Chapter 4: The UDA Job

Linova - Low Orbit

Third Tier of the Bhakus Sector

Date of 241.08-05

Wings beat furiously against the icy raging wind. Leathery taut grey skin overlaid the creature’s skeletal frame. Animal instincts kept the arnack forging ahead, trying to navigate through the constant downpour of snow and hail. The arnack screeched from its elongated mouth as if to ward off the elements.

A new sound was carried on the wind, subtle at first but growing. The arnack turned its head left and right to spot the source. The unnatural roaring and whining grew louder and louder, even rising above the storm. The arnack's head jerked upwards, a new object entered its vision and an unavoidable collision was imminent. The arnack’s body ricocheted off the metal object and plummeted to its frozen coffin below.

“What the heck was that?” Ty Henderson's head snapped to the general point of impact. ”Sounded like we hit something, and it wasn’t small.”

“We could have hit a number of things.” Markus Hines fiddled with his weapon’s sight. “In the middle of the mother of all blizzards on route to a military outpost, shit’s gonna happen.”

“Sorry for thinking out loud.” Henderson muttered.

A few others chuckled. Matt mindlessly rubbed his thumb over a skull and bones talisman, memento from a time past. His eyes traversed the group around him, appreciating the fresh coat of paint per Vorosh.

The mismatched uniforms were a combination of hardened leather, armored plates, and synthetic fibers. The suits were simple yet effective. But as the lack of uniform regulation implied, each had a personal touch courtesy of their wearer.

An intricate dragon was painted along the length of the arm plating that belonged to Hines. The shoulder pad next to Matt showcased a very detailed and disturbing bloody heart belonging to Lydria. One in particular stood out more from the others, a suit enveloped in a deep red flame. The cherry on top of the image being a burning cigar in his mouth, the glow illuminating Freeman's face.

It was Matt's merry band of misfits.

The transport’s hull, LC-230F Diveship, rocked under the weather’s beating. The diveship was a unique design, with a forward hatch meant to pierce through thick metal. The front was angled and covered in hardened plating to force entry, with four laser cutters to assist. Needless to say the concept was meant for more direct approaches.

Matt and his team were targeting the 'Shiva Installation'. A facility operated by Coalition personnel which supported the orbiting station above, the same station now under harassment from Hobbes. While the chaos ensued up high, Matt’s task was on the ground. Vorosh's words rang in his head again.

As above so below...

The majority of ‘Shiva’ was hidden underneath frozen soil, only the top couple of floors exposed. Sporadically placed on various points of the external structure and surrounding terrain were gun emplacements and other defensive batteries.

Matt quickly stuffed the talisman back under his chest protector. Another sound, multiple pings, had a few heads eyeing around the inside of the transport. Everyone knew what it was. Everyone was thinking the same damn thing.

How accurate were those pulling the trigger on the other side?

“Ready up, they’re strafing the sky! Likely about to hit heavier flak in a sec or so.” A scrappy voice echoed over the intercom, the lucky pilot of this metal box. “Impact in thirty!”

The blizzard seemed to be in their favor for now, only glancing hits so far. Matt figured they were using ROSTs, Relay Observation Sensory Tower, to feed their gunners imagery due to the weather's severity. But even a relay sensor had a margin of error in nature's cold wrath.

One shell exploded a little too close for comfort. Matt had been on prior transports with more jittery hands at the stick.

Pilot has a good sense about him...

“Hey, I think they’re happy to see us by the sound of it.”

“Really, Freeman, you don't say?” Hines mocked. “If this gets you excited, then I can't wait to see you in action with that torch of yours.”

“It's gonna be quite a light show.” Richard Freeman shot a glance in Lydria Haize’s direction. “Want to make a bet on kills?”

“Why make a bet when we both know I'll win?” Lydria ran a hand through her short hair before grabbing her helmet. She opened the side latches, expanding the opening to squeeze her head inside.

They were then shaken violently in their seats. A heavy burst of flak caused a quick course correction by the pilot, and a string of curses confirmed such. He issued his final warning.

“Contact ten, brace!"

"Ready up!" Greta Hulderz, second in command and a lean brunette, barked orders. “IC on! Weapons locked!”

