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  ANTI AIR POSITION TANGO TRIANGLE

  Saberi’s barrages had been relatively short ones. A few characteristic ‘thumps’ from the mortar, explosions, followed by a minute or two of silence as he redirected towards a different roof.

  Other than that… silence.

  Silence and darkness.

  Nightvision could only help so much in a soup of fog and rain. Visibility up to five meters was clear enough. Beyond that? They could reasonably make out shapes up to ten meters.

  Any farther, it became hard to distinguish between noise and movement.

  And that damned silence.

  Heermann wasn’t making any noise either, so besides the ongoing storm, all Jackson could hear was his own breathing.

  New Poltava had now taken the reigns, the city consuming the Skydivers in the waning hours of the first day of Overlord.

  Yet, nothing and no one dared break that blanket of silence that lied over them all. No contact, no shouts, no ambushes, nothing…

  With Jackson and Heermann approaching their tower, the two peeked through one of the larger windows into the lobby on the ground floor, but here too, there was nothing. The lobby covered much of the first floor, with the rest dedicated to maintenance rooms and other facilities.

  It was unlikely they’d find anything here.

  While Heermann cleared the lobby, Jackson hung back and pulled up the floorplans they’d been supplied with before the mission. He’d handed out copies to Javelin and their two compatriots from the 2nd, meaning at least none of them were completely blind going in.

  The layouts of the internals for these towers were a pretty standard affair. Housing, some space allocated for offices rented out by firms and a few upper-class apartments further up.

  Those more expensive luxury apartments were good candidates for where they’d likely find enemy positions. According to the floor plans, the living rooms of those apartments were about as big as some entire apartments further down the tower.

  Lots of empty space with big open windows that guarantee good sightlines.

  “Don’t think there’s much use in us checking the first five floors… too close to street-level.”

  Heermann agreed with Jackson’s assessment, after the German had successfully secured the lobby, having found nothing of value.

  “Power’s out as well. There are some keycards from the staff here, but it’s unlikely any of the doors have auxiliaries. We’ll probably have to -” Heermann struggled with his words again, trying to find whatever word he deemed fitting.

  “Just pry them open?”

  “Pretty much, yes!”

  Rolling his eyes, Jackson really wondered why his German companion insisted on using words that didn’t come to mind… or hell, even just gesticulating enough to get his point across.

  For now, though, Jackson waved forward, motioning for Heermann to get going.

  Procedure from here was that Fred would take point, with Jackson following closely behind, the two Skydivers taking a cautious and deliberate approach as they stalked the tower’s staircase.

  The staircase for its part was a standard affair: going along the middle of the skyscraper, like a spine, in a rectangle formation and topped off on each floor by a platform that surrounded it. Each such platform featured doors and apartments in all cardinal directions. The lower ones for now had eight apartments, two on in each direction, but Jackson suspected that number would go down as they reached higher floors.

  As the two continued upwards, Jackson couldn’t help but note the utter choking stillness surrounding the two of them.

  Silence was still their only companion.

  There was some white noise from the inside of the skyscraper, alongside the usual relaxing and bending of steel hidden behind more aesthetically pleasing covers. But other than that, nothing. No signs of life, nothing indicating activity. Not even footsteps.

  “They know we’re coming…”

  “Tell me something I don’t know Fred. Now shut it and stay focused!”

  “It’s just… I’m thinking Patrick.”

  “About?”

  “How do we exactly approach this? However this goes down, one of us is going to bite it once we spring that trap.”

  “Same MO as in training. We take the initiative and use the violence of action. Stay on the move, keep them surprised and on their heels, pick our targets and solve the problem piece by piece.”

  Heermann had halted in the staircase, having turned back towards Jackson to face him: “You don’t really believe that though, do you?”

  The corporal for his part didn’t understand why this had to happen here and now of all places.

  “Listen Fred, this fucking staircase really isn’t the best place to discuss battle tactics. Especially when we’re breathing down the enemy’s neck! What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?!”

