Once upon a time, Vela would have stood her ground against the hammer blows of the railgun, confident that human weapons of that nature couldn't harm her. She had been younger once, and more ignorant. Now she fell forward onto all fours and raced ahead...zigging and zagging to avoid the bright silver-white shards of metal raining down around her. The spirits of her people clustered tightly around her, more than once shoving rounds away when she was a little too slow, or the flying metal suit too fast.
The railgun finally went dry, and the pilot of the Samson, secure in the knowledge that he was too far up for a savage creature like that to get to, started reloading. He was young, perhaps.
The instant the constant stream of fire stopped, Vela wheeled about...striking sparks as her claws dug into the plates of the flooring to bring her to a fast stop. She sprinted back towards the hovering powersuit and leapt
. The pilot, taken off guard, realized what was happening...saw just how much air she could get...and started to fly higher.
Her claws latched into the armored boots of the Samson and dug into them. From there, it wasn't much different than climbing a tree. A tree that shouted in alarm and swerved crazily around and tried to knock you off with the butt of its railgun, of course. One had to make allowances.
The pilot after clubbing ineffectually a couple of times with the rifle, dropped it and drew a wicked belt knife the size of a sword on an unarmored human. The blade sang with that ultrasonic hum of a vibroweapon. With one oversized gauntlet he seized Vela's head. With the other, he drove the weapon up through the bottom of her jaw, into her skull and brain. A killing blow.
he realized. NOT SILVER.
Vela yanked the knife back out of her head, wrenching the Samson's arm back with it. Instead of trying to dig through the suit's thick helmet or chest, she scrambled around back to where the rocket pack was. There were lots of things there that looked important. She started tearing them out.
Immediately the power armor lost control of its flight. Vela found herself in the unexpected position of having more control than he did, because she could actually force the control surfaces open and shut!
It was then that there were-jaguar spotted Doc Reid and his companion. And behind them a fireteam approaching, using sustained fire to pin them down. A few were reaching for grenades too.
Vela hunkered down low on the Samson's back, and with the talons on her toes, she yanked flaps open, and kicked the rockets vectoring nozzle to the side a little. The powersuit veered crazily and roared across the base towards Reid! At the last moment, she pulled hard on the suit's shoulders, forcing it to pull up a little.
The ill-fated armored suit rocketed right over Reid's head and plowed directly into the ground in the midst of the fireteam, just as Vela bunched her legs and ripped the rocket pack completely apart...exposing the tiny fusion core that powered it.
Plasma detonated, engulfing the Kreeghor soldiers, the power armor, and Vela alike in annihilating heat that buckled the floor and left the walls tented outward and glowing cherry red. All that was left in the wake of that devastating destruction was charred heaps of what might have been armor and human flesh.
And, of course, Vela. She shook off layers of ash as her skin and muscles visibly regenerated; in seconds she was as whole as she'd been before the blast.
She gave Reid a curt nod, then loped back towards where the fighting was thickest.