Gears of War: Sinking Feeling

[Deleted]

Chapter 1: Spear's Vanguard

“We’re all getting older. I don’t know how much longer we can keep going before our bodies just stop moving us. I’ve been having aches in places I didn’t know were possible and the only medicine we have left for it is the adrenaline of combat. We’re low on everything from food to personnel, and it’s taking it’s toll. Marov is complaining of his leg giving him problems again, too. Hanson’s been trying to fix him up, but eventually there’s not going to be anything left to do. He’s only got a few more years before it gives out on him, she says. I need to watch for early warning signs so I can get him out of combat before that happens. I just hope I can stay together long enough to join him in retirement, free from the grubs. I don’t know how Hoffman keeps going, but we’ll follow his example. This is our last stand and we’re going to make it count.” – Sergeant Joseph Nyvar’s latest entry in his war journal, on the rigors of war.

Forward Operating Base, near Landown in preparation for Operation: Hollow Storm, 14 years after E-Day;

1800 hours.



The feel of a gathering momentum was hard to ignore as Syval Marov watched the giant Grindlift Rigs start to thunder through the camp, his feet propped up on a rock as he sat in a stool against their quarters. Giant wheels dug through the ground and slapped mud against the giant flaps behind them. Gears with every variant of the armor produced from the end of the Pendulum Wars to now, fourteen years after Emergence Day, walked and wondered around the rigs and joined old buddies they hadn’t seen in ages. Marov himself had picked out a few faces from his past, glad to see them alive as they stopped to chat on their way to their assigned positions. Most of the Gears were agitated and excited, a flush of hope on their faces he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

He grimaced at the thought, praying the hope wasn’t misplaced. This last ditch effort was the only thing humanity could do to end the war. Operation Hollow Storm. The scuttlebutt around camp said they were going to use the rigs to drill down to the Hollow to kill the Locust where they spawned. The grubs had been devastated by the Lightmass bomb, from what Marov had seen, so maybe this was mop up duty. Still, it reminded him of the time after they deployed the hammer, a few days of peace before the Horde swarmed back to the surface to resume the war as if nothing had happened. He didn’t think it’d be different this time, but there was always the hope.

Even if the grubs weren’t completely beaten, this would end the war one way or another, from the way people were talking. The military hadn’t been mobilized for this big an operation since the Pendulum Wars. Marov found the gallows humor that what was left of the military was barely big enough to constitute a threat against the Union of Independent Republics had it still been around. There had been a lot more humans around back then. The metallic clang of a wrench drew him out of his thoughts and back to his little ‘clique’.

“Wanna hand me that screwdriver, Ty? Raven’s got a couple things loose that I don’t want falling off next time I cart you guys through hostile skies,” Jonesy “Psycho” Breen sarcastically started, wiping a smear of grease across his pale forehead as he rolled out from under the helicopter on a creeper. A pair of aviator glasses hung around his neck, gently clinking against his COG tags. Marov had no idea where the man had gotten them, but they were a recent find. Dark fatigues covered in holes and patches clothed the man, the stenciled form of the COG Air Force fraying on his chest. Jonesy had almost exclusively been used as their mode of transportation the last seven years, becoming an honorary member of the squad. He joined them at the barracks whenever he wasn’t flying or them on a mission. A pistol hung from his hip, scuffed and scratched but taken care of just the same. There weren’t any factories left to make them, but Jonesy wouldn’t have parted with the pistol even were there. “If you guys weren’t so damned heavy, maybe she’d hold up a bit better.”

“And maybe if you didn’t crash into every bullet and tree you came across, you’d have less work,” Naleena Viscar replied, standing above him looking every inch the warrior goddess, rapping her knuckles against the Raven’s frame. Her dark, caramel colored skin almost blended in to the long, dark sleeves of her under weave, her armor piled up in the shed that had been their quarters for the last few days. Muscles gained through the last seven years of grueling war as part of Echo Three stood out even through the material. Marov had seen her personally win many an arm wrestle back at base with any takers and come out on top more often than not. Sparring with her left Marov with more bruises than he got from any other member of the team, to his delight. Not only was she strong, but she was also lightning fast, a fact which had saved their asses more than once. Her sniping skills had earned her marksman status, up there with the best record holders such as Darrius Gale and a currently MIA old sergeant from the 26 Royal Tyran Infantry, Bernadette Mataki. Marov wondered whether the bearers of the names were still alright; he hoped so. He had met Mataki once back in the Pendulum Wars and Gale a couple of times near the beginning of the Locust-Human War. Naleena's weapon of choice was laying against the wall in her room inside their quarters, a replacement for the one she’d lost to Akun. She had modified it to acceptable parameters for her, adding a stock and even a laser sight to it that she’d scrounged from local Stranded. Depending on the situation, it could be turned off and on to either increase her accuracy or keep her position from being revealed.