  At that, Fred seemed to halt in his tracks a bit, looking away from Jackson and into the darkness of the staircase surrounding them. Whatever answer he was looking for, was obviously not there.

  “It’s just… I mean… doesn’t it feel like we usually have some out or something? Some kind of idea on how we’re going to get through this? I mean, for example back in Sil-”

  Though Jackson cut his compatriot off at that. He knew exactly what Heermann was trying to say. And he didn’t want to hear it.

  “Fred, I’m not in the mood to discuss Lumen right now. If you’re having an episode or something, just tell me and I’ll take point! But we’re not wasting more time on this shit!”

  That seemed to have done the trick. The German looked at Jackson for a last time, expressions hidden behind each individual visor, before turning around and continuing. The corporal wasn’t exactly sure what it was... maybe Fred’s nerves were getting to him, but they needed to stay on the ball.

  Though he'd be lying if he said that he didn’t also feel it.

  The whole inside of this tower stank. This entire situation smelled to the high heavens.

  Every instinct in his body was warning him that this was it. He’d die here, tonight, in this skyscraper, on this planet.

  Ancestral memories passed down by his forefathers that had huddled around the fire, bubbled up and screamed for Jackson to run. To head for the treeline, seek cover from the gnashing maws of death coming for him.

  Razor-sharp teeth were centimetres away from his neck, waiting to snap down on his arteries in an instant, to draw that viscous liquid keeping him alive.

  Stay frosty… so he told himself, over and over again.

  “Crivello here, we’ve reached the sixth floor. No contact so far.”

  “Javelin here, same situation. We’re up to the eight floor, nothing yet.”

  Jackson shook his head for a moment, trying – and failing – to clear his head of errant thoughts, before eyeing the floor number next to them in the staircase.

  “This is Jackson, we’re on the fourth floor, nothing here either.”

  Soon thereafter, Crivello’s voice reached the corporal through coms once more. Though the buildings that were in the way gave it a rather raspy tone, as it fought against the white noise: “Understood. Javelin, keep pace and keep me informed on if you see anything. Otherwise, same MO as usual. Jackson, try to speed things up a bit. Ideally, we want to hit all our targets at the same time.”

  “Copy…”

  After that, Jackson tapped Heermann on the shoulder, signifying to the German that they were good to continue. The corporal also added: “And try to avoid having any further episodes. We’re already behind on where we should be. Keep your cool and we get through this, as we always do…”

  The German was seemingly about to say something, when he held up.

  Jackson had heard it too.

  Somewhere above them…

  Giving a signal to move, Jackson proceeded to follow Heermann up the stairs, the two soldiers making sure to take slow and elaborate steps as they stalked their way to where the sound had come from. As much as Jackson continued to strain his ears, he couldn’t hear anything further. But the Soldier was absolutely certain he’d heard something.

  The fact that they’d been walking into a trap was clear… but to ambush their enemies before they could spring the trap? He wouldn’t let that chance go.

  Then, as the two reached the fifth floor, Jackson could hear it again. A faint thud, from just above them, barely audible over the white noise of the staircase. Something soft had hit the ground just a floor above them.

  Tapping Heermann’s shoulder, Jackson managed to grab his attention, pointing at Fred, then the stairs and forming a ‘roof’ with his hand.

  ‘Cover the stairs’.

  The German nodded, and took a knee, aiming his rifle at the stairs leading further up. With the only approach covered, Jackson was safe to approach the nearest door and extend a cable from his wrist-computer.

  A camera-wand.

  Slipping the utensil through under the door and into the apartment behind, Jackson switched his visor mode to that of the camera and was met with an empty apartment. Dust covered furniture, a large window pointing out towards the darkened city, strewn about clothing and nothing much else.

  This apartment was clear.

