“Empress above, is that an exo-suit?”

Jason glanced over to where Raisha was pointing. Sure enough, there stood one of the imposing black pseudo-mech suits. The nine-foot hunchbacked machine stood out amongst the hubbub of the defender’s ‘staging’ area, the nearby Shil’vati giving the exo-suit a wide berth.

He leaned on a nearby crate, he and the rest of the cadre having little better to do than hurry up and wait before they were deployed.

“I’m surprised the militia has any,” he said. “From what I’ve read, they’re supposed to be pretty expensive.”

Not so much the suit itself, as the miniature anti-gravity drive on the thing’s back. The thing that allowed it – with the aid of its powerful legs and a number of micro-thrusters – to dart around the battlefield like a grasshopper on steroids. The mechs couldn’t fly, but they could jump well enough to do a decent Spiderman impression. At least in an environment with sufficient verticality, like a jungle or a city. A fact that had caught a number of human commanders off guard during the invasion if the grousing from veterans online was anything to go off.

He didn’t blame them. The idea was all sorts of insane from an engineering perspective. The suit itself was probably simple enough – for a given value of simple – but Jason had less than no idea as to how the anti-gravity drive functioned. Which was really the only thing that let the insane tactic work at all.

“Probably military surplus,” Raisha reasoned, eyes remaining glued to the machine. “The Turox line used to be pretty standard until Helstrom won the contract.” She paused, looking at the runic emblem on the machine’s chest. “Or it’s a family machine.”

“Family machine?” Jason echoed, hating just how many aspects of Shil’vati society he was ignorant of. Some days he felt like a broken record given the number of times he needed to ask for clarification on something someone had mentioned offhandedly.

Raisha glanced at him. “You know, family machine? Veteran retires and buys their suit off the military at a discount.”

So, it was sort of like a veteran taking their service rifle home with them, he mused.

“A whole mech though?” he asked.

Raisha nodded. “It’s not cheap, sure, even for an exo-pilot, who are usually pretty flush. Pays for itself in the end though. If a kid signs up with their own mech, the military provides them with a pretty handy subsidy.”

That sounded like more Shil’vati classism to Jason, old school knights and shit. A logistical nightmare for replacement parts as well. That wasn’t his focus at the minute though.

“People just being able to buy a whole mech though? Isn’t that…you know, kind of dangerous?”

Raisha seemed honestly befuddled. “Humans aren’t allowed to own weapons?”

“Sure, rifles and shit.”

They’d apparently been allowed to own machineguns and heavier stuff once upon a time, but the Shil’vati had put a blanket ban on automatic weaponry. To admittedly limited success, given said weapons' sheer prevalence before the occupation. Even Jason, with his limited social circle, knew at least one person with a piece of ‘illicit’ hardware in his collection.

“Not the equivalent of goddamn tanks though,” he finished.

Raisha did the head cocking thing. “How strange. What would you do if you were….”

She trailed off as she realized that she was treading on what was probably a sensitive topic.

“Invaded?” Jason finished, drawing an embarrassed nod from the alien. “Lose apparently.”

He tried to keep the bitterness from his voice, but he was pretty sure he failed miserably. Not that military hardware had helped the actual military any when the Purps had shown up. Tanks weren’t much defense against a foe in orbit.

He’d heard a lot of people say in those early days that the occupation would never work. That it would be like the US in Vietnam. Or the Soviets in Afghanistan. People just had to keep hitting the invaders. Make continued occupation impractical. Eventually the Imperium would realize that Earth was more trouble than it was worth.

Jason felt like laughing at the absurdity of it.

“Every man, woman and child on Earth could have been packing heat and I doubt it would have helped much.” He glanced down at the matte black suit he was wearing. On a fundamental level, it was hard to mount any kind of resistance when the average enemy trooper is wearing armor that most small arms fire literally bounced off of.

When you got right down to the brick and mortar of combat, that was the main problem. The US military might have had a technological edge over the Vietnamese, but an American soldier was just as vulnerable to a bullet to the spleen as the next guy.

The Shil’vati didn’t have that weakness.

The smallest Earth-based armament that could reasonably and reliably down an armored Shil’vati probably had more in common with an anti-materiel rifle than a true small arm. Whatever form that took would inevitably be big, cumbersome, slow, and require a certain amount of advanced infrastructure to build, repair and rearm. Not the kind of thing that an underground resistance cell would be able to acquire or deploy without significant difficulty.

No, if Earth was ever going to be free of the Imperium, it was going to need outside help.

