SHOOT THEIR LEGS

Nic’s vac-armor moved autonomously to draw his Submachine Gun from the holster on his back. He could scarcely process what was happening.

“[Friends,]” said Shanti’s thought-to-speech software. “[What do we do?]”

“WorldGov is givin’ us the go ahead to engage,” said Jarek. “Nic, is this a good idea?”

Before the Scarlet Squad Leader could answer, Tyrian players... soldiers... pulled their triggers. The bark of their SMGs was nearly deafening—not just from the gunfire itself, but the grim, historical significance it carried. Nic’s mouth went dry. He blinked hard a few times, willing himself to wake up on the Corvette from a bad dream.

But each blink only brought him back to the same scene. Bullets puncturing alien bodies. Blue blood trickling out of open wounds.

He saw the green one go limp almost instantly, dropping its organic audio device, its bulbous head lolling idly. There were no obvious wounds above its waist; whether it dropped out of shock, as a defense mechanism by playing dead, or if it was truly killed... it was unclear. It lay motionless on the muddy terrain.

The armless, spiked alien ran on its birdlike legs, putting some distance between itself and the human assailants. One SMG round tore through its bony leg and down it went. The short, squat one fared a little better, seemingly able to absorb more rounds and keep going. It was hit thrice in its stubby little legs as it charged like a gorilla, bounding on its knuckles and flashing square, flat teeth. Its face contorted in an alien expression that was something like fear, anger, and laughing all at once somehow. A fourth shot bit into its left forearm and it collapsed.

The gray one was the least fazed. Some of the bullets hit its skin and actually pinged off with little twinkles of ricochet friction. A few of them hit their mark and penetrated the alien’s tough hide—but not deep.

It raised its left fist, aiming it at the humans. Nic’s panicked eyes picked out thin, vein-like cords wrapped around the fingers of the alien’s left hand and running underneath the device on its wrist. A few minute movements of its fingers let loose a flurry of spikes in the humans’ direction.

“I’m hit! I’m hit!” cried Nianzu. The yellow-armored soldier hit the ground. “Agh... It... burns...”

“Move 1 back to the ship,” said Abigail. “I’ll meet you there!” She reloaded her SMG and continued firing on the gray one. “Damn fools! Either help or leave!”

Nic realized she was speaking to him and his squad. “Team Scarlet—” Nic began, but then the gray one was hovering off the ground.

One of the jellyfish balloons was carrying it up into the air, and it was only at this moment that Nic noticed their giant ship had taken off as well, this time silently and undetected. He just barely made out the ripples of its camouflaged underside before it vanished into the morning sky.

REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE AWAIT ADDITIONAL ORDERS

“Negative,” said Abigail. “Several of us got hit. We’re going back to the ship. Xanthic, can you make it back to your Corvette?”

“We got it,” said one of the yellow-suited players, and two of them lifted Nianzu gently.

RTIFIS said that the suit can still preserve a person even if it’s been punctured, Nic thought, at least on this planet. They won’t suffocate. But they need medical attention fast. Not sure RTIFIS can patch a wound like this solo, even with a med kit.

“Nic!” Maqsud barked. “I said I’m going back to the ship! Come with us!”

“Belay that,” said the WorldGov Vice Chair in his HUD. “None of you is going anywhere until we can assess the situation. The wounded could be infected with a bioweapon for all we know.”

Abigial started to argue, “Severiano lost a lot of blood—”

“Already patched by the vac-armor,” the Vice Chair interrupted. “I see the readings on my holoscreen now. T1, status report?”

“It burns,” Severiano groaned, “really... badly. But I think I can make it.”

“Vitals look stable. RTIFIS will be monitoring all of your biometrics at all times and using limited med kit supplies installed in your vac-armor suits. You are not to move a muscle from this battlefield until you receive the order, understood?”

The hostility was palpable in Abigail’s voice. “And what if we refuse?”

The Vice Chair paused. “Irrelevant. If you try to go anywhere, RTIFIS will just lock your suit up.”

Perri gasped. “RTIFIS, that’s not true, is it?”

the artificial intelligence answered in its honest, level tone.

While the AI spoke, Nic’s eyes picked out the oscillating borders of multiple egg ships descending from the sky, shedding their camouflage and dispensing clusters of many aliens. There were groups of them now—combat formations, Nic deduced. Each squad had one gray alien, one armless alien with spikes, and four of the short yellow gorilla-like beings. One didn’t need to understand a word of their language to grasp their intent.

They all parachuted in using the lighter-than-air jellyfish balloons. The gray and blue-skinned ones were stoic in their descent, while the short yellow ones thrashed viciously in their bindings, eager to begin their assault. Their giant, bulging forearms swatted angrily at the air.

If Nic hadn’t been staring at the right squad, he would have missed it.

A single twitch of a quilled alien’s shoulder sent a spike rocketing toward the humans.

“Get down!” Nic shouted, but by the time he gave the warning, the shot had already hit its mark.

The Xanthic player Rolan was impaled through the head. He slumped to the ground and didn’t move a muscle. Nic could hear a faint klaxon blaring from inside Rolan’s broken helmet, but a few seconds later, it stopped.

“[Friends,]” said Shanti’s cranial link. “[I am afraid.]”

Then a new directive arrived straight from WorldGov.

SHOOT TO KILL