We move towards the factory, our steps silent, our weapons ready. The building looms over us, dark and imposing, but we don't hesitate. We can't. We have a mission, a goal. We have people counting on us.
Rhea leads the way, her movements swift, confident. She's done this before, I can tell. She knows what she's doing, how to handle this. I follow her lead, my heart pounding, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I'm scared, terrified even, but I push it down, push it aside. I can't afford to be afraid. Not now.
We reach the entrance, a large, metal door, firmly shut. I don't see anything to do with it, but Maren does. She hurries forward, pulling out a small device from her pocket, something she's been tinkering with for days. She attaches it to the door, her fingers flying over the controls. There's a low hum, a flash of light, and then the door slides open, revealing a dark, empty corridor.
We all slip inside, our footsteps echoing in the silence. The interior of the factory is just as I remember the one from the processing camp. It's cluttered and messy. Recognizable elements of factories from Earth are everywhere, but scattered in ways that make absolutely no sense to me. It's crowded, allowing for lots of places with cover and relatively fewer aliens.
But this one has something the other one didn't - defense systems. A kind of small four-legged mechanical unit skitters down the hall, pausing in the middle of the floor. It has a dome shaped top with a gleaming red light in the center. It's small enough that I wonder for a moment if we can just...
It beeps, and then a metallic sound bursts out from its sides. Rhea is already moving. I watch her in a mix of awe and fear, as she shoulder slams into Maren, pushing her out of the way and then rolling to the floor as a volley of small metal balls pepper the wall where the mechanic had been standing.
The other four of us that had raised our hands before open fire on the device. The rest of us duck down behind the metallic debris that clutters the floor. There's a shriek of metal tearing, and a burst of steam, and the machine collapses on the ground.
"Move!" Alistair shouts, "Don't let any of them get out!" He's already on his feet, waving for us to get deeper into the factory. "Maren, Leo, Cal - With me!" And then he sprints down the hall, turning a corner, the three others rushing after him.
Rhea follows, "Jess, Kael, Hestia - secure this area. We move forward on my signal. Keep their eyes forward, Ben - watch our backs."
I don't need to be told what to do. I'm following Rhea. She's the only one who seems to know what she's doing, so I'm sticking with her. I don't think about what Alistair's doing, why he's splitting us up. It doesn't matter right now. I just need to focus on the task at hand, on surviving, on getting out of here. If we question each other now, I know what happens. I've already seen it.
A door slides open as we move deeper inside, and another machine steps out. This one is different. It's larger, more...dangerous looking. It has multiple arms, each one ending in a different weapon - a blade, a blaster, a net. It's faster too, more agile than the last one. It moves with a deadly grace, its 'eyes' scanning the area, locking onto us.
Rhea doesn't hesitate. She opens fire, her shots precise, aimed at the machine's weak points. I follow her lead, my own weapon bucking in my hands, the sound of gunfire deafening in the enclosed space. We hit it, again and again, but it doesn't go down. It keeps coming, relentless, unstoppable.
"Go, go, go!" Rhea yells, gesturing for me to move. I do, sprinting past the machine, ducking under a swipe of its blade arm. I can feel the air whistle past my head, the heat of the blaster singeing my skin. But I keep moving, keep running, until I'm behind it, out of its line of sight.
Rhea is still firing, her shots unerring. She hits something vital, something important, and the machine stumbles, its movements jerky, erratic. Then, with a final, shuddering groan, it collapses, its lights flickering out.
We don't waste time. We move forward, deeper into the factory. There are more machines, more obstacles, more dangers. But we face them together, our weapons blazing, our determination unyielding. We fight, we kill, we survive.
Then, all at once we're on the factory floor. Facing down aliens with their own weapons, and they have the high ground. It's a large, open space, the walls lined with machines, the floor littered with debris. And there's a staircase, leading to a raised platform, where the aliens are. They're armed, ready, their weapons pointed at us. Shit.
"Find cover!" Rhea shouts, already moving, her body low to the ground. I follow, diving behind a pile of scrap metal, my heart pounding, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
I look around, trying to assess the situation, to find a way out of this. The aliens are firing, their shots hitting the metal around us, the sound deafening. I can hear the others returning fire, their weapons echoing in the large space. But we're pinned down, trapped. We need to do something, need to turn the tide.
But...
What do we do?
They weren't supposed to be prepared like this. There wasn't some overlook like this in the other factory. How could be they so quick to respond?
I look over to the others crouched behind squat metal tubs of...something. White-blue shots blur through the air between us and the staircase, and I have no idea if we're hitting anything or not.
And then I hear...screaming? I turn, looking back the way we came, just in time to see three aliens falling down the stairs, weapons flying from their hands as Alistair, Maren, and Cal appear, firing into the aliens at the top of the staircase.
Alistair's face is covered in some kind of oil, his clothes torn by something. He's screaming, snarling, as she fires from the alcove they just appeared in - some kind of dummy elevator...? I can't tell from here. Cal is laughing, a sound completely at odds with the sounds of death and gunfire. Maren has an arm out of her uniform and blood is leaking out, but she continues firing.
The aliens at the top of the stairs waver, uncertain of where to fire. Do they turn and focus on the three of them, or do they continue focusing on us?
"NOW!" Rhea screams. "Move! Go! Go! Go!"