Her short, dark hair fluttered in the wind as she turned back to Tyler Fais, who had the toolbox open and was holding the screwdriver as if he were about to throw it at the pilot. With a grin, he handed it to the woman, who dropped it in Jonesy’s hand with a smirk on her face. Ty’s COG tags hung from around his still slim, but well muscled neck, a tattoo of the names of his sister and niece crawling up his collarbone, the first letter of his sister’s name just visible. His teal armor had worn down to an almost steel grey, just the hint of the former coloring on the shoulder pads. Ty had grown a short goatee in the intervening years, the scar on his lip a blank spot in the beard. It gave him a roguish appearance, but it also reminded Marov how old the man was now and in turn reminded him how old he himself was. No one in the group currently around him was under thirty five years old. Jonesy was in his early forties, with Naleena and Ty both in their early thirties. Marov was just about to turn fifty four himself, with Nyvar not far behind him.

The thought of Nyvar reminded him of the younger Nyvar, Jason. The kid was now in his late twenties, the youngest in the squad. The kid had filled out to be every bit as big as his dad, hefting around a Boomshot as his favorite weapon. Jason had a knack for explosives and was often called upon to politely ‘open’ doors when they weren’t cooperating. Marov grimaced as he remembered the ease at which Sparks had helped them back when he had still been around. He missed the little guy, who had been shredded in a mission three years ago. Each of the team carried a piece of the guy as a memento, Ty having taken the destruction the hardest. Ty and the bot had gained a weird accord that Marov privately envied, the younger Gear’s skill with handling mechanics starting to overshadow his own.

Marov reached into a pouch and pulled out the power source for the little bot, rubbing a thumb against it in weary remembrance. Holding it in his left hand, which only had four fingers left on it, he tossed it in the air and caught it again, putting it back. Normally he would have gotten a prosthetic finger to replace the one he lost to the Kryll, but there had been a space of four years before one became available that he had gotten used to the absence. Other Gears needed it more than he, since he didn’t use his ring finger for anything important, though he had been chewed out by his wife for losing it initially. He had stemmed her outrage by pulling out his own COG tags, showing her his wedding band was still in his possession. He shuddered to think of what she would have said had he lost the ring as well. He shifted his legs into a more comfortable position, wincing at the twinge of pain in his bad leg. There were a lot of old wounds that were creeping back into painful territory recently.

“Oh, give me a break,” Jonesy growled as something sparked in the compartment he was working on. The Raven was almost as old as this war was; Marov was surprised it lifted off anymore, but the COG built things to last. “Hey, old man, you wanna get off your lazy ass and see if you can fix this? The altimeter’s going haywire for some reason.” Marov laughed, causing Jonesy to continue irritably, “You won’t be laughing if I have to fly around at night with no way to tell where land is. I know how much you looove air travel.”

“’Air travel’ he calls it,” Naleena piped in, using air quotes. “More like ground travel with the frequency you plow these things into the dirt.”

“Oh, ha ha, very funny. Next time I’m going to crash just for you, honey.”

“I don’t think Gettner would be very appreciative of you losing another Raven.”

Jonesy winced at the reference to Gettner, who had taken him to task for crashing two Ravens in the last seven years. She was like his unofficial mentor, often heard insulting his piloting skills and imitating wringing the scrawny pilot’s neck. Naleena had formed an almost tag teaming partnership with the acid spitting female, taking every opportunity to remind him of his failures. “You women are scary b*tches, you know that?”

“That’s why I stay outta these conversations, Jonesy. You wanna keep a woman happy? Just shut up and nod,” Ty put in with an easy grin at Naleena, who arched a brow at him. The two would have been an item, had Ty not had to take care of his sister and niece. Marov pitied the man, noticing the hint of regret reflected in the green eyes. Still, he seemed to take solace in flirting with the woman, even if it came to nothing.

“Thanks for the advice. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind next time either of these chicks are ever off their damned periods,” Jonesy replied, burying his head in the Raven again, unaware how close to injury he came as Naleena threw a tool in between his legs, digging into the dirt with an alarming degree of penetration. Marov and Ty winced in sympathy.

Figuring he had better help the pilot before he either killed himself with the Raven or killed himself by talking too much, Marov got off of his stool and walked over to help. His joints creaked as he eased himself down to the grass, glad he had taken off his armor earlier. Getting up again in that rig would have been painfully annoying. Pushing with his legs, he maneuvered himself beside the pilot, a panel open under the main controls of the Raven.

