by James Evans
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” Wilson nodded and turned to his colleagues. They set up out of the way and launched all their drones, the tiny hummingbirds zipping off to map the next area of corridors. The two combat drones, much larger but with only light arms, launched last. They hovered, advancing more cautiously, following the plans left by their smaller brethren.
Warden surveyed the rest of his team, only twenty strong with Richardson in the dropship. He frowned.
“Moyes, is that a railgun on your back?”
“Yes, Sir,” the young Marine replied.
“Didn’t I specifically order that we weren’t to use railguns due to the risk of venting atmosphere?”
“I haven’t used it, Sir,” she replied.
“I meant that we should leave them behind. Why did you bring it?”
“I thought if we had it, we could use it, Sir. My sniper instructor always told me to be prepared.”
“That’s good advice, Moyes but please tell me you understand why I don’t want to expose us all to vacuum when we don’t even have environment suits?”
She nodded, “Yes, Sir, I just wanted to be able to vent the atmosphere if you needed me too. Like, if we shot some rounds through their bridge, the crew might find it hard to control the ship. They don’t seem to be well prepared for a boarding action. Maybe they won’t have their breathers to hand?”
Warden blinked. He turned to look at Milton who was having obvious difficulty stifling the impulse to laugh. He turned back to Moyes then called Lance Corporal Bailey and Marine Findlay over.
“Moyes, tell Bailey and Findlay what you just suggested.”
She looked a little shy about the prospect of suggesting her idea to the older Marines and Warden realised just how young she was. It was easy to lose track of such things when operating in clones, but his HUD confirmed Moyes was only twenty-two. She’d been in the Royal Marine Cadet program while doing her degree in Fine Art, of all things.
Moyes could easily have gone straight into the officer training course but instead had chosen the rapid acceleration track which would take her through the non-commissioned ranks before giving her the opportunity to attend officer training and be commissioned. It was unusual but spoke to a deep level of commitment and forethought.
Moyes cleared her throat and said, “Well, I thought that if we used the alien’s railgun against the ship’s bridge, we could vent their atmosphere into space. Even if they do have environment suits in there, it would be a bit inconvenient for them.”
“Assessment, Bailey?” Warden asked.
“I can’t think of a reason we shouldn’t, Sir. If we can reach the corridor outside the bridge, we would have to shoot through one wall and out the other side. That would give us the best penetration, and if we can shoot from a doorway we can retreat quickly, seal the door behind us, and we’ll be secure. If they have power armour in there though, you can bet they’ll follow us.”
“I can rig tripwires with our spare grenades,” Ten suggested.
“That might work,” said Bailey, nodding.
Warden walked over to the techs, “Report.”
“We have a good visualisation of this section, Sir,” Wilson said, looking up. He pointed to a data slate and highlighted several rooms. “This is a cloning bay and, look, the monitors show clones being activated as we speak. No way of knowing how long that will take. This is a cafeteria,” he said, pointing at a new spot, “and what looks like a recreation room, currently unoccupied. This is a medical bay, there’s a couple of staff in it, presumably medics. We can’t see inside the next three rooms so we’ll need to open those bulkhead doors to get drones in but we have the general corridor layout, and there aren’t any nasty surprises in the areas we can see. We have strong emissions from the other side of the bulkheads, so it’s reasonable to assume we’re not far from their communications and bridge areas, assuming they’ve got similar ship layouts and functionality to our own, which is true so far.”
“Marine X, get those rooms cleared, pronto. Everyone else, ready to move out. I want to breach those doors and then get the drones in immediately.”
They moved out, going about their tasks efficiently. The techs gathered their gear and went mobile, ready to support if necessary, and preparing their drones for the breach of the bulkhead doors. Warden pulled the sniper’s spotters from that duty and assigned them to the breaching team. At this range, the snipers only role was to use the railgun, and they only had one, so the other two could look after Moyes.
