Combat

You jerk, shake your head free of sleep and flooffy-haired cats.

""—come to Newcastle, Rangers,"" finishes LOCCENT.

You can nap standing up.

Huh.

Cool.

""Standard two-team formation,"" orders the Marshal. ""SE-05, take point. VS-04, stay two-hundred meters off their left flank. Hold the ten-mile line. Estimate five minutes to contact. Happy hunting.""

""VS-04, drop when you're ready.""

Glance over at Jack.

He sets his jaw. Nods.

"Disengaging transport." You key in the command.

A /*ka-chunk* you feel in your teeth and—

You're weightless.

Whee.

Then your feet slam into the ocean with nineteen-hundred tons behind them and your teeth rattle again.

""SE-05 ready and waiting at the ten-mile line.""

Lock the comm 'open.' "VS-04 holding at the ten-mile line."

""Just follow our lead and this'll go fine,"" assures Old Hansen.

""Yea, leave this to the /**real** pilots.""

Jack must catch a glimpse of your mental Chuckles pincushion because he chokes on a laugh.

Chuckles huffs, ""What's so fun—""

""Movement. Ten o'clock,"" announces Old Hansen.

Shieldbreaker heaves itself out of the water directly in front of /*Striker*, maybe a quarter-kilometer ahead.

It's a snub-nosed thing, like a bulldog, with blunt teeth in its short jaw.

Primary arms come up—

They're longer than /*Vulcan*'s.

—each ending in six fingers and no thumb, all tipped with sickle claws the length of city buses.

Secondary arms have claws longer than the family car.

And you're slow and supposed to fight melee—guns an absolute last resort.

Gonna have to get creative to win this.

You're gonna win this.

No question.

/*Striker* rushes toward the Kaiju.

""Try 'n keep up!"" yells Chuckles.

You grit your teeth. "Here we go."

/*Striker*'s too fast to match pace with, but they don't open up too much've a lead.

Shieldbreaker's ... circling?

Sizing /*Striker* up.

Kaiju aren't supposed to do that.

Supposed to charge in, mindless attackers, yea?

Sidesteps /*Striker*'s first wild swing.

Definitely giving /*Vulcan* a once-over now.

Keeps circling, wider now.

C'mon, ugly, make a move.

It charges /*Striker*—

/*Striker* slides out of the way, misses a grab for a secondary arm—

—whips around, swipes for her back—

—channels the momentum into a turn, lands a jab to the end of Shieldbreaker's nose—

—catches the Jaeger's shoulder, sparks flying.

Ignore orders and creep closer.

Scope out the scene.

Great.

They're churning up surf and mud as they lurch around.

If this thing dives, we'll never see it coming.

Don't let it dive, then.

The damn thing hunches, leaps, headbutts /*Striker*.

""Lost some glass!"" yells Old Hansen.

Wonderful.

They connect with an uppercut.

The Kaiju tips sideways, splashes down, flails, and rights itself.

/*Striker* closes in again, winding up a haymaker.

Shieldbreaker ducks the punch, disappears into the water.

Fuck.

Rush up, get back-to-back with /*Striker*.

""What're you— Keep your distance!""

"Can't have you falling, Hansen!"

""We can take care of ourselves!""

Maybe it's scared of you—yea, right—because it surges to the surface in front of /*Striker*, roaring like a jet intake.

Monster lashes out with both sets of arms, catches /*Striker* across the chest.

The Hansens must really feel it 'cause they curse a streak.

The bone-on-metal screech sets your teeth on edge.

Jack cringes hard enough to pull /*Vulcan* with him.

Shieldbreaker sees it and lunges for you—

/*Striker* drives it off with another heavy haymaker—

—screams—only word for that sound—as its third arm flops uselessly from its busted shoulder.

Blue sprays as /*Striker* takes off the limb with their blades. Must nick some tendons in the big one, too, 'cause it ain' moving quite right.

Time to do your part. "Back off for a shot! We'll hold it!"

""Got it!""

You sneak up from behind it, get it in a headlock from its weak side.

It thrashes, rakes your arm with with its good forearms, your back with the weak ones.

Fucking /**hurts**. "Any time now!"

Three thuds into the flat of the Kaiju's side and enough kickback to cost you your grip and a lot of your balance.

Shieldbreaker twists free and heads for the coast.

""Get back on it!""

Not like you have a choice when it whirls on you, glowing blue tongue splitting another roar.

It leaps for your throat—

/*Striker* grabs you by your scruff and hauls you outta the way.

—only manages to graze your side on the way by.

"Thanks!" Jack yells, all polite.

You'd face-palm if the damn Kaiju wasn't coming back for another try at your head.

You shake /*Striker* off, put everything you have behind your fist.

The short jaw shatters and you'd swear the thing looks confused, if Kaiju could be confused, as it tries to close its mouth.

You snort.

Then you see the second—pharyngeal jaw, like the Xenomorph in /*Alien*.

For fuck's sake, Jack, not the time for nerdery!

