Mistrunner 2 - Chapter 53 - Assault (Patreon)

I’ve come to realize that the tribe feeds off of conflict. They need it. Without war, they’ll realize just how bad things have gotten. Often, I wonder what Jeremiah would have done in my place. Because of the mass exodus, times have gotten lean. A good fight and an enemy to hate is a perfect distraction.

Nora Lancaster

I crept into the stadium, whispering through the secure connection, “Approaching the entrance. No contact.”

“Acknowledged,” came Patrick’s voice through my interface. I wasn’t a stranger to communicating in such a way, but doing so with a battle looming over me was a little disconcerting. What if the octavangians hijacked the connection? What if they knew I was coming? It would ruin my whole plan.

As I went, I deposited a number of demolition charges along the way. They were small enough that I hoped they wouldn’t be noticed, and if push came to shove, they might be enough to secure my escape. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that; after all, I still didn’t want to risk damaging the mechanism that made the Rift passable. But I’d rather chance that and survive than the alternative.

Still, I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

And if everything went according to plan – or even close to it – I wouldn’t have to worry about making that kind of a decision. Even if I did end up detonating the charges, there was no guarantee that it would damage the machinery. It was a risk, but a calculated one that I hoped would ensure my survival.

I progressed slowly, not only because I took the time to deposit the charges, but also because I leveraged Observation to its maximum effect in an attempt to see any threats before they presented themselves. To my surprise, though, the stadium’s corridors were entirely devoid of anything that might derail my plan. No aliens. No traps. No sensors. It was just empty.

Still, even as focused as I was, I couldn’t help but note just how impressive the structure was. It was at least twice the size of the Emporium back in Nova City. Perhaps not in seating capacity, but in sheer volume. The corridors were wide, and I could see the ruined remnants of booths lining the outside wall. Every now and then, I saw faded, decayed, or otherwise deteriorated signs. Most of which were unreadable, but some were legible enough to give me hints as to the purpose of these booths.

A few had obviously been food stalls, a supposition that was supported by the rusted steel ovens and other cooking apparatuses. However, others sold clothing and trinkets, a few of which had actually survived. I even found one rubber trinket that depicted some sort of red boar as well as a leather sack that took me a moment recognize as a deflated, oblong ball of some sort.

It felt like a window into the past, and though I was incredibly interested, I didn’t allow myself to become too distracted. Instead, I traversed those corridors until I found a ramp that would take me to the stadium’s peak. At least twenty feet wide, the ramp followed a winding spiral until it led me to my destination.

Once there, I carefully found my way to a corridor that would lead me to the interior of the stadium. I crept forward, keeping my assault rifle at the ready as I continued to push Observation to its limits. I saw nothing out of the ordinary, save for the fact that the curious lack of wildlife – even down to the insects – persisted. Clearly, the octavangians didn’t like to share their space, a conclusion supported by the absence of wildlife as well as the zeal with which I’d seen their hunting parties operate.

Not that it was surprising. Even back in Mobile, the Amigos as well as the town’s militia had fought a constant battle against the encroaching fauna. Anything else, and they’d have run the risk of being overwhelmed. And that was with a whole town backing them up; obviously, with their lack of numbers, the octavangians had taken a far more proactive approach.

It was also a good opportunity for them to gain levels.

In any case, I appreciated their efforts, if only because of the lack of complications as I approached the corridor’s exit. As I did, I reaffirmed that Stealth had reamined active; the ability had become almost reflexive, and I rarely went into any dangerous situation without it draped around me.

Still, the ability wasn’t foolproof; it was difficult for most people to see through it, but it did little to negate other senses. So, I kept my footsteps light and my breathing even. Even so, as disciplined as I was, I couldn’t help but gasp when I reached the exit and beheld the scene before me.