With a practiced eye, he spotted what was wrong with the altimeter. He had repaired a few of the helicopters back in his day and had even piloted one to see how they worked. With his expertise, they quickly fixed the trouble, Marov pointing out a couple other problems. He scratched his mustache as they worked, glad to have it back to its full strength. Losing half of it in the incident seven years ago had been worse than losing his finger. Five minutes later, they were done, Jonesy closing the panel and rolling out on the creeper with Marov pulling himself out from under. He heard a gasp as Jonesy ran into the tool that had been thrown earlier, smiling as the pilot pulled it out of the ground and glared at Naleena. He wisely said nothing.

Ty offered a hand, which Marov gratefully took, lifted up to his feet again. He looked around and saw another Rig trundling through the street, turning the ground to mud. A rumble of thunder brought his attention to the sky, which had grown darker since he had gone under. Of course there would be a storm tonight, right before an operation. Marov hoped that wasn’t a bad omen.

“Wonderful,” Jonesy spat, just as the first sprinkles started to fall. “Let’s close 'er up and get inside before we all get soaked,” the pilot continued, already shutting the doors to the Raven’s interior and putting his tools into a belt around his waist.

“At least she’ll get a good washing. Get all this dirt off of her,” Ty said cheerfully, going around the Raven to shut the other crew door. Jonesy put a lock through the doors just in case a few Stranded decided to see what goodies they could scavenge. Marov approved, looking across the street at the chain link fence they’d hastily put up around the camp. Stranded had converged on the outskirts, eager both for the protection of the large force and an opportunity to steal. Marov had mellowed somewhat toward the Stranded, but he still thought they were useless trash. Still, with Lifeboat going out and recruiting the Stranded, more than a few of the faces he had seen around camp were ones he’d formerly rather have shot than made nice with.

The rain was coming down harder now and they all escaped the drizzle and entered their cramped quarters. Two rooms with three cots each and a small living area with a table and two chairs were more than enough for them, used to such spartan arrangements. Stools from outside were pulled in and put around the table, offering more seating. There were no windows or doors, so it felt just a bit claustrophobic to Marov regardless of it being the norm. It reminded him of the caves.

“Anyone up for some cards?” Ty said hopefully, staring at the table where their previous game had gone unfinished. “I’ll deal.”

“Hell, why not,” Marov said, plopping himself down in one of the wooden chairs away from the door. He hated rain and didn’t want to be close to it. Naleena joined them, seating herself by Marov on one of the stools. Jonesy snorted and grabbed another stool, resting his elbows on the small table. Ty gathered up the cards and shuffled them a few times, passing them out to each person equally until there were no more. Marov picked up his cards and looked through them, sliding one across the table, facedown. “I got the spade. One ace.”

Naleena was next, holding the cards up in front of her. Jonesy tried to cheat and lean over to look at them, but she brought them closer to her chest, smirking. She grabbed two of her cards and slid them across the table to add to Marov's. “Two two’s.”

The game of BS went on for twenty minutes before Marov managed to bluff his way to victory. His last two turns had been false cards and now he had the exact card he needed. He grinned at the rest of them, placing a three of spades face up on the small pile. Most of the cards were in Jonesy’s hand, much to his annoyance, but he had managed to keep the other two from encroaching on Marov’s victory. “One three! I win!”

“Bah, you asshole. You were bluffing that last time, weren’t you?” Jonesy asked, dropping his cards on the table in front of him. Marov gave the man an ingratiating grin.

“And the one before that, too! Haha!”

“I knew it! Dammit, why didn’t I say anything?” Naleena laughed, dropping her cards on the table, too. She leaned back against the wall and kept grinning as Jonesy held his hands in the air and rolled his eyes. Ty grinned at the pilot’s antics, gathering the cards up for another round.

Before he could begin to shuffle the deck again, booted feet slapped against the wooden floor as three Gears walked in with full armor. Marov waved as Nyvar and Jason came into view, both looking miserable and wet. Jason was already pulling his gloves off as he went into the room he shared with Ty and Naleena. Nyvar yawned and leaned against the wall, running a hand through his thinning hairline. He gestured to the other Gear next to him, who everyone was looking at curiously.

“This is Carter Fields. He’s been assigned to Echo Three for this operation,” Nyvar began, staring at Marov with a look that said ‘keep your cool’. “He’s one of the volunteers Lifeboat picked up. We’re all gonna treat him like family, now, you hear? Past doesn’t matter. Carter, these here are Corporal Syval Marov,” he pointed at Marov, who nodded amiably, “Private Naleena Viscar, a volunteer like yourself,” Naleena smiled at him, “and Corporal Tyler Fais.” Ty waved, performing a trick with the cards in his hand as he did so. “Oh, and this is Jonesy Breen. He’s our chauffeur,” Nyvar added as an afterthought, noticing the pilot for the first time.