Matt activated his visor’s HUD, vital sensors displaying in the four corners of his vision. The green ‘eyes’ of the otherwise blank slab lit up, giving off a more demonic than human appearance. Rifles were held close to the chest as everyone prepared for the inevitable whiplash. Even with a gravitational dampener, sheer inertia usually won out in the end. He pushed further back into his seat and restraint braces.

“Dead men walking in five, four, three!” Every pilot had their own twist of humor. “Impact!”

If Matt ever wondered what the phrase 'shaken not stirred' meant, he knew now. Restraints his fucking ass. His fingers were glued to his weapon’s grip, muscles tensed even well after coming to a full stop.

It took a hot second, but everyone returned to their normal awareness.

“Shit, never doing that again.” Freeman straightened out, rolling his neck a few times. “Who the hell does this regularly?"

“Zip it and complain later. Leon, no bullshit this time so hug someone’s ass.” Matt switched his weapon’s safety off and chambered the first round. Glancing at his hip, he verified his sidearm was still secured after the rough landing. “Remember, stay tight and light!”

The front sealed hatch released and the hinged metal slab revealed access inside the frozen walls. Bits of metal debris were shotgunned on the opposite wall. As they filed out, Matt saw the peeled back metal beams around their entrance. Despite the effectiveness, he was in line with Freeman on using this method of entry again.

“Hines, take point.” Matt noticed the color coded lines along the wall denoting installation directions, eyes finding the one they needed. “Everyone else, stay on me.”

They met scattered resistance along their route. Better than the pirate scrappers on their last job, though still nothing they could not handle so far. Cries of pain and death echoed along their path.

Matt was not oblivious to his gut. This was going a little too easy all things considered. Then again, one frag grenade later Matt and his team got pinned down at an intersection.

“Well, I'll be damned.” Freeman popped off a few return shots, as exchanging rounds rattled off the walls and floor. “I was wondering when this would kick up a notch.”

Matt took a look around the corner and grabbed one of his grenades, finger looped through the pin. “Hines and Lydria, flash and fire, rest follow in tow and suppress." His eyes were drawn to the painted flames next, whether he wanted it or not. "Freeman, you know what to do.”

“Ready to turn up the heat.” Freeman ignited a burner on the underside of his weapon’s barrel, a blue hue heated the metal. “Point me at them and they’re fried.”

They sent two flashbangs hurtling towards down the corridor along with Matt’s grenade. Hines and Lydria held three seconds, then one explosion and two flashes of blinding light preceded their hustle around the corner. The rest followed in pairs. They sped past occupied rooms with guns blazing that kept most behind cover, unable to accurately fire back.

There was a myriad of the usual yelling and cursing between exchanges.

Matt’s suit deflected a few grazing rounds as he signaled Freeman to the next room, a feisty bunch held up inside. Freeman heeded the call and issued his greeting without hesitation.

“Hey assholes, need a light?”

A bright blue conflagration filled the room and drowned out the returning screams. If hell really did exist, then Freeman might as well be the devil himself, or worse. The room was left a torched ruin.

“Sweet mother of mercy.” Henderson mumbled as he warranted a look inside, and immediately regretted it. Human charred remains were not pretty, even hidden inside a combat suit. “Remind me not to get on your bad side, like seriously.”

“You’ll get used to it, newbie.”

The squad cleared out the hallway and earned themselves a short breather. Freeman’s armor sizzled with smoke from his overindulgence.

They were currently in the main corridor on Floor 4, and the stairs down at the next corner. “Block C” was painted in black on the wall with a few blood splatters tacked on.

“That was fun and hectic, fucking perfect combo.” Greta saddled up to Matt’s side. “Any idea where the other teams are?”

“Should have one more on this level, Braxton and his boys. They’ll meet us from the other side, ideally.” Braxton was the additional help along with Vorosh. Matt paused, thought about his words. “But you know, rarely do things go according to plan.”

