The Scarlet Squad Leader led his two Team Brick comrades across the dusty landscape of Planet Telum. Their Gen-3 Achilles armorsuits ran at Moderate speed; anything faster would make them prone to Sharpshooter attacks before they could react. Nic scanned the environment with his HUD constantly. So far, there were no signs of the alien invaders who’d wrecked their Gryphon and separated them from the rest of the strike team.

“We should be careful out here, sir,” Everett said in his first honest moment of trepidation. “I mean, Nic. Should we be looking out for Hexadians?”

“Six eyes are better than two,” Nic replied, “but trust me, I’m keeping a look out for them.”

The change in Everett’s tone was barely perceptible, but he resumed being cocky, like a mask he put on at will. “Those skinny bastards can be sneaky. And I’m not just talking about the Sharpshooters, either. You’ve heard about those stealthy ones, right? With the claws?”

A chill snaked up Nic’s spine. “Yeah, I’ve heard about them. Rippers. I’ve never seen visual confirmation of them before, just... heard stories.”

A pause. “I can say this with the comms jammed,” Everett went on, “but you promise not to tell anyone, right?”

Scarlet 1 arched an eyebrow that no one could see. “I guess that depends on what you’re going to say next.”

“Oh, it’s nothing bad, just... technically bending the rules. One of my buddies on base from my last mission got through some database back channels and found videos of them in action—Rippers, I mean. Sick shit, man. You ever seen a sloth from Earth before? Picture those claws, only twice as long, and they can move like a cheetah. You know what a cheetah is, of course, right?”

Nic smirked. “Yeah, I went to school. I’ve seen clips. Sloths and cheetahs.”

“Oh yeah, you went to Paradigm Prep, right? On Colony 228? I’ve heard of that place. Actually, I think I read about it when the Battle of Nereus first broke. Didn’t they change their—”

“Eyes up,” Nic interrupted. “RTIFIS is sniffing them out as we speak. They’re up there somewhere.” He tagged a crater up ahead, one of the deeper ones they’d encountered so far, and some barely-visible movement along the crater’s edge. Even with his HUD’s visual enhancements, all he could see was a subtle smear of light distortion. “Weapons up. Confirm visuals.”

“I s-see it,” Danny stuttered. “I-I think... There?” He tagged the approximate location.

“You got it.”

“Sneaky, but not sneaky enough,” Everett snickered. “I thought they were in their vacuum configurations—you know, because there’s not much air here?”

He was referring to the Hexadians’ ability to metamorphose temporarily in order to survive the vacuum of space. Their third eyelids closed tight, protecting their eyes in exchange for slightly lessened visual acuity; their skins hardened, reducing their vulnerable surface area even further; and finally, a retractable membrane sealed their mouths and nostrils, conserving their air. The last Nic had heard, WorldGov experiments suggested the average Hexadian could survive well over 48 hours in this configuration before it started to show signs of suffocation.

“They are,” Nic agreed, “but they can still use some camouflage even in this state. In fact, that’s probably why we’re able to see hints of it. Vacuum configuration means their camo isn’t quite as seamless as it is normally.”

“What do we do?” Danny asked. “They’re right there, right? Being out here is dangerous...”

“We move up. They’ll drop out of camo once they engage. Their camouflage is good, but only if they stay fairly still.”

“Sir, do we have to?” Danny’s voice was trembling again. “I... I-I’m not trying to make you mad. I’m just asking—”

“Yes. We do. We don’t have Sniper Rifles on us—it wasn’t part of our operation. If we try to engage from this distance, all we’ll be doing is wasting bullets and giving them a clear opening.”

“How should we proceed then, Nic?” Everett asked. “Divide and conquer?”

“Follow my lead, and let’s keep chatter to a minimum,” the Squad Leader answered. Maybe I can see why that’s necessary sometimes, he thought. “Move up to that formation I just tagged.”

“All I see is a rock. That thing?”

“It’s small, but it’ll do. I’ll provide covering fire. From there, we’re going to flank them. I’m guessing there are about two or three Nereus formations in that crater, nothing we can’t handle if we’re smart about it. Go!”

Nic charged forward, checking to make sure his subordinates were following. Everett motioned for Danny to bank left so that they could take cover behind a small boulder near the crater’s edge. Meanwhile, Nic aimed his SMG and waited for the right time to strike. Almost... Almost... He noticed a flicker of Hexadian camouflage color-correcting itself. Now! He pulled the trigger and started distributing the contents of his first clip among the enemy aliens. I brought plenty to share.

Once hit, their camouflaged skins faltered. Two Fodders and a Commander slumped to the ground. When this happened, all hell broke loose in the crater. All of the alien combatants revealed themselves in short succession, popping into view as if appearing out of nowhere. There were dozens of them... more than Nic had planned. Much more.

Shit, he thought. Just our luck.

“Need support!” Nic barked. “Use your cover! Frags now!” He drew his first fragmentation grenade from his ammo belt, pulled the pin, and tossed it according to the arc laid out by RTIFIS. It mopped up a few hostiles. Not enough. He threw his second frag and then yelled, “Reloading!”

After Nic spent his second one, two more grenades, one after another, fell among the Hexadians, ripping through another swath of them. At least half were dispatched by this point—fairly quick work.

By the time he noticed a Sharpshooter’s telltale lean signifying that it would open fire, Nic was already hit.

The spike ricocheted off his chin. The Gen-3 Achilles armorsuit sacrificed some mobility in exchange for more coverage, especially around the neck—and it may have been what saved Nic’s life.

The spike wasted all of its momentum on the impenetrable parts of his astrosteel armor, narrowly missing the thin sliver of feedback suit between plates. It bounced harmlessly to the side with a woody wobbling sound. It reminded Nic of wooden arrows from the fantasy-style sims he used to play.

Still, it was far too close a call. He didn’t need any additional reminders of Shanti on the battlefield.

“Sharpshooters first!” Nic ordered.

These precision fighters were physically weak but proved incredibly dangerous at this range; two more Sharpshooter spikes whizzed past Nic’s head, another grazing his right shoulder, and he was grateful that this species had such a long cooldown time between shots. The Commanders fired their spike gauntlets from where they stood, mostly missing entirely but effectively limiting Nic’s range of movement. Usual tactics were to burn through their Sharpshooters before advancing. That didn’t stop the Fodders from clawing their way out of the crater and barreling toward Nic and his comrades.

“Reloading!” Everett announced. Nic was in the process of emptying his second SMG clip. When he was finished, he noticed that the battleground was conspicuously quiet.

“Danny!” he shouted.

The quiet was easily explained: Danny wasn’t shooting at all. Brick 4 was cowering behind the rock next to Everett, mostly behind cover—only the right boot of his armorsuit was sticking out relative to the Hexadians’ vantage point.

“Do something!” Everett scolded him. “Idiot!” Brick 2 raised his SMG and resumed firing. “You’re gonna get us all—” A spike ripped clean through Danny’s right wrist. He let out a wail of agony and fell to his knees, the Submachine Gun dropping from his grip, clattering to the ground in a puff of dust. “God! Oh, God... It hurts! Help! Help me!”

“I-I can’t do it,” Danny whimpered. “I can’t do it! I can’t do it...” He repeated himself again and again, rocking back and forth.

I’m on my way, Perri, Nic thought. I am not going to die here. I promise.