“Howdy, e’eryone,” Carter said, unease in his eyes despite the smile plastered on his face. His face had a recently shaved look to it, bright red hair cut short in military style. He was a big man, though smaller than Nyvar and Marov, who had been eating a steady diet. He looked young, in his mid thirties with wrinkles just starting to show through on his face. Armor that looked like Pendulum War issue covered in dents and scrapes and had the name "Fields" faintly stenciled across the chest, which attested he had either been a Gear once or a Gear's son. Marov thought it was the latter, based on the age. “I’ll be workin’ wit’ y’all. Hopin’ to stick them Locust fellers back in their holes.”

Naleena cleared her throat and stood, offering her hand to the former Stranded, which he took. “That’s what we like to hear, Carter. Your room’s over there,” she pointed at Marov and Nyvar’s room. “You’ll be rooming with these two grouchy, old men, but don’t let them scare you. They’re big softies at heart.”

And just like that, Carter’s unease left his eyes as he grinned genuinely. Marov had some trepidation about sleeping next to a Stranded, but he figured anyone willing to join the COG couldn’t be too bad. He’d give the man a chance, letting Nyvar know that with a glance that years of working together gave them the ability to decipher.

“Alright, now that the pleasantries are outta the way, we’ve got a mission, Echo,” Nyvar said, glancing to the side as Jason poked his head out to listen from his room, since there wasn’t a lot of space in the table area. “Hoffman wants us to go scout out some of the surrounding mountains. Chances are the Locust know something’s up and are getting some artillery up there. We’re gonna go look for some Seeders tonight and clear any out if we find them. We need this assault to work if we stand any chance of winning this war.”

“Tonight? You mean, ‘tonight in the rain that will turn to snow if we go up in the mountains’ tonight?” Jonesy asked, incredulously. Personally, Marov wasn’t fond of the idea either, but he would do it if it meant his wife and child would live in peace. Anything was worth that.

Nyvar nodded. “Yes, Jonesy, that tonight. And guess who’s driving us there? Or, should I say, flying us?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope,” Nyvar clapped his hands. “Get geared up, everyone. We’re leaving as soon as we’re all dressed. Hop to it!”

A chorus of ‘yes sir’s’ came as reply, the Gears getting ready to move out by dispersing into their rooms and grabbing their armor and weapons. Marov stared up at Nyvar with a disapproving glance, who looked back at him with a question in his eyes. He decided to enlighten his friend.

“You know how much I hate rain.”

[Deleted]

Chapter 2: Seeder Season

“You want to know how there’s a Seeder nearby? There’s three ways to immediately know. One, use your nose. These thing’s heads are underground and all these Nemacysts are things they’ve sh*t out. You’ll smell it before you see it. Two, your radar and comms go down. All that static is some kind of bio-organic interference. I don’t know how they do it, but it’s probably something to do with their ‘digestion’ of a Nemacyst. Just a hunch. Three, grubs. A lot more grubs than you normally see. No E-holes, just them. Seeders always have protection. Remember that. Oh, I guess there are four: Nemacysts. But I thought that’d be obvious.” – Corporal Damon Baird, explaining Seeders to a recruit.

En route to first mountain ridge near COG FOB;

1920 hours.



The rain beat down on the Raven with all the rhythm of a drunken drummer, giving Marov a headache the size of a Corpser. The constant sound was almost like having a screwdriver jammed into his brainpan and twisted violently. He growled as he chalked up the pain as another reason he hated rain; it was to the point he almost preferred Stranded. That was saying something, considering the circumstances surrounding his daughter’s murder. With Hanson and Naleena’s help, his view of Stranded had mellowed enough to allow that not all of them were cannibals that deserved nothing more than to be exterminated like vermin. He opened his eyes a slit as he broke from his reverie, sizing up the newest member of their team, Carter.

The man was looking over the Lancer he had received back at camp, bringing it close to his face to examine it and practicing the reload. The automatic clip holder dropped, the ammunition casing itself dropping into the former Stranded’s hand. He slotted it back in, watching in wonder as the holder clicked back into place. Marov watched the display with a mild amusement and a little bit of curiosity. He had never really examined the mechanism whenever he needed to reload; seeing it performed in a non-combat situation almost made the device seem interesting. With all the industry they had lost in the last fourteen years, the Lancer’s automation seemed almost novel.

Naleena had previously pointed out the lever and button that activated the chainsaw, thankfully sparing the rest of the passengers the whir in a confined space. Marov wouldn’t have enjoyed the sound of that added to the cacophony the rain and propellers were already causing. Glancing at his own Lancer, Marov patted the weapon with a fondness. This particular rifle had accompanied him for almost ten years and still worked like a charm. The chain had been replaced a few times and it had been damaged in the thousand of firefights he had taken part in, but it still did its job with no hint of degradation or malfunction. He looked back up to see Carter finish with his exercise, placing the Lancer across his legs.

