Every hastened step taken in the last 30 minutes has been exhausting in a way I wasn't prepared for. The darkness of the tunnel - unlit to prevent reflected light from giving away our position too early - enveloped the six of us, leaving the dotted outlines of sensor data to let us know where the walls and floor are. We're barely people in the dark. More like souls, fleeing from hell, chased by demons; our eyes and ears peeled for any sign of the Grineer. I have my Braton in hand, pointed down to the side, my finger flirting with the edge of the trigger. The feeling of security the weapon provides is stymied by the knowledge that while a head on clash between us and the enemy will end in losses on both sides, the loss for the cloned soldiers is less of a deterrent for them than it is for us. "And also, dying isn't really my sort of vibe," I think, a humorless smile forming on my lips.
The gallows humor had been ever present ever since the announcement from the Sarge; a sort of grim acknowledgement of what it is that we are up against. I'm not sure if it's a healthy mindset to have, a sort of irreverence for the severity of the situation that might lead to a devalued threat in a critical moment. "But the other options are despair or a nihilistic mania, so we take what we can get," my mind points out. I sigh, my breath loud in the silence of the tunnel. To be fair, it's not entirely silent. Spending so much time focused on my aural senses means that I've started to notice all the "background ambiance" that would normally be filtered out by my brain. The sound of sand across rock as our feet carefully forge a path in the pitch black. Of the tiny chitters of animals who's names had been pushed out of the forefront of my mind in lieu of more immediately important information. Of the sound of partially concealed exertion from each member of the squad, of elevated heart rates and the biological processes that come with supporting it.
"Actually crazy that we haven't crashed yet," I think, in awareness of of that last fact. The initial hike in was roughly 8 hours long, and although it had been on mostly flat ground, and the strain of the supplies had been split across the group... "Immediately turning around to double time it back out, under the threat of death? A fuckin' powder keg," I note, with a detached sort of recognition. The adrenaline cycling through my body makes me feel like a violin string wound tight, but there's no other option but to continue pushing forward. I glance towards the UI in the top left hand corner of my headset and get a read on our position; the motion automatic, identical to the 19 other times I'd done it in the last hour or so. Other than the third added spatial dimension, the map is similar to the one in game, which is something I had spent a good amount of my downtime on. What was meant to be a fun little inside joke only to myself is something I'm quickly finding myself grateful for.
The familiarity of the map is making it easy for my erratic mind to consume the information without needing to spend extra time processing it. The 1000's of hours of gameplay, of map checking in the middle of a firefight, now expressing itself instinctively. We continue moving silently, twisting and turning down the tunnels; avoiding branches, passing through caves, and retracing our steps towards the entrance, towards escape. My map is zoomed out enough that I'm able to see how close we get to the outside as the tunnels wind around. "God, if we could just punch through 100 feet of stone," I think in frustration.
It would be one thing to be blind to the fact, to think only of the outside as a light at the end of the tunnel. But to see it, to have it nearly in arms reach, only for it to slip away as the tunnel snakes off in a different direction... it ratchets my anxiety up more than anything else. "Still, slow and steady," I think, a buzz running down my arms to the tips of my fingers. The Sarge raises his hand, a silent signal for us to halt. The five of us slow down, and he subvocalises a message, explaining without needing to speak a single word.
AL: There's a tripwire ahead of us. I can disarm it, but I want the rest of you back 100 feet regardless. Post up at the bend.
Reading the text sends needles of burning ice through my veins, down my back. The idea that we'd be able to leave without any conflict at all was a pipe dream, but as minutes wore on without any encounter, I had been starting to feel hopeful. The tripwire killed that. "Fuck, they know we're here," I think, as the five of us shuffle back. I can't tell if the certainty is worse than the unknown. I'm unable to make out the Sarge as any more than a collection of dots and the orientation of his icon on my map, but it's obvious he's watching us as we get into position, for whatever that's worth. The moment we're clear, he turns his attention back to the wire, before carefully creeping over to what I assume is an explosive tucked behind a small outcrop of stone.
From my position, it's hard to get a bead on him, and the darkness doesn't help. The seconds tick by, each one longer than the last, as he engages himself with the Grineer trap. And yet, even with a moment as important as this one, my ADHD can't help but flare, my eyes wandering around in the darkness unbidden. A blessing, disguised as a curse; a collection of dots flies out from the darkness, closing the distance towards the Sarge and us. Cylindrical in shape, some subconscious part of me makes the connection before the rest of me does. "GRENADE!" I shout, my voice shattering the silence. To Sarge's credit, he doesn't stumble in the slightest. From a crouched position, he pivots, Rush enabling him to close the gap towards us - towards cover - faster than any human could hope to achieve. But I don't watch. Instead, I dive to the floor with the other four members of Space Trauma, putting distance between myself and the intersection, decreasing my profile to reduce any potential damage from the blast.
