Gilgamesh?

Tessa shook her head. Didn’t matter. In one smooth move, she seized the wing of her Seindrive with one hand, swung up through the viciously frozen air and onto the frame, then dived into the cockpit. Hands darted on reflex, found the release straps, yanked free the stocky, modular bullpup rifle strapped down beside the seat, reserve clips rigger-taped to the stock. Her mind tracked to readiness as the muzzle of the rifle rose, caught the Cygnan monstrosity between wireless neural-link, smart-targeting crosshairs. Fifty rounds. Armor-piercing explosive tip glass-fracture carboceramic composite caseless. Perfect for Coralates. She didn’t even spare Myyaelae a glance– her attention was wholly on the Cygnan.

“Myyaelae.” She growled. “Can you move?”

“It is difficult.” Shifting of steel, clang of metal. In the swirling abyss of frozen half-night that brewed beyond the ripped-open exterior paneling, the thing twisted an edge slowly inward, leered at her with the flickering red haze of multispectrum visual tracking. Myyaelae’s voice rose in the rushing, almost deafening wind again, but the sound was lost, obliterated as the amalgam of Cygnan and Commonwealth technology leapt through the breech suddenly and hit the flight deck with enough force to buckle the plating, trigger a new cascade of debris from the shattered ceiling. Tessa’s hands tightened across the rifle.

“Run.” She growled, eyes riveted to the sight. Hold it. Don’t piss it off. Don’t fire until absolutely necessary. Nothing, no sound, no movement. She made a sharp gesture. “Go! Get out of here, Myyaelae!”

“Leave him, Major!” The Gnarian shouted back. She glanced over at him, caught his eye as he stood his ground. “We must go now, while we still can!”

“You first!” She shouted, eyes drilling hard over her rifle and into Gilgamesh, pinning him, unwilling to let him go. “I’ll catch up!”

“Don’t be a fool!” The Gnarian shot back. “He will kill you!”

“Maybe,” She shifted, tracking the dreadnought as he moved, pulled himself upright. Not yet, not yet. “but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“He’s a D-9 class military dreadnought designed–”

“Spare me the specs, Myyaelae! You should know better than anyone else that he’s not going to just let us go if we bug out together now. He’ll try to kill us both.” She paused, pulled in a shaky breath that burned icy to the depths of her aching lungs. “Only one of us is getting out of this the easy way, so beat it before we both die of exposure out here.”

“Major!” He tried again, and she could hear the cracking in his voice.

“Just go!” She shouted back. “You saved my ass once, now it’s time for me to return the favor.” Gilgamesh was moving again, half-crouched and hunting, eyes intent on the Gnarian, but tracking her from the side, tracking her as sharply as she was tracking it. Jesus, that thing is huge.

There were no more words. As Myyaelae turned and broke into a ragged sprint for the least damaged transport, Gilgamesh dropped into a loping, heavy-handed run. Tessa’s rifle bucked almost imperceptibly in her hands, cold air eating up the flare, eating the noise as rounds chewed toward the dreadnought’s armored side, burst on plates of liquid chrome that rose to protect it.
As the thing stopped and turned toward her, she swallowed reflexively. She hadn’t even hurt it, and now that she had its attention, the sense of cold dread which shot into her heart froze her more than the icy weather did, made her acutely, painfully aware of the ache lingering in her flesh. One thought burst into her mind, shot heat into her stiffening arms, paralyzed legs.

Move.

Feet pounded across the debris-beaten frame of the Seindrive and left the edge of its wing at the same instant that Gilgamesh left the ground, shoving her rig out of the way to get to her. There was no time to think, no time to react or move– a drop, a quick roll put her out of the way, rifle coming up, emptying the rest of the clip into the shimmering flux of liquid chrome that flared around the sapphire flesh of the Cygnan. tearing into metal and skin where the defenses didn’t kill the bullets outright. One massive hand shot in, clipped her, obliterated the rifle in a single swipe and left her spinning, lost in cold darkness for a moment before her hands found icy purchase, flung her to her feet. Every move came in reflex, impossibly fast, vision a blur that never solidified as she darted, swung herself away like a bird in frantic flight.

But in its armor of Commonwealth steel, the Cygnan was still faster. With hardly more effort than stretching, Gilgamesh plucked her out of the air by one flailing arm, shattering the bones there as it seized her. Lines of loose crimson bubbled past Tessa’s lips at crazy angles as the massive arm flexed back, swung her like a rag doll until she was face to face with the red haze of its eyes, the eager, bleeding Cygnan melded to its chest. Tessa winced, bared bloody teeth against the incredible pain, fought to ignore the butchered remains of her arm. Here it comes, came the thought. So close, Izzy. She swallowed, the edges of a smile flickering against her lips. And I get to take one of those blue fuckers with me when I go. In its melded, flowing, liquid harness, the Cygnan chittered at her, flexed independent bladed limbs.

“Yeah? Take a good look, you ugly fucker.” She laughed, grinned past the ache, the blood freezing to her face. “I’m the last thing you’re ever going to see.”

And then the radio in Tessa’s rig lit up in a flare of colors, catching her eyes as sound blared through, voice loud with static.

“Major! Get clear of the dreadnought!”

“Go! Now!”