The man leaned back against the Raven’s seat, idly running a gloved finger across one of the chainsaw’s teeth. A watch poked out from beneath the under weave covering one wrist, an old timey one that looked as if it had seen the beginning of the Pendulum Wars. In the low light, Marov could only just see the pits and scuffs from years of use. Marov figured it was a keepsake, based on the way the man kept looking at it with an affection he hadn’t seen in a Stranded’s face before. Of course, it’s not like I’m looking at their faces when it comes to Stranded. Usually I’m watching their grubby little hands.

Content with his most recent appraisal of Carter, Marov redirected his attention to the cockpit, the door that normally separated the crew space taped open. Ty was sitting next to the pilot, chatting away over his headset, moving his hands with his speech to emphasize a point. Jonesy responded by taking one hand off the controls and hiking a thumb back at the crew space animatedly. Curious, Marov switched his frequencies to pick up the chatter the two were participating in. It was better than listening to the rain drive more power tools into his head.

“So I says to the guy, ‘sir, you wanna fly this bird? I don’t think you do or even know how, so I’d appreciate some space’. The dumbass acted all huffy, so I pressed the magic button here,” Jonesy pointed at a hole where a button had once resided, “and shut the door in his face. Hadn’t laughed so hard in days. The guy was so pissed, but I got him where he and his team needed to go. Sounded mighty aggrieved as I dropped him off, but he thanked me anyway. Can you believe it? Damn, I miss having all my hardware working in this bird. Made things interesting, you know?”

Ty’s grin grew progressively wider as the pilot told the story, the scar on his lip stretching. “I could fix that for you, if you want. Shouldn’t be too hard to set up a new button to close the door; just a few wires and switches. It’d take about an hour and I think I have most of the parts back at the barracks.”

“I hear a ‘but’ in there somewhere. Lay it on me straight, kid. How much is this going to cost me?”

“Just a few rations. Skinny guy like you doesn’t need the food someone like me does. We ground pounders do a lot of heavy lifting for you air force jockeys. That’s worth being the only Raven pilot with a working door, huh?”

Marov figured now was as good a time as any to jump into the conversation. He pressed his earpiece, trying to sound disapproving. “Save your rats, Jonesy. Knowing you, you’d just waste another Raven, anyway. Wouldn’t be worth it.”

“Hey, who asked you, old man?” Jonesy sneered, looking back for a moment and flipping Marov the bird. “What I spend my rats on is my business. Speaking of which, you could stand to lose a few rations yourself. Putting on a few pounds there, asshole.”

Marov frowned, surreptitiously looking himself over, poking his rock solid arms and legs. A hand on his forearm stopped his motions, Naleena grinning at him with a knowing glance. “You know he’s just being a little bitch, Sy’. Ignore him.” Marov looked at her unbelieving, the use of his first name normal these days. “Hey, you might be getting old, but you aren’t getting fat, trust me.”

“Thanks a lot,” he rumbled in reply, wincing slightly as he moved his leg, feeling it grind a little bit in his knee. Arthritis was setting in, but the meds Hanson had given him worked well enough to keep the worst of the pain at bay. It wasn’t giving out beneath him yet, anyway. “You’re no spring chicken yourself, you know.”

She slugged him in the arm; hard enough to leave a bruise later, but the grin was still on her face. Marov grabbed his arm in mock agony, hoping Naleena wouldn’t realize that not all of it was acting. He noticed Carter looking at the display with a mild amusement, hiding his grin with a hand. He decided to use that opportunity to make the other guy feel at home.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll be laughing until you feel her tender mercies,” Marov said with a glare at his female compatriot. She grinned easily back, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. The Longshot leaning against her legs almost fell as she moved, but Jason grabbed it before it hit the ground.

“Careful there,” Jason said stonily, his own Longshot clamped to his back. He glanced at Naleena with a weary expression, leaning back in his own seat as best he could and closing his eyes. The kid had changed in the intervening years, constant warfare transforming him into a personality type Marov had seen in a lot of others, lately. It was an aura of resignation, as if Jason didn’t really believe anything was worth it and the war was just a job. Go through the motions, try not to die, go home and then do it all over again. Marov raised an eyebrow at Nyvar, who was sitting to the right of Carter, right across from Jason. Nyvar shrugged and shook his head, looking almost as tired as his boy.

The comlink crackled as Jonesy switched on the general frequency the squad always had on. “Alright, ladies, first stop’s coming up real quick. Want me to put her down or would you rather me fly around and make myself a great target for any Nemacysts out there in the rain? Wait, scratch that. It’s sleet now. Even better.”

