Cold Fusion - A Sci-fi, Fantasy, and Fusion Short Story Anthology

Company D4

Looking almost as battered as the cratered ground around it, the perimeter fence, a series of energized pylons that should've been weaving an impassable net of deadly light and sound, only sputtered fitful sparks at their approach.

"Fence is down, but for how long?" B wondered out loud. "It looks like it's still hooked into their power grid." B had been a combat engineer before his unit got sprayed with a toxic chemical soup a couple days ago, another gift from the Sato, a race that favored chemical and biological weapons. His unit died within minutes yet he was spared. But not for long; the toxins were melting his connective tissue, turning him into soup from the inside out. Only the general's experimental drug cocktail was keeping him going.

"Doesn't matter," Chanse said as he continued towards the fence while the others slowed up. He went over the fence threshold and took up a position by the burned out shell of a nearby building.

"We're not coming back this way anyway."

He carefully looked around the corner and frowned when he spotted several krogan moving towards them, each carrying what appeared to be tool belts. Engineers, perhaps?

"They don't look like soldiers," K breathed as he hunkered down beside Chanse and peered around the corner as well. "We could snipe them from cover and take them out before they raise the alarm."

"Good idea," Chanse returned as D and G joined them "Except none of us are snipers. Most aren't even combat rated."

"You are," K pointed out.

"Yeah, on spider mobile armor. Give me a spider and I'll gladly roll down there and kill those engineers. As it is ..." Chanse flipped his rifle's munitions selector to heavy shot.

"I have to do it the hard way. And I'm definitely not glad about it." Then he was stepping around the corner and firing.

The first two went down fast with smoking holes in their bellies. He got the third as it tossed aside a tool and reached for a side arm. Then the remaining four were charging him too fast for him to aim the high-powered heavy-shot plasma round.

Biting back an oath, he toggled the rifle to rapid fire and proceeded to hose the remaining krogan with a stream of energized plasma. He pointed his weapon at the big amphibians' bellies, where they had the majority of their primary organs instead of their chests, like humans. Thankfully his aim was good enough that he managed to bring two more of them down before they were too close for him to get his weapon around fast enough to deal with the last of them.

Chanse braced for the two krogan to hit him, knowing that it'd be a massive war blade getting jammed through his body next. The wickedly curved daggers, big enough to be called swords, were a favorite close quarters weapon for the powerful aliens, sharp as razors and propelled by muscles strong enough to punch the blades through his body, armor notwithstanding.

Only to see both spun to the side with shots to the body. Blinking, he reset himself and shot both in the belly, the other shots enough to knock them down but not kill them. He then looked over his shoulder at the three that had stepped around the corner to help him.

"Thanks. Now let's haul ass! It's already 1720. We have just over two hours to achieve our objective. C'mon!" With that he was running as hard as he could for the next building in the line he was starting to see leading them to the bunker.

That run, as short as it was, was almost too much for his weakened body to take even with the drug cocktail. He was staggering by the time he reached the next building, chest heaving and pain washing through his body. Teeth grit against the agony gnawing at his bones, he leaned his rifle against the wall and fumbled for his booster kit.