The stadium was shaped like a giant oval, but with one end open. That end wasn’t empty, though; rather, it played host to a giant screen that must have been at least a hundred-and-fifty feet across and half as tall. Such a thing was completely unnecessary in the modern world – we had holographic displays that would serve the same purpose, but without the necessary infrastructure of an enormous screen – but it was still impressive, nonetheless. It made me contemplate what other wonders my forebears might have created, but it also made me realize just how much we took our technological advances for granted.

The Initialization had devastated humanity, but it had also ushered in a period of rapid advancement as well. It was such a shame that so many were never afforded the opportunity to see how far Earth had come. It did sometimes wonder what Earth would have been like had the aliens followed the system’s rules. Certainly, millions – perhaps even billions – would still have died. That was inevitable in the wake of such a momentous change. However, there was every possibility that the exploitation that was so prevalent in a city like Nova could have been avoided.

Or maybe that was a pipe dream. Human nature would have remained, and that dictated that people were ultimately self-interested. My uncle claimed that the world was a fairer place before the Initialization, but he also tended to look at those days through the lens of nostalgia. For my part, I expected that things were just as unfair back then, only the oppression was better hidden.

Perhaps that was just my cynicism bleeding through, though. I had no way of knowing for sure, one way or the other.

I pushed those thoughts out of my mind as I scanned the rest of the stadium. Most of the seating had survived, though, judging by the rusted brackets, fasteners, and supports, I suspected that if I sat in one of them, it would collapse under me. Still, the stadium must have accommodated a hundred thousand people during its heyday – an impressive number by anyone’s measure.

On the ground in the center of the stadium was a clear space, longer than it was wide, and at one end, there was a curious statue made of slim tubes. It rose from the ground as a single trunk, but about ten feet up, it diverged into horizontal branches that soon became vertical spires. I had no idea what it was supposed to be – perhaps an abstract of a tree – but given its position of prominence, I suspected that it had once been important.

Despite how interested I was in conjecture, I couldn’t afford to study the thing for very long because the real goal of my infiltration lay directly in the center of the open space. There was only one building, and from its size, I expected that it could house around twenty octavangians. At present, the aliens were setting up a series of pillars that I suspected would be useful in the defense of the camp. The Rift lay nearby, held open by an apparatus that looked similar to the one I’d seen in the Castorix camp – meaning that it reminded me of an overturned metallic spider, in the center of which was a shimmering and formless prism.

As I watched, I counted the aliens. There were nine of them out and about the camp, but I had no idea how many were within the lone, pre-fabricated building.

It didn’t really matter, though. Nine was enough, and unless there were fifty of them huddled in that structure – unlikely, given its size – my plan wouldn’t change. I did find it curious that their defenses were so underwhelming, though. Perhaps that was a result of breaking the rules to get a jump on their competition. Maybe they couldn’t bring anything along that would stand out too much, lest they be sanctioned by the system.

I shook my head. That was just a guess. For all I knew, these octavangians were the equivalent of minor bandits, and they were equipped as such. While it was easy to imagine that every alien who’d infiltrated the planet were well-funded and well-equipped, it didn’t make sense that that would be the case. More likely, they were desperate people with extremely thin margins; otherwise, they wouldn’t have chanced it.

Whatever the case, I couldn’t concern myself with those sorts of things. Having seen my enemies and established that their numbers were within acceptable parameters, I set out to scout my immediate surroundings. Fortunately, the exits that led down into the corridors that circled the stadium were sufficient to provide adequate cover, so it didn’t take long before I set up at the very top of the structure.

After all, I wanted to establish as much distance as I could. Perhaps the octavangians had a sniper, but the chances that they were all marksmen were extremely slim. That lack would hopefully even the odds a bit.

After a few more minutes, during which I waited for the sun to descend a little further toward the horizon, I settled down into a shadow, retrieved my Pulsar from my arsenal implant, and took aim. As I’d been taught to do when fighting multiple targets, I settled my sights on the first – and biggest – octavangian. Then, I moved to the next. And the next after that. One, two, three. Over and over, I practiced the motion; the situation wasn’t ideal, but I hoped to down at least a couple of them before they managed a response.