The explosion is bassier than I'm expecting; more of a whomph than the bang I associated with the Tenno frag grenades. Then, a wave of light and heat rushing down the tunnel, not fully able to spread down the intersection towards us, accompanied by a feral scream of pain. I only see it out of the corner of my eye with my face down on the ground and my arms over my head, but the exact moment the light vanishes I'm springing to my feet, my hands swinging my gun around to bear. I'm moving before I make the decision to, my actions dictated by training rather than consideration. I know that every one of the next few moments are of utmost importance, and there's no time to wait for my nerve endings to send electrical signals to the tips of my fingers, or the soles of my feet.
I'm the first one upright, and I hug tight to the corner as quickly as I can, resisting the impulse to let a stream of lead rain down the tunnel. I want to prefire the corner, to start pulling my trigger before I round it; I'm willing to lose a few bullets to the tunnel walls if it means I'd be more likely to catch them off guard. But the likelihood of hitting Sarge is too high, and I'm unwilling to take a shot when he's downrange, in the dark. I hold position there, my ears straining, as four excruciating seconds tick by. For reasons I can't fathom, the Grineer haven't followed up their opening salvo. I don't know if it's a psychological play or something else, and the uncertainty locks my feet in place. I can hear the Sarge groaning in pain, clearly suffering, but my mind and body are fighting, unwilling to step into what might be instant death.
"Our shields won't hold up!" I think, or some part of me thinks. Maybe the part preventing me from moving forward. I don't get the chance to hold a meeting. Rease steps around me, slicing the pie the best he can in the tight corridor. "Fuck!" he says, his words barely more than a whisper.
And that's when all hell breaks loose.
Like a switch, gunfire starts flying down the length of the tunnel. The tiniest bit of light cutting through a gap in the ceiling is suddenly joined by the short, staccato bursts of light from the Grineer. Bullets whiz past, the sound of metal slamming into the rock face next to us barely audible over the echoing cracks of gunfire. I return in kind, my aim based on the split second images I get of the masked faces at the end of the hall, unable to tell if my shots are landing. Occasionally, a bullet zips past close enough for me to hear it; the sound of an angry insect threatening death if they so much as find me. Rease, who'd pulled back after the initial volley, steps straight out into the gunfire, taking two direct hits for his audacity.
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I don't have enough processing power to try to figure out what he's doing, but he's moving fast enough that it doesn't matter. He ignores the bullets flying by as he uses Rush to close distance with a lumpy form in between the two opposing groups. "Sarge!" I realize, as he quickly drags the prone body around the corner and into cover with us. A low moan draws my attention for a split second, and in the strobe light from hell I'm able to form an image of our Field Officer; skin red and black, his TEPA melted, his expression agony. A nauseating smell of chemical and pork reaches my nose as my Braton clicks empty.
"RELOADING!" I shout, swapping places with Ko-lee to keep up an ever endless stream of gunfire towards the slowly encroaching forms. She pokes out, and my heart jumps into my throat as her shield sparks blue. "Grenade out!" says Caz, his voice barely audible over the gunfire. "GO!" he shouts, at the exact instant the explosive leaves his fingers. My heart pumps wildly, and my mind wars with training at the idea of exposing myself to the explosive. It's only a fraction of a second of hesitation, but it's enough for Caz and Ella to take lead as they sprint down the hall, with me only 20 feet behind them. It's a stupid plan, an incredibly stupid plan, and the only plan, as the enemy take the option to unleash on our retreating form. I feel shots hit my back, and I watch as my pitiful amount of shield drops to nearly zero, but it's not enough before the grenade goes off.
It's not the bang I expected.
Instead, it's a sonic screech, a reverberation, a flash of nuclear white that nearly sends me tumbling, my inner ear revolting as I struggle to put one foot in front of the other. The flash casts our shadows in dark relief in front of us; hulking humanoids wrapped by the uneven surface, visible for only a moment before we're plunged once more into the black. "GRENADE OUT!" shouts Caz, his voice barely audible over the ringing in my ear. I glance behind, and find Ko-lee helping Rease keep pace, with the Sarge on his back in a firefighter carry. Our feet pound, our previous caution discarded as we recklessly Rush down the tunnel back towards base camp.
Another crack, another flash of white.
My head is spinning now, the specialized explosive leaving me disoriented even at a distance. But I find the dizziness comforting; if it's this bad for me, it must be 100 times worse for the Grineer. Another grenade out, this one a bang. A real explosion, not just a flashbang. We're about as far from the blast as we can reasonably be, but the pressure wave wooshes past us all the same. It's nothing compared to the fireball from the initial Grineer explosive, but still, noticeable.
Gunshots now. I hear the cracks, the zips, and I feel pressure on my leg. A flash of blue, my shield deflecting, dropping. The Sarge continues to moan, and I have no idea how long we've been running.