“Doesn’t matter now though,” he said as much to himself as to Raisha. “It’s all in the past and has no bearing on me, you or our current circumstances. We’re here to win this thing and show those Interior pukes who’s who.”

Raisha nodded happily, evidently relieved to be free of a potentially awkward conversation.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re excited,” Nuiy chimed in from behind as she walked up to them.

The sight of the woman had the rest of the cadre perking up from their own positions sprawled around the group’s small designated assembly area.

“What’s the news, ‘leader?’” Freyxh asked, a slight teasing lilt to her voice as she used the older woman's new temporary rank.

It had come as no surprise to any of them that the Instructors had designated Nuiy as the cadre’s leader for the exercise. They wanted the recruits to win as well after all, and the woman had the most command experience in the cadre by a mile. Something Jason was more than glad for, lest his own name be raised as an option.

Just being the leader of a pod including Raisha and Tarcil had been pressure enough for him. Especially given that his fellow male was still pointedly avoiding him. Something he just had to tacitly accept until the guy chose to talk to him even if his every instinct demanded that he force the issue.

Though Jason’s antipathy towards leadership hadn’t stopped Freyxh from jokingly commenting that as a human, he should have been the leader anyway. Because he was from Earth, he clearly had a wealth of knowledge on how to command a resistance cell, make traps and fashion improvised weapons.

He’d laughed at the not-quite joke, but in retrospect the whole idea had come off as not a little racist to him. Earth had an active resistance, yes, but that didn’t automatically make every human a freedom fighter who could fashion a pipe bomb from toilet rolls, firecrackers and raw patriotic furor.

If he did know how to make a Molotov cocktail or fashion a punji-pit trap – which he did - it was because of his background in engineering, rather than any rebellious history.

“What’s the score, leader?” Vieyshi asked.

“We’ll be going in with the second wave,” Nuiy said without preamble, bringing out her data-pad, prompting everyone else to do the same. Jason had just a moment to see an acknowledgement from the device of Nuiy’s superior credentials, before the image flipped to a map of the abandoned town the exercise would take place in.

“The seventh militia is local to this area so they, along with a few others, are going to be setting up defenses before the Interior attack. They’ve got five hours to do so before the Interior deploy. Two hours after that is when we deploy, to simulate units being sourced from nearby.”

“How are we deploying?” Raisha asked, glancing over at a nearby shuttle.

Nuiy nodded. “As you’ve guessed, we’re going to be deploying via shuttle. Two pods each.” She tapped her pad a few times, and in response Jason watched a few blue spots appear on his own map. “These are the positions the militia commander thinks are likely to be hottest, so they are where you’re most likely to be deployed. It would serve you well to study those locations in detail before then.”

Jason watched his fellow pod leaders nod seriously. He needn’t bother asking why they weren’t being deployed together as a unit. Concentrated force was anathema to Shil’vati combat doctrine - even in a scenario without orbital fire. Instead they were liable to be nickeled and dimed as needed, subject to whichever commander was on the ground at whichever site they arrived at.

Nuiy continued the briefing, listing out possible attack routes, retreat paths, the makeup of their own forces, and the enemy. Which essentially boiled down to everywhere, nowhere, poorly equipped and well-equipped, respectively.

“With all that said, good luck, girls – and guys,” Nuiy finished, before running her gaze over all of them slowly. “Just remember; follow your orders, keep calm, and do as we’ve been trained. Do all that, and we’ll all get out of this with the recommendations for the careers we want.”

“And a victory we can rub in those snooty Interior cunt’s noses!” Vieyshi, or perhaps Vieysha, chimed in.

Nuiy frowned for just a moment, before a smile broke out over her face. “That, too.”

The whole group cheered rowdily in agreement and anticipation, with Jason being no exception.

--------------------

“Is it supposed to be making that noise?” Even as Jason craned in his crash seat to ask the question, he already knew the answer.

No. The answer was no. You didn’t need to be familiar with Shil’vati tech to know that an engine making a rattling sound was bad. That was pretty universal, alien super science or not.

Rather than Raisha answering, Jason was surprised to hear Tarcil’s subdued tones coming over the comms.

“Probably not. If the local militia are anything like the ones back home, they’ve probably been slacking on maintenance.”

Suddenly the slightly worrying sound of the engine overhead was of less importance, as he tried to keep the conversation going.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask, what exactly does the militia do?”