For ten minutes, I went through the cycle until, at last, I felt as prepared as I could be. With that done, I once again settled my sights on the biggest alien, activated Empowered Shot, and waited the two seconds before I squeezed the trigger. The gunshot had barely even registered before my sights found my second target. This time, I didn’t bother with an ability, instead opting for speed over power. I fired again, then moved to the third victim before firing the final shot.

By that point, the first octavangian was on the ground, half its torso destroyed by my initial salvo. I didn’t need medical expertise to know that it was dead. The other two had fared a little better, but my second target had also been slain. The third was only wounded, though. It had moved at the last possible second, so my shot had only destroyed a couple of its tentacles.

An acceptable result, either way.

I sprang to my feet, once again embracing Stealthas I dashed away. It wouldn’t be as useful now that they knew I was there, but that was why I’d waited until dusk. I had no idea how dependent the octavangians were on their vision, but a little caution never hurt.

“Two down. One wounded. At least six more to go,” I said, sprinting down the narrow walkway between seats. A moment later, I descended back into the corridor only to reemerge at the next entrance. When I looked down, I saw that the camp had erupted into motion. One of the octavangians was kneeling next to the lone survivor of my first volley, but the rest were taking up defensive positions as they raised curious-looking weapons.

I recognized them as firearms, but beyond that, they couldn’t have looked more different from what I typically used. In fact, they had more in common with tridents than rifles, but by the way they were pointing the weapons around, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that they were ranged weapons. And probably powerful ones at that.

So, it was a good thing they clearly had no idea where I was.

That was just fine by me.

I once again took aim, this time at the kneeling octavangian I expected was a medic of some sort. I activated Empowered Shot, then squeezed the trigger. The alien exploded in a shower of gore, and a second later, a hail of gunfire fell upon my position. But I was already gone, descending back into the corridor where I had some cover.

I sprinted down the walkway for almost thirty yards, passing two more entrances before reemerging into the seating area. By that point, the octavangians were in full-on panic mode as they tried to take cover behind the building. It would have been a viable strategy if I’d remained at my previous position, but given that I’d already relocated, my new angle rendered their cover moot.

I took aim once again, used my ability, and was rewarded by another exploded torso. This time, I took an extra second to shoot at another alien, but to its credit, it reacted too quickly. The ball of superheated plasma splashed harmlessly against the wall of the building, and a familiar rain of gunfire destroyed the area where, only a second before, I’d been crouched.

They were getting faster.

Not a surprise, given that they had almost assuredly gotten over their panic.

Too bad it wouldn’t do any good with their current tactics.

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than I saw a series of drones – sleeker and faster than any I’d seen before – rise into the sky. In the space of an instant, they’d closed the distance between us and opened fire. A buzzing sound of rapid gunfire filled the air even as the concrete erupted into rubble in my wake, and I ducked into another corridor just in time to avoid the worst of an explosion.

Still, the shockwave blew me forward almost ten feet. Activating Balance, I managed to twist my landing into a roll that ended with me back on my feet and running. As I did so, I embraced Stealthand ducked into one of the booths as I crouched behind the counter.

It was just in time, too, because the drones were hot on my trail. My heart was beating out of control as they stopped. There were three of them, all with white fuselages and sleek designs that reminded me of my Cutter. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d been manufactured by the same company.

Fortunately, hidden I was, I had the benefit of the stacked effects of both Camouflage and Stealth, which meant the drones had little chance of finding me, save by accident. So, with a couple of seconds to act, I used Misthackand, after spending a tense thirty seconds overcoming the thing’s defenses, deactivated one of the drones. I almost flinched as it clattered to the ground, but I narrowly managed to maintain control long enough to initiate and execute another Misthack. Half a minute later, another drone fell to the ground.

