How did Bengal get a weapon like Warhammer’s?
“Bengal,” I said. “I like your new toy.”
“You see dat, eh?” He grinned at me through his face shield. “I shoot a man when we enterin’. I figger I take he gun since he so rude as to bleed all over it. Ain’t no way to respect a gun.” He held the new weapon out for examination. “Purdy, she is, but a bitch to load.”
“I’m glad you got it,” I said. I hooked Bengal’s blaster to his belt to charge. He tossed me a mag for my nine mil. I replaced the empty in my semiautomatic. “How many of our people are down?” I asked Jolene.
“We’ve lost six, and seven more injured,” she said. “And it looks like what’s left of Team Gamma and Team Beta One are taking off with what goodies they can carry. I’d say running like rats, but they ain’t in lockstep.”
Fifty more coming. Bengal talking to weapons.
“Put me on a dedicated channel to the deserters,” I said. When I heard the click, I said, “Teams Gamma and Beta One. If your presidents knew you were running like dogs, they’d shoot you themselves. If you don’t return to your positions, you will be hunted down by forces still on the surface.” I dropped my tone to a growly pitch and said, “Return to Level One and hold position.”
Someone cursed, but Jolene said, “They’re finding some courage.”
“Good. Ask Mateo if he can get in here in his warbot suit, carrying two small antitank rockets and anything else you two think will clear the hallway leading up to the nest and the hallway on the far side of the blast doors.”
“On it, Sugah.”
In comms, I heard Mateo and Jolene talking. Then I saw the Simba on a screen inside my helmet, from someone’s armor cam. Mateo climbed out of his battle tank like a giant spider. As he sealed the Simba, two of his upper limbs clamped around two rockets.
On open comms, Jolene said, “Teams on the surface. Be aware. The warbot suit is ours. Don’t shit your britches.”
No one laughed.
Another group of thralls entered the hallway from the stairway where I had thrown the frag. This batch used cover to advance, pushing a steel table on its side in front of them. I fired until the new mag was empty. Messed up the table some. Didn’t think I killed any of Warhammer’s people. Snapped the weapon into its slot and pulled the slightly recharged blasters. Wondered what a sustained blast would do to the steel table.
“Get in here, Mateo. Make it fast.” I fired until one blaster died. The table reddened at the contact spot. I clipped it to recharge at high speed. That would damage the battery, but at this point I’d rather be alive even if I destroyed the weapon.
On our dedicated private channel, Jolene said, “CO Mateo is entering the bunker.” She showed me camera view from part of the bunker’s security system as Mateo contracted his lower limbs, compressing his height to a little over two meters. Still, his carapace scraped the ceiling.
“Be advised, backup is on the way inside,” Jolene said over the general channel. “A warbot suit is entering along the highlighted route on your Morphons and face-shield screens. He also has rounds and fresh power sources for your blasters.”
I glanced at the Marconis. They were still firing, but their shots were sporadic. It was clear we were all out of charges and low on ammo.
Jagger met my eyes for a half second. He said, “Pull back until Mateo gets here. Barricades.”
I was down to one half-drained blaster. I handed it to Bengal. There wasn’t much in the small room to use as a barricade, just a cheap plywood desk and a few plastic chairs. Shoving the desk onto its side, I wedged it at the door. Bengal moved behind it, firing with steady, slow precision.
Amos said, “We’re coming in, Shining.”
“I told you not to tell her,” Cupcake said. “She’ll just get mad.”
“But we’re bringing supplies and ammo, Babycakes.”
I actually laughed. “Flashbang!” I shouted. Activated it and tossed it into the hallway. “Don’t get dead,” I said to Amos and Cupcake. The flashbang went off.
“Who is in position to see into the nest?” I asked on the general channel as Bengal began to reload one of the extended magazines by hand. He’d emptied all he had into the enemy.
Wingding said, “Demetrius, get a look.”
“I spy with my little eye, fourteen enemy combatants in the Admin Suite, all in armor,” Demetrius replied. “Twelve more in street clothes still standing. And an armored barricade.”
“Team Delta on the way,” someone said, “bringing ammo and reinforcements to the teams at the nest, but it’s gonna take a while. We’re having to clear the hallway of rats, both four legged and two legged.”
“Copy that,” I said.
From the nest, three armored warriors exited, firing. Bengal and I ducked back inside. He slammed the loaded mag home in his borrowed weapon.
