Page 23 of Fated in A Time of War
“Yes,” I hiss. I slap the side of my helmet, forcing the cracked HUD to sync. A window flares open, signal bars crawling. It’s weak, but alive.
I thumb the comm, jaw tight. “Alliance Command, Horus IV sector Tanuki, this is Krall Vakutan, Alpha Two squad. Coordinates uploaded. Hostile Kru presence. Request immediate retrieval and fire support. Repeat, hostile Kru presence. Over.”
The tower buzzes, static roaring back. But the light blinks—burst ping encrypted and away. It’s out. That’s all that matters.
I look up at Alice. She’s still perched against the tower, mask half torn from the heat, eyes bright with something I can’t name. Relief? Triumph? Doesn’t matter. We did it.
Then the world explodes.
A fusion block whistles through the air, lobbed with casual precision. It lands not ten meters from us.
“Down!” I roar, throwing myself against the tower’s base.
The blast rips the ground apart. The shockwave hurls me sideways. Ferroglass shatters in a scream. My ears ring, my HUD dies in a flood of static.
Pain tears up my ribs, hot and sharp. Shrapnel’s lodged deep—I can feel the wet warmth spreading under my armor. My lungs seize.
Alice screams—at least I think she does. The ringing makes it all muffled, far away.
Through the haze, I see Funzil—big bastard, crimson-etched armor, already priming another block. He’s laughing. I can see it in the tilt of his helmet, in the swagger of his stance.
“No—” My voice is a growl in my own skull.
I grab Alice’s arm, yank her down from the tower hard enough she slams against me. She fights for a second, startled, then realizes what I’m doing.
“Service tunnel!” I bark, pointing with the rifle even as my vision swims. A maintenance hatch, half-collapsed, gapes like a black mouth in the rubble.
Rounds chew into the ferroglass behind us, showering sparks. My legs scream, ribs on fire, but I don’t stop. I drag her with me, half shoving, half carrying, blood slicking my side.
Another blast rocks the ground. Dirt rains down. The Kru are closing in.
No time to process or time to bleed.
Just escape.
I shove Alice headfirst into the tunnel, then follow, rifle dragging, every breath a knife in my chest. The dark swallows us whole.
CHAPTER 8
ALICE
The tunnel swallows us whole.
It’s narrow enough that my shoulder scrapes rust on one side and cold concrete kisses my cheek on the other. The air is wet—old water, oil, and something sweeter that turns my stomach. Fresh blood. It threads the damp with a metallic tang that coats the back of my tongue. Krall’s boots slap soft and sure, even with the hitch in his stride. He’s limping, but he doesn’t make a sound. His jaw is a carved thing in the dark, every muscle holding its breath.
The world above is still there—distant, muted by rubble and depth. Muffled thumps shiver grit loose from the ceiling. Somewhere, a voice barks orders through a speaker, distorted into a demon gargle I can’t translate. The Kru are hunting.
I stumble once, catching myself on a weeping pipe. It leaves my palm slick with cold, chemical-flavored water. It’s not pain that makes my knees soft. It’s the afterburn of terror, the adrenaline-hangover shake that hits when your body realizes you’re not dead yet and doesn’t know what to do with the leftover fear.
“Keep up,” Krall murmurs without looking back. His voice is gravel rolled in smoke.
“I am,” I whisper. My teeth chatter once. I press them together until they stop.
We angle left through a hatch so low I have to duck. Beyond is a maintenance junction, a crooked room where conduit veins meet and cross, where ancient warning labels curl off the panels like dead petals. A small service screen flickers in sickly green. It gives the darkness a heartbeat.
Krall sweeps the corners with his rifle, then points. “There.” The service corridor tightens to a bottleneck past the junction—good kill zone for anyone following.
Another rumble above—closer this time. Dust powders my hair. The Kru aren’t guessing. They’re triangulating.