With the third one, though, I took a different tactic. Instead of simply deactivating it, I took it over. It took a little longer, but given that it was the last one, I thought it was a valid risk. And it paid off, because a little more than a minute later, a new window opened in my HUD, and I piloted the drone back through the corridor and to the octavangian camp.

It was still abuzz with activity, but the aliens seemed to relax when they saw the reappearance of the drone. Clearly, they thought that it had killed me.

So, I can only imagine their surprise when I directed the drone to close and open fire. Before they could react, I’d peppered another three aliens with holes; the drone’s ordinance wasn’t nearly as damaging as what I could bring to bear, but it was sufficient to at least wound the octavangians.

After a few seconds, they gathered their wits and fired on the drone. I tried to dodge, strafing them with gunfire at the same time, but I was no expert drone pilot, so my efforts came up short. To my surprise, though, the drone proved incredibly durable, and it took a veritable hail of gunfire to bring it down.

And given the effect their weaponry had had on the stadium’s concrete, I knew they didn’t lack firepower. Instead, the drones were obviously equipped with advanced armor. So, it was a good thing I’d used the Misthack strategy rather than try to bring them down with more conventional weapons.

By the time the octavangians downed the drone, another three aliens were dead or so injured they wouldn’t be able to fight. Counting the couple who were injured, that meant there were only three left from the original nine. However, as I’d expected, there were a handful – four, to be precise – more in the building that had come flooding out as reinforcements.

To my annoyance, when I poked my head back out, I saw that they’d retreated into the building, dragging their wounded inside.

I was more than a little tempted to just bring out the BMAP and demolish the structure, but the Rift apparatus was far too close for me to guarantee that it wouldn’t be affected. No – if I wanted to clear them out, I’d have to go down there and get them.

Grinding my teeth in frustration, I said, “Five left uninjured. At least two are wounded and probably out of the fight, but they’ve taken shelter inside their building. I’m going in.”

“Be careful,” came Patrick’s voice over my interface. “I don’t…”

I stopped listening because I was too busy diving forward as I narrowly avoided a clawed tentacle. I rolled to my feet just in time to dodge another. And another after that, raking across my arm and sending my Pulsar clattering to the ground. I could hardly even see them, they were moving so quickly, but their owner loomed over me like a specter of death.

Its skin rippled and changed color with every step, matching up with whatever was behind it. It was no wonder that I had missed it, because if it had stood still, there was no way I would have noticed. But now that it had made its move, I felt a little better about my chances.

I drew Ferdinand II from the holster at my waist, but I didn’t fire. Not immediately. I could already tell that the alien was incredibly fast, so it wasn’t out of the question that it would dodge, given the chance. So, I needed to wait for an opening.

To that end, I twisted and turned, avoiding the storm of striking tentacles; it wasn’t easy, and I took a couple of shallow cuts from its claws, but I managed to endure its barrage mostly intact. It quivered with frustration, then slowed.

To my surprise, it asked, “Why?”

I could tell that its voice didn’t really match up with what I heard, which was a strange gargling noise that sounded more like an underwater growl than anything else. But my Universal Language ability had finally shown its worth.

“We did nothing to you!” it burbled.

“You invaded my planet,” I spat. “That’s enough.”

And then I shot it. It tried to dodge, but it couldn’t move quite fast enough. Still, my shot didn’t find center mass like I’d hoped, clipping one of its shoulders instead. But that was okay – I had eight more rounds in the cylinder, and I used every last one of them. It made a valiant effort at avoiding my shots, but each one tore a chunk of its rubbery skin from its body. By the time I’d emptied the cylinder, its arms were barely hanging on, and there were no less than three holes in its chest. Still, it hadn’t died, even if it was mostly immobile now.

So, I calmly emptied the cylinder and reloaded before once again taking aim. Two shots later, it was dead. But I kept going until it was filled with another seven holes.

Finally, with that out of the way, I turned my attention back to the octavangians who’d holed up in their building. I had a plan for them, too.