Act 4.6 - Hot Drop

Tor’laen pulled the gauntlet on, strapping it tightly and checking the thing’s internal power supply. It powered on easily, humming slightly as he flexed his hand. Satisfied, he switched it off again. The Ydani’s gear must have looked odd from an outsider’s perspective. He was wearing his fatigues, plating, and rig from the Citadel, with his visor currently hanging from his belt. On the other hand, he had donned Ydani riot-control gear, which sat comfortably over his normal kit. An armored collar and pauldrons protected his neck and shoulders, heavy gauntlets were strapped on his hands, and his normal boots had been replaced by armor-plated sabatons, each one carrying both magnetic stabilizers and ground anchors. The gear felt heavier than he remembered, but it wouldn’t hamper him in combat. Not much, at least.

All around the room, his squad was gearing up as well. Grace squad had burned down in a shuttle almost as soon as Tor’laen contacted Mikka, and to his surprise, the Lieutenant Commander herself had joined them, bringing her own gear as well. It seemed like she wasn’t planning to miss out on the fun.

Aril and Tovik were tightening their rigs, making sure all their plating and extra gear was in place. Across from them, Saia was sitting on one of the benches, lacing up her boots. Her sleeve was rolled above her prosthetic forearm; the steel-and-polymer limb needed no additional protection. That left Lekka, fiddling with her helmet, Kessi, staring at the hologram in the middle of the room, and Mikka, standing beside Tor’laen and clearly trying not to grin too widely.

Then there were the other members of his team. Kae’rel had come through for him quickly, bringing three soldiers with him — two men and a woman — named Theren, Vaeth, and Saevra, respectively. Unlike him, the three were fully kitted out in Ydani riot-control gear, the bulky armor making the marines look even larger than normal, though they all currently had their helmets tucked under their arms. They were fairly young, none of them past their thirtieth solar cycle by his estimation. Still, they had all apparently graduated with honors from the Naval Tactics and Weapons track. They would follow his orders.

Perhaps most importantly, they were looking around at the Zakkili Armswomen with curiosity and interest, not disdain or suspicion. Kae’rel had done an excellent job.

“Attention!” Tor’laen barked, repeating the command in both Zakkili and Hylec, and moved to stand at the holotable in the middle of the room.

The group was sequestered inside a small conference room in a barracks near the capital complex. After getting the approval from High Command, and permission to use Ydani supplies and equipment, Tor’laen was hurrying things along, aware of the ticking clock hanging over the situation. The three Ydani soldiers snapped to attention, moving up to the table. The Armswomen were a little more relaxed, but they made their way to the table, offering Tor’laen their full attention.

“As you all know, there has been an incident, right here in the capital,” Tor’laen started, speaking Hylec, letting his gaze wander over the assembled soldiers. The Armswomen all had their own tablets with translators, so he wouldn’t have to repeat the briefing twice. “A group of armed Ydani reservists have taken hostages — officers and crew members from the Haven’s Gate, along with their Ydani civilian escorts. They retreated into a nearby civic center and have fortified the building.” He tapped at the table’s console, and a holographic version of the four-story building floated above it. “There are twenty-four hostages, presumably being held at gunpoint. The number of extremists is uncertain; current estimates put them between fifteen and thirty.”

“Question, Captain.” One of the Ydani soldiers, Vaeth, raised his hand.

“Go ahead, marine.”

“Could the Zakkili hostages not use their mental powers to take control of the situation?” There was no contempt in the man’s voice, only simple curiosity.

“Mikka.” Tor’laen glanced down at the woman, who was following the conversation on her tablet. She nodded up at him and flipped the device over, so the Ydani soldiers would be able to read her answer.

“None of the captured Zakkili are Nobles or of notable bloodlines. You three probably don’t know this, but your average Zakkili can’t psychic their way out of a fucking gun pointed at their head. I doubt any of those girls could even Still their captors. Not if most Ydani are like the big guy, here.” She gave Tor’laen an affectionate little backhand, rapping her knuckles against his thigh plating.

“Understood, sir!” The Ydani marine gave Mikka a crisp salute, getting a bemused look from the Lieutenant Commander.

The other two Ydani were staring at Mikka with slightly strange looks on their faces. It took Tor’laen a few heartbeats to recognize it as envy. Envious of…what? He pushed the thought from his mind, carrying on with the briefing.

