display drew them ever farther into valley, towards the outskirts of civilization below. Once into the city, it would be much harder to slip by undetected. Four guns would not be nearly enough then, with or without armor, and he knew it. That was why he kept up his constant vigil, monitoring his rifle display hopefully and tapping in over the comm at regular, frequent intervals. Two clicks in and out, followed by expectant silence, repeated as often as he dared without broadcasting his position.
His rifle display beeped quietly, and Tyco glanced at it nervously. The glowing white navigation ring told him immediately why it had notified him: based on the their coordinates, they had just entered the intended pod landing zone. At least a dozen pod markers should have shown up on the scanner, and a chorus of clicks should have sounded in answer on the comm. But there was nothing there, nothing but silence all around.
Tyco could feel Ringo’s eyes on him each time he checked, waiting, expectant, and increasingly anxious. Finally, after stopping at the top of a ridge to adjust their course again, he caught Ringo staring back at him, quiet and suspicious, twirling his machete absentmindedly. Ringo looked away slowly, caught the machete cleanly by its blade and replaced it in its holster.
“While it’s just the three of us,” he growled, “You wanna talk about what we’re doing out here?”
Tyco shook his head. “When we reach the rally point.”
Ringo snorted. “Fucking need-to-know bullshit.”
Tyco glanced at Ghost and smiled thinly. “Saving my breath for the right audience.”
“What audience?” Ringo was instantly, bristling at the thought of being disrespected.
“The others, at the rendezvous. Wouldn’t be efficient for me to tell you now.” Tyco watched Ringo carefully, watched the anger build in his eyes. It was a dangerous game he was playing, needling Ringo this early, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Beyond the vague outline he’d given the troopers in the launch bay, he had little more information to give. Until they reached their rendezvous and the satellite updated the information in his rifle display, he couldn’t give him the answers he wanted, and what little he did know would only frustrate him further. So it was better to keep Ringo in the dark and slightly angry, thinking he was being slighted, than try to answer him and allow the seed of doubt to plant in his head. Had it been anyone else asking, Ghost included, he might have felt differently, but with Ringo…
A pinging on his display broke the silence between the men. Ghost and Tyco checked their displays instinctively, ignoring Ringo’s menacing stare.
“Contact.” Tyco looked up at Ghost, seeing the same glimmer of hope in his eyes. “At last.” He turned into the woods, pulling his rifle off his shoulder and setting course directly for the beacon.
They found the pod in a small, green clearing. It was unopened, but not alone. Three of the local soldiers had found it first, and were now trying to force its latch. They laughed easily, making a game of it, taking turns slamming the dark glass with their rifle butts and kicking at it with their boots. The bulletproof door was unresponsive, and Tyco could see through his scope that they were making very little headway.
The soldiers soon grew bored, and their efforts became more focused and earnest. When a quick burst of gunfire did nothing to break the glass, one of the men forced his rifle tip deep into the crack between the latch and the pod's body. He set about throwing his weight against it, working the hard metal deeper into the groove.
The distracted soldiers didn't notice as Tyco crept up on them. They didn’t hear Ringo's machete clanging against his rifle barrel as he took up a flanking position, and they certainly heard nothing of Ghost’s creeping advance along the forest floor. Nor did they hear the crackle of the comms wavelength as
His rifle display beeped quietly, and Tyco glanced at it nervously. The glowing white navigation ring told him immediately why it had notified him: based on the their coordinates, they had just entered the intended pod landing zone. At least a dozen pod markers should have shown up on the scanner, and a chorus of clicks should have sounded in answer on the comm. But there was nothing there, nothing but silence all around.
Tyco could feel Ringo’s eyes on him each time he checked, waiting, expectant, and increasingly anxious. Finally, after stopping at the top of a ridge to adjust their course again, he caught Ringo staring back at him, quiet and suspicious, twirling his machete absentmindedly. Ringo looked away slowly, caught the machete cleanly by its blade and replaced it in its holster.
“While it’s just the three of us,” he growled, “You wanna talk about what we’re doing out here?”
Tyco shook his head. “When we reach the rally point.”
Ringo snorted. “Fucking need-to-know bullshit.”
Tyco glanced at Ghost and smiled thinly. “Saving my breath for the right audience.”
“What audience?” Ringo was instantly, bristling at the thought of being disrespected.
“The others, at the rendezvous. Wouldn’t be efficient for me to tell you now.” Tyco watched Ringo carefully, watched the anger build in his eyes. It was a dangerous game he was playing, needling Ringo this early, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Beyond the vague outline he’d given the troopers in the launch bay, he had little more information to give. Until they reached their rendezvous and the satellite updated the information in his rifle display, he couldn’t give him the answers he wanted, and what little he did know would only frustrate him further. So it was better to keep Ringo in the dark and slightly angry, thinking he was being slighted, than try to answer him and allow the seed of doubt to plant in his head. Had it been anyone else asking, Ghost included, he might have felt differently, but with Ringo…
A pinging on his display broke the silence between the men. Ghost and Tyco checked their displays instinctively, ignoring Ringo’s menacing stare.
“Contact.” Tyco looked up at Ghost, seeing the same glimmer of hope in his eyes. “At last.” He turned into the woods, pulling his rifle off his shoulder and setting course directly for the beacon.
They found the pod in a small, green clearing. It was unopened, but not alone. Three of the local soldiers had found it first, and were now trying to force its latch. They laughed easily, making a game of it, taking turns slamming the dark glass with their rifle butts and kicking at it with their boots. The bulletproof door was unresponsive, and Tyco could see through his scope that they were making very little headway.
The soldiers soon grew bored, and their efforts became more focused and earnest. When a quick burst of gunfire did nothing to break the glass, one of the men forced his rifle tip deep into the crack between the latch and the pod's body. He set about throwing his weight against it, working the hard metal deeper into the groove.
The distracted soldiers didn't notice as Tyco crept up on them. They didn’t hear Ringo's machete clanging against his rifle barrel as he took up a flanking position, and they certainly heard nothing of Ghost’s creeping advance along the forest floor. Nor did they hear the crackle of the comms wavelength as
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