Gucci had begun the assault unenthusiastically. When the smoke burst ahead of the tree line, her fellow operators dashed forward to engage the enemy, while she marched at a slower, relaxed pace. The Raiders

  and ODTs who couldn't handle the cliff face would leapfrog up the southern approach, pushing through the bunkers on the ridge, and neutralizing any survivors. Then they would rush inside the objective and assist the climbing

  team in the fight against Rayker, whilst saving the world from the greatest Jotnar superweapon ever discovered.

  Gucci, meanwhile, would follow a sheltered route up the northern side with a small collection of Collective scientists in tow. During the ascent she would watch over them, keep their morale up with songs,

  and fix up any booboos they might sustain in their feeble attempts to master terrain more challenging than an office staircase. As any good babysitter should.

  During this delicate operation, she would also be carrying her own heavy, but now useless, sniper rifle. Had she thought that someone else would take care of it, Urtiga had wanted to know? Had she brought

  a personal servant? Was she going to leave it behind for the Barrochian soldiers to find when they inevitably flew over to investigate the area? Was she complaining like a sulking Ranger private who had been consigned to cleaning

  duty?

  Those reflections had followed a quiet, yet furious conversation, in which all of Gucci's peers had beaten her to convincing excuses as to why their presence on the assault was indispensable. And then

  they had the nerve to remind her that Valkyrie, like all military organizations, depended on work that simply Had To Get Done. The scientists had to be escorted and today it was her turn To Get The Job Done.

  Even more unhappily, the hike left her mind free to reflect on the email Jack had sent her right before the operation. He had a habit of going back on his emotional decisions whenever he thought she might

  die, and that wasn't something she needed to deal with when preparing to face Rayker.

  On the plus side, once she got her passengers up the mountain and safely installed on computers somewhere, she would be free to join the battle. Then she might actually get killed, and that would at least

  resolve the long running relationship conundrum for the better.

  Nevertheless, Gucci was a professional, so she met the Collective team with a cheerful smile on her face, and briefly outlined the route they would take.

  "We could probably make it on our own," one scientist said dismissively. "We're still Rangers, you know."

  "Some decades ago for me, I'm afraid," Doctor Gilah said apologetically. "I'm so grateful they managed to spare one of their best to look out for us. I'm sure you had much better

  things to do, Gucci—please know we will all owe you a big favor."

  The other scientists politely acknowledged this, and Gucci mentally appointed Gilah as the group's de facto leader. She nevertheless turned to the first woman with a stern expression.

  "You're right though," Gucci said thoughtfully. "We will need all of you to take this seriously and remember your infantry training. I'm sure you haven't let your fitness slacken

  over the years?"

  The woman stood a little taller. "I'm a track athlete. I dare say I could give you a run for your money."

  "That's great news. One of the things I've been warned about is the possibility that Rayker has mined the northern ridge, or left a well hidden machinegun nest up there that we didn't see.

  In which case, I will need to maximize my maneuverability and flexibility to face a dynamic threat environment, while you stay ready to support me by fire."

  "Yes.. that makes sense."

  "Good." Gucci hefted her rifle. "I'll need you to carry this, while I take your carbine."

  "Oh," the woman said as the tall weapon was passed into her waiting hands. "Wow, It's quite heavy."

  Gucci winked. "Nothing a Ranger can't handle, right?"

  "Of-of course not."

  The hike went well, and Gucci had to grudgingly admit that the scientists were all quite fit. She managed to increase the pace, and even her uncomplaining new porter didn't fall behind. They trotted

  up inclines, hauled themselves around boulders, and navigated scree as though they were having a fun day out.

  An old Ranger stereotype held that Collective girls were all lazy, signing up for the cushiest job in the organization after sailing under the radar with a borderline acceptable Ranger stint. Gucci wondered

  if she should push back on that kind of talk with her new experience. But then, where would the fun in that be? Much better to make up a few stories for laughs at the bar. Sorry girls, but it’s a dog-eat-dog world.

  A few bursts of gunfire broke out across the mountain, followed by the heavy thump of a drone missile striking a bunker. The scientists whirled around to gawp at the fireworks, and their lack of discipline

  reminded Gucci not to get comfortable. Leaving them to indulge themselves in the distraction, she kept a sharp eye on the ground above them.

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  It hadn't escaped her attention that that the entire southern flank was visible from several points on their route, and that a well placed heavy machine gun would pose a serious threat to the advancing

  operators. Rayker was neither known for her lack of intelligence nor attention to detail. The drone feeds had shown nothing, and Gucci had spent a good amount of time scanning the ridge through her own scope. But a good defensive

  position was invisible until it wasn't.

  Someone behind her whooped as another missile impact threw an impressive fountain of rocks and dirt into the void.

  "Cut that out," Gucci snapped. "Noise discipline."

  They pushed higher in silence, and with a little more focus. When it seemed that they were finally past the steepest section of the climb, the worst case scenario actually unfolded. A large rock formation

  not far down from the ridgeline—and which had passed a careful inspection—suddenly erupted in thunder.

  Ignoring the cursing in her headset, Gucci scrambled up an outcrop for a better look. Letting loose a few foul words of her own, she scrambled back down to her porter, pulled the rifle off her back, then

  returned to the observation point. What she saw through her scope was maddening. Barely visible tracers streamed from an invisible crack In what looked like a solid gray wall. Even at a close distance, Gucci doubted she would

  have spotted anything without the gunfire to clue her in.

