“Marc, come help me.” Strain tightened Jimbo’s voice, making two inconsistencies- Jimbo asking me for help and him cracking under the pressure.

“Why? You expecting trouble?” I leveled a monument and checked his position. He was eight klicks to the north.

“Bastards won’t give up their bombs—except by throwing them at me. I’m taking a beating.”

“Weren’t you listening at the briefing? They believe their explosives are part of their god. Gods. Whatever.” Religion gave me headache, and T’Kulu mythology was more convoluted than most. I launched a pair of INFERNO rockets indiscriminately and two buildings sagged into melted slag. “My job was easy sauce, I’m on my way.”

I switched course. Burning a healthy amount of jump juice let me hop a kilometer at a time. Minutes after he had radioed me, I had joined Jimbo at the munitions factory. Choosing a section of the wall on the other side of him, I leaned back and kicked it in. There were no guards to be seen. “Clear. Circle around this way and we’ll surprise them.”