“Oh, we know that all too well.”

~~~

A few more flights of stairs and they turned into a wider hallway, reinforced girders spaced out like arches throughout the entire length. At the very end was their final destination. Brightly marked and reinforced doors denoted the installation's main terminal CDS, Central Data System.

There was only one problem. In the open area before the door, a congregation of garrison soldiers stood between the door and them. It did not take long for another firefight to ensue.

Matt slid into cover behind supply boxes along with Hines and Lydria. The rest of the team was still pinned in the hall behind extended girders.

“Hines, spare frags now!”

Hines rested his weapon against the crate and pulled out his last two. Some saw it coming, others did not. The result was a bloody mess, and a limb or two separated from their owner.

“We only got a few more to take out." Matt motioned the plan out for those stuck in the hall to see. "Shift right and push arou...ah shit!”

On their left were three soldiers getting a Strider unit operational.

The Strider was a two legged Mechanized Anti-Infantry Vehicle, shorthand known as a MAIV. Rough estimate of height, about 10 to 12 feet. The armament was attached to each shoulder joint, a pair of Firestorm Repeaters. These chainguns tore into any infantry unlucky to cross their path.

“Suppressing fire on that walker, now!”

Two soldiers near the legs went down while the third squeezed into the open cockpit, the armored frame protecting him.

Hines emptied his clip. “Matt, we need a damn launcher to take that out!” Hines emptied his magazine. "Unless you want to try and plant a charge on its leg, be a mad dash through hellfire."

“Dammit, point made! Where the hell are the other fireteams?” Matt’s head flinched at Strider’s startup sound. “He said on the way, and now would be a great fucking time to show up.”

Before Matt could ponder other ‘what if’ scenarios, the Strider got rocked and staggered. It lurched forward but was able to brace itself. Sparks and smoke spewed from where its weapon used to be. A second explosion hit a critical joint. The legs strained to keep the Strider upright but to no avail, as it stumbled and fell to the ground.

Matt saw a new vector of fire from a second entrance.

“Pour it on and push!”

The remaining enemy quickly fell under the brunt of their pincer, methodical effectiveness at its best. Matt and Braxton converged once the firing stopped and the intersection was cleared.

“Matt, nice to see you made it in one piece.” Braxton shouldered his rifle. His suit colored a deep forest green, faded with all identifying markings and insignias scrapped off. “Ran into either of the other teams yet?”

“Not yet, only got hold of you on comms earlier. Vorosh just said he’s here, that’s it. No idea about the last group.” Matt said as he flexed his fingers on his weapon’s handle. “They need to hurry the hell up.”

In the aftermath, the intersection was a mess. The smoking remains of the Strider lay in the corner of the room. Bodies and shell casings spread across the floor, and a pulsating red light coated most of the room.

Greta settled between the two of them. “You sound a little out of breath, too much trouble?”

“Me? Nah, a little rough but we managed.” Braxton joked. “We did run into some minor roadblocks. I tell ya, a few of them got some nasty toys. Thank the garrison for those rockets.”

“You don't say.” Matt noticed they looked a little worse for wear, Braxton more than anyone. Clearly identifiable scorch marks adorned his left side. “Played with fire a bit too much?”

“Yeah, one guy really loved his flamethrower.” Braxton said sarcastically and quickly turned to Freeman. “And Freeman, shut your damn mouth. I don't want to hear any witty retort from you.”

Freeman obliged and turned away. Even hidden under his helmet, Matt could picture his grin.

“Braxton, Matt, bringing the conversation back to the relevant situation.” Greta grabbed both of the men’s attention and pointed at the colored slab of metal. “We have a door to get through.”

The door was double-reinforced neo-steel construction. It was painted black with a solid yellow line horizontally across the middle. This was designed to withstand even hand held rocket launchers, standard issue ones at minimum. Vorosh was not kidding on the door.

“Assuming we can't just blast through this right, Braxton?” Matt inspected it a little closer, hoping for a weak point.

“I wish, but our mutual friend has the jailbreak code.”

“Speak of the devil, I think I hear him coming our way.” Matt muttered as a unison of boots reverberated from the last entrance.

This third team was made up of Vorosh and his hand picked escort. According to him, the personnel were acquired help from other business ventures. It was a single body of maroon moving in unison except for one. Whether out of trust in his escort or sheer folly, Vorosh lacked any serious protective gear. He instead wore a simple civilian environmental suit.

Braxton noticed the lack of protection as well. “That’s sure one cocky bastard, and not even a scratch on him to boot.”

Vorosh's team flanked the room as they filed in, while he and another soldier continued straight towards them. The pompous attitude and purposeful stride soiled Matt's taste, and he buried the urge to deck him.

“Sheesh, looks like I missed the party. What a shame.” Vorosh kicked one of the dead bodies. "Y'all did good though, damn good."

“Yeah, truly a shame you weren't able to help out your comrades.” Braxton’s sense of humor occasionally failed to take into account diplomacy. "We're fine by the way.

