Targeting vectors appeared on the inner surface of his helmet face shield, and the tactile sensors on his gloves linked to his artificial hands.Ten Jaxxans skittered along the angled trenches they had dug as they made progress across the planetoid’s contested landscape. Moving in ranks, they all reacted in unison to his arrival. The enemy did not like, did not understand, unpredictability.As a Deathguard, Rader was unpredictable. He had been designed that way.He found his balance on the loose pea-gravel, used his momentum to keep charging forward. In their open bug-tunnels, the Jaxxans had no room to scatter, nor did they have time.The brain fire pounded through him, the Werewolf Trigger that insisted he kill, KILL! He was a well-armored bull-in-a-china-shop, brain still alive along with a patchwork of his original body, hooked up to spare parts that allowed him to be sent back onto the battlefield. The chaos he provoked was part of a tactical plan issued by officers far from the battlefield; Deathguards weren’t expected to survive long, though.Rader had been briefed about this as a new recruit, though he hadn’t ever considered it a real possibility while he and his squadmates laughed about squashing roaches.