  Retrieving the camera-wand, Jackson crawled over to Heermann, tapping his comrade’s shoulder once more. Then, Jackson pointed back towards the door he’d examined and formed an ‘O’ with his hand.

  ‘That apartment’s clear’.

  Heermann nodded.

  Following that first signal, Jackson then proceeded to point upwards towards the ceiling, before forming the sign for ‘Enemy’. Tugged in pinkie-, ring finger and thumb, his index and middle finger extended upwards, with his knuckles facing Heermann.

  ‘Enemies upstairs’.

  Once again, the German silently agreed.

  Hand-signals such as these were limited in what they could accomplish, but right now they were the best option. Their helmets had built in sound-dampeners, to allow the soldiers to speak to one-another without anyone else hearing, but that could only help so much.

  Sure, their enemies wouldn’t hear them, but the Skydivers for their part would also miss out on perceiving the noises from their environments. And right now, even the smallest sound could make a difference, as the choking silence of this tower was enough to equate a pin-drop to a bomb.

  There was no room for mistakes.

  Jackson then made the signal for Heermann to form up and follow him, with the two Troopers making their way into the apartment Jackson had peeked into. The door took some trying, but with some careful wrenching, the two of them were able to get it open without making a sound, unhinging the mechanism and quietly letting it slide off to the side to allow entry.

  Inside, Jackson took point, stalking down the hallway to the living room of the apartment. They weren’t quite high up enough for the oversized lofts, but the apartment still featured something that would’ve probably been inhabited by upper middleclass at the least.

  Then, as the corporal took a knee and scanned his environment, he spotted it: A bit of plaster and dust falling from the ceiling.

  Just as the dust settled, it fell from another spot. Then another.

  Something big was sneaking around in the apartment above them.

  Likely an enforcer. Or one of those hulks.

  Knowing Heermann was right behind him, Jackson made the sign to hold, after which the corporal turned on the spot. The German had done as asked, quietly observing the ceiling as well, before focusing in on his compatriot.

  Once again, foregoing verbal communications, Jackson decided to make his idea know via hand signals.

  First, the corporal pointed towards the ceiling again, before forming a bundle with his hand, by pressing the tips of his five fingers together.

  ‘Plastic explosive on the ceiling’.

  Then, Jackson pointed to himself and Heermann, then up to the ceiling again, before making a ‘knocking’ motion with his hand.

  ‘Followed by us breaching’.

  Heermann agreed, immediately taking off his backpack to begin rummaging for some explosive charges. Jackson did the same, fishing out a set of detonators.

  As soon as both soldiers had found what they’d been looking for, the German nodded his head towards a table in the living room.

  Following Heermann, Jackson immediately understood what he was planning when his compatriot positioned himself on one end of the table and firmly grabbed hold of it.

  Easy way of reaching the ceiling.

  The two soldiers then proceeded to quietly move the table over to about the middle of the living room, close to where Jackson had seen the plaster fall from the ceiling. Before long, everything was in position and Heermann had climbed on the table, slapping the explosives unto the ceiling. Jackson tossed him the detonator, with his compatriot affixing it deftly to the charge.

  Jackson meanwhile looked at the exact layout of the apartment. It was likely that what they saw down here, was what would expect them one floor above.

  The entrance was followed by a long hallway that led directly into the living room. The hallway was flanked by three doors, two on the left side from the entrance, one on the right. The living room itself was quite spacious, with a large window taking up much of its side facing outwards, as well as leading directly into an open kitchen with a countertop island facing the living room.

  Fancy, so Jackson thought.

  The only other notable features were a door inside the kitchen, leading to what Jackson assumed to be some sort of pantry or other kind of storage and a room opposite of the kitchen, at the other end of the living room. Likely a bedroom of sorts.

  Hallway, three rooms on their flanks, living room, then finish off with the bedroom.

  Forward, left, right, right, forward, left, right and finish. The motions were already being mapped out in Jackson’s head as he was beginning to formulate his plan of action.