Another grenade out, this time from me. I'm losing my sense of time, or I've lost it. My heart keeps trying to escape my chest through my rib cage, the aggressive ba thump, ba thump, ba thump in tempo with my feet. My first indication that we're nearing base camp is the light of the dimming flare, still lit from where Sarge had tossed it into the room. A final push, every muscle straining to their limit as I blow past the entrance. I swing around, and post up on the corner of the door immediately, my eyes tracking Rease and Ko-lee, trailing behind by only a few feet. They make their way in, and my eyes scan the dimly lit hall, listening to the echo of footsteps, a herald of death approaching. "Orders!?" shouts Ko-lee as she crosses the threshold.
I can't see her face, but I can imagine it; an image of dilated pupils and cold fury, an impeccable force of DO that sends an ill timed spark of desire down my spine. I don't hear his response, and I'm hit with an impulse to turn around, to focus on the conversation behind me. Instead, I keep my eyes forwards towards the dark, and my ears open to the squad. "Damn it Caz! What are out orders!?" Ko-lee repeats, heat in her voice. "We-I-," he starts. Stuttered words of indecision. "What choices are there? What can we do other than make a stand? We're fish in a barrel, all he needs to do is tell us to line up," I think, with grim surety. But he doesn't. "There's a tunnel!" says Rease. I take a quick glance, and find him pointing to the room he'd previously investigated, but I spin back around the moment I realize what I'm doing.
"Are those footsteps louder?" I ask myself. I hear frantic shuffling from behind me; likely Rease, maybe Caz, heading towards the room. "We'll need some way to block up the tunnel!" says a shaky voice to my right. Of all the people I'd imagine willing to hold an angle with me, I'm surprised it's her, but I'm glad to have company all the same. "We can bring it down if we set off enough grenades at once!" yells Ko-lee, the sentence growing in volume as she closes the distance between us. I feel hands groping around, and without looking I reach for the grenades that she can't find, strapped to my front. I shove the last one into her hands, but don't wait to see if she has a hold of it, as my gaze locks on to movement in the tunnel. "WE'RE OUT OF TIME!" I roar, as I unleash violence down the hall.
I'm unable to keep up with the squad's further developments; my entire world focusing down to a pinprick of red stone and bulbous armored forms. They fire back, and I thank whoever's listening that they can't fit more than two wide down the tunnel at the same side. Still, the gunfire peppers around us, my shield flashing more than I'd like, the number in my display dancing on the edge of nothingness. The bullets whizzing past my head ratchets my heart into overdrive, making me feel nauseous. The specter of death is too close for comfort, but I reload and continue firing regardless.
"They're angling their bodies in such a way to take a majority of the gunfire on armored locations," I note with a clinical detachment. It's enough for them to make progress, but they're not invincible. A shot hits one in the leg, causing them to flinch, and a well placed follow up cracks a mask, plunging straight into their forehead. The form goes down. Moving, and now not. His squadmates step over him and continue pushing, a replacement filling the gap with ease. The tiniest ember of excitement that had tried to light is extinguished at the display of callous disregard, at their willingness to throw bodies at the problem. How do you defeat an enemy when killing them isn't enough?
They're close now. I feel like a rat, a trapped animal; powerless, in a cage, unable to stop the forward press of DANGEROUS
A wide manic grin stretches my lips wide, and I can feel tears run down my cheeks. "Grenade out!" shouts Ella, from over my shoulder. I don't know when she got there, when she crossed that gap. I don't remember covering her, but I must have. I hope I had. She pulls me away from the door frame after throwing, and we Rush towards the room I hadn't the chance to explore previously. I find myself in a bathroom. A bubble, a tendril of humor as a thought occurs to me. "What a shitty situation." My body is sending all the wrong emotions down the pipe, picking things from the maelstrom at random. I see the tunnel, the dividing wall - a Tenno construction - haphazardly knocked to the side.
I make my way into the darkness, sprinting past Ko-lee, still setting grenades in structurally unsound grooves, past Caz, his face white even in the dark, past Rease with the FO slung over his shoulder. I spin, fall to a knee, holding an angle, ready to fire the second anything other than toiletries enters my vision. Ella comes in a fraction of a second later, her hands filled, something metal held tight to the chest. "GO!" says Ko-lee, turning away from her improvised mining charges. I don't know how many there are, but I imagine it's somewhere between "a lot" and "too many". I turn, and sprint towards the lone supply cart peeking it's head out from around the corner. "Good call," I think, as I dive into cover. A grenade flies out past me, over my head, landing near the others. A perfect throw. "RHUE! GAR TENNO SON OF A GUTORA!" I hear. I catch the glimpse of a single shoulder pad rounding the corner.
Then, a bang.
A roar.
A crash.
Silence.
Discord!
