Stormblood, стр. 138

There was no telling when Jae would launch her assault, and Harmony wasn’t about to let her make the first move. Damage control squads were assembled to deal with the fallout if the House of Suns succeeded in activating the Surge. They were already quarantining infected civilians, supplying them with stormtech suppressors under the watchful care of first-class xenobiologists and medics. Compass was honeycombed and striated with bulkheads and backup life-support systems that would kick in if a floor was breached or required quarantine. Rehab centres were being fully staffed and operational around the clock. Media departments were preparing vid-transcripts explaining the situation to the public.

Wasn’t about to say it, but I had an inkling they were wasting their time. If Jae really did succeed in turning Compass into a beacon for the Shenoi, we were all finished anyway. But looking out at the wide gathering that made up Harmony’s Special Service Command, I let the thoughts melt away. All these people were going to dive face-first into hell, knowing many would never return home and leaving behind friends, family, loved ones. I told myself to trust in them. Trust that we’d give everything we had to make this work. Because, at the end of the day, it’s not machines or power or big ships or big guns that makes a difference. It’s people. People willing to fight like hell for the ones they care about.

As Saren delved into some complicated tactical formation, Katherine leaned in to ask if I’d made all the calls. I told her I had.

The briefing ended. Fincher, Harmony’s chief armourer, came to inform me my new suit was ready. A blade-thin woman with sweeping dark hair who seemed more in place at the head of a business empire than a grease-spattered workshop. She led me to the armoury on the outermost section of the Station and towards the podium where the armour awaited. Gunpowder Milkshake had sent me a new suit. Since Harmony was footing the bill this time, I wasn’t about to go for anything but the best. It was a towering beast of black and dark gold plating, so bulky it took a team of several armourers to strap me into it. The helmet had drag-fins and a slick, mirrored curve for a faceplate, glowing with pulsating lights. The inner gel-padding spilled like oily liquid down my back, before forming a resin-like substance that tightened against my body for extra mobility and dexterity. I felt the silicon plating expand with the clenching of my muscles, the close biochemical calibration and hydraulics fine-tuned to strike the balance between mobility and protection. I could feel the composite layers of inner materials, hydrostatic gels, pressure seals, titanium alloy shells, superconductors, microelectric fields, nanoparticle surfacing and shielding, all slotting together like three-dee puzzle pieces, wrapped up and locked with airtight firmness around me. I couldn’t stop grinning. I could practically feel the thing snorting like a bull, ready to rampage.

Fincher rattled off some of the perks. Blades hidden in the sleeves. Emergency ejection. Additional magnetic weapons holsters. Kinetically rechargeable nanoshielding – good against bullets and plasma rounds, but not against diamond-edged slingshivs.

Fully armoured, I walked across the scuffed decking towards the utility-cluttered armoury to meet the rest of my fireteam. Led by Saren, it was composed of Kowalski, Jasken and the Shocktroopers from our assault on the Warren – Arya, Kuen and Vanto. Jasken lumbered over in his scarred and blackened gear, lugging a crate of scattershots, handcannons, autofiles, carbines and railguns. ‘Planning a good night out?’ I asked.

Jasken shrugged. ‘Why shoot something once when you can shoot it fifty times?’

‘Let’s hope our enemies don’t have the same philosophy.’

Jasken hefted the meanest looking scattershot I’d ever seen. ‘Actually, I hope they do.’

‘You want them to kill you?’

‘No, I want to see them try.’ He planted himself on a munitions crate, scattershot balanced on his armoured knee. ‘Listen, kid. I’m glad you could make all this work. Couldn’t have been easy.’

‘Just doing what needs to be done,’ I said.

Jasken snorted and wolfed down an energy bar. ‘I don’t believe that, and I’m not sure you do either. But to hell with that, we’ve got cultists to kill.’ He jabbed the energy bar in my direction. ‘Want some?’

‘How the hell can you eat at a time like this?’

‘I always eat before battle,’ Jasken said. ‘Can’t imagine a worse way to go than dying on an empty stomach.’

I collected my weapons from the gleaming racks, strapping appropriate utilities and blades to the magnetic holders on my waist. Quickmatter clips and energy cartridges being slotted in like knuckles cracking. Voices streamed from the speakers, ordering Cobalt Squad to move out. Thudding down the corridor with my fireteam, armed and armoured to the teeth, I was suddenly whipped back to my Reaper fireteam. Us pulling on our armour, trading jokes or insults, moving out to fight on some new, alien landscape. Most of them were dead and buried and I wished more than anything they’d lived to see the future they’d given so much for.

Which meant it was up to me to make it count.