  After finishing with the explosive, the German climbed down from the table and motioned for the door. Jackson made a point of gesticulating to his eyes, then motioning to the apartment around them.

  ‘Remember the layout’.

  Heermann gave a concise nod, followed by him tapping the right side of his helmet.

  ‘I know’.

  All that was left now was to put their plan into motion.

  The only downside in all of it was that the apartment they’d be breaching wasn’t facing Saberi’s position, so they couldn’t expect any assistance from him there. Still, Jackson quickly informed the other teams that he and Heermann would be going hot in a minute.

  “Understood. Saberi, range for the sixth floor, get ready to unleash hell in case these two need help.” Crivello himself hadn’t yet gotten any contact, if his calm tone of voice was anything to go by.

  “Copy that…” And Saberi continued to keep his answers short.

  The climb up to the sixth floor continued to be cloaked in deep darkness and mind-numbing quietness. Though Jackson couldn’t help but feel his muscles tense slightly at the upcoming firefight.

  Fighting with himself over if he had time or not to check the other apartments, Jackson was weighing their options.

  Once they’d go loud, there was no going back.

  Now, they at least had a chance to evaluate how their enemy was positioned. But that ever-looming issue of time reared its ugly head whenever the corporal thought about taking it slow.

  Their window was rapidly approaching. And it would be closing just as quick as it had appeared.

  The soldier decided ‘to hell with it’.

  There was no time for caution.

  With Jackson and Heermann taking position by the door, Jackson made a knocking sign, followed by him holding up his hand, palm facing Heermann and counting down with his fingers.

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  ‘Prepare Breach, wait for my signal’.

  The corporal then pointed towards himself, before forming an ‘O’ with his hand again and holding it out in front of his visor, like a scope.

  ‘I’m taking a peek’.

  Heermann answered with a signal of his own, tapping his left wrist twice.

  ‘Make it quick’.

  Thusly, the two of them proceeded with their respective duties, Heermann unpacking a breaching charge from his backpack, while Jackson quietly and quickly pushed the camera-wand through under the door again.

  Unsurprisingly, he was met with the same layout as below. The main difference being that this living room was inhabited by one of the alien enforcers, the creature moving across the living room. It was harder to see on the resolution of the camera-wand, but Jackson could see the ‘whiskers’ on its armour bristling slightly, before it suddenly stopped where it was and simply stood there.

  It then turned towards the door.

  Disconnecting the camera-wand and switching his visor back to normal, Jackson hurriedly motioned for the two of them to commence the breaching. It was now or never.

  Heermann thusly tossed Jackson the detonator for the door, after which the German swiftly grabbed hold of the other one.

  “Kabumm…”

  The first explosion rattled the entire floor, sending Jackson’s teeth clattering as the soldier huddled together to weather the blast. Even with the two of them being on the other side of a wall from the charge, he could still feel a shiver running up his skeleton as the concussive forces from the plastic explosives made their way through the tower.

  After a few seconds and regaining his composure, Jackson leaned back, detonator in hand and clicked it.

  “Breaching!”

  With that, the door to the apartment was sent flying inwards, the piece of steel becoming a projectile as it was violently dislocated from its opening mechanisms and flung down the hallway.

  With his ears still slightly ringing, Jackson snatched a grenade from his rig and sent the explosive tumbling down the hallway to follow on the surprise of the first two blasts.

  Anything that was still alive inside that apartment was either injured, very confused, or about to die at the hands of the two Skydivers.

  Motioning ‘Go!’ with his hand, Jackson was the first to breach the apartment, MIX front-and-centre as he brought his sights down on the hallway.

  The smoke from the two explosions was just clearing, but even from the entrance Jackson could spot the large hole that now made up much of the former living room. The glass leading out to the city had also been broken, with rain already pouring in through it. And strewn across both living room and hallway were the bodies of dead invaders, caught by the explosion.

