There had only been one time that Jada had felt so helpless against the trauma of still being alive and that was in the dark pits of Vorhold. The former marine had always thought that a part of her died back there, in the dark embrace of the stalkers. In some ways, that dead part of her had empowered her to be a more fearsome soldier, giving her the will to make harder choices, the nihilistic resolve to endure and overcome.
The thoughts of Vorhold began to overpower her conscious mind, and in an instant, she realized the truth in Poe’s warnings. Suddenly, Deepspire and the horrors of that place were all she could think about, so much so that only the pain in her body kept her from accepting the nightmares as reality. The stalker’s hands were on her body, their fetid breath hot against her skin, and the smell of blood and gunsmoke filled her nostrils. All that she could perceive was the horror and the pain, yet as the violence and depravity worsened, the pain itself seemed ever more distant.
The pain.
The pain was real.
Focus on the pain.
Survive the pain.
Pain is survival.
Pain is life.
She was back on Gedra Prime.
She had earned more duty coins in that single battle than anyone in Tango Platoon over the course of a career. She had been reckless, vengeful even, in her conduct on the field that day.
When the Folken counter-attacked, she had been separated from the rest of Squad Marsters and unknowingly been driven by the slaughter towards where the Dire Swords would eventually make their assault drop. True to their method of war, the mercs had been executing lightning attacks against the Gedra inside the necropolis, stirring them up and drawing them into attacking the rear of Helion’s fighting positions.
At first, when the Folken appeared on the battlefield, it seemed as if all was lost as the heavy elite infantry tore into the Grotto forces. Jada had been desperately defending a small section of trench alongside two Indron stormtroopers when she witnessed the Dire Swords lock horns with the Folken, and it had been like watching a hurricane grapple with a volcano. In retrospect, it was this brawl with the Folken that had left enough Dire Swords dead on the field that there were positions to fill with new recruits.
Jada and the two stormtroopers fought on while the mercs ripped into each other even as the alpha cyborg appeared and the hollow horde began to rise and attack everyone, regardless of corporate affiliation.
Their defense of that last ditch had been tenacious and eventually both stormtroopers lay dead and Jada was out of ammunition. She scavenged the remaining ammo drums from her slain corporate comrades and hefted an autocannon, which revealed itself to be devastating against the hollows at such close range.
Somewhere in the chaos, she had caught a glimpse of the cyborg and all of the rage and grief that she had endured up to that point suddenly had a face.
Jada realized that this was the real turning point for her, when the money ceased to matter and surviving became something of a secondary concern. The thrill of taking the fight right into the teeth of the enemy seemed like the only truth left in this scrapyard of a universe.
Jada had rushed the cyborg, hurling tube charges she’d found on the body of a Helion trooper into the first clutch of hollows that rose to defend their leader. The salvage marine cut her way through the hollows with the autocannon, heedless of the wounds she took or the impossible odds she faced. She was focused on the goal, committed to complete this act regardless of whether or not she died doing so, and that made her deadly in the extreme.
When the autocannon went dry, she tackled a hollow and ripped the Helion battle rifle from its pale hands before smashing its skull in with the butt of the weapon. As soon as she was back on her feet, she charged the alpha cyborg. It had positioned itself near a shattered Helion tank as it directed its re-animated shambling soldiers to defend it.
Jada noticed that she was being flanked by a Dire Sword on either side of her. They ran incredibly fast, outpacing her in seconds and she realized that they were joining her in the assault.
The Dire Swords leapt into combat against the mechanical beast. As one blasted the shield, the other, a grim, skull-faced warrior with a large knife affixed to his chest moved in for a close-quarters kill.
At the last moment, the cyborg, revealing much more prowess in battle than the cyborg Jada had faced in the past, surged forward and used its energy shield to knock over the Dire Sword and shoot at it. It had drawn the mercs in and lowered its shield just in time to rake a clawed hand across the chest of the charging merc even as he slammed his knife into the creature’s side.
Jada saw her moment and knew what was about to come, so she dove into the fray, heedless of the fact that she only had a slim chance of not being immediately killed. The cyborg activated its matter displacement weapon, and the deadly orbs she’d encountered in the past annihilated the Dire Sword shooter. Jada slammed her shoulder into the body of the wounded Dire Sword, who was already struggling to his feet, saving him from the orb that would have disintegrated his head had she not acted.
From her prone position, while the beast’s shield was still down, Jada opened up with the Helion battle rifle and pumped the creature full of hot rounds. While her single salvo was not enough to kill it, her attack had given other Dire Swords enough time to engage, and in moments, more mercs were pouring on the firepower. She lent her firepower to theirs as they shorted out the cyborg’s shield and the combined storm of projectiles reduced it to slag moments before its control module ignited. The meltdown knocked Jada to the ground, and she blacked out momentarily, only to return to consciousness as the Dire Sword she would come to know as Womack offered her a hand to help her rise to her feet.
Jada’s eyes snapped open and she saw that she was alone in the chamber. Her body was drenched in sweat, and her eyes felt sticky, as if she’d not opened them in a long time. The pain was there, a dull companion, though not so unbearable that she could not think clearly and assess her surroundings. The Rack was making a low beeping sound, and she was able to see with her peripheral vision that both the serum and the nutrient cocktail canisters were empty.
Moments later, the door slid open to reveal Marius, with Poe only a few steps behind him.
“You’ve done excellent work,” said Marius as he observed his datapad, before gesturing towards something out of Jada’s line of sight. “Poe, would you set fresh canisters in the Rack please?”
“Where did the serum take you?” asked Poe as he slapped in a fresh canister of nutrient cocktail, lifting the heavy item with so little effort that even Marius seemed taken aback for a moment. “I spent most of my transformation back on Torrid Mons, fighting one of the Fenrir gun cults.”
“You fought in the Torrid Uprising?” asked Jada in a shaky voice as Poe stepped back to allow Marius to type on the control pad of the Rack. “That was forty-seven years ago; you don’t look a day over twenty.”
“That’s the serum’s doing. Once the body acclimatizes to its new state, the ravages of aging are dramatically reduced,” answered Marius as he locked in another canister of serum. “It’s another reason that the serum’s ninety-six point two five mortality rate is both a blessing and a curse. That’s why we have such a robust support staff, nearly ten to one. Many who have the coins to join do not necessarily have a high probability of surviving the treatments. In a way of speaking, you could say it’s just as much about luck as it is about desire.”