He could almost physically see Raisha’s eyes lighting up as her helmet turned as best it could in the tight restraints of her seat, no doubt desperate to expound on the topic. Fortunately, they were close enough that even with his own limited range of movement, he was able to stomp the girl's foot before she could cut Tarcil off with a deluge of militia facts.

The girl probably barely felt the blow given that she was armored, but given that she didn’t speak, she apparently got the message. Or she was pausing to puzzle over why someone was energetically stomping on her foot. He also had to wonder what the pod sitting across from them were thinking?

It didn't matter either way as Tarcil wasn’t interrupted and he started to explain.

“Ostensibly they’re there as a last line of defense in case of an attack,” Tarcil said tonelessly. “In reality, more often not, they act as law enforcement.”

“I thought that was the Interior’s job?” Jason prompted, fairly interested in the discussion despite the fact that his main goal was to keep Tarcil talking.

The other male made a so-so gesture. “It’s complicated. The Interior might be in charge of it all, but you aren’t going to see them out patrolling the streets or anything like that. Small shit’s beneath them. They leave that to the militia. The Interior will only really come in if it’s worth their time. Murders, kidnappers, data-crime, foreign agents and the like rather than…shoplifters, brawls or drunks. A member of the Interior will also probably call in the militia to secure the scene when they’re conducting an investigation.”

So the militia acted like the local sheriff’s department while the Interior was more like the FBI…or a number of other three letter organizations. Point was that the militia were basically cops. Cops with a militaristic bent.

...Cops who used surplus military equipment and occasionally filled in as the National Guard.

“I get the feeling you’re not so much interested in Shil’vati law enforcement as hashing out this awkwardness between us?” Tarcil asked, interrupting Jason’s train of thought.

“That obvious?” he asked.

“Reasonably,” Tarcil said, trying to shrug despite the restraints holding him in place. “This is probably our last chance to do so.”

Jason glanced up at his HUD. They still had twenty minutes before they were supposed to reach the abandoned hospital where a proper furball had supposedly developed between the militia and a few pods of Interior agents.

“I imagine Jason would have preferred to talk in the five hours we were all stuck waiting on the tarmac,” Raisha put in, an uncharacteristic hint of peevishness in her tone. “Unfortunately, you were still sulking in the corner.”

Tarcil’s helmet kept his expression hidden, but there was no missing the scowl in his voice as he leaned forward to look at Raisha. “I was thinking. A notion that I’m sure must be strange to you.”

Raisha looked like she was going to speak again, but Jason cut them both off before it could devolve into name calling and mudslinging.

“Alright, that’s enough of that. Christ, it’s like being back in high school.” He turned to Raisha, softening his tone. “Thank you for sticking up for me, Raisha. It means a lot.” He paused a moment to allow that to sink in, before he continued with a hint of reproach. “You didn’t need to though. I can speak for myself just fine. I realize it’s unfair, but would you be willing to let me and Tarcil speak privately?”

Or at least, as privately as they could get in the tight confines of a shuttle occupied by six marine recruits and one pilot. Fortunately, they could keep their communications to just pod-comms to cut the others out, but there was no way of cutting Raisha out of them. Not without her choosing to do so. Something the woman realized, because she gave a put-upon sigh, before a click heralded her switching comm channel.

Sending a mental thanks to his…girlfriend? Vaguely defined love interest? Inappropriate romantic entanglement?

…Teammate.

After sending a mental thanks to his teammate, his head swiveled back to Tarcil.

“I shouldn’t have insulted her like that,” Tarcil said, cutting him off. “This isn’t a good time for friction.”

“No, it’s not,” Jason admitted. “She shouldn’t have insulted you, either, though. Besides, as you said, this is probably going to be our last chance to talk for a while. Might as well get it out there.”

Tarcil scoffed, a hint of dry humor in his tone. “Such a girl. Or guy, I suppose. It could wait.”

Jason shrugged, or at least attempted to, before encountering the same issue Tarcil did not a minute earlier.

“If we’re about to get into a firefight, I’d really like to clear the air between us first.” He stared at his fellow male’s mask clad face. “I imagine you feel the same, given that you chose to bring it up now.”

Tarcil's head cocked to the side, a dash of humor in his tone. “You sure you’re Jason? That almost sounded like a hint of emotional understanding. Nothing like the human I know.”

Jason chuckled. “What can I say? You run through a possible conversation in your head enough times, you realize a few things you might not have otherwise.”

“I get that,” Tarcil murmured. “Good to know I wasn’t the only one doing that.”

Jason smiled, before his tone turned serious. They didn’t have a lot of time, and neither of them could afford to dance around the topic anymore.