Marines stepped forward to each of the three sealed doors, spinning the wheel locks and pulling them wide open. The micro-drones zipped through, visually clearing the corridors beyond in seconds. Warden checked the feeds and issued the next order to move.
Ten led the way through the starboard door and stormed into a communications room, glowing knife in one hand and pistol in the other. The aliens inside weren’t in a position to fight back; their sidearms barely freed before Ten had finished them.
Warden closed the feed from Ten and moved as the team cleared two staterooms on the port side of the ship. One large room between the communications room and the staterooms remained. He closed on it at the same time as Ten, and they burst through the door together.
It wasn’t surprising to find a war room, with a large illuminated data table showing a map of the solar system, imagery of New Bristol. There were displays on all the walls. The surprise came from the two alien troopers in powered-armour who were waiting inside.
Warden admitted to himself later that the shock had thrown off his response time. Not so for Penal Marine X. Ten threw himself forward at the nearest enemy, his pistol firing as he closed the gap.
Warden targeted the second figure and emptied his magazine. He knew the alien rifle was powerful, but he wasn’t taking any chances with powered armour. It wouldn’t be a waste of ammo if he took down this trooper.
Ten dropped his pistol and switched the knife to his right hand. He batted the alien trooper’s weapon aside and closed into a close grapple. His left arm wrapped around the alien‘s right and the knife came down hard, punching in and out through the weaker points in the alien’s armour. Under the armpit, the neck, the join between thigh and waist.
Warden‘s alien staggered back, knocked off its feet by the rounds striking its helmet and chest. The lieutenant sprang forward, pulling the twin to Ten’s knife from its sheath and thumbing the mechanism as he landed on top of the trooper. He snarled as he raised the knife to finish his opponent and then let his hand drop. The front of the helmet was gone, smashed to pieces, and the face behind it was shattered. The rifle had been more than a match for the armour.
Warden got to his feet and sheathed the knife. He rammed a fresh magazine into the rifle and looked around.
“Charges, Sir?”
“You think the next room is the bridge?”
“Only two doors and they’re close together. Looks like one room to me, Lieutenant.”
“Go ahead then. Let’s finish this.”
Warden pointed his rifle at the doors while Ten set the charges. The other teams took up positions in the doorways and corridors that had sight lines to the room they’d decided must be the bridge.
“How long, Marine X?” he asked.
“Want it good and efficient or quick and unreliable?”
“I’m an officer, Ten. I want it quick, and I want it efficient.”
“Bloody typical,” Ten muttered, though hardly sotto voce.
“Do you want another 30 days on your sentence, Marine X?” Warden asked.
“Oh, yes please, Sir? Can I? I do so love coming to shitholes and looking after moisture farmers and asteroid miners. Another couple of minutes should do it, if you want my best work.”
“Enough of the comedy ro
utine, Ten. Just get it done.”
“It’ll never be enough I tell you! As if I have anything else in my life.”
Warden rolled his eyes and checked the HUD readouts again. He glanced down at Ten’s work; he was almost done.
A metallic sound from his left drew his attention. The wheel lock on the bulkhead door was turning. Warden’s eyes tracked down to the cluster of grenades and the jury-rigged mechanism Ten had attached to them and the door. It was already armed. His head snapped back to Ten, oblivious and muttering under his breath.
Warden was already moving as the wheel creaked ominously, he stooped as he moved, his arms tucking under Ten’s armpits lifting him as he headed for the doorway. “What the…” was all that Ten managed to splutter before the grenades behind them detonated.
The blast slammed into Warden’s back and punched him sideways into the room with Ten under him. He slammed into the door frame on his way through, hearing at least one rib break. Bollocks, he thought, I don’t have time for this. Worse, he’d ended up lying on top of a prone Ten in an entirely unflattering position.
Automatic weapons fire erupted behind him as Warden staggered to his feet. Ten stood up too and glared at Moyes who’d been dragged back out of the way by Bailey and was staring at him in shock.
“Not a word,” he growled.
