Free Apex by Aer-ki Jyr Page B

the loaders to travel.
    Four of the flatbeds were now behind the crates, out of sight save for their high towers. The others should have held back until the first set was loaded, but instead they drove up through the gap between crates and parked there. Then the next set pulled up directly between the crates and the ship.
    Jalia’s hand dipped down to the holster on her left hip, brushing against it gently.
    Suddenly there was a blur of commotion behind her, barely audible but for a mass of footsteps. Four of the Cres ran down the ramp and circled around it, with Ivara running up to Jalia and pulling her aside as dozens of armed mercs swarmed around the corners of the crate stacks.
    â€œKitja,” she spat as the Cres pulled her over to one of the Resolute ’s landing legs and took cover as the mercenaries opened fire with a hail of red and green lachar blasts.
    â€œStay down, Junta. We’ll deal with this.”
    Jalia noticed that Ivara had a chest plate on instead of the envirosuit. Her dark blue eyes scanned the area intently, then suddenly her heavy vest activated, seemingly on its own, and expanded across the rest of her body. Within two dek she was covered in a full suit of combat armor and dove out of cover, firing a small handheld lachar as she rolled headfirst onto the ground. She leapt out of the somersault and into a run, firing an extremely fast salvo of tiny gold lachar bursts.
    Jalia pulled out her trusty pistol and ducked around to the opposite side of the landing leg, taking a quick peek. Two mercs were on the ground with another five firing at Ivara and many more behind them taking what cover they could or simply dropping to a knee.
    Taking a quick breath, Jalia leaned out of cover and shot one of the yellow-­adorned Presca in the chest. Her orange shot made him stumble backwards, but failed to penetrate his armor. She got off another two quick shots that missed before ducking back behind the landing leg and circling around to the other side. She knelt down on her left knee, her shoulder pressed against the ship’s leg, then stepped out on her right side and fired another two shots into the same Presca as he was getting back to his feet. One hit his arm, another clipped the hole in his chest armor and took him down for keeps.
    Jalia pushed back with her right leg and fell backwards onto her tail behind cover.
    â€œOuch,” she moaned, then fell silent as she listened intently. There was so much gunfire that it was hard to hear, but . . .
    A grenade explosion jarred her teeth together. It had come from the other side of the landing leg, and fairly close if she had to guess by the brief wave of concussion-­induced numbness washing over her body.
    Jalia rolled onto her knee and up to her feet, then carefully looked back around the other side of the ship’s leg. Two mercs were dead and . . . in pieces. There was a black smear on the ground not far from where her downed Presca lay. She glanced up over her shoulder and saw some small debris tears in the landing leg.
    â€œQuit blowing up my ship!” she yelled, taking a potshot at another merc farther away.
    M ARREN HAD COME down the ramp in the face of over a dozen mercs, with more coming around the edge of the crates. The Cres had sensed them coming, for there were far too many minds for empty trucks. Already activating his battle armor, he ran out of the ship and took aim at the horde just after telepathically sending an impulse into the lot that someone had appeared on the tarmac to their left out of nowhere.
    As they reacted to the phantom fighter, Marren unleashed a quick semi-­auto burst into the group. The first three-­round lachar spurt caught a merc in the head, the second hit another in the leg, the third dead center in the first one’s chest, and the fourth landed on another’s neck. By then Marren was halfway to them, sending another mental misdirection to the group.
    Some took the