“I don’t think I need to tell anyone in this room how tense the current political situation is.” He glared down at the hologram. “Which is why I have assembled this team. We are going to rescue the hostages and neutralize the extremists, we’re going to be seen doing it, and we are going to do it without a single loss of life!” He projected all of his confidence into his voice, both Ydani and Zakkili soldiers straightening up slightly at his tone.

Tor’laen glanced around for a few breaths. All of the team was kitted with non-lethal ordnance, their rigs covered with flashbangs and stun grenades, numerous restraints hanging from their belts.

“I know that you Armswomen haven’t used Ydani pacification armaments before, but you are professionals. I am confident that you will not have an issue wielding them.”

“Point the business end at the enemy. Got it, boss.” Saia volunteered, getting a few snickers from the other Armswomen. Even the Ydani marines wore small grins after reading her translated words.

“We will be inserted via shuttle onto the building’s roof,” Tor’laen continued, tapping the roof of the holographic building, causing the area to glow. “We will be moving rapidly — we need to get to those hostages before the extremists either bunker down around them…or worse.” He didn’t need to add more, everyone in the room was surely thinking it.

Tor’laen looked to the Ydani soldiers on his left.

“Marines, we will be providing mobile cover for the Armswomen. Engage in CQC if needed, and don’t let the extremists close enough to grapple any Zakkili. I think you can understand why.” He switched his gaze to the Citadel soldiers and his language to Zakkili. “Ladies, watch their backs. You know what it is you do best. Stay mobile, stay agile. Drop the enemy before they get close.”

He straightened up.

“Any questions?”

The marines saluted him, while the Armswomen grinned at him, and Saia gave him a thumbs up with her prosthetic hand.

“The shuttle is spooled up and waiting on the roof. Let’s move, double time!”

Tor’laen was glad of the visor covering his face, hiding his grin from his squad mates. The team was seated on the benches that lined the sides of the shuttle, as it sped across the city skyline. However, the craft was built to Ydani specifications, and the smaller Zakkili soldiers sat with their feet dangling, looking more like a group of Ydani children on a field trip from the Academy than a trained fighting force.

The three Ydani marines were seated among them, their bulky riot-control gear making the difference in stature look even more extreme than usual. As expected of Ydani soldiers, their posture was rigid, each of their spines as straight as an iron rod, despite the swaying of the shuttle.

The Armswomen, on the other hand, were all checking their weapons, doing their best to familiarize themselves with the new equipment. Most of the squad carried shock-dart rifles — weapons that launched a small, highly charged projectile which wreaked havoc on the muscle control of whatever living target it struck.

The only exception was Tovik. The woman held a crowd-control shotgun, a weapon that launched a single high-velocity, rubbery, blunt bullet at a time, large and heavy enough to knock a grown Ydani violently off their feet.

“Take care with that weapon, Tovik,” Tor’laen cautioned. “Aim center mass. Those projectiles may not be able to penetrate, but they could still break a target’s neck if they strike above the shoulders.”

“No worries, squad leader. I got it,” the woman chuckled. She ran a hand over the large barrel, almost caressing it, and Tor’laen privately wondered if she would even be willing to relinquish it after the mission.

“Hey Tor’laen,” Mikka called from her place across from him. “Are these the same weapons you guys used when you boarded the Aegis?”

“The same type, yes.” He nodded. “Though these are obviously the scaled-down version, as opposed to the variant carried by Reaper Frames.”

“Fair enough.” Mikka checked the power supply on her weapon, before making sure the magazine was properly locked in. “Speaking of which, why aren’t you all using those big, fuck-off suits for this anyway?” She gestured at him and the other Ydani marines.

“Most of them are carried by the Outrunner Fleets. But more than that, there would be no faster way to turn public opinion against us,” he explained. “Those suits hold an almost…sacred place in my people’s zeitgeist. A major symbol of our victory over the Cal’raz.” He shook his head. “For the average citizen to see them used to subdue Ydani…”

Mikka shrugged and shot him a wink.

“Fair enough. Point taken, big guy.”

After a moment, the Ydani marine sitting next to her, Saevra, spoke up.

“Lieutenant Commander,” she began, speaking Hylec. Now that they all had their helmets on, the translation software was working. It wasn’t fast or precise enough for battlefield orders, but at least they could all communicate, albeit somewhat roughly. “Have you fought alongside the Captain before?”

