Re: Chapter 1: Heat Lightning
Blair-hei’s angry warcry belched out from his armored suit and echoed small through the muddy little gun pit, filling the frequencies where sounds of bitter fighting and weapons fire fell flat. John could see the light infantry Neko who’d been trying to steal away the satchel he carried laying unconscious while he continued his desperate attack.
She was fortunate, laying there with a bloodied face and few loose teeth following the Minkan’s shield bash. At least compared to some of her comrades, now shot to pulpy, unrecognizable ribbons from John’s forearm pulse spray and the friendly plasma coming from Takeo and Kaede’s position in the trench.
The Advanced-type Mishhuvurthyar whose visceral slop fell in thick strings onto John only seconds before wasn’t among the casualties — so far three NMX Neko, counting the knocked out thief — and howled again as it surged back away from the rejuvenated Yamataian soldier. Its cry kept up, unabated if not for the gurgling sound the thing made as it inhaled HX-13’s rancid and humid rainforest air.
One of the Mishhu’s myriad tentacles lashed out toward John and twisted his right arm as his Daisy continued to hissed out its stream of death, forcing the pulse fire away from its glistening, monstrous bulk. Another few tendrils whipped from the Mishhu’s bulk, securing John’s two feet and shield arm as well, holding him in such a way that the Yamataian’s armor thrusters would likely fail if engaged.
“Get up there!” came a barking order that John could hear clearly in his helmet. Takeo’s voice always had a little edge to it, but this time the urgency crackled in an unmistakably sharp and direct way. The heisho’s own hailing fusillade ceased as she charged, her plasma rifle swinging at hip level as she trudged the last few yards closer to John, the surviving enemies, and their objective.
By now, one of the Nekovalkyrja left manning the gun had drawn her NCO’s saber. John’s limbs, though constricted, still tried to fight back against the beast’s hold. Even inside his Daisy, he could feel gross tentacles slipping over its Yama-Dura alloy plates and the little particles of dirt and detritus dragging between him and his captor.
The NMX sergeant set her feet decidedly despite the war raging around her and raised the saber over her head. Two more Neko kept her covered with their Impaler rifles while the Advanced-type held John while he struggled for his life. The enemy NCO’s movements seemed almost ceremonial. Indeed, any soldier who knew Yamatai’s martial traditions would notice a familiarly deliberate, exacting sequence as she slowly brought her blade close to John’s outstretched arm and back up again in preparation to take it from him.
Blair-hei’s angry warcry belched out from his armored suit and echoed small through the muddy little gun pit, filling the frequencies where sounds of bitter fighting and weapons fire fell flat. John could see the light infantry Neko who’d been trying to steal away the satchel he carried laying unconscious while he continued his desperate attack.
She was fortunate, laying there with a bloodied face and few loose teeth following the Minkan’s shield bash. At least compared to some of her comrades, now shot to pulpy, unrecognizable ribbons from John’s forearm pulse spray and the friendly plasma coming from Takeo and Kaede’s position in the trench.
The Advanced-type Mishhuvurthyar whose visceral slop fell in thick strings onto John only seconds before wasn’t among the casualties — so far three NMX Neko, counting the knocked out thief — and howled again as it surged back away from the rejuvenated Yamataian soldier. Its cry kept up, unabated if not for the gurgling sound the thing made as it inhaled HX-13’s rancid and humid rainforest air.
One of the Mishhu’s myriad tentacles lashed out toward John and twisted his right arm as his Daisy continued to hissed out its stream of death, forcing the pulse fire away from its glistening, monstrous bulk. Another few tendrils whipped from the Mishhu’s bulk, securing John’s two feet and shield arm as well, holding him in such a way that the Yamataian’s armor thrusters would likely fail if engaged.
“Get up there!” came a barking order that John could hear clearly in his helmet. Takeo’s voice always had a little edge to it, but this time the urgency crackled in an unmistakably sharp and direct way. The heisho’s own hailing fusillade ceased as she charged, her plasma rifle swinging at hip level as she trudged the last few yards closer to John, the surviving enemies, and their objective.
By now, one of the Nekovalkyrja left manning the gun had drawn her NCO’s saber. John’s limbs, though constricted, still tried to fight back against the beast’s hold. Even inside his Daisy, he could feel gross tentacles slipping over its Yama-Dura alloy plates and the little particles of dirt and detritus dragging between him and his captor.
The NMX sergeant set her feet decidedly despite the war raging around her and raised the saber over her head. Two more Neko kept her covered with their Impaler rifles while the Advanced-type held John while he struggled for his life. The enemy NCO’s movements seemed almost ceremonial. Indeed, any soldier who knew Yamatai’s martial traditions would notice a familiarly deliberate, exacting sequence as she slowly brought her blade close to John’s outstretched arm and back up again in preparation to take it from him.