  The position looked nearly impossible to attack—a natural fort on the mountain. The route she wanted to follow climbed the ridge in full view of the rocks, though the machinegun inside probably couldn't

  traverse to cover it. Which meant… ah.

  Her scope caught a flash of odd color, and settled on a boot sticking in the air. It's owner had obviously been tasked with defending the bunker from the northern approach, until the first wave, identifying

  only a lookout, had taken him out. The machine gunners inside wouldn't want to risk sticking their heads out, for fear of meeting the same fate. Maybe they just wanted to go out in a blaze of glory?

  Gucci clenched her jaw. Or had Rayker prepared them to meet blood sucking aliens? Inhuman monsters intent on torturing them to death? What if they were they convinced they would be protected by the Barrochians

  in orbit?

  In any case, the operators in their gunsights were stuck, taking cover behind whatever small piece of terrain they could. The snipers couldn't find a clear shot, which meant…

  Gucci seized her rifle and rolled off her outcrop. When the call came in she was already sliding back down to her impromptu squad.

  "Find cover," she ordered, and squeezed herself against the mountainside.

  The drone strike exploded above them, and they hugged the ground as rocks bounced down the ridgeline towards them. Who wants to whoop and cheer now, Gucci wanted to ask. She listened carefully for the assessment,

  and cursed when it came back negative. The gun resumed its relentless bursts. Before the call came, she already knew what was next.

  "Gucci—"

  "On it," she said, cutting off the transmission.

  She looked up to see her alarmed looking followers staring at her.

  "Ranger time," Gucci said with a grin. "We need to push closer. Everything you've got, yeah?"

  The dash forward needed it, as the terrain had gotten steeper and more precarious. Grassy slopes gave way to scree and rock formations they had to climb carefully. It them took a few minutes to ascend a

  hundred meters, driven by burning and shaking muscles. But apart from the necessary delay, Gucci wasn't too worried about the problem itself. Her ‘squad’ could distract the gunners while she found a way through

  the rocks.

  Once again she swapped the rifle for the carbine, and discussed the plan with the scientists.

  "See that bulge just across from us?" She pointed to an exposed position over a sickening drop that made some women turn pale. "I want you all to set up there and just take potshots at the

  guy, when I say. You won't hit anything, so there's no point burning through your mags. I just want you to keep them occupied. Don’t shoot before I do, and—most importantly—don’t shoot me."

  "Can I use the sniper rifle?" the track athlete asked.

  Gucci smiled. At least she was enthusiastic. "Sure, why not. Now, I need one volunteer to help me storm the bunker."

  Dr Gilah raised her hand. "Actually I brought a few grenades with me as well. Just… well... in case of need."

  "Outstanding. Come on then."

  Leaving the others behind, Gucci and Gilah climbed higher into a maze of wide columns separated by cracks and chimneys. Once she could see where she wanted to go, Gucci stopped to let her teammate catch

  up and get her breath back.

  “What’s your name, Doc?”

  “Talia,” the scientist said between gulps of water.

  “You can call me Aislinn.”

  Gilah’s brow furrowed. “Why do they call you Gucci?”

  “‘Cos I buy nice gear. That’s how we do call-signs in our unit—when we’re being professional, anyway. Did you send your will before you left Tyr?”

  “I um… no, I didn’t actually.” She shrugged. “Don’t have anything in the real world.”

  Gucci rubbed her hair and tried to laugh off the awkward moment. “No worries. Just hide behind me when the shooting starts. I’m all set to check out, haha.”

  This didn’t get a positive reaction, so she gestured to their objective. “See anything interesting over there?”

  Gilah focused on the area, but looked confused. “Rocks. Dirt. Lots of places to hide, I suppose.”

  “Disturbed dirt. Like someone under a lot of stress put in a mine. Probably a claymore or two, ‘cos they’d have great coverage of the only pathway up.”

  “I… can you really see that? I wouldn’t even look twice at it.”

  “Yep. Means we’ll have to skirt around the other side of the ridge. You’re okay with heights?”

  Gilah did not look happy about this, but smiled grimly. “I shall follow you wherever I must.”

  “More fool you,” Gucci said with a grin, then set off across a small ledge that wound around the rock formation. For her own part, she was terrified, though she couldn’t let it affect

  her. She might choose to avoid free soloing a giant cliff without incurring shame, but now it was do or die. The machine gun had calmed down, though it still let loose a burst whenever an operator on the far slopes tried to

  dash between cover. No serious casualties had been reported, but the assault had been held up, and that was simply unacceptable.

  Their path went below the largest boulders and soon brought them out over a sickening drop. The foot-wide space turned into a treacherous combination of smooth boulders and rough ledges, and Gucci had to

  grab her follower’s arm to keep her stable while they crossed. To help her own progress, she decided that there actually was no drop. The mountain was tiny, starting a mere dozen feet below her, and there was certainly

  no point looking down to check. If she fell, she would have to walk back around the ridge and start again, which would cause her Raider squadron substantial disappointment in her abilities. That was certainly more scary than

  falling off a mountain, and thus provided all the motivation she needed.