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way that night.”

“Straight to the heart of it, huh?” Tarcil said, before sighing. “No. No, you shouldn’t have.”

He turned his head, to look at the, honestly pretty dirty, ceiling of the shuttle. “Fortunately for you, I’m willing to forgive you.” He paused.” It’d hardly be the first time I’ve had someone explode on me after a rejection.”

The alien chuckled. “Though I’ll admit that this is the first time that the one exploding on me was the rejecter."

Jason felt his eyebrows shoot up.

After all the delays, the avoidance. He was being forgiven? “Just like that?”

Tarcil laughed at his friend’s confusion. “Just like that.”

“Why?”

The Shil’vati clicked his tongue. “Honestly Jason, you can be such a woman - or a guy, I suppose.” The alien paused. “I thought about that a lot these past few days. Reminded myself that for all we share the same gender, we don’t think alike.”

Jason had no idea where this was going, so he kept silent.

Something that only seemed to irritate his friend. “See? Just like that? Going all silent. Such a female – gah, guy! - thing to do.”

“I just don’t know what you’re leading towards?”

“Stress!” Tarcil hissed. “You are stressed and you don’t even know it!” The alien stared directly into his mask. “First you were taken from everything you’ve even known and shoved into bootcamp. Alien bootcamp. Then you were surrounded by horny women who kept prodding you at all hours. Something you clearly had no experience with and no idea what do about. And finally you had whatever the fuck happened two weeks ago happen to you.”

The alien stared at him. “You were jumpy for days afterwards, but you didn’t say shit to me or anyone about it!”

Jason was speechless, but he eventually managed to say argue back. “I just…didn’t want to talk about it. It was nothing.”

He meant it too, but that was clearly the wrong answer as Tarcil slammed his head into the back of his headrest with a put-upon hiss. “See? You clam right up, just like you did whenever I tried to bring it up.”

The alien sighed, and waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever. Your secrets are your own. I won’t try to force them out of you, even if I think it would be good for you to talk to someone. My point is that something like this was inevitable. Better you exploded at me rather than an instructor.

“That doesn’t make it right,” Jason finally managed to mumble.

“No,” Tarcil said, a hint of soothing in his tone, “but it makes it understandable.”

Jason found a smile making its way onto his face. “You know, you’re too good a friend for a guy like me.”

“I am pretty great, aren’t I?” Tarcil laughed. “Though not without my own glaring flaws.”

Jason couldn’t see his fellow male’s face, but he knew they were both smiling at each other under their masks.

Unfortunately, the moment couldn’t last. As he glanced at the timer on his HUD, he knew he still needed to broach the other topic. The insinuation that had really caused this whole thing to expand from a few harsh words into a real dagger to the heart of their friendship.

“About what I said… about-”

“Don’t!” Tarcil cut in, any hint of his previous levity gone. “Just…don’t.”

“But I-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” The alien sounded tired. “You wanted forgiveness. You’re forgiven. Just leave it.”

Jason stared at his friend as the alien’s mask turned away. He opened his mouth to speak before closing it.

It didn’t feel right to him just leaving the topic fallow, but he was willing to accede to his friends wishes. He could bring it up again when-

“We’ve got a lock,” the pilot's strident tones blared from the shuttle’s intercom. “Apparently the Purps brought AA. Everyone brace for evasive maneuvers. I’mma see if I can shake ‘em.”

Then Jason didn’t have much time to think of anything as his smooth shuttle ride turned into the rollercoaster from hell.

“I think I can- Nope. We’re going down,” The pilot sighed over the intercom and the frantic motions of the craft juddered to a halt almost as fast they began. “Let’s see if I can find a decent spot to land. You kids better be ready to move when we do.”

Jason was still a bit surprised by how fast things had gone from casual conversation to them ‘being shot down.’ Still, he unclasped his restraints as he felt the shuttle crunch down into the dirt.

“Move it!” he shouted as he grasped his carbine and clambered out of the side door, the other pod doing the same from the opposite side.

The midday sun was a tad blinding after the dim light of the shuttle, but Jason’s HUD almost immediately tinted to compensate. They were on a street, flanked on all sides by rundown buildings. It was honestly kind of a strange sight, to see Shil’vati architecture abandoned and in disrepair when he was so used to seeing them new and gleaming. The squat buildings were half overgrown with native vines, the exteriors pitted with damage - from what was presumably previous exercises in the area.