  The door on his left was the closest, so Jackson, while still maintaining sights down towards the living room, moved over to it, simultaneously motioning to his right and for Heermann to take care of the other two doors.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear his drill instructor screaming. This was the job of an entire team.

  They were only two.

  Disregarding that, Jackson peaked through the door on the left, finding nothing but an empty bathroom. As quickly as he’d moved to inspect it, as quickly was he once again gone and moving down the hallway.

  Some of the Aliens on the ground were still twitching, but it was nothing that a round to the head couldn’t fix. There wasn’t any time for thinking, for sentimentality. Jackson could feel himself slipping into old habits, drilled motions, instinctive decisions. No time for thinking.

  Heermann’s first door had yielded no results either. From his periphery Jackson had spotted that it’d been a fairly small room, likely a study of some sort.

  Though the second door evidently did contain something, as Jackson could hear Heermann’s MIX pop while the German peeked in through the door. Whatever his compatriot had found, it was dead, and Jackson’s mind was completely focused on securing what was left of the living room.

  Swivelling his view to the right, the corporal only saw the end of the living room on that side, door closed. With that, the soldier took cover on the left corner of the hallway, taking a breath, before popping out and moving to the kitchen.

  His hands acted long before his mind would’ve needed to make a decision. Three targets in the kitchen.

  Jackson’s MIX found two of them, with the third one, one of the birds, popping behind the counter into cover. Sending a few rounds through the piece of furniture, Jackson was joined by Heermann doing the same. For as fancy as the varnished wood and smoothened metal looked, neither of the two soldiers worried about it being able to stop bullets.

  Rounding the kitchen confirmed their suspicions, with the two soldiers finding little else but three corpses. Two birds, one cat.

  There was no sign of the enforcer but considering where it’d been when the charge went off, it was likely that that monster had been ripped to pieces by the initial explosion.

  Jackson then motioned for the door at the other end of the living room. Heermann gave a simple nod in response and set off, leaving Jackson to secure the door in the kitchen.

  The two of them moved with purpose. The entire engagement so far had taken about a minute, so they needed to keep pace.

  Jackson’s world turned its entire focus to that door and what potentially awaited him behind it.

  Approaching it, Jackson quickly kicked it open, before turning away and awaiting some kind of reaction. Nothing came of it, no suppressive fire or attempt to rush him.

  Rounding the door, the soldier moved inside the darkened room, MIX pointed forward and finger on the trigger. It was empty.

  So far so good…

  Turning around, Jackson faced down the living room to where Heermann had disappeared behind that door. And not a moment too soon, the German re-emerged, none the worse for wear.

  One half of the floor done. No injuries. Minimal ammo spent.

  With that, the two soldiers swiftly moved towards the entrance of the apartment again. With how much of a ruckus they’d caused, it was only a matter of time before the response from the other aliens would come.

  But it would come much earlier than Jackson had anticipated.

  With the two soldiers inside the hallway, meters away from the entrance, their attention was drawn to a bright light emerging from the darkness of the stairway. And it was coming right for them. Instinct overtook and Jackson retreated. And just as he did, the hallway was turned into a hail of fire, shrapnel and molten steel as the entrance was turned to slag by a barrage of plasma.

  Debris clattered against Jackson’s helmet as he hurriedly returned to the living room, taking position at the corner that led down the hallway and shielding himself form the hailstorm that was raining down on the two of them.

  He didn’t know where Heermann was.

  Hell, he’d barely been able to register where he himself was. The chaos was overwhelming, dust and smoke quickly filling the entire apartment.

  “SABERI, LIGHT UP THE SIXTH FLOOR!!” There’d been no time for Jackson to deliberate on if they’d be safe from the following barrage, or if it would even help. But right now, with the corporal’s mind fighting against the overwhelming sensations of chaos and death, it was all he could do.

  Huddling behind the corner, Jackson tugged his limbs in and made himself as small as he could, as death continued hounding him.

