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Theron grabs his zonnoblaster, something that’s proven useful when we need to get away in a pinch. It blasts a spray of titanium slugs that melt and expand upon penetrating flesh. Incredibly painful. Ozias almost lost his foot when he accidentally shot himself once.
Jareth, like me, prefers blades. His are smaller and he likes one in each hand. The mort is quite skilled at throwing them. I’ve seen him throw them as far as the eye can see and still hit the target right where he’d intended.
That brings us to Hadrian.
I don’t know what the mortarekking gods he’ll use. He rummages around in the weapon closet though and produces several items. As soon as everyone is dressed in protective gear and ready to fight, I type in the sixteen-digit code and we rush out into the elements.
“Attacking the north side,” Sayer radios in. “I see you on the radar emerging from the west entrance. Be careful. The winds are high and there are at least six sabrevipes clawing at that door.”
“Copy that,” I say back as I motion for my men to follow.
We creep along the rocky side of our facility, our weapons drawn. The winds are so furious that my mask keeps moving. Alarm sends my heart skipping twice as fast. I don’t have a second to think about the fact that alien Aria is not pregnant. I’d been eager to mate with her again this solar but then everything went to rogshite.
I point at Draven and then motion ahead. He’s quiet and stealthy. Hadrian, the loud mortarekker, can stay to the rear. The last thing I need is for him to draw their attention before we’re ready.
Draven prowls forward, soundlessly, with his spear poised and ready. I gesture for Jareth and Theron to proceed ahead of me. They take their cue and move forward as well. Hadrian is being surprisingly quiet and vigilant, which has pride thumping through me.
That’s my boy.
“Two have turned and are heading west,” Sayer warns. “Keep your rekking eyes peeled.”
Before I can warn Draven, a sabrevipe peeks his nog around the corner. The nog of the sabrevipe is about the size of five mort nogs put together. Three pale blue eyes, the middle one milky and clouded over. Nostrils that are flat against its head and as big around as my fist. Long whiskers that move of their own accord, tasting the air for the scent of its prey. But the most fearsome thing about sabrevipes are their teeth.
As if on cue, the feral animal opens its mouth and roars. Menacing and ferocious. I can feel the vibrations all the way down to my toes.
We all remain frozen, as it’s best to wait for them to attack. Sometimes they will show their vulnerabilities to us that way. This one, much larger than the one who cowers behind it, stands on its hind legs. It’s as tall as Draven, if he stood on my shoulders. Sharp, silvery claws catch the sunlight off to the west, opposite of the incoming geostorm, and nearly blind me. Their claws are every bit as lethal as our blades.
“Now!” I yell.
Draven rushes forward without hesitation, his arm rearing back. He gets close, but not too close, and releases the spear. It spirals straight ahead, stabbing right through the hairless animal’s belly, just below its heart.
The sabrevipe screams and when it lands on all fours, the spear pushes deeper and pokes through near its spine. But until Draven grabs hold and yanks it back, the spear’s intended purpose is useless.
The cowering sabrevipe that I can now tell is a baby takes off running back to the north side.
“Get it!” I yell to Theron and Jareth.
But before they can go, Hadrian takes off in a sprint.
Mortarekker!
Theron and Jareth run after him while I help Draven take down the big one that’s swiping its massive clawed paw at him. He pulls his magknife from his leg strap and holds it out in front of him.
“Any others?” I bellow to Sayer through the radio.
“Negative,” he replies. They took off because the geostorm is intensifying. Ran off to the caves by Lake Acido.”
“Good,” I growl as I stalk around the side of the sabrevipe, making a wide arc. Draven is distracting it and angering it by kicking rocks its way. It’s bleeding out and furious but keeping its distance.
The animal’s tail lashes back and forth and I’m careful to not step on it as I near. Not wasting any time, I charge and launch myself on its back, mindful of where the spear protrudes. My magknife plunges deep into its side between its ribs. A scream of pain from the animal makes the mountain rumble in response.
But it takes a moment to realize that it’s not the rumbling of the mountain…but thunder instead.
Rekk!
Water droplets pelt the glass of my mask, making it more difficult to see. The storm picks up and the animal tries to fight back. But I am quicker. I’ve already pulled the magknife out and stabbed it again. It stands on its hind legs again as if to shake me off.