“Huh? Tor’laen? Yeah, of course.” She glanced up at the marine. “I took him along when my girls and I took down a terrorist cell on Orphila. A planet in the Monarchy,” she clarified when the Ydani woman cocked her head slightly. “Figured he would be damn useful in a shoot-out, and I was right. After that, we took down more terrorists on the planet, and then stormed a mercenary black site on a different planet.”

“I envy you, Lieutenant Commander,” Saevra replied, somewhat sheepishly.

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“Just call me Mikka, woman. I ain’t your commander,” she chuckled. “And what do you mean? Is Tor’laen that special? Like some kinda war hero?”

“Lieut—Mikka, ma’am, he is one of the greatest heroes of our people,” the Ydani answered, a bit of awe creeping into her voice. “Youngest ever Captain in history, one of the founding commanders of the Outrunner Fleets, surviving hero of The War of Light and Ash…his achievements cannot be overstated. We grew up learning his name and deeds in the Academy.” She gestured to the two other Ydani marines, both of them nodding. “It is an incredible honor to be able to fight under his command.”

“You are aware that I am receiving comms from you two, correct?” Tor’laen put in dryly, glad his visor was concealing his undoubtedly darkened cheeks.

“There is no shame in stating the truth, Captain,” the woman answered, her voice earnest.

“I had no idea you were such a big shot, man.” Tor’laen could hear Mikka’s grin over the comms as she looked at him. This was not something the Lieutenant Commander would be letting go of soon, he could tell.

He was saved from answering as the shuttle started to bank, decreasing altitude.

“Gear up, marines!” Tor’laen barked as he stood, the other Ydani jumping to their feet as well.

Each of them grabbed combat shields from the front of the passenger bay. These were the same type that had been used against the Cal’raz during the war, rated to stop even high-caliber slugs. They were nearly as tall as a grown Ydani, and made of a combination of ceramics, carbon nanotubes, and a layer of liquid polymer that hardened in response to force. The thick shields were lighter than they appeared, but still unwieldy enough to hamper the bearer’s mobility.

Tor’laen switched on his left gauntlet, and activated it, magnetizing the steel backing of the shield to it with a small, metallic clang. The sound was echoed in the troop bay as the three marines did the same. A stun baton, as well as a standard steel one, clipped onto the Captain’s belt. He glanced over at Theren, and gave the man a nod. The marine put a finger to the side of his helmet for a moment, talking with the pilot.

“Ten seconds to drop, Captain,” Theren said after a pause.

“Understood.” Tor’laen switched to Zakkili. “Get ready ladies, this is going to be a rapid insertion. We’ll be jumping onto the roof in ten.”

The Armswomen slid out of their seats, switching on their weapons and making their final checks on their equipment. They lined up behind the Ydani soldiers, Mikka throwing Tor’laen a confident nod.

Theren’s voice came over the comms.

“Three…two…one…mark!”

The rear doors of the shuttle lowered, revealing the reinforced roof of the civic building directly in front of them. The shuttle was still hovering roughly six feet above it, as close as the pilot could reasonably get to it without danger of an accident with the gusts of Late Harvest wind buffeting the small craft.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Tor’laen jumped. As his feet struck the roof, he drove the bottom rim of his shield into the concrete surface, bleeding off some of his landing momentum into the shield’s layer of hardening liquid. Even with that, the impact on his body caused a pulse of nearly white-hot pain to radiate through his body, originating from the two still-healing bullet wounds in his abdomen. He winced and gritted his teeth, trying to push the pain back down.

The three Ydani marines landed a second later behind and next to him, already moving to create a small perimeter, and Tor’laen joined them. The Armswomen jumped down as well, landing in the small circle of protection, absorbing the force of the landing with their knees. A few mild, involuntary Presses of discomfort touched Tor’laen’s mind, and he noticed the other Ydani stiffening slightly. Likely their first ever encounter with Zakkili mental powers. Regardless, they said nothing.

“Secure the roof!” Tor’laen ordered, motioning with his fist as the shuttle started to pull away above them.