  The cacophony that followed, didn’t make things easier. Now there wasn’t just plasma blowing out his eardrums, but a veritable rain of anti-personnel grenades fell upon the sixth floor, shaking Jackson to his very core as he desperately tried to weather the storm.

  The chaos continued for what felt like eternity but must’ve been no more than a minute or two, as Saberi’s voice came through soon, announcing: “Area suppressed. Support will be back in one mike, I gotta reload. What’s your status, corporal?”

  Jackson for his part could only shake his head, trying to force the concussion out of his skull and regain some kind of clarity. Though his voice was shaky, he did mange an answer: “Alive. Get ready to provide more suppressive fire on my command!”

  All he received in answer was a dry ‘copy’ from Saberi.

  Standing back up again, Jackson shook his head for one last time and tentatively peeked around the corner that led to the staircase. What had just minutes early been an abandoned, but otherwise completely normal staircase inside a skyscraper, had now been turned into a battlefield, filled with dust, ash and plaster raining down from the walls desperately trying to hold everything together.

  Saberi had certainly unleashed hell, as it looked like the private had reduced about half of the sixth floor to rubble. Structural integrity be damned, so Jackson thought…

  Still, there was also the issue of Heermann.

  The Colonial was nowhere to be seen. At least his corpse hadn’t joined the others in the hallway, but the German was also not making any noises to confirm that he was still alive. Rounding the corner, Jackson carefully made his way down the hallway, eyeing the doors on each side for movement; friendly or unfriendly.

  That was, until something very much unfriendly rounded the corner through the now destroyed entrance.

  One of the enforcers.

  It was missing an arm, half its body had been viciously burnt and it was slightly limping. Despite all that, it was marching towards Jackson with such a purpose that it was clear the Invader wouldn’t let itself be stopped by something as trivial as missing limbs or what looked to be third degree burns

  For one moment Jackson was like a deer frozen in headlights. In the next, he opened fire, desperately hoping that it would make a difference as the monster bounded over to him.

  The corporal couldn’t do more than retreat, before being greeted by another untimely nightmare. An empty click. He was out.

  The Monster was barely three meters away from him and would soon be jumping for his throat.

  The corporal moved his hands to try and do something but felt himself locked in a cycle of thinking and wanting to act.

  That was until a light flashed his eyes. And the entire apartment was turned white. For a moment he’d seen a streak of bright light come in from his left, out of one of the doors and straight towards the Enforcer.

  Now though, all Jackson saw and heard was white fire in his eyes and ringing in his ears.

  It thankfully wasn’t for long. His eyes hadn’t melted, his ears hadn’t been turned inside-out. Though did find out that he was on his back, evidently having been knocked back by something he barely remembered.

  It was only when he looked forward, past his body – which thankfully was still in one piece – and down the hallway where an Enforcer had been on its way to undoubtedly disembowel him, that he could make sense of it. There was little more than the lower half of the Invader left, it’s egg-like torso reduced to a smouldering heap, flowering upwards as if it’d been made from little more than putty and melting plastic.

  From the left room, closest to him, came Heermann, tossing an expendable rocket launcher away.

  The German also happened to be on fire.

  Instincts and Adrenaline kicked in and Jackson thankfully managed to compel his body into action, bounding over to Heermann and quickly helping the disoriented colonial snuff out any fire that was still lingering on his uniform.

  One had to once again thank the manufacturers of their uniforms and cloaks. Lowest bidder or not, the advertisement for fire-resistance had thankfully not been empty.

  “You fired an ATD indoors…” Jackson stated it matter-of-factly, yet he himself could hardly believe it.

  Any rule book on the use of the ATDs made clear that indoor usage was to be avoided at all costs. The backblast on those things was not only inconvenient, but also incredibly deadly.

  It was little wonder that Heermann had literally been set on fire by the damn thing. And considering the forces at play, that’d been the luckiest outcome.