All that was processed in an instant as he scanned for a nearby building to use as cover just as he’d been taught. Eventually he settled on a squat structure that looked to once have been a storefront.

Turning on his comms to inform his pod, he hissed as a burst of static cut into his line. Growling in frustration, he clicked it off, instead simply raising his voice to be heard over the hum of the shuttle’s thrusters.

“Off the street and into that storefront now!”

To their credit, both Raisha and Tarcil were quick to move, weapons raised as they followed him into the shadows of the building. To his irritation, he noticed that the other pod had done the same, despite protocol stressing a need for them not to bunch up. It was a rookie mistake.

Nothing to be done about it now though, he thought as he crouched in the shadows, keeping a wary eye on the street outside. Everyone in the area would have seen the shuttle landing and there was a good chance whoever had shot them down would be coming to finish them off. Or delegate someone else to the task.

Though he was a bit incredulous to look back onto the street and see their pilot leaning against her downed craft, smoking something under her upturned flight helmet. Taking one final drag of her cigarette-equivalent, the woman cast the still lit item to the ground, stomping on it before making her way over to them with a deliberately casual gait.

“What the fuck are you doing?” his fellow squad leader, Nix, a woman who he’d never really spoken to, called out as the pilot came to a stop in front of the store. “You’re giving away our position.”

“I’m dead.” The pilot shrugged, before lazily gesturing with a finger at the irate recruit’s pod. “More to the point, so are you and your buddies.”

“We are?” Jason asked, before belatedly adding a, “Ma’am.”

“Not you, hot-stuff,” the woman said, before gesturing to the other pod. “Just her and her two pals.”

“What, why?” Nix grunted.

“Why, ma’am. I might be militia, but I earned my rank.” The other woman corrected in a manner that suggested she didn’t really care. “And according to my computer whatever hit us tore out the left side of my craft before it stitched the engine. That means that technically you and your pals are splattered halfway across the city right now.”

Jason turned a little green at the frank descriptor, as well as the reminder of what these wargames were supposed to represent. Nix cursed loudly as well, almost petulantly throwing her gun on the ground. He didn’t blame her though. He felt for her. He couldn’t imagine how frustrating it must have been to be taken out of the exam before she’d even touched the ground.

Of course, that sympathy quickly soured as she turned towards his own pod. “What about them!? You letting them off because they’ve got two guys, ma’am?”

He felt more than saw Tarcil and Raisha bristle. The pilot was utterly nonplussed though.

“No, I’m letting them off because even with a chunk of my bird missing, I figure I could have made a controlled enough descent. In my opinion, they’d have survived.”

“Not you though, ma’am?” Jason couldn’t help but ask.

“Wargame rules, hot-stuff.” She shrugged again. “Pilots are counted as dead if they’re shot down. It’s stupid, but I suppose it’s added incentive not to be shot down for real.”

She turned to the other three. “Come on, you lot. Let’s stop giving away your pals position and go be dead in the shuttle. Figure we’ll wait around for an hour or two before we fly back to the staging area. Make sure to stack your guns in a pile so no one thinks you’re alive.”

None of the members of the other pod looked happy about that, but they all grudgingly got up and followed after the woman. In moments they were gone.

“Was the last minute or two surreal for anyone else?” Raisha hesitantly asked after the other three trailed out.

Jason nodded slowly. “Well, I can certainly say it’s broken my immersion.”

He could see Tarcil nodding, too, from the male’s position by the doorway. The trio shared a small chuckle at the absurdity of it all, before Jason straightened up again.

“Alright, it’s just us now, and we’re now without transport with half a city – crawling with however many Interior pukes - between us and our intended destination.” He tried to comm Nuiy for confirmation, but all he got was more of the same static from before. “…And I’m willing to bet no one else on our side has working comms either right now.”

“That sounds about right,” Tarcil said. “We must be getting jammed.”

Jason nodded. “They were probably holding it in reserve until the reinforcements came in. Same with the AA.”

He didn’t want to say it aloud, but he was willing to bet the allied counterattack was going to shit right now because of it. An Interior ambush provided by superior equipment. Unfortunately, he had no way of confirming any of that, and he wasn’t about to go blindly wandering around the city searching for other survivors – or ‘crashed’ shuttles - to do so.

“Nuiy didn’t say shit about jammers, and she said the Interior might have woman-portable AA,” Raisha groused.

“Fog of War,” Tarcil pointed out. “Her briefing wouldn’t have told her everything the Interior was bringing. Hell, even the Instructors might not have known everything the Interior was bringing.”

