Lara watched as the two men moved down the corridor, raining fire against the stream of hissing darkness that swept toward them. The Max staggered along, its movements no longer sure and stable. She’d seen the hesitation, the dragging of the reflexes—whatever control Ellis had over the suit was slipping away—or he was hurt even worse than she had imagined.
—almost there, just a little bit farther. Hang on…
She didn’t have visuals in auxiliary 17, but the shuttle should be there by now. Any alien threat inside the bay would have been blown into space; if they could make it the last few hundred meters and seal the door, they’d be safe.
The snarling creatures pressed on, but Max and Jess were doing well. Ellis didn’t seem to be tracking so hot, but he had gone to a simple back-and-forth spray with the rifle that was taking out the majority of the oncoming drones. Jess had moved almost to his side, the two of them progressing at a decent pace through the wide passage in a thunder of armor-piercing fire and alien cries of fury or death.
Every few steps, the Max aimed its flamethrower backward and strafed the corridor behind them with liquid heat. Shrill screams were cut short by the glaring blasts of light and heat that spewed out, keeping the two men covered as they forged on.
Lara switched view to farther along the passage and saw them almost in sight of their pickup. There were fewer drones, only a few dozen that she could see; she blew out slowly, felt a rising relief as they moved closer—
—and felt that relief disappear as the Max fell down, crashing heavily to the deck atop a mound of broken bodies.
* * *
“Ellis!”
Jess thumbed back to full auto and fired into the oncomers, peppering the screaming bugs with rounds in the smoking red gloom. There were still too many, they weren’t going to make it—
—and Max fired from the ground, its pulse rifle spinning to tear holes in the black bodies that flew toward them relentlessly. A dozen drones went down in a wave of acid and exploding shards. Behind them, the flood of trumpeting darkness had thinned to a single file of attackers.
Jess risked a glance, saw the giant crawling to its knees, the sharp crack of flesh like bone crunching loudly beneath the armored plates.
“Ellis, you okay?”
The Berserker lumbered to its feet, still firing. “I’m losing the—suit, can’t take much more—”
Jess took out a trio of drones, both relieved and terrified by the sound of the kid’s voice. Ellis was still with them, that was good—but the timing was for shit. Losing the suit would mean his certain death and also the kid’s, after the bugs hammered at Max long enough. He had one full clip left, and the other creatures would be coming, running and clawing through unsealed corridors in savage hordes to find them—
He saw the numbers then, and grinned. A meter high, bright orange, and as clear as day in the pounding redness of the corridor, one-seven. They’d be there in a minute, maybe two.
Jess pointed to the wide panels ahead and shouted. “You don’t have to, kid! We’re nearly home and dry!”
He fired down to minimum safe and ejected the ’zine, then slammed in his last as they hurried toward the bay, Jess still grinning.
They were going to make it.
* * *
The tracking was completely down, the motion sensors, weapons check, and stabilizer had all started to fail— about all that was left was the frontal viewscreen and the hydraulic mechanisms that allowed him to move. If that power system went down, he’d be trapped.
The pain was terrible; the fall had knocked him into the compartment’s shield, crushed his face against the plates and jiggled the interface prongs. Ellis felt fresh blood coursing across his mouth and down the back of his neck as he manuevered the suit clumsily toward their escape, trying to aim at the last of the approaching drones.
Almost over, almost there—
The air lock was less than fifty meters now, but each step cost him. Ellis felt waves of dizziness and confusion, the effects of the corrupted interface taking their toll.
Forty meters. Jess led him now, crouching and firing at the few creatures that ran for them, claws raised and tails slicing through air before they clattered into green fountains of hissing fluid beneath the M41.
Thirty meters. Ellis threw up a mouthful of coppery blood and struggled to hold out against the encroaching blackness as they advanced toward freedom—and an end to the terrible pain.