by John Walker
Kivda hesitated. Where exactly can these idiots go? There were only three of them, which meant taking them out shouldn’t have been too difficult. Of course, they just managed to take on superior numbers without too much difficulty. Damn!
“Yes,” Kivda said, “intercept and neutralize.” He put their views up on the screen himself. Ten soldiers heading out to deal with the three escaped pirates. A tactical map of the station popped up on his own terminal. He directed Renz to take a look. “These dots here represent the ones we’re after.”
“That’s five… no, seven men.”
“What?” Kivda frowned. “There were more in there than we thought.” He got back on the line with Ermil. “Be advised, you are approaching at least nine opponents. Take necessary precautions.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Do you think they have this?” Renz asked. “Those pirates seem rather determined.”
“They’ll take care of it,” Kivda replied. You’d better, Ermil. No one has the stomach for another setback.
***
Ermil considered the Flotilla venture to be little more than a formality. Searching the station for artifacts of data felt like a waste of time. Anything of value had to have been taken by the ships that fled. Indeed, he’d made two trips through multiple sections and had yet to find a single thing worth taking.
Prisoners had all been collected by the first responders. He came in long after with his unit of ten. They checked out hangars and living quarters, which struck him as odd. Who put rooms to rest in so close to the action? Maybe for their engineers. He didn’t know, but it felt unsafe… and rather loud to try to sleep in.
When pirates donned environmental suits and launched an attack, it surprised him. Especially when they overwhelmed the other soldiers. That means they were not on their guard. Truthfully, his unit hadn’t been particularly on edge either. It could’ve easily been us taken out up there.
Ermil led the way through the station, finding a flight of stairs. Only a few pockets in the Flotilla still had oxygen. Most of them suffered from the hull breach, particularly when life support went offline. Privately, he wished the bridge crew hadn’t been so zealous with their assault.
Taking the place without having to wear full environmental armor would’ve made it a lot easier. Which leads to the question of how our people went down so easily. They had the protective gear to take a shot or two. I can’t imagine our opponents have the same. If they do, we may be in for a real fight.
“Commander,” Ermil said, “do you have any imagery of our opponents? Anything showing their equipment?”
“Negative. They were in deep cover. Their helmets look military issue. That’s the best I’ve got at this time. We’re attempting to tap into the station security… the parts that may have backup power.”
You won’t find any, Ermil thought. He didn’t want to voice that concern, but he pinged every hallway they entered. They’d been forced to manually open doors for the most part. Some emergency lighting remained intact, though he doubted it would last much longer. One corridor in particular had been a flickering nightmare.
Sometimes, I feel like Commander Kivda has lost touch with the field. Ermil wondered why the man didn’t push back harder on the ill-fated wander through the bones of the Flotilla. Anything of real value could’ve been discerned with the use of drones. Someone made the decision to get living eyes on the scene.
And so they were deployed. But it was a waste of resources. Every step in the radiation infested space meant time spent in medical for a cleansing. No, it would not have any sort of permanent effects on them, not if they received prompt help. That wasn’t the point. None of them should’ve been there at all.
Not exactly something any of us can protest.
“You’re coming up on the section,” Kivda said, “they’re coming straight toward you according to the scans.”
Ermil’s HUD didn’t show the dots. He broadened his sensor sweep, bringing the dots into view. “We’re five hundred meters away,” he said, “men, take up positions. The enemy must be making their way to the hangar.” Doors on the left and right were ajar having previously been searched by another group.
His soldiers took cover in the rooms, dropping low to aim their weapons down the hall. Ermil took one on the right. He’d be the first one to engage the enemy, the first to see them coming. “I’ll call it,” he spoke quietly. “Check your fire. Ensure you don’t get too close to any of us. I’m putting a countdown on your HUDs now.”
Numbers ticked down. Ermil aimed down the sight, drawing a deep breath. The visor on his helmet provided light enhancement, giving him decent visibility. A few moments passed before he saw movement in the shadows far off. “Contact,” he muttered, “but hold your fire until I say.”
The pirates moved without concern. They don’t have scans or they’d slow down. Their charge took them straight down the middle of the hallway. What do you think is down here? Admittedly, he and his unit had a couple more hangars to check. Is there a vessel these people want? A functioning ship?
I doubt it. Not after everything that happened here. Anyone capable of escape had already managed it. Blasting their way out of the station would give them away. We’d turn them to dust.
“I’m opening fire,” Ermil said. The first of the pirates came into view, their lumbering gait made odd by the way they compensated for the magnetic boots. Every step was too wide as they bent their knees nearly to the waist. Running like that must be exhausting. Or at least too distracting to notice this.
Ermil aimed low at the abdomen before pulling the trigger. The blast turned the passage blue-white for half a second before the attack made contact. His target stumbled, bending forward before collapsing to the ground. Their boots remained fixed to the deck, leaving them at an unnatural angle.
The one directly behind the leader stopped abruptly. He shouted something barely audible through his helmet while opening fire. His attack went straight down the middle, well away from any of the Kahl soldiers.