Matt stepped in before an erroneous comment snowballed the conversation. Though to be fair, if not for Braxton then he might have shared a similar outburst.

“Point made, but zip it.” Matt jabbed a finger in his face and then turned to address Vorosh. “You, crack open this fucking door.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here.” On Vorosh’s command, the soldier next to him shouldered his weapon and approached the door’s control panel. “This won't take long. The kid's a little fresh, but still as good as they come.”

The soldier pried off the panel’s cover and went to work. He pulled out a customized toolkit and hooked it into the wiring. Greta shook her head and shrugged, glancing at Matt.

A sudden thought, Matt remembered about the missing team. “Vorosh, where did your second group run off to?”

“My guys? They’re just keeping the perimeter clear for the rest of us.” He looked taken aback as if the question offended him. “Is that a problem?”

“Guess not.” If they got killed, that was on Vorosh. Matt had enough to babysit with his own. "Just get the door open then."

“A few more seconds.” The soldier notified them, the punctuality hinting at his eavesdropping. A few seconds later, a metallic shifting sound followed by what sounded like a deadened drop of weights on concrete. “Done, open sesame.”

Slowly the door opened to reveal their next hurdle. Nothing, no security or other personnel present. Each team collapsed inward towards the door with weapons at the ready.

“Guess it locked up before anyone got in.” Greta speculated as the lot of them began to file in, Matt and her near the front. “Lucky us right?”

Luck? Usually that was a fickle thing...

No sooner had Greta asked then chaos reared its ugly head. The room was empty for a reason. Automated defense weapons were now engaged, and they fired indiscriminately.

“Eyes up!” Matt heard the gears turning from above. “Repeaters, take cover!”

Two ceiling tiles separated themselves from the rest, exposing a single chaingun each. A haze of bullets showered the room's entrance as the barrels spun hot. Matt fell on his instincts. forward, he and Greta hid behind a small terminal and out of immediate firing lines.

Gunfire originated from two MG-76B RWS, Repeater Weapon Systems. A similar model was mounted on the Strider. Widely used systems, they were adaptable for a multitude

In the first few seconds, three bodies hit the floor, everyone scattering for cover. Two were Vorosh's to which Matt could care less about. The third one stung a little bit, Henderson. A bullet had hit him square in the visor and almost blown off his helmet. He quickly pushed the image aside.

At least it was quick and painless, not all were that fortunate...

“I know this is bad timing and all, but I got to ask.” Greta questioned Matt through the barrage, tiptoeing the line of sarcasm. “How much are we getting paid for this again?”

“Shut it, unless you want a damn suspension.” He growled.

“That implies still having a pulse.”

She was not wrong, but witty retorts were the least of his problems right now. The turrets were effective and kept everyone pinned.

Regarding injuries, Hines and Lydria had been able to back out of the room but not unscathed. Hines got hit in his right leg, but was dragged to safety thanks to the haste of those behind him. Lydria in her left arm, yet managed to swing back around the corner out of harm's way.

Matt remembered the smoking Strider outside.

“Braxton, you got any rockets left?”

“I'm on the same page.” He turned to those outside the door, a lung full of air. “Jackson, show me how good your aim is!”

“Special delivery on the way!”

Matt then saw the red tip of a rocket launcher poking around the corner. With stoic patience, Jackson took aim and pulled the trigger. The warhead shot forward and impacted one of the turrets. After a hurried reload, both turrets were nothing more than smoldering metal stumps attached to the ceiling.

“I really, really, hate ADS.” Matt grumbled to no one in particular.

Vorosh poked his head around the corner. “All clear now?”

“Just say the word and I'll kill him, Matt.” Greta whispered as she signaled all clear to the rest. “Even make it look like an accident.”

“As enjoyable as that sounds, I like getting paid more.” Matt whispered back before raising his voice. “On you, Vorosh. Get your data or whatever you came for.”

Matt moved away from the mess towards a group of hardware towers, eyes glancing at Henderson's . Greta stepped outside the room to check up on the others. Vorosh eagerly played with the terminal, not unlike a kid in a candy store.

Matt switched his comms to C3 frequency. “Overlord, this is Reaper-One. Do you copy?”

“Reaper-One, this is Overlord. Go ahead.”

“Wrapping package up for transport, Overlord.”

“Good copy." Matt noticed a hard static break wavering in and out. Maybe someone piggy backed the signal? "Be advised, it’s a bit chaotic up here.”

“Exactly how I like it. See you on return, Reaper-One out.”

Matt ended the transmission, then let a hard shiver run down his spine. Premonitions or gut feeling, he just got the weirdest sense of uncertainty. This was somewhat of a first for him. The unknown was expected, but an empty cold more unfamiliar.

Why did he feel like tagged prey?

“Alright boys and girls, thank you for being a patient audience.” Vorosh brought him back to reality with his overly done act. “We have what we came here for. I recommend hastily withdrawing for an expedient ride back to safety.”

That was one thing they all could agree with.

