Apex by Aer-ki Jyr Page A

but knew this must take priority. She monitored the minds of her fellow Cres, keeping aware of what was going on as well as taking note of the positions of the enemy. None had yet boarded the ramp. If and when any did, then she would act. Until then she needed to stay with their crate.
    She was so intent on the ramp as the enemy’s only means of entrance that she missed the presence of another mind much closer . . . until it shot her in the back.
    Orrona bounced forward into the crate, ricocheting off it and landing on her butt.
    The Death Head scout put two more shots into her chest before she could fire back . . . at nothing.
    Instinctively she moved to the side, the pain of the superheated armor melting into her chest making her eyes water. Her shields were down, and she didn’t know where the shots had come from. In the brief respite that followed she reached out mentally trying to identify the shooter, only to realize he was coming around to her right, directly behind her.
    Their crate was to her left, and she was sprawled on the floor, so she laid back, bringing her weapon up over her chest and pointing back over her head. She aimed for the mental presence and fired.
    A dark shadow suddenly lit up in a cascade of neon colors as the scout’s camouflage armor attempted to match the luminal intensity of the lachar blast . . . something it was never designed to do. Orrona pumped several more shots into the now obvious attacker, dropping him to the ground with several columns of smoke rising from his charred flesh.
    Orrona pulled herself to her feet, feeling the burning sensation in her chest ease up, but an intense pain persisted. Her armor was cooling down, but she was still burnt underneath. Hefting her rifle, she mentally scanned the ship looking for more intruders. Confident that there were no more, she limped forward and headed to the boarding ramp. If any more were to get aboard they would have to go directly past her, and a camosuit wasn’t going to fool her a second time.
    J ALIA HELD HER own behind the landing leg, knowing full well all the enemy had to do to take her down was rush her laterally. Fortunately there was enough chaos that they didn’t pay much attention to her. She made use of that advantage, taking potshots at mercs preoccupied with the Cres. Whether she hit them or distracted them, she was aiding the golden-­armored wonders, which was all that mattered.
    One on one, she might have been able to take one of the mercs. Maybe even two on a good day, but she wasn’t outfitted for combat, nor was she trained for it. She was a scrapper for sure, and a decent shot with her sidearm, but on this impromptu warfront she was out of her league and she knew it, which made her more than happy to be able to keep her head down while helping out a bit here and there.
    As the weaponsfire died down, Jalia kept to her position. She didn’t want to walk out from cover, but from the sound of things the battle was coming to a close. Who won she wasn’t quite sure, but she hadn’t seen any of the Cres actually go down.
    What seemed to be an annoyingly long time later, Ivara’s voice entered her mind again.
    It’s over. We need to leave immediately.
    â€œYou think?” Jalia whispered sarcastically, then belatedly realized that Ivara had probably ‘heard’ her think that as she jogged back to the boarding ramp. Orrona came down the ramp pulling the body of a merc and dumped it over the side. She yipped a bit with the effort and Jalia noticed a large charred section of her chest armor, which was now retracted into vest mode.
    â€œI’ll live,” the Cres said, anticipating her question.
    Jalia nodded and left her at the ramp as she headed into the ship and up to the bridge. She was starting to get used to the Cres reading her mind, and it certainly saved time.
    When she hit the bridge and saw it was clear, Jalia slipped her pistol back in its