“Take a break for now, Jonesy. We’ll go out on foot,” Nyvar replied, pulling open the Raven’s door, letting the chill in. Sleet rushed into the small space as the ledge they were going to land on came into view, the Raven’s spotlight shining against the barren rocky outcrop. There was just enough space for the helicopter to land, a natural landing pad. Jonesy put her down gingerly, keeping the props on for longer than necessary, just in case the ridge decided to collapse. Marov didn’t blame the pilot for his caution, considering the tremors they had been experiencing in Jacinto lately.

Nyvar jumped out first, followed by his son, Carter, and Naleena, Marov and Ty bringing up the rear. Sleet assailed his face as he landed feet first; looking out over the edge of the cliff with more than a little foreboding as a gust of wind buffeted him. Two paths, one leading further up the mountain and one leading down, forked from their position as his gaze panned toward the mountain proper. Marov guessed they would be taking the top one, since height would only be a benefit to the artillery. The lights of the Gear base were lighting up the clouds behind another mountain, an easy target for anyone snooping around. Ty squatted near the edge, Nyvar idly keeping a hand on the younger man’s collar. The sergeant’s other hand was pressed against his ear cavity as he gave instructions.

“Alright, Jonesy, keep her warm for us till we get back. No lights, no props, but you can keep the heater on. Bloody cold out here,” Nyvar issued, pausing as he looked out at the rest of the team. “Keep someone in your sights at all times, Echo. Be careful where you put your feet, because I don’t know how stable this place is. Marov, you’re up front. Naleena, take the back.”

“Holding the woman back, huh, Sarge?” Naleena asked, almost challenging. Marov noticed she had her old white bandana across her face and nose, leaving only her eyes uncovered. Clever girl.

“Correction, I’m keeping the sniper back. Can’t do your job if you come face to face with a grub, now can you?” Satisfied he wouldn’t get any further lip from her, Nyvar continued, “Carter, keep between me and Ty. If you see anything, let us know immediately. Up here, I’m not taking anything for granted. Let’s move it and see if we can find any artillery before we all freeze to death.”

Marov saluted in the sergeant’s general direction, moving past everyone to take the lead. He took his Lancer into both hands, switching on the indicator lights. They would make him obvious to any grubs looking around, but Echo needed all the help they could get identifying each other in the sleet and darkness. He scowled as his face started to go numb, glad some of it was covered by his facial hair. Why don’t I wear a helmet?

“Bit nippy out here, eh?” Ty said from behind Marov, sounding his cheerful self.

“Not any worse than we’ve had to deal with before. In fact, I’d say this is a damn sight better than snow,” Marov replied, carefully moving forward along the old trail that was cut into the mountain’s side. With his heavy combat boots, it was easily traversable, though the stone steps that appeared every now and then were helpful. A few of them were broken, so he had to gingerly test which would hold his weight before continuing on.

“Wish I had a helmet right about now,” Carter drawled, mirroring Marov’s earlier thought. “I’d take that damn sight reduction over all this cold stuff. Not used to this kind of weather back in Jacinto.”

“That’s why I wear a bandana,” Naleena replied over the channel, her real voice still audible over the wind to give it a weird audio effect. “Keeps the face warm and keeps your peripherals clear.”

“Bandana, huh? Used to have a scarf myself. Wife gave it to me back ‘fore E-day, but I left it back at the old house. What I wouldn’t give to have that thing back. I tell you, warmth don’t just come from the cloth; comes from the one who knit it, too.”

Marov smiled at the man’s recollections, thinking of his own wife. He patted the chain that hung around his neck, feeling the reassuring heat of his wedding band. Even if it was metal, it still gave him a warm glow inside, like Carter said. A sudden rumble banished his reverie, an ice cold feeling threading its way through his veins. He stopped and leaned against the side of the mountain, keeping as far away from the edge as possible. His radio crackled on.

“I hope that was you guys downing a Seeder,” Jonesy said nervously over the comm.

“Not yet. Sit tight, Jonesy. We’ll be back before you know it,” Nyvar comforted, seemingly unruffled by everything. Marov recognized the ‘sergeant’ tone in the man’s voice.

“I’d prefer it if you get back before this ledge collapses. Don’t feel like plummeting to my death today.”

“Isn’t that a regular thing for you?” Naleena asked innocently.

“You’re welcome to fly back yourself. I heard somewhere you were a little full on hot air lately,” Jonesy replied heatedly. Marov grinned, amused by the exchange.

“Can it, you two,” Nyvar griped. “It’s like listening to a married couple. We’ve got a mission. Save your crap for later. Echo Three out.”

“You guys aren’t real big on military procedure, are you?” Carter asked as another tremor rippled through the ground. Marov thought he heard an avalanche start somewhere on another mountain. At least, he hoped it was another mountain. He looked up suspiciously, almost expecting a large volume of rocks and snow to appear over the lip above him.