Warden clutched his side and gritted his teeth. Ten looked him up and swore, then pulled an auto-injector from a belt pouch slamming it into Warden’s thigh before he could protest.
“Shut up, Lieutenant. I heard the rib break, and you need to stay functional. Unless you want to stay behind when we blow this rust bucket,” Ten said.
The drug flooded through Warden and the pain in his chest faded into the background.
“What’s it look like?” he asked.
Ten grabbed a rifle and risked sticking his head out to check the corridor. His reward was a sustained burst of fully automatic weapon fire. The rounds were ricocheting around the whole corridor, as Ten jerked back into the room. “Bloody hellfire! It’s one of those big bastards in heavy power armour. He’s only got a massive Gatling gun on each arm.”
“Lieutenant, we have people down. We’re pulling back; nothing is getting through that thing’s armour.”
“Understood Milton, the grenades didn’t faze it. The armour must be heavier than we’ve seen before.”
Warden turned to Moyes, “Marine, want to show us what you can do with that?”
She gulped, “I don’t have a clear shot, Sir.”
She was right; it would be suicide to stick her head into that corridor and try and aim at this thing.
Bailey solved it, she threw something into the corridor and pulled Warden further into the room, leaving nothing but the wall of the room between Moyes and the gargantuan alien.
“The reflection Moyes, check it, fire and adjust. The rifle is semi-automatic, don’t think just shoot.”
Moyes looked through the doorway; the object was a display Bailey had grabbed off a desk. The surface wasn’t mirrored, but it was reflective enough to give a distorted view of the corridor. She squinted to pick out details, matching them to the layout she had in her HUD, then she brought the rifle to bear.
The railgun spat and the sabot tore through the wall.
“To the left, Moyes,” Ten called out.
She adjusted the angle and fired again.
“That’s it!” Ten shouted gleefully, “Pile on.”
Moyes fired again, adjusted a fraction to the left and fired a fourth time.
“Nice, throw it to me, Moyes,” Ten shouted. She tossed the railgun to him, and he shouldered it, leaned out into the corridor and fired again. “Done,” he said, handing the rifle back to her, “Nicely done newbie. You’re empty, reload.”
Warden asked, “How many magazines do you have?”
“Five, Sir,” Moyes replied.
Well, that really was prepared.
“How do you feel about filling that bridge room with as many as you can get out?”
“Breathers on folks, Milton, pull everyone back through the bulkheads, we’ll take it from here. Let me know when you’re clear,” Warden said through the HUD. He turned to Ten and Bailey.
“Covering fire while for the retreat. Breathers on.” He slipped his mask up and over his nose and mouth and flipped it on.
Ten and Bailey let loose a few bursts down the corridor before Milton confirmed everyone else was back through the bulkhead and it was sealed.
“Let rip, Moyes.”
Moyes moved to the doorway and fired five rounds, ejecting the magazine and emptying the next into the bridge room as well. At least one must have penetrated the outer hull as telltale whistling began to suck the atmosphere from the ship.
“Evacuate folks,” Warden ordered, and they retreated as fast as they could. They slammed the door and spun the wheel, but already the oxygen level was well down. They still needed their breathers.
“Richardson, can we get any more of the dropships down? How much time would it take if we can?”
“Sir, we might be able to. We’d need a tech to operate them, though. A few minutes for each dropship, maybe.”
“Great, get going folks, I want those dropships on the surface and under our control. Milton, I want overwatch on the dropship bays, let’s make this an orderly retreat and deal with any crew we‘ve missed before they have a change to hit back.” They’d lost Fletcher and Parker when the monster on the bridge had attacked, and he didn‘t want to lose anyone else on the retreat.
Warden got back to the dropship bay more or less intact. He could feel a dull ache from his ribs though, and his back ached. If he pushed it, he would be out of action.
This had not been a good day, but at least it was almost over. Nothing much left to do now but clean up, he thought.
Then the flashing red lights and a klaxon started.