Ermil blasted him in the leg then followed up with a head shot. “Open fire!” He shouted, laying down suppressive shots through the hall. The others followed suit, turning the confined space into a death trap. Some of the blips immediately winked out while others moved into doorways.
Their first pass eliminated four of the criminals, leaving five left. Those men leaned out immediately, turning the situation into a genuine battle. Ermil shifted into his room. He scanned the walls, looking for connecting doorways. One was locked nearby leading in the direction of their opponents.
“I’m going to flank them,” Ermil said. He let his rifle hang from his shoulder as he pulled a multitool from his belt. They’d been using them to pop doors throughout the mission. He jammed it into the section of the door near the frame, cranking hard to the left. The seals broke and he wedged the metal open enough for his hands to get in.
Shoving it aside didn’t require much effort. They were surprisingly well tended despite the filth and grime covering most of the corridors. He wondered if they might be in a section of the station that had been used more frequently, something the station people cared about enough to maintain.
Ermil slipped into the next room, noting another door opposite. Crates filled the back of the space, stacked to the ceiling. They were secured with thick, cloth straps, each one held in place by a buckle bigger than the palm of his hand. He took note, rushing to the next side to pop it open as well.
The gunfire in the hallway intensified. Shouts over the din were little more than muffled cries. His men kept their chatter to a minimum, barely communicating more than to call contacts and changes of position. They were advancing, which would normally be good. Ermil didn’t want the enemy to have cause to slip away.
“Hold positions,” Ermil said. “I’ll give the order to advance.” He opened the next door, glancing in.
Two of the Prytins held the space, one crouching by the door while the other stood. They spent all
their attention on laying down fire, shooting in quick, short arcs. Ermil slipped in behind them, moving slowly to avoid detection. A quick glance at the HUD made his heart drop.
There were more blips; perhaps a dozen. They were too clumped together to tell for certain, but they’d arrive at any moment, reinforcements to help the scum they were already fighting. Where did those bastards come from? Ermil sighed. We have so many prisoners already! How many can there be?
“Report,” Kivda said, “what is going on over there?”
“I think every soldier on this tub is coming after us,” Ermil muttered. “I’m a little busy, sir. Report in momentarily.” He pressed forward, dashing the last two steps to grab the closest man, the one crouching.
A couple quick yanks got the man’s helmet loose. Panic did the rest of the work as the victim dropped to the floor, thrashing about wildly as he clutched at his throat. The other man spun, bringing his weapon to bear.
Ermil threw a circle kick, catching the barrel to knock it aside. A blast went off the room, slapping the wall beside the door. Another two shots went off, leaving black marks in the metal before the man let his weapon drop to his side.
Both men went for their pistols. Ermil dove forward, grinding his shoulder into his opponent’s chest. The men stumbled away from the door before the man’s back made contact with the wall. Momentum knocked the wind out of him, but he had that weapon out. He brought it around to aim.
Ermil grabbed his wrist with his left hand while getting his own sidearm skinned and ready for action. While his adversary tried to wrestle his arm free with both hands, he didn’t seem to notice the barrel of the smaller gun pressing against his side.
Three pulls of the trigger. Ermil lit the man up, tearing through his suit if nothing else. The grunt that came out of him sounded nothing short of horrifying as the tension in his arm loosened and his weapon dropped on the floor. The Prytin stiffened… then expired a moment later.
“Freeze!”
A shot came dangerously close to the side of Ermil’s head. He faded away, disengaging the magnetics of his boots. Kicking at the wall, he wriggled around to fire at the newcomer just as two more beams slapped the wall beside him.
A groin shot made the man drop his weapon. Ermil’s second opened up the man’s gut, tearing the environmental suit wide open. The dying criminal gasped at the injury, convulsing wildly through their last few moments.
That was better than expected.
Ermil continued to drift until he hit the back wall. Engaging his magnetics again, he set down on the deck, awkwardly hustling to the door again. Before he even took cover, a hand reached in to grab him. Fingers clasped at his helmet. He jerked backward as more flickers filled the hall.
The arm came with him, leaving the body behind. Shoving it away, Ermil swatted at the globes of blood floating near him. Moving into position on the opposite side of the entrance, he leaned out, pulling the trigger without bothering to aim.
A body rested at his feet, arm missing, helmet melted into what remained of the head. Blips on his scan showed they significantly reduced the number of their opponents, but his side didn’t walk away unscathed. Even in cover, he managed to lose three people.
“Do not take risks!” Ermil shouted. “We are outnumbered. Let them make the mistakes!”
“What’s going on?” Kivda asked. “Your feeds are flickering.”
“It’s a major battle?” Ermil dropped into a crouch. He had to fight not to snap at the commander. “I’ll let you know when we’re done.” He took a hit to his shoulder. The concussion knocked him back, but the HUD showed the seals held. His heart raced, pounding in his chest until he felt lightheaded.
I’m insanely lucky!
The red dots moved away, back the way they came. Heavy fire remained steady from both sides. How are we not tearing them apart?
“Aim!” Ermil shouted. “They should all be dead by now!” He slipped back to the door, fighting through a sense of dread at the thought. If someone has a line on this door… if they’re waiting… He’d been in plenty of fights in his time. Few of them involved zero g in the middle of a derelict structure.