Wordlessly, the team started moving over the concrete, the marines keeping their shields directed at the two entrances to the rooftop. The building was similar to most civic centers Tor’laen had seen in residential districts: little more than a reinforced concrete box, with a decent number of windows. It was the tallest building in the area — district eighteen was one of the nicer residential districts, where many officers lived and had their families. Most of the houses around were duplexes, or even single-family homes, all just one or two stories tall.

At the edge of his vision, Tor’laen noted the various information network drones circling the place, sending their feeds back to either the civilian networks or the military ones, though in reality the military strictly controlled both networks entirely. Even more notable was the sizable crowd that had gathered in the street — more than a hundred Ydani had watched them drop onto the building. At least the military police were keeping the civilians back, from what he could see at a glance.

His squad had almost made it to the rooftop entrances, and a grim smile touched his face. The two groups of soldiers were already working well together, the Armswomen using the cover provided by the riot shields, and keeping the marines and each other covered. It was what Tor’laen had been hoping to see. It helped that Ydani and Zakkili tactics were surprisingly similar, even more so after he had given Mikka a few suggestions on practical strategies and maneuvers he had refined during the war, something the woman had eagerly incorporated into her repertoire.

They had just reached the doorway when Saevra raised a fist, causing everyone to freeze.

“Possible contact coming up the stairs. I think I hear boots.”

“Contact, stairway,” Tor’laen said quietly in Zakkili over the comms.

Aril tapped Saevra on the small of the back, tugging at the marine’s plating to move her slightly. The Ydani acquiesced, and shifted her shield, giving the Armswoman a clear vantage of the side of the door that would open. Aril raised her rifle, aiming directly at the seam between door and frame, then sat, still as stone. Tor’laen tapped into the woman’s helmet feed, watching the small window that opened on his HUD. For a couple breaths, no one moved.

Tor’laen stiffened as the latch made a few clicks, and the door started to slowly swing open. He got a brief glimpse of Ydani combat fatigues, then Aril struck. As soon as the door had opened just wide enough, the Armswoman fired, her rifle giving an audible fwit noise. The small projectile threaded the gap, flying through the narrow opening and striking the extremist on the other side.

Saevra exploded into motion the instant Aril fired, yanking the door wide and grabbing the Ydani behind it. Closing her gauntlet around the man’s arm, she pulled him bodily through the doorway and threw him behind her onto the roof. Immediately, Saevra moved her shield into position, nearly filling the entrance in case any of the man’s comrades were following him up the stairs.

As soon as the electric dart finished discharging, Tovik and Aril pounced on him, Tovik pressing her forearm across the man’s upper chest and kicking away his weapon while Aril scrambled to get restraints on the squirming Ydani’s wrists. Seconds later, it was done, and the Armswoman snapped another pair onto his ankles, while Tovik snatched the earpiece out of the man’s ear.

“Good takedown, Aril,” Tor’laen said, moving forward. He switched to Hylec. “Theren, drag him behind the entrance. We’ll send someone to grab him later.”

“Yes, Captain!”

The marine grabbed the still-disoriented extremist by the arm and started pulling him behind the concrete entranceway. Meanwhile Tor’laen pulled a small device off the back of his belt and slapped it on the door of the other entrance. The thing made a small beeeep and then activated, magnetizing the entire door, essentially locking it in place to its metal frame. No need to possibly offer their backs to a clever enemy who got the idea to flank them.

“Stairs are clear, Captain!” Saevra reported, peeking through the small clear slit at eye level in her shield.

“They’ll notice when he doesn’t return before long. Let’s move soldiers, our predicted timetable just got shortened again!” Tor’laen barked, and the team was already moving into position. Saevra descended the stairs, moving carefully but smoothly, Aril and Tovik each peeking their weapon out from one of the Ydani’s flanks.

Tor’laen moved to follow, but his brow furrowed behind his visor. Even for a reservist, it was incredibly sloppy to send a single soldier to check the roof after hearing the engines of the shuttle. With no backup as well. Even second-year recruits at the Academy would not have made such a blunder.

“Theren,” he started, speaking over comms. “What did that man’s kit look like?”

“Standard plating, minimal rig and spare magazines, Captain.” The answer came immediately. “Loadout was an SMG and your standard military sidearm. Nothing you wouldn’t find in any reserve armory on Ydan. Ah, and no helmet obviously, but I would not think that surprising.”

Helmets were too cost-restrictive for reservists — the amount of labor and materials needed to customize them for a Ydani’s unique horn pattern left them strictly for active-duty soldiers.