“What the hell is that? Anyone got an idea what’s going on? Come on people; is the bridge crew still alive?”
It was a long, agonising minute before Richardson responded.
“Err. Yeah, we have a bit of a problem, Sir. We may not have as much time as we thought.”
“Spit it out, Richardson.”
“We appear to be falling out of orbit. Either someone scuttled the ship, or we damaged something important a bit prematurely, Sir. Maybe six minutes before it’s going to get a bit dicey launching these dropships. As soon as we hit the upper atmosphere, it’ll get really bumpy and very hot very quickly.”
“Acknowledged. Has anyone got another dropship ready yet? We’re in this bay, and I don’t see a tech inside the cockpit.” Six minutes wasn’t long to get to the next bay.
“We’ve got two more going, Sir. Can you get to the port bay? It’s closer than the stern one?” Goodwin responded.
“Roger that,” Warden responded, turning to his the snipers and Ten, “Get moving and keep your eyes peeled, if the ship was scuttled we might not be alone.”
They moved out, across the dropship bay and toward the storerooms, moving fast. Warden ignored the tightness in his chest, gritting his teeth at the grinding sensation.
“Four minutes, Lieutenant. You need to get a shift on,” Milton said.
“Don’t worry about us, just make sure all the dropships are ready to go,” Warden responded as they passed through the second storeroom.
A chatter of fire from behind made him turn his head, Ten shouted over his shoulder, “Moyes, get the Lieutenant out of here now, I’ll hold these bastards!”
Moyes dropped the railgun and inserted herself under his arm. They started to jog, as fast as Warden could manage with her supporting him. “Lieutenant, you‘re bleeding. There’s blood all over my hand,” she panted.
“Don’t worry about it, it’s not my body anyway,” he replied, teeth gritted as they reached the dropship hangar. Probably explained why a broken rib was giving him so much trouble though, and why he was suddenly feeling cold. He’d probably caught some shrapnel when
the giant alien had triggered Ten’s booby trap.
Then they were at the ramp of the dropship, pushing past Milton who was crouched at the base firing bursts across the bay. Warden tried to turn, but Moyes insisted and bundled him up the ramp. She and Goodwin forced him into a chair and strapped him in.
“Get that stupid bastard Marine X back here on the double,” he slurred. Something was making his forearm hurt; he looked down to see a needle sticking out of it and frowned. Where had that come from, he wondered.
He heard shouting in the background, gunfire; then the world swam in front of his eyes for a moment or two.
Warden felt his stomach lurch, the distinctive sensation of a dropship entering the atmosphere.
“Back with us, Lieutenant?” said Ten, grinning from the seat opposite. Warden blinked. He must have blacked out for a few minutes. He looked down to see a blood pack attached to his chest, a tube leading to the needle in his arm. Well, that was a bit worrying. Judging by how alert he felt, he’d been given a combat stimulant as well.
“What happened? Milton?”
She was sitting next to Ten.
“We got two of the dropships ready, but you came under attack as you retreated. You’ve been bleeding for a while now. We’ve slapped a bandage on it, but you‘ll need some attention once we hit the ground. The aliens backed off when most of you got to the ship, and we laid down enough fire for Ten to reach us. We dropped the moment the ramp was sealed. Richardson hit the detonator as soon as we were clear. It blew a hole in the hangar and caused a fair bit of damage. I don’t think they’ll be able to pull the ship out of its orbit, but we’re monitoring it.”
“Good work, everyone. Good work,” Warden said, tilting his head back as the world shook and went dark around him.
Epilogue
“Captain? Can you hear me, Captain Atticus?” asked Wilson, leaning over the open pod.
Atticus raised his eyelids, blinking against the harsh light of the EDB. His new eyes stung, and he felt strange. It was always strange waking up in a new body. Even though the blank clones came in very few varieties, a new one always seemed unfamiliar. The muscles hadn’t been used for ages. Neither had the brain, for that matter.
