the creature had angled it’s head to take the brunt of the blows, protecting its segmented body from further impact. It was still very far away, and from this range I could see it only through magnification.

Even so, I could also see seven more of them, though much further away and less rapid in their approach. They were slow, excruciatingly so, but I doubted the trailing arms were just for show. It would take them a long time to get here, perhaps an hour or two.

“What…” Patrick was rendered speechless upon seeing the thing still alive, let alone barely damaged.

“This is gonna be a big fuckin’ problem.” Jeremy hissed, “Reaper, permission to bypass the biotics and go after the Hives.”

‘That’s looking like our only option. I sighed morosely, all of the defenses we’d built, and we couldn’t crack these things?

“Granted. Alpha, form up on me, we’re going too-” I paused, seeing something falling off of the biotic in the distance. “Hold order, I’m seeing something…”

I augment my vision, zooming in as much as I could. I felt a dull throbbing ache as I pushed my eyes to the limit, detailing what I was seeing as much as possible and sharing it with the rest of the group.

“You have got to be kidding me…” I heard Fran utter with revulsion, seeing the black balls falling from undulating organs on the underside of the biotics.

“They’re Carriers,” I muttered, “I guess that’s why Spindlies are so suicidal, they’re basically just drones.”

“Or polyps, we are talking about something that seems like it’s from the sea.” Terry chipped in, “This is looking bad, though.”

Another deep rolling noise vibrated my body, and this time a shrieking sound responded. Around us, turrets came alive as Spindlies moved towards us.

“Great,” I shook my head, “Looks like we’re going to have to deal with the Spindlies first, Strauss.”

“Roger that,” frustration was clear in his voice as he and his team took up their positions on the wall once more.

In the moments that I had before the situation worsened, I reached to connect to the long-distance communication hub built off of the Emet. Urgently, I composed and sent a packet of order to Legion HQ. With luck, we’d be getting support before the situation became too dire.

This was, however, worse than we’d expected to deal with.

Black, urchin masses appeared in a trickle, and then increased in number. Soon, the turrets weren’t enough, the lurching, undulating waves coming on heavier. The Determinators, Legion, and volunteer teams opened fire, unleashing overlapping fields of death and destruction on everything that surged forth.

The numbers didn’t slow, though, and a surge of them pushed forward with fury.

“Artillery changing targets!” Patrick grit his teeth, annoyed at not being able to punish such juicy targets. After we took care of at the bulk numbers of these, at least, we could focus on the larger ones.

Airburst rounds shredded through clusters of them, but, the trade off being many of them were able to survive. I watched with trepidation as two dozen of them jumped into the air, pointing only a few spikes towards us and the rest away, shaping the blast to propel the spikes towards us faster, farther.

They were still far away, but alarmingly spikes punched into the coral that sat in front of the walls.

“Cover!” Strauss called, his group hitting the deck fast enough, but one of the Determinators flew backwards, off the wall as a spike punched through its torso.

He wasn’t the only one, someone else hadn’t recognized the threat on another wall, and blood sprayed backwards as it punched through mesh and exo-suit like a hot knife through butter. The man was dead before he ever hit the ground, one of my Legion gone in the blink of an eye.

“Fuck! James!” I heard the man who’d been next to him shout. He looked back and forth, and I felt an ache in my chest as he cycled through emotions. Shock, then grief as he realized the man was already gone, and then fury as he stood over the barricade, unleashing a stream of fire. His targets were on point, but there were many of them.

I controlled the Determinators as best as I could, and fired from my position, sniping targets whenever possible. The mechs on the walls gave support, and the artillery continued to fire. Invariably, though, there were casualties.

The artillery teams changed ammo types, firing our experimental gas out and into the field. It was more effective as they closed, the cleared areas able to maintain a more even layer of the explosive retardant, at least per the method the Spindlies used.

The problem was that there were some that were still finding high ground, much like the first round, these ones displayed their lethality in full force.

Whenever one of the lances hit the plas-steel wall, it would fracture and dig a gouge through its surface, but it would hold. Repeat shots, however, would get through. A gassed Spindlie, though, could carve away only a small amount, effectively nulling their damage.

They weren’t the problem, though, the full force lances were.

I looked around, trying to sort through the chaos. At this point, there was little more we could do than to weather the waves.

Ten minutes later, some semblance of balance returned. The Spindlies had gotten very close, and flares had taken the place of the bioluminescent lighting. The dark spots in the coral told enough of a story about the quality of the destruction that had been wrought, emphasized by the groaning, wailing of injured in the base.

“The turrets can take care of the stragglers,” I grit my teeth, seeing the numbers vastly decreased. It looked like the Carriers were making their way forwards still, but if anything, they’d slowed down. “I want a damage report from every team as soon as possible, wounded taken care of, and our fallen accounted for.”

It was then that Fran landed next to me, “Matt, Daniel got hit.” Her jaw was set, tears rimming her eyes.

My heart dropped into my gut, “What?”

“He got hit. Stomach wound, near the beginning. They’re just prying him out of the mech.” She said, voice wavering, “They said that he should pull through, but he’s not going anywhere.”

“Fuck.” I growled, “Let’s go see. I’ll catch up in just a second.”

She nodded as I switched my attention to Jeremy, “Strauss, keep me updated on the situation. Artillery, pound the shit out of those Carriers out there, keep them from building up another fuckin’ wave like that. I’m going to check the wounded and see what we’re working with.”

“Roger that,” Jeremy clipped, quickly attending to the wall, and issuing orders to those nearby.