“Just seems unfair is all,” Raisha said, an audible pout in her voice. “They already have better weapons, armor and actual exos. Now they’re bringing Jammers so we can’t even communicate?”

“It’s not supposed to be fair,” Jason grunted as he kept a wary eye on the street – even if the sight of the ‘dead’ pod two lounging forlornly on the shuttle’s ramp was kind of distracting. “It’s a training exercise for the Interior. We’re rocking what a rebel militia unit might deploy and the Interior are practicing with the equipment they would use in that situation.”

He would admit that part of him had considered that this might have been a ploy by those Interior cadets from the bar to get even with him, but he’d put that theory down to baseless paranoia. How much pull could two cadets possibly have? Enough to have an entire training exercise arranged to provide a chance to get ‘even?’ He doubted it.

It was far more likely that this was an unlucky coincidence.

“Sounds more like an opportunity for the Interior to show off and shit on the regulars in my opinion,” Raisha grunted.

Jason sighed. “Enough chatter. We need to figure out what we’re going to do now that we’re effectively cut off from our original objective.”

He was about to say more, before he noticed a blur in the corner of his eye. Focusing on it, his eyes widened a moment before he dropped to the dusty floor of the shop.

“Down!” he hissed, gratified to see his teammates respond instantly to his order.

Not a moment too soon as he heard something thunk down outside, the short hissing of thrusters the only thing to precede its arrival. He’d barely had half a second to look at it between the machine coming into view and him hitting the deck, but that was more than enough time for him to realize that the sleek matte black machine was an entirely different beast to the one they’d seen at the assembly area.

“We’re dead, you dumb cunt.” The pilot’s shout from outside seemed absurdly loud. “Quit waving that thing all over the place. I don’t know about the kids, but you’re making me nervous.”

Moments seemed to stretch on for an eternity as Jason’s pod waited in the gloom, each not even daring to breathe as the machine strode around outside. It didn’t help that the town was eerily quiet. Shil’vati energy weapons meant that there weren’t any distant sounds of gunfire, even if Jason knew for a fact that the entire town was embroiled in a series of running battles. Of course, he knew that it would be different in actual combat, as the weapons firing on a lethal setting resulted in a thunderous crack, as the air between the barrel and the target spontaneously ionized.

Or the target themselves came down with a lethal case of explosive vaporization.

His thoughts were interrupted by the hiss of servos and micro-thrusters, as the machine leapt over the store. Either something had called it away, or it assumed it’s prey – them – had already moved on from the crash. Which was the right call given that it was something they should have done by now. The brief conversation with the pilot had thrown off the group’s equilibrium though.

As he exhaled in relief, he acknowledged that at least they hadn’t compounded that mistake by trying to take down a foe none of them stood a chance against. Taking down small pods like theirs was exactly what exos were designed for.

Amongst other things.

“Well shit, we aren’t outrunning that,” Raisha said, echoing his own thoughts.

Jason was about to tell her to stow it as he searched for a path out off the street that would hopefully keep them away from the alien death machine. Instead, he found words escaping him as his eyes alighted on an unexpected form of egress. Something he’d usually scoff at when he saw it in film or other media, but in this case…well, it was possible that his current location’s unique properties might allow it to be a viable method of travel.

Ignoring the fact that Tarcil had told Raisha to ‘stow it’ in his stead – and the argument that was ensuing – he used his HUD to pull up the data parcel he’d received with his briefing. Flipping through the accompanying maps, he was gratified to see that the information he needed had been included in the package. Said info showed a clear path from here to the hospital.

Grinning wildly, even if he knew what he was about to suggest might not be viable, he turned to the other two.

“How do you both feel about taking a jaunt through the sewers?”

It was kind of funny how both Tarcil and Raisha managed to convey surprised horror, even with full bodysuits on.

“Sewers?” Raisha asked, her tone conveying just as much disdain as her body language. “Like, underground sewers?”

Jason nodded.

“Would…Would we even fit?” Tarcil asked, echoing Raisha’s clear animosity to the idea.

It was an entirely reasonable question. Unlike in the movies, most modern sewer systems were too small for a person to fit through. Jason was betting on two things though: the continent’s tropical climate and the fact that this used to be a mining town.

Both factors meant the place would have had to move a lot of water and he was hoping the tunnels beneath them had more in common with storm tunnels than conventional sewers. Between that and the Shil’vati tendency to supersize things, even if they did build low to the ground, he put it at fifty-fifty odds the three of them would be able to move through the sewer system. Which he figured, presented significantly better odds than attempting to travel through the town above.