~~~

Linova - High Orbit

Date of 241.08-05

Matt felt the bump, signifying they had landed back in the hangar of the Medium Class Freighter, the 'Vespe'. There was mostly silence, a few murmurs, and the task of getting Henderson's dead body off. Matt stayed back, letting everyone else clear the compartment. Nerves and adrenaline were now back to normal as a calm settled in, among other things.

He walked to the top of the ramp, each step a little heavier than normal.

“Matt, we good or you got something else?” Greta had hung around the bottom of the ramp waiting on him, helmet removed and tucked under her arm.

“Nah, you're a free bird for the time being.”

“Understood.” She hooked a thumb inside her utility belt, pulling it tighter against the sides of her hips. Her weapon hung loosely on its restraining strap. “Let me know if something comes down the pipe.”

With something in between a wave and a salute, Greta headed for the hangar exit. Matt’s eyes tracked her and caught the sight of one particular man. A man who had initially drawn him into this mess. Leaning against the wall right of the large opening was Hobbes, his hands fiddling with a tablet.

Matt took a deep breath and took his time as he walked over. Upon reaching the wall, he rested his weapon against it and removed his helmet. Sweaty gloved fingers rifled through his hair, pushing the few stray strands off to the side.

“I assume the mission went well enough?” Hobbes opened dryly. “You seem to be in one piece, minus a couple scratches.”

“Enough, being the operative word.” Matt scoffed. “Three dead, one ours, and not counting some minor injuries. Within expectations, true I guess.”

“You know the drill, accept it and move on.” Lines of data kept scrolling across the tablet, keeping Hobbes' focus on the information. “It's part of the business I thought, right?”

They both ignored the white noise of man and machine, the persistent echo within the hangar.

“It is, but Freeman might take offense with the flippancy.” Hobbes looked up with raised eyes and eyebrows at Matt’s words, but stayed emotionless otherwise. “Ours was one that he personally recommended, Henderson.”

“A new guy?”

“Newish." Six months and a few jobs was still fresh in this line of work, at least in Matt's books. "Your point?”

“Nothing really, but sorry for the loss.” Hobbes returned to his tablet, hardened eyes did not blink. “Tough luck for him.”

Matt tapped the outside of his helmet, random thoughts as he planned ahead for his team, himself, and a little of Jayne.

“Still think this was worth it?” He secured the helmet in a tight grip. “Worth the heat the Coalition will bring, whether now or later? Granted, it more than likely won't be directly on us. Still though, this sector's tension can be cut with a butter knife.”

“Yes, and we are the least of my worries.” Hobbes finished fiddling with his tablet and looked him in the eye with a grimace. “Vorosh has asked us to stay on, lay low a bit and stay on standby. Apparently, there’s someone else that he wants us to meet.”

“Any info on him or her?”

“No, I wish.” Hobbes crossed his arms, tablet pincered by two fingers. “Call it field experience, but it's going to become another pain in the ass whoever it is. THe way Vorosh is I bet the next guy will be similar.”

“Let’s all hope you’re wrong.” Matt grabbed his rifle from the wall. “I’m out for the next few hours. Inform me if shit hits the fan, or worse.”

He headed down the hallway to the makeshift sleeping quarters they had set up. It was nothing to write home about, but it was at least something. A good bit of sleep was his only care at the moment.