""Retreating to missile range,"" states Old Hansen.

Shieldbreaker hunkers down and its hindquarters bunch, telegraphing another headbutt.

"Cop—"

Jack gets his arm in the way of its mouth.

Then its teeth are in his arm and he's growling back at the thing.

You grit your teeth and whack at its face.

It gets a hand on your chest and Jack's armpit is a lot more exposed.

Not good.

You go for its eyes—

A second set of claws, this time on your collarbone.

—and connect with its nose.

Damn thing heaves its third arm onto your shoulder and the Conn-pod floor is /**definitely** less level than it was a second ago.

Fuck.

It outweighs you by half and all of that weight is pushing above your center of gravity.

The engines whine to life, but it's too little, too late.

You're going over backward.

Don't break the fall—arm'll snap like a twig.

You settle against the bottom, wheeze under the damn thing's bulk.

It plants a knee on your sternum, grabs you by the collar, slams your head against the ground.

You literally see stars.

Shake them clear in time to see claws swing past the glass.

Why hasn't it crushed Jack's arm—should have the force ....

An eye comes into view, looking at the sight—

Not 'at.'

/**In.**

Pupil as tall as you—iris's too big to see from here—flicks left.

Jack's heart skips.

Pupil flicks right.

It looks at you.

hidedon'tlookitintheeyehidedon'tgiveusawayhidehidehideLOGAN

It /**sees** you.

It /**knows** we're in here.

You swallow.

No big deal.

Can't hide if it already knows.

Fucker has gears turning in there.

The eye moves away.

Turning on what, no idea, but—

A flash of claw.

Your face burns.

The eye again, farther away—

Claw coming straight at—

Stops suddenly.

Stays—no, stuck.

You bite back a giggle (or Jack does).

The fucker's wedged in between the visor and ventail—

It's trying to break the glass.

**/It /wants /to /drown /us.**

No way.

Pressure against your chest.

No /fucking way.

Leverageleverageleverage—

Your feet scrape and scrabble against the sea bed.

Like hell we're going out like this.

The claw comes free.

—found it!

Right leg braced.

Twist your entire body, put everything you have into that foot and your arm—

Jack's arm's free?

—and shove—

And the damn thing's gone.

And you've thrown yourself over face-first into the muck, flail to your feet, panting, light-headed, almost giddy.

You suck a few lungfuls of air.

Look around for /*Striker*—

Something scratches your back.

You stagger about.

The Kaiju's got its jaw locked on /*Striker*'s right shoulder, 's scratching and kicking at their wings.

Grab the back of the jaw and wrench the teeth outta her arm.

This jaw snaps, too.

You'll laugh—and break it—if there's a third.

Shieldbreaker retaliates with a swipe at Jack's knee—

The ground shifts—

And you're back underwater, and, by the jostling, in a landslide.

This is getting really old.

""VS-04, scan suggests a disrupted gas pocket. Move away as soon as possible.""

Fuckers.

"Copy that," you reply.

You dig yourselves free; resurface in waist-deep water and ankle-deep sludge.

Now, /*Striker* ... can't be dead; Chuckles is yelling ....

There!

It's pushed them a good half-kilometer, trying to finish its job on her wings.

A sizzle along your left arm.

"Fuck you doing?!"

"What do you think?!"

"You can't hit—"

Gold flashes red. "Which've us had the headshot record?!"

"This ain't a—"

He fires.

Shot slams into the thing's backbone, just behind its shoulders.

It screams again.

Kinetic transfer pushes it away from /*Striker*.

"Nice shot!"

"I was aiming for its head."

"That better be a reference, asswipe."

Jack laughs, big and open, like he used to.

You grin.

Adrenaline's a wonderful thing.

The Hansens have the Kaiju by the throat.

Herc orders, ""You take it.""

Only its forelimbs flail and claw at /*Striker*.

Jack's shot broke its spine, paralyzed its back half.

Another wave of nausea.

Dammit, Jack.

You charge your gun as you wade up.

"Yes, sir," you force out.

/*Striker* backs off a step, releases their grip.

Shieldbreaker scrabbles to hold on, streaks Blue across /Striker's armour with its remaining hands.

It hits the water, throwing up an enormous wave.

With effort, it forces its eyes and nostrils back above the surface.

You aim for the base of its skull.

Suck air through your teeth, fight off Jack's latest bout of queasiness.

It looks right at you, eyes dull, and blinks slowly.

It knows.

/**Jesus.**

Fire.

A geyser erupts at your feet, showering you and /*Striker* with Blue, seawater, brain stem, mud, and bone fragments.

Shieldbreaker stops moving, sinks under the waves.

""Kaiju signature lost,"" declares LOCCENT. ""Thing's dead. Good work.""

The Marshal hops on the comm. ""Nice job, VS-04. That's a kill for you and an assist for SE-05. Come back in and we'll update your paint.""

You don't flip the asshole off as you trudge back to the extraction point.

Don't think about how close you came to dying.

You made it.

Don't think about that thing welcoming your last shot.
You had to.