Either way, they lost little by investigating the possibility.

“Maybe,” was his frank response to Tarcil’s question.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Raisha said quickly, Tarcil nodding along with her. “It’d be so tiny…and cramped.”

Jason just stared at them both. While he had expected a certain level of push back against the idea – even clad in full bodysuits, a jaunt through an abandoned sewer system wouldn’t be fun – he was surprised by the level of abhorrence the pair had to the idea. It was written in every inch of their posture.

Were Shil’vati more claustrophobic than humans? Adrilla had offhandedly mentioned that the species’ early ancestors used to dive for shellfish, and he could well imagine that a desire not to explore underwater caving systems would be a valuable survival trait back then.

“Old, too,” Tarcil continued, taking over for Raisha. “It could have pockets of gas. Or be filled with water in places. It also can’t be sanitary.”

Jason raised a hand to cut him off. “We also have sealed suits with their own air supply.”

Neither of the aliens looked convinced.

He sighed. “Look, it’s not going to be fun. I get it. It might even be a dud. We lose nothing but a few minutes by checking though and if we’re in luck and we can fit, it presents significantly better odds than trying to outrun that exo.”

He could tell neither was convinced, but that wasn’t his problem. He was the pod leader, which meant his was the only opinion that mattered, cruel as the thinking may be. Besides, it was entirely possible that the sewer system was far too small to fit through, and all this wariness was over nothing at all.

“Raisha, see if you can jimmy loose that bit of rebar,” he said, pointing to a partially crumbled wall.

The woman’s masked form looked reluctant, but she did as he asked, tearing the piece out with an almost casual display of inhuman strength. Cringing a bit at the noise, Jason directed her over to the nearest manhole cover, gesturing for Tarcil to cover them.

Together they managed to use the length of metal to lever up the manhole cover, exposing the dark tunnels below. He imagined it also released a pungent odor, but his suit’s filters meant he smelled none of it, thankfully. With Tarcil and Raisha covering the street with their weapons, Jason clambered down the steel rungs into the darkness below.

Well, relative darkness, given his suit’s night-vision functionality.

The slowly running water was only knee-deep, but stepping into it with a waterproof suit felt incredibly strange. He ignored the queer sensation in favor of viewing the tunnel ahead. A grin broke out on his face. He’d been right. While he and Tarcil would have to bow down a bit, and Raisha would have to crouch pretty far, there was enough room for them to travel single file through the pipe system. Assuming there’d been no cave-ins further ahead, it was pretty much a straight shot to the hospital.

“Alright, it’s good!” he shouted up. “Get down here before that exo comes back.”

Two heads peered over the rim of the manhole. Neither made to move though. The silence seemed to drag, before Tarcil slung his carbine over his shoulder and clambered down.

“I can’t believe we’re fucking doing this,” the diminutive alien whined as his feet sank into the murky brackish water. “I signed up to be a communications operator, not an Empress damned Death’s Head Commando.”

Jason just chuckled as the surly alien stepped aside, allowing Raisha to clamber down after him. Sighing in relief now that they were all off the street, he set off down the tunnel.

Though he’d only taken a few steps before he noticed that he was only hearing four legs sloshing through the murky water. Turning back, he had to crane around Tarcil to see that Raisha hadn’t moved from her spot. More to the point, she looked positively paralyzed in place as she stared down the tunnel.

“You ok, Raisha?” he asked, prompting Tarcil to look back.

The massive female just continued to stare, before uttering a single word.

“No.”

Jason frowned. “No? What do you mean, no?”

He didn’t mean to be impatient, but they were on the clock here. The hospital wasn’t all that far away, but the unstable footing of the slimy tunnel floor meant they had to move slowly, lest they lose their footing in the gentle current. Even his most optimistic estimates had the journey taking a good two hours. Certainly a great deal slower than going over ground, but at least this way gave them a decent chance of actually arriving.

“I mean, no,” Raisha hissed, an audible tremor of fear in her voice. “It’s all well and good for you two, but what about me? What if I get stuck?”

“You won’t get stuck.”

Evidently, he’d underestimated just how much Shil’vati didn’t like tight spaces. A fact he was attributing to the species as a whole rather than just Raisha, given that he could see Tarcil shifting uneasily from side to side while they spoke, the alien occasionally glancing into the gloomy tunnel ahead. A sensation that could only be worse for Raisha, given how much bigger she was than the male.