  Firing from the wrong angle, being too close to the wall or simply being unlucky could’ve all ended in the German having his spine broken and skull reduced to pink mist.

  “You fired a fucking ATD indoors you lunatic!”

  Heermann didn’t answer, instead coughing and slapping the side of his head, probably trying to get rid of the ringing that was surely still plaguing him.

  “It… it worked…” For his part, Heermann sounded about as surprised about his own survival as Jackson had been.

  “Yeah, it fucking did. You alright?” Jackson’s compatriot shook his head a few more times, before finally straightening out and adjusting his helmet a bit.

  His answer was quick and concise: “I can walk. Shall we?” Heermann then gesticulated towards what had remained of the apartment entrance. They did still have a job to do.

  First contact, and the two of them had managed to destroy over half the sixth floor.

  The prospect of them demolishing the entire tower would’ve been funny, if Jackson didn’t feel like that’d be exactly how he’d die tonight.

  “Crivello, this is Jackson, come in.”

  “Readin’ you loud and clear corp.”

  “We’ve made contact and gone hot. Heermann and I are still green. Moving to the seventh floor now. What’s your status?”

  “Still quiet. We’ve managed to reach the eighth floor, no contact… Javelin, come in, what’s your situation?”

  Static. Nothing had come through from Javelin. Jackson looked over to Heermann, who for his part could only silently shrug.

  “Javelin, do you read?” Crivello’s second attempt didn’t achieve much, until Mirko’s voice broke through the static, accompanied by sounds of a firefight in the background. Though, despite being seemingly in the middle of it, the Concordian’s tone of voice was one of calm and professionalism.

  Jackson would’ve made the comparison to a piece of ice stuck in the middle of a fireplace.

  “Loud and clear. We’ve made contact.”

  And that was it. Comms to Javelin disappeared as quickly as they had come, with the remaining two teams being left to their own devices again.

  Raines chimed in: “Sarge, that didn’t fucking sound like any good contact. I suggest we fall back and help them out!”

  But the sergeant was quick to disagree: “Negative, we have a timetable and a plan, so we’re sticking to both. Stay the course Raines. Same goes for you Jackson. Javelin know what they’re doing, they’ll be fine. Stay frosty and get the job done. Crivello out.”

  Jackson simply replied: “Copy all, over…”

  The two Skydivers did make an effort to sweep the remains of the sixth floor, but found little else but rubble, corpses and the destroyed remains of whatever the civilians had left behind.

  “We’re moving to the seventh floor Saberi, adjust accordingly and wait for my command. You copy?”

  “Copy all. Mk.29 is online and ready to go. Just give the word, over.”

  Accordingly, Jackson waved his hand forward, silently signalling Heermann to move. If the German believed he was still combat effective, then he was capable of taking point.

  As the two of them approached the seventh floor, eerie silence falling over the skyscraper again, Heermann did a quick sweep of the platform approaching, before his voice crawled in through comms: “Reminds me of old times…”

  “Fred, I don-” But Jackson’s compatriot cut him off for once: “I know I know, you don’t like talking about it. I’m just making an observation. You might not want to remember, but we were working like an oiled machine back then. It’s really a shame that Lumen turned out to be as controversial as it did.”

  Before Jackson could make a comment on what Heermann had said, the two of them came up on the platform and silently continued sweeping their angles.

  The staircase was clear. The apartments remained to be seen.

  The corporal glanced over at Heermann and then tapped the side of his helmet, where their earpieces were, before wagging his finger forward and backwards.

  ‘You hear anything?’

  Fred only shook his head, then motioned to one of the doors.

  They didn’t have the time to sweep the entire floor, but they could check at least one apartment.

  Thusly, the two Skydivers returned to the regular motions, slicing their pies around corners, sweeping the usual angles and… finding nothing but dust and abandoned belongings.

  Jackson thusly reported to Saberi: “Seventh floor seems to be clear. Adjust for eighth, we’re moving up.”