Ermil poked out to join the fire of his colleagues. He tensed up, waiting for a shot but it didn’t come… or at least it didn’t hit him. Two blasts came close, one beside his head and another into the doorframe under his left arm. He forced himself to stand firm and to continue shooting.
Pirate bodies littered the hall but there were plenty left. They rounded a corner, out of the Kahl line of fire. The map of the area showed they could loop around for a flanking maneuver thought it was more likely they just wanted to get to the ships.
I should’ve let them. Casualties on Ermil’s side showed he was down to five men. Against twelve, it seems. “Check our people,” he called, “make sure we don’t have to administer medical attention. I’ll check the dead criminals.” He hurried into the swath of corpses, running a scan over each.
They’d all died, some from their wounds and others from environmental trauma after their suits were damaged. Not one of them survived. Which was the message he received about their people as well.
“Commander,” Ermil said, “the pirates have disengaged. I’ve lost fifty percent of my force engaging them. Body count on the enemy side is… thirteen. There appear to be twelve left that were part of that group. We believe they are going for a ship. They must believe they can escape that way. Orders?”
Please don’t have us engage them. Ermil had no desire to go up against that many men. We weren’t prepared for a real fight. No one over here planned to get into a brawl with the enemy like this. I am certain General Renz never would’ve blasted the structure if he thought we had to conduct a combat operation over here.
“Get into position,” Kivda said, “be ready to attack on our mark. We’re moving into position to support you at the hangar area. We don’t want any of them to escape.”
I’m confused as to why you people care! Ermil figured the criminals they dealt with had nothing to do with home. They attacked merchants of their enemies. If anything, they were allies. How do I ask these questions without sounding insubordinate? He figured that meant waiting for the right chance.
Ermil started toward his men, ready to join them. He cleared his throat to give them the bad news. A flash filled the hall… searing pain followed, forcing him to his knees. He turned to look at a criminal lying prone beneath a body. They aimed their weapon directly at him. He disengaged his magnetics and shoved the wall.
Another shot whizzed by inches from him. Ermil pulled the trigger. He barely aimed but the shot landed on the top of his attacker’s shoulder. The environmental suit wasn’t armor. It offered no protection against the searing heat. The man slumped, twitching after he’d already gone.
“What happened?” Kivda shouted. “Your vitals just went crazy!”
“I was shot!” Ermil turned his magnetics back on, pacing toward the body. He crouched, running another scan. How’d you trick my sensors? The screen on the man’s left wrist showed a variety of Prytin characters, some kind of operating program. A quick check showed it must’ve been what masked him.
“Get down here, men. I want an extra shot in everybody before we fall out.” Ermil backed away, checking his HUD. The armor held once again but this time, the damage was concerning. Another hit in the back, anywhere near the vicinity of that blast point, would compromise the integrity of the suit.
We should be withdrawing. “Commander, we need reinforcements if we’re going to pull this off. Can we expect another shuttle to bring us at least a dozen men?”
“Not in time to stop them,” Kivda replied, “you’re the only people we have in that sector right now. I’ve routed more forces your way, but they are at a considerable distance. You should have the advantage. The enemy is in retreat.”
“Only because they want to be!” Ermil sighed. “Sir, we’ve got damaged equipment and—”
“You are the ones, Ermil,” Kiv
da said. “Get in position. We’ll do what we can from here.”
“Yes, sir.” Ermil fumed as the others performed their duties, each blasting the bodies to ensure they were dead. He waved his hand for them to follow. “Come on. We’ve got a job to do. Best to get on with it.”
Chapter 7
Titus sat in his office when Doctor Brett stepped in without a knock. The door closed behind him. He brought two glasses to the desk, setting them down as he took a seat. They’d been traveling in warp for just over an hour and a half. The crew worked frantically to wrap up last minute repairs.
“Uh… come on in,” Titus said. He smirked. “What’s going on? You seem somber.”
“You spoke with Huxley?” Brett asked. He sipped from his glass. “About what we’re dealing with?”
“Yes, he’s confident we’ll be combat-ready within the next hour. Better than before we arrive. Why? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Medical. It was in shambles after the last fight. And we had a lot of wounded. Many weren’t too bad. Only a couple had to stay. I cleared them for duty, though to be honest, with a few others I would’ve rather they took some downtime. Do you think that’ll be possible after this run?”
“I hope so.” Titus shrugged. “But you know as well as I do that we’re on a timeline.”
“Yes, those.” Brett rolled his eyes. “The bane of a medical man’s existence.”
“What did you bring?” Titus gestured to the glass. “Should I be drinking that on duty?”
“It’s medicinal. And since your last physical, I doubt a glass of brandy is going to dent your focus.”
“Brandy? What am I, sixty years old?” Titus took a sip. He winced. “Oh God, that’s terrible.”
“Only the first drink.” Brett leaned back. “I’m sure you’ve thought of this, but there’s a chance the people we’re going to save won’t be… alive.”
“I know.” Titus averted his gaze to the floor. “I’ve been worrying about that. The fact Niva sent a single message to Griel then nothing more worries me. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”