“Acknowledged. Let’s keep moving,” Tor’laen replied, even as he was turning the fresh information over in his head.

The entire team was on the stairs now, moving downward at a steady pace. Tor’laen kept an eye on the friendly markers on his HUD, mindful of their formation. Thankfully, the marines’ helmet systems were already patched to effectively communicate with the Citadel forces’ gear. Apparently the update had been a pet project of Kae’rel’s, something Tor’laen mentally thanked the First Light for.

Saevra reached the bottom of the staircase, where it exited into a decently-sized hallway, and the woman carefully peeked around the corner, leading with her shield. Almost immediately, the sound of SMG fire started to echo in the enclosed space, rounds already pinging off the woman’s shield.

“Contact!” Tor’laen roared, bounding down the stairs, blowing past the Armswomen. He skidded into the hallway, shield leading, as he tried to ignore the fresh surge of pain in his gut. Saevra moved next to him, jamming her shield against his, blocking off a good portion of the hallway. Rounds continued to ping against their barrier, the relatively small-caliber slugs simply flattening against the hardened shields.

The Captain braced himself as something much larger struck the shield, the hardening liquid unable to absorb all of the force, vibrations creeping up his gauntleted hand and arm. He tried to peek through the clear slit in his shield, but SMG rounds were still peppering it, obscuring his vision.

“They’ve got something much bigger than an SMG!” Saevra reported, bracing her shield with her right hand as well as she weathered a few shots from the same weapon. “Those feel like AP rounds!”

“Grace squad, move to assist!” Tor’laen ordered, slipping back to Zakkili. “We have multiple hostiles down the hallway!”

Mikka was the fastest to respond, diving down onto her belly and wiggling into position to aim through the small gap between the bottom corners of their shields. Tor’laen silently prayed that none of the enemies would try to bounce a round or two off the floor if they spotted her.

As soon as her weapon was in position, Mikka started firing, the soft noise of her weapon lost in the din of the firefight.

“Scratch one!” she growled over the comms. “Now two.” The amount of bullets coming down the hallway had significantly decreased. “And…shit! Only got his plating. They’re starting to pull back!”

“Take them down!” Tor’laen ordered, glancing back desperately, looking for the other Armswomen.

“On it, squad leader.”

Kessi and Aril had moved into position, peeking out from the sides of the barricade, making full use of the cover. One of the AP rounds blasted apart a chunk of the wall by Kessi’s head, but the woman barely flinched, simply steadying her aim.

Under the barrage of three shock-dart rifles, the rest of the extremists quickly went down, the hallway falling silent once more.

“Move!”

Tor’laen and Saevra dashed forward, keeping their shields as stable as possible, the Armswomen hurrying to keep up. The Captain snatched the shock baton from his belt, powering the weapon on. Even as he reached the first downed enemy, the woman was already starting to recover from the dart she had been struck with, and Tor’laen wasted no time in jabbing his baton into a gap below her shoulder pauldron. The other Ydani jerked wildly, her muscles seizing, and dropped to the ground once more.

Mikka was on her in a flash, snapping restraints on the woman with practiced ease. The other Armswomen were following her lead, bundling up the still-stunned extremists as the marines remained on alert, keeping an eye on the prisoners as well as the hallway ahead of them.

As the last of the prisoners were secured, Theren nudged one of the dropped weapons, a rifle, with his armored boot. It was a long, almost unwieldy thing, even for a Ydani, with an extended barrel and full optics package.

“Captain, this is an anti-materiel rifle,” he said over the squad channel. “That’s what was hammering you and Saevra.”

“They had an AMR? This thing?” Tor’laen asked, glancing down at it.

“I’d imagine you aren’t familiar with this model, sir. It’s a relatively recent addition — a scaled down version of the ones carried by Reaper Frames,” the marine explained. “Cartridge ammo, not rail.”

“Is this something a reservist could get their hands on?”

“Well…” Theren paused for a breath. “They do keep them in reserve armories, but you would need a certain rank to access them, Captain.”

“More inconsistencies,” Tor’laen muttered. “Either way, we don’t have time for speculation.” He looked around at his team. “Secure their weapons, and get the prisoners into one of these offices,” he ordered. “Then let’s move. They certainly must know we’re in the building now. The hostages are running out of time.”