“If we see combat tonight, you’ll find out military procedure is still very important to us,” Marov called back over his shoulder as they continued on. “We just try to keep things casual otherwise. Keeps the nerves from setting in. ‘Sides, no one can hear us over all this noise anyway.”

The whistling howl of the wind picked up in intensity as if in response, chilling Marov even more. The sleet was gradually lessening, though, which gave them better visibility. The trail they were following broadened up as they got closer to the top. Marov thought he heard some guttural noises coming from around the corner. He held his hand up in a fist, the small team coming to a halt just before they rounded the bend, the sound of them all crouching barely audible to him over the wind. A pungent smell that wasn’t alpine wood by any means wafted across the air, causing Marov to wrinkle his nose in disgust.

“Hear that?”

“Hear it? I smell it. Definitely a Seeder,” Jason theorized, sounding somewhat more cheerful at the prospect of combat. Maybe the kid wasn’t totally desensitized.

“I meant the voices,” Marov replied stolidly, “sounds like grubs, too.”

“My favorite combination. What’s the plan?” Ty asked, his voice a whisper over the comm channel. Marov looked back to see the younger man wiping off a bit of frost that was creeping over his Lancer’s chassis. Seeing the action, he did a quick check of his own to make sure nothing had gotten stuck in the barrel or freezed over.

“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do. Seeders don’t go down without some explosives, so we’ll deal with it after we take out the grubs. Marov, you and Ty are the vanguard. Throw smokes in and open fire. Carter, you and I will alternate fire with Marov and Ty. Naleena, Jason, you guys sit in the back and see what you can pick off with your Longshots. Copy?”

“Roger that,” they all replied, businesslike, checking their weapons. Marov sucked in a breath as the familiar tightness balled up in his stomach, adrenaline starting to make its way through his system. He cracked his neck, psyching himself up for the battle, and slowly started to move forward. Keeping his hand against the rock wall next to him and his rifle out in front of him, Marov turned the corner.

Three grub shaped shadows milled around the Seeder sticking out of the rock wall about seven feet off of the ground of the wide ledge. Another four were silhouetted against the glare of the base’s lights, staring off into the distance near the edge of the cliff. A crude metal fence rested along the edge, recently set up. There were boxes of ammunition and a few cages filled with Tickers, ghastly little cockroach-like critters with explosives welded into their backs. They ticked and screeched at one another, rattling the bars in agitation, a grub turning around to laugh in its gravelly voice.

Another Locust appeared from around the other bend, bigger than the rest, with ridged armor that curved into points on its shoulder and helmet. A Theron Guard; one of the more deadly types of the Horde. A bow like weapon rested across its back, the blades on it just barely distinguishable in the darkness.

He brought up his gun and aimed at the Theron, pointing at it with one hand to let Ty know that was their first target. The Gear beside him nodded, pulling out a smoke grenade from a bandolier on his belt. Marov grabbed one of his own, swirling it in the air beside him enough to cause a slight whistle through the air, Ty mirroring his actions. The Theron stopped suddenly, staring in their direction, a rasping warning echoing into the night.

“Intruderrrrrssssss!”

He let go of his smoke, opening up with his weapon once he threw it. Tracers lit the night as he moved his weapon to one of the closer grubs, the Theron already ducking into cover behind one of the ammunition crates. Marov’s shots thudded into his target’s armor, throwing the shadow to the ground. He kept up his fire at the unmoving target for a second to make sure it was dead before moving to fire at the one behind it.

Returning fire zipped past his head, causing him to duck back into cover with a curse. Ty’s rifle clicked dry beside him, the corporal ducking behind one of the crates closer to them to reload. Marov reloaded his own rifle, the clip dropping to the ground as Nyvar and Carter waded into the firefight. A sharp crack sounded from behind him, a sniper round lodging itself in the brainpan of some unfortunate grub. He heard the wet sound of a head splintering over the assault rifles and smiled grimly.

Something exploded just as Marov jumped up to fire again, pelting him with gravel. Must be one of the Tickers, he thought as he unloaded on the closest target. Before he could fire more than a few shots, a ticking sound drew his attention; one that was quite possibly more dangerous than the living bombs that also made the noise. He ducked behind his rocky cover, a metallic clang slamming into his ears before an explosion rocked his cover. Heat rushed across his neck, but there was no pain.

“Take out the damn Theron!” Nyvar yelled over the din, his voice loud in the communication device nestled in Marov’s ear. Another crack sounded as Naleena or Jason decided to ruin another Locust’s night. Marov vaulted over what was left of his cover, rushing forward with tracers burning their way through the air around him. He revved up his chainsaw as the smoke from his grenade earlier cleared, cutting into the first target that presented itself. The teeth dug into the armored body of a regular grub, the beast roaring and spitting blood up as it died. Marov grit his teeth as it coughed up something wet into his face. He wiped it away with a sleeve before looking around for more targets, the rage steadily draining out of him as Nyvar’s voice pierced his red haze.