Cursing, more at the circumstances than his paralyzed pod mate, he racked his brain for a solution to her fears.

It didn’t take him long to find one, though he wished he could think of another.

“Raisha,” he said, getting her attention as he carefully unzipped his suit, to expose a swathe of his collarbone. “If we all get through this, win or loss, I’ll blow your goddamn mind after this is over. Seriously, I’ll fuck you into a puddle. Anything you want. For hours. It’ll be an all-you-can-eat fuck buffet.”

He wanted to die… Just let the floor open up and swallow him.…

It was fortunate that his helmet was still on, because it meant that neither Raisha nor Tarcil could see how red his face was as he engaged in what was probably the most embarrassing moment of his life. The situation was only made worse by the fact that he could see Tarcil’s mask flipping between staring at him and looking away.

“Alright,” Riasha said hesitantly as she stepped forward into the murk. It was clear from her gait that she was still terrified, but apparently her libido was stronger than her survival instincts. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he grunted, hastily zipping his suit back up. It wasn’t like it was anything he hadn’t planned to do anyway. “Hours.”

“Well…we better get moving then,” Raisha said as she squeezed past both of them to stride down the tunnel, the determination radiating from her back only slightly undercut by the terrified trembling of her legs. Jason watched her go, before following after with a sigh. Still, the sloshing of water wasn’t quite loud enough that he didn’t hear Tarcil muttering.

“Women. Women and humans. Empress save me from women and humans.”

Jason had no rebuttal. None at all.

----------------------

“I’m goddamn sick of anti-militia drills.”

“You’re telling me. Not like I don’t understand it though.”

Jason listened from a sewer grate as the two Interior cadets chatted just a few feet above him. The imposing mass of the hospital building stood outlined behind them, and even with the poor angle, he could see Interior troops scrambling all over it like a horde of ants. Which meant the battle for the place was already over, and had apparently gone terribly for the militia.

“Oh, enlighten me?” The conversation above him continued, the two recruits totally ignorant of his frustration as he desperately tried to think of what to do next.

“The Periphery woman!” Recruit One chided her fellow. “Don’t you watch the fucking news?”

Recruit Two just shrugged.

“Figures,” Recruit One scoffed. “It’s turning into a real clusterfuck out there. Yokels are acting up about something or other. Earth’s getting hotter, too.”

That got Jason’s attention. Recruit Two’s, too.

“Earth? The sex planet? You have to be joking.”

Recruit One laughed. “I shit you not. Apparently, the regulars raided some guy’s house and found he’d been trying to design a goddamn rail gun. Get this, he was using a battery from an old Halcam-Auto.”

“They still make those?” Recruit Two shook her head, before scoffing. “I’m shaking in my boots at the thought of a bunch of swimsuit models running around with a slightly fancier rock lobber made from old delivery drone parts.”

“News report said it could be pretty serious,” Recruit One argued.

“Pah, news likes to exaggerate for ratings. I’ll take sexy alien freedom fighters over Periphery rebels or Roaches any day.”

“Can’t disagree there.” Recruit Two glanced around conspiratorially. “You might even get a chance today. Apparently the regulars we shipped in have a human with them.”

“Lucky bitches. I wouldn’t mind a few minutes alone to ‘interrogate’ him.”

“Join the queue.” Recruit Two laughed, the sound sending an unexpected shiver down Jason’s spine. “Which, from what I’ve heard, might still let you have a turn. According to the net… Well, they just keep going and going.”

“You’re fucking with me,” Recruit One said as he the pair started to walk away.

“Swear by the Empress it’s true.”

Jason listened to the pair’s voices fade away, before turning back to the waiting forms of Raisha and Tarcil as he tried to calm his racing heart, and not dwell on what he’d just heard. It didn’t matter to him. Earth was light-years away. He was here. He repeated the mantra over and over again.

“How is it out there?” Raisha asked.

“Not great,” Jason admitted.

Tarcil cursed, before turning back to look at him. “So…what do we do?”

Jason glanced back out as a large vehicle wheeled into the hospital’s courtyard. He knew it wasn’t a tank, given that Shil’vati disdained them. Nor was it an AA vehicle, given the lack of weapons. He didn’t have to spend long guessing though, as he watched an incredibly fancily dressed Shil’vati clamber out, drawing salutes from those around her.

“I think I might have an idea,” Jason said, a predatory grin forming on his face as he turned back to face his pod. “We might have to wait here for a few more hours though.”

He didn’t need to see either of his friend's faces to imagine the looks of dismay that crossed both of them.