  With the minute they’d bought themselves, Jackson turned back to Heermann to ask: “What were you going on about with Lumen?”

  The German seemed taken aback, actually needing a minute, probably retracing his words as to what he’d wanted to waffle on about. Usually Jackson would prefer focusing on their task, but Heermann’s words had piqued the corporal’s interest and he wanted to know just what his colonial teammate was exactly thinking.

  After some rambling in German, Fred seemed to find his line of thinking again and picked up where he'd left off: “Oh yes, the fallout that would’ve come from Lumen. Have you never thought about it, Patrick?”

  Jackson for his part shook his head.

  Heermann seemed somewhat surprised by that, exclaiming: “Really? Out of the two of us you’re usually the thinking type. I mean, if it weren’t for what’s happening now, what do you think the public would’ve said?”

  To that though, the corporal had to hold up a hand, asking incredulously: “Hold the fuck up, is this about politics?!”

  “Well… not really. Less politics, more just public opinion.”

  Jackson tilted his head.

  Just what the hell was Heermann going on about?

  “I guess what I’m trying to say, Patrick, is that, had the Squiddies here not shown up, what do you think the civvies in the Coalition would’ve called us? Especially in the colonies? Us, who had landed on a world that had demanded to separate itself from Sol. I mean, yeah, the leaders back on Lumen were little more than dictators and upstart kings trying to start dynasties, but the people were behind them. They supported them. And we overthrew them…”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “They’ll call us heroes for this. For landing on Odessa, killing aliens, doing what we do best… just not with humans in our sights this time. But if this hadn’t happened, they’d be calling us ‘babykillers’ and Sol Imperialists.”

  Jackson couldn’t really believe what he was hearing. First of all, that Heermann would feel the need to bring this up here, in their current predicament – a habit that was starting to concern the corporal – but that something as meaningless as image-politics was bugging his fellow Skydiver.

  After all the shit they had to endure on Lumen, that was his biggest worry?!

  And so, Jackson made his opinion of the topic very clear: “For the love of God Fred, what do you care what some disgruntled activists would call us?! They couldn’t even understand what had gone down on that godforsaken shithole! No less make any meaningful judgement about it.”

  But… Heermann didn’t seem convinced. More than anything, the colonial looked crestfallen at Jackson’s reaction.

  “I guess I should’ve expected that you wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t mind back on Earth. Back on Gaia, however? I can tell you for a fact that there hadn’t been a warm welcome waiting for me. Maybe a cold one at best. Tolerance at the fact that I had simply ‘done my job’. But I know how they looked at me… how they talked behind my back. A sympathizer for Sol. ‘Bootlicker’…” That last word especially had carried an enormous amount of venom with it, more than Jackson really expected from the usually stoic colonial.

  The corporal was confused, however.

  Sure, Class-2 and Class-3 Colonies had their grumblings and misgivings with the Administration back on Earth. Justifiably so, Jackson would argue. But the core colonies, the Class-1 planets, were all clearly loyal to the wider Coalition.

  “Fred, I think you’re overreacting a bit. Gaia’s one of the oldest colonies in the Coalition. I really doubt people there would’ve lynched you for ensuring that democratically elected leaders stay in power.”

  Though Jackson couldn’t see the face of his compatriot under his opaque visor, his body-language made it clear that Heermann wasn’t buying it.

  Thusly, the corporal tried his best to at least put a somewhat positive pin in the conversation and ensure his companion could stay on track.

  “Okay listen, we’ll have plenty of time to talk about this. You’re right, things would’ve gone different, but I think you’re seeing this a bit black-and-white there, buddy. Try to focus on the here and now, alright? Worst comes to worst, next round of drinks is on me. I feel like an ice-cold Lager would probably clear your head. Stay frosty.” With that, Jackson signalled for the door and for Fred to follow him.

  The Colonial gave a nod… one that Jackson would’ve wished had been a bit more enthusiastic, but it had to do for now.