Patrick growled, “With pleasure,” and promptly began shelling again as though he had a personal vendetta against saving ammunition.

Not that I minded, if we took too many waves like that we might very well collapse. The gas had saved our asses, had every one of the Spindlies that detonated did so at full strength, we’d have fully lost half our number, easily.

I walked to the building that had been set up as the medical tent. It was three fourths of the way full, medical gear constantly streaming out of the backs of six Ogre’s that had parked right up against a loading bay for the structure. We hadn’t actually expected to need to use so much, but it was better to have it and not need it, then to need it and not have it, as the saying went.

And damned if we didn’t end up needing it.

Automated systems, mobile and escorted by a medic or doctor, worked quickly on individuals. There were two groups in the tent, clearly separated. The first had the bulk of the med-bots working through them - they contained all manner of surgical equipment within what was usually just a leaning arm joint with an oval compartment where other limbs could emerge. Without that casing, the med-bot would suddenly look a lot more like a torture-bot.

And, given how it was completely unpacked right now, it looked very much like a torture bot.

I saw Fran standing next to Daneil, his body strapped to a cot, cold sweat and pale as he looked up to her with a grin. I grimaced at the sight, part of the lance was still in his gut. A medical bot was currently latched onto his other arm, numbing agents and bags of blood pumping into him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I heard him say as I approached. I stood next to Fran, his eyes unfocused.

I felt my breath hitch, and the words I spoke came out as a hiss instead of any kind of confident, “You’d better not be, you bastard.”

He blinked and forced his eyes to stay open, “I fucked up, I should have rolled, I ducked instead. Would have just taken the spike to the mechs leg if I didn’t duck.”

“We’ll have to run you through the simulator later,” Fran threatened, halfway between a chuckle and tears, “Now, rest you big oaf. We’ll take care of things from here.”

“Right… right. Imma take five.” He started drifting off, the drugs taking effect, “Man, I want a cheeseburger.”

“When you wake up.” I promised with my tear-ducts puffing up, but nothing able to come out. “Just make sure you do.”

“Yeah.” He uttered, closing his eyes as the machine fully got to work, hooking up to his body, cutting through clothing fluidly to gain access to the injury. It then unfolded to wing-like arms, a drape of sorts giving some privacy to the patient as it worked on them.

It cut into Daniel, grabbing the spike with forceps. Perhaps if it was anyone else, I would have been able to stay and watch this. But, I couldn’t, not with Daniel.

“He’ll be fine,” Fran touched my shoulder, “I’ll let you know how it’s looking.”

I shook my head, “I should be the one giving you assurances.” I took off my helmet, breathing a deep, heavy breath, sharing in the moment of pain.

“I’ll be here for him.” She nodded to me, smiling in spite of it all.

“And I’ll do what I do best.” I answered, anger boiling in my gut, static against the backdrop of my mind. I left the location, moving to the center aisle where the divide was. On the left were all those with mortal injuries, things that needed to be treated immediately. There weren’t a huge amount of them, luckily, but the other side of the room was cluttered.

Even weakened, the lances did damage. Anyone in anything less than power armor would definitely receive an injury from them.

And, right at the edge were two familiar faces.

“Alice.” I started seeing her with red rags around her stomach and her right leg. Richard was next to her, helping to keep her calm.

His eyes shot up to mine, a gentleness to them that stunned me again. They hardened, “She’ll be alright, they’ve given her a sedative. Strauss has two in here, also.”

“Fucking hell.” I squeezed my fists closed hard enough that I heard metal creak. “I hate these fucking things.”

Richard stood up, gently setting Alice’s hand down across her stomach. “We heading out?”

“Yes.” My flinty gaze met his, “Lets kill these fucking things.”

“Good, we’ll probably be better off with a small group.” He commented, “Maybe we’ll go with Strauss.”

I shook my head, “He’ll be going on his own, we’ll have our own backup.”

Richard frowned, and as we walked out of the tent, he started, seeing ten Determinators waiting for us in two columns. “I’ll task half of them to Last Call. Alpha will go in on the other side. It’s safe to assume that the hives will be on the beach, or near it.”

The comms came alive again, “Reaper, did we have anything planned to be coming from Gilramore through the air?”

I smiled, moving towards the wall where Strauss was, “Yes. Did it appear on radar already?”

“No, not yet, just got an… odd message from RR&D is all.” He stated warily, “Saying that they were going to field test some new model of ship.”

“So long as it works, I don’t care.” I decided exasperatedly, “Any new contacts?”

“Nothing close. The artillery is helping out a lot for now, but the Carriers are coming closer. Figure they might be going for an attack themselves?” He fed me the view that he was seeing, the eight massive creatures crawling over coral and tanking artillery fire with impunity.

“Maybe, or they’re going to start spawning Spindlies in our faces.” I didn’t look forward to the prospect at all.

“Well, we’ll find out soon. They should be here in less than ten minutes.” Jeremy estimated.

‘That leaves us with… what, 15 minutes minimum for air-support?’ I frowned, unhappy with how this was matching up. ‘Here’s hoping they aren’t literally going to walk into base and drop Spindlies off.’

If it ended up looking like that, we’d have to abandon the forward base, maybe even the entire expedition.

‘Next time, rail guns.’ I glared at the thick armor plating on the Carriers, frustrated in my lack of being able to kill them.

“I might have a plan,” Richard said carefully, “But I don’t think I can do it more than once.”

I turned to him, eyebrow quirked, “I’m listening.”