Making the situation worse was the fact that once Kydd fired at one Kel-Morian, the rest would seek cover. So what he needed to do was draw the other sniper out, get the sonofabitch to reveal himself, and take him out with the first shot. “This is Alpha-Two-Five,” Kydd said into his comm unit. “I need someone to draw fire. Don’t show yourself for long, though… . This guy is good.”
Raynor was hidden behind the concrete structure that capped a set of stairs. He felt himself step out into the open, and wondered if the armor was making him foolishly overconfident. He experienced an enormous sense of relief when nothing happened, resolved to count to three before ducking into cover, and was on two when what felt like a sledgehammer struck his helmet. Raynor felt a brief moment of pain, followed by a long fall, and a sudden stop as his suit hit the ground. He heard Tychus shout, “Doc! Jim is down … Get your butt in gear, damn it!” Then he was gone.
Kydd was completely unaware that Raynor had been hit. All of his mental and physical energy was focused on locating and killing the Kel-Morian sniper who was concealed somewhere on the hillside in front of him. So when the enemy marksman fired, and Kydd saw the momentary wink of light that signaled a muzzle flash, he slipped into the fugue state he had first experienced on the firing range in boot camp. To him, it came easily, as though he had entered an alternate reality in which time slowed, enabling him to shift the crosshairs on his telescopic sight half an inch to the right, and consider the crosswind that could nudge the .50 caliber slug off course—all the while allowing for the chance that the fraction-of-a-second lag created by his armor could throw off his aim.
The rifle had an enlarged trigger guard, making it possible for armored fingers to access it. And the highly specialized weapon was equipped with a two-stage trigger. That meant once the trigger was activated, and the initial slack was taken out of the mechanism, only a very light touch would be required to drop the firing pin on the round in the chamber and send death spinning through the air.
So as the target began a slow-motion pullback, preparatory to disappearing altogether, Kydd applied the necessary amount of pressure and felt the trigger “break,” as the first stage was released. Then, having taken a deep breath and let it out, he ordered his right index finger to contract.
The report was muffled because of his helmet, and the recoil was negligible thanks to Kydd’s hardskin. It was his duty to kill the Kel-Morian, but it was personal too, because even though she was a few years older than he was, Kydd had developed feelings for Samantha Sanchez.
So as time jerked forward, and the heavy slug blew the top of the other sniper’s head off, Kydd felt a primal sense of exultation. He could almost hear Sanchez say, “Good shot, Private Kydd … okay, what are you people waiting for? An engraved invitation? We have a hill to climb.”
As he imagined her voice, a lump formed in his throat. He wished he’d had the guts to give her the chocolates he had purchased for her, rather than allowing Tychus to swipe them for Doc’s birthday. He felt like such a coward.
“Nice shot, Kydd,” Tychus said over the squad freq. “Okay, what are you jerk weeds waiting for? Let’s jump that gap!”
Kydd broke cover and made his way forward. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he was grateful that no one could see.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“They took the Kel-Morians by surprise and freed hundreds of Confederate POWs, and now the brave soldiers known as the Heaven’s Devils have been sent to a new location. Security regulations prevent me from saying where they are, but you can be sure of one thing: the enemy will be sorry!”
THE CITY OF POLK’S PRIDE, ON THE PLANET TURAXIS II
As Tychus led the Heaven’s Devils onto the roof of the building beyond, and the rest of the company followed, Doc knelt next to Raynor. The bullet had cut a deep groove into the side of his helmet and a trickle of blood was leaking out of it. Cassidy thought Raynor was dead at first.
A servo whirred as Doc thumbed the external visor release button. It slid out of the way to reveal Raynor’s pale face. It appeared as though Raynor had turned his head, or moved just as the sniper fired, causing the round to bounce off the curvature of his helmet without penetrating it. Cassidy triggered the release on her right gauntlet so she could reach inside her patient’s helmet—and pressed a finger against a point located just below his right earlobe and at the back of his jaw.
Raynor felt a sudden stab of pain and opened his eyes to find Doc peering down at him. “Damn,” he said. “I’m alive.”
“’Fraid so,” Cassidy agreed.
“How bad is it?”
“I suspect you’ve got a scalp laceration,” Doc replied clinically, as she stood. “But your blood pressure is normal, so it can wait. What the hell were you thinking anyway?”
Raynor reached up to take her hand. “I was thinking how lucky I was that the sniper wasn’t going to shoot me,” he said ruefully. “Damn, that hurts.”
“You want some pain juice?”
“Hell no … the last time you did that I felt too happy. Let’s go.”
Having made the jump to the roof beyond, the Devils returned to street level behind the sloths. They were firing south at the resocialized marines and newly arrived rangers. All of whom were struggling to move up the street toward the hill and the repository deep inside of it. “Ward!” Tychus said, “take those bastards out.”
Ward braced himself, took careful aim, and fired a rocket. It hit the right-hand sloth low, in between its tracks. The resulting explosions lifted the machine a couple of inches up into the air, blew a hole in its vulnerable belly, and triggered a powerful secondary explosion. That blew the turret off and sent a gout of flames shooting straight upward.
The second sloth’s turret was coming around by then, trying to find the new threat and kill it, but that opened it up to a ground attack by the resocialized marines. They swarmed through the barricade farther down the street and came forward firing handheld rocket launchers of their own. The sloth shook as it took a couple of hits, shuddered convulsively, and blew as one of the resocs threw a D-6 charge in under its belly. The resoc died in the resulting explosion, but that made no difference to his comrades, who charged forward and quickly caught up with the Devils.
Now the combined force was at the bottom of the hill and approaching the fortification’s heavily defended main gate. It had taken a direct hit from a siege tank and consisted of little more than a crater surrounded by a collar of debris. A bloodied leg could be seen protruding from the dirt.
But that didn’t mean the Kel-Morians were going to let the invaders enter the repository unopposed. As the Devils and a force of resocs pushed up the slope and surged around both sides of the crater, a squad of Guild Guards was there to receive them. Suddenly, what had been an arm’s-length conflict became extremely personal as the groups overran each other.
“To me!” Tychus shouted over the comm, as he fired his gauss rifle at point-blank range. It was important to form a phalanx that could produce massed fire and hold the real estate they’d been able to take.