“What in the hell are you doing, Sy’? Get back in position. Dammit, Carter, Ty, move up. Naleena, would you please kill that goddamned Theron!”

“I’m trying. He’s a slippery little asshole,” Naleena yelled back at the sergeant. “Flush him out or something.”

“You got it kid,” Carter’s voice came over the radio, a burst of Lancer fire coming from Marov’s right, near the edge of the cliff. The Theron burst from cover, aiming its weapon at the new recruit. Marov raised his weapon and let loose a quick round of fire, knocking the Torquebow’s arrow off course. Before it could even hiss out a curse in whatever language it spoke, its head exploded in a shower of gore, splattering the ground around it.

“Nice shot,” Marov said, looking for more targets. Something slammed into him from the left side, knocking him to the ground. His head cracked against the ground, light flaring through his skull accompanied with a renewed headache. A heavy weight pressed on his chest, so Marov punched the thing on top of him, throwing all his fury behind it. His hand smashed into the grub’s skull-like face, knocking it to the side momentarily. It gave as good it got, slamming a knee into his groin. Marov groaned against the pain, hissing through his teeth. He heard a knife sliding out of its sheath, the rasping setting off the warning bells in his mind. Shit, I’m dead.

A roar coming from a human throat sounded to his right, the weight lifting off of him as someone tackled the grub to the ground. Marov looked to his left, his body instinctively curling into a ball against the ache in his loins. Carter was grappling with the grub, straddling it, a knife of his own in his hand. Knowing his savior was about to be overpowered, Marov grabbed the pistol out of his side holster, single handedly pointing it at the grub’s head. He almost pulled the trigger when the two rolled over, putting Carter’s body in between the gun and the Locust. Marov cursed and dropped his weapon, rolling over to get to his knees and trying to ignore the horrible pain both in his head and below.

“Carter! Someone shoot the damn grub! Over here!” Marov yelled, hobbling to his feet. A burst of fire rang out from his left, a deep cry coming from the Locust fighting with Carter. Using the distraction to his advantage, the Gear slammed his head into the Locust’s forehead enough that the grip loosened on his arms. Drawing back the knife arm, Carter plunged the blade deep into the thing’s open mouth, twisting and repeating the motion two more times.

Finally, the private relaxed, breathing hard and staring at the sky, the knife slipping from nerveless fingers. Naleena and Ty rushed over to them, the sniper offering him a hand up. He accepted it gratefully, leaning against her as the pain in his head threatened to send him back to earth. She looked up at him in concern, but he waved it off and looked over to Carter. Ty was helping the man up, Jason and Nyvar strolling up to take stock of the situation. With the battle over, Marov noticed the Seeder was screeching into the night, a Ticker squealing right along with it at the scent of blood all around.

“I’m fine,” Carter said, sounding shaken. “I’m fine. I mean it.”

“I like this guy,” Ty grinned, “he tackled a grub. You sure you didn’t play Thrashball when you were younger?”

“You okay, Carter?” Nyvar asked, staring the man in the eyes with the look that said he wanted the truth. The private blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, the indicator lights glowing against his skin in a blue radiance.

“I, uh, yessir. I’m fine. Just a couple bruises.”

“First firefight?” Nyvar continued his probing, laying a hand on the man’s shoulder to steady him.

“Yea- Yeah, first real one, anyway.”

“Well, you did good. Kept calm under fire and even saved this idiot’s life,” Nyvar hiked a thumb back at Marov, whom put on an innocent face. Grunting in disbelief at his expression, Nyvar turned his attention to the rest of them. “Alright, let’s shut this thing up before it brings the neighbors in. Ty, set the charges. Jason and I will cover you. Naleena, you escort Carter and Sy’ back to the ‘chopper. I’m sure Jonesy’s pissing his pants about now. Let him know you’re coming so he doesn’t try to pistol whip you again.”

“Yes, sir,” everyone responded, jumping to their tasks, Naleena smiling at the memory of the pilot unknowingly attacking her with his pistol. Marov winced as she let go of him, Carter coming up and laying a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks, by the way,” Marov said once he got over his momentary flash of pain, Naleena and Jonesy’s voices arguing over the comm channel. “Not every day I see a Stranded willing to tackle a grub to help a Gear. You’re alright.”

Carter frowned at him. “Not a Stranded no more, bud. I’m a Gear, same as you. Pa always said Gears were family; hope I can at least be a friend to you and yours.”

Marov clapped him on the shoulder, wiping off some blood from his cheek. “You’re already part of the group, kid. Welcome to Echo Three.”