The four of us burst out of cover, firing while we run towards the staircase, taking advantage of the moment of confusion. I feel something hot burn past my face and try not to think about it. I just keep firing, keep moving, my focus entirely on reaching the stairs, on taking out the aliens.
We make it, scrambling up the stairs, our weapons never ceasing. The aliens fall, one by one, their bodies crumpling to the ground. It's brutal, messy, but it's necessary. We don't have a choice.
When it's over, when the last alien is dead, we stand there, panting, our bodies shaking with adrenaline, with fear, with the aftershocks of battle. I can see the same exhaustion, the same relief, on the faces of the others. We did it. We survived.
Maren slumps down the wall, holding her arm. The others join us, their expressions grim, satisfied. Alistair crosses the distance, pulls me close, and kisses me. It is. Entirely too dramatic and ridiculous. Extremely embarrassing, given it's in front of everyone. And I- I don't give a damn. I kiss him back.
He pulls away just as quickly, and says, "Not a bad plan, eh?"
Before I can respond, Cal bursts into laughter. "HA! Is good! Is good plan!" He slaps Alistair on the back, knocking the boy a few steps forward. "You see?! In war, you feel alive! You feel like god!"
"Cal, what the hell are you-?" Alistair hisses.
The older man ignores him and leans on the railing, looking down at the factory floor. "As I said. We survive!"
I... am dizzy. I grip the railing as I look around us. The bodies of the orange-yellow aliens lay on the grating around us. And it's... silent. Other than Cal's laughter. How did it...?
I suppose it makes sense. We knew this would be smaller. Fewer aliens, fewer defenses, so the battle being short makes sense. Short and intense but... I... am numb. How are the others not...? Rhea is already climbing down the stairs, as is Jess. Ben is checking on Hestia, and Kael is looking at the aliens.
Maren has pushed off from the wall and is now walking to some control panel. "Let's strip what we can before we burn this place."
I shake myself. Right. I'm... I'm supposed to be the one in charge, leading people, making decisions. I... haven't, really. I haven't done much of that. We just kind of... went along with what the others were doing.
A hand touches my shoulder. I glance at Cal, and find him watching me. "First battle?" He asks, head tilting.
"Yeah." I admit, breathlessly.
He nods. "First one... is hard. But you did good. Is good to have fire in your belly. Is good to burn." He looks at the bodies on the floor, the blood pooling beneath them. "But is not good to forget what it is to kill. To take life. Is not easy thing. Is not light thing." He looks back at me. "You do not forget this. Do not become monster. You are not them."
I swallow, my throat tight. "I... I won't."
He nods, his expression solemn. "Good. Then you will be fine, I think."
He moves away, but then, for some reason he stops. "Little girl."
"Huh?" I blink, looking up at him. "What?"
"Do not call me Cal." He says, looking back at me with an intense frown. "Is not my name."
"Wha..." I blink several times. It isn't? But Arden had called him it, everyone... "But everyone's called you that... for... weeks...."
"Try years." He spits, and then sighs. It's a heavy sound. "They say wrong. I get tired. But Cal is name fools use. Ivan is name for dead fools." He jabs a finger at me, making me start, just a little. "You are not a dead fool yet. You will use my name."
I can't... tell if he's insulting me or if he's being kind. Truly. And I don't think this is really the time or place to be arguing about names but-
No...
I suppose it is. We've succeeded so far, but the supply depot is everything this place isn't. It won't be a quick and easy victory. There's no guarantee we'll come away in one piece. Or at all.
I swallow. "And that name is...?"
"Mikhail." He smiles for just a moment, and then his lips twist into a grimace. "But not Misha. You are not old enough."
"Ah-what...?" Misha...? What does Misha have to do with...? "N-Not old enough?" That escapes before I fully process it, but - I'm nineteen. Maybe. Maybe even twenty. Why would I be-?
"Da." He nods. As if that explains anything.
"Don't you think - leading an expedition like this indicates..."
He waves his hand. "You are still baby."
I bristle, and I don't even know why. It's so absurd, and yet, "I just! Killed aliens!"
"Ah... very sad baby." He nods, and I can see a smile curling his lips. Somehow, I find that...! Even more frustrating!
"I-! I jumped into poison water and stabbed a monster!" I don't even know why I care. Maybe it's the nervous energy of this whole adventure...I...
Cal - no, Mikhail - laughs. "Now just wet baby."
Alistair cracks and doubles over laughing, grabbing the railing in front of him, next to me. The... the kissing traitor! I kick him in the ankle.
"Ow-ow! I'm sorry...! Agh, I'm leaving!" He scurries away from me, waving his hand, sprinting down the steps to go help the others.
The sight makes my throat close, briefly, for some reason. I don't know why. I shake myself to break away from... whatever that is. Cal - Mikhail's hand touches my shoulder again. His smile is gentle, warmer than I'm used to seeing from him.
"Do not be angry." He squeezes my shoulder. "Baby can still be dangerous. Bear cub has teeth."
The factory goes quiet for another few moments, the only sounds those of the others scavenging supplies. What I should definitely be doing, too. What I will. In a moment.
"So. It's. Mikhail." I say, finally, meeting his eyes.
He makes a disgusted face and his hand recoils. "Terrible. You say it like robot with stuck gear."
"I - sorry, I'm not-"
"Eh." His lips quirk into a faint smirk as he starts down the steps. "Is better than Cal."