No Middle Ground

by Caleb Wachter

  A flicker of motion caught her eye, and without even thinking she snapped off a short burst of shots at the tiny, incoming object. Before the third shot had left her barrel, the corridor before her was filled with a roaring cloud of plasma as her second shot found home. The force of the explosion was lessened by the lack of an atmosphere to compress into a pressure wave, but the heat was almost palpable through her visor as the blue fireball roared across her armor and down the corridor.

  Unger and the other members of her squad began firing down the corridor, and Lu Bu realized she must have hit the grenade in mid-air as she saw another blip of motion at the same intersection.

  She took careful aim—which, for her highly-tuned reflexes, required just a fraction of a second—and snapped a single shot off at the second grenade, causing this one to explode closer to the intersection than to her squad, and when the fireball roared past them this time it was markedly less powerful.

  “Nice shot, Lu,” Joneson quipped as a volley of blaster bolts came from his position at the center of the Lancers’ position. A pair of Marines, wearing darker, sleeker-looking armor than her own bulky casement, tried to cross the intersection, but they were peppered by a dozen blaster rifles in rapid succession.

  The first fell to the deck in the middle of the corridor with his gorget slagged by a few well-placed shots from her squad-mates, and his armored body fell motionless to the floor. The second managed to dive across the intersection, but his legs were ravaged by repeated blaster impacts which saw his armor blackened as he hastily dragged himself clear of the junction.

  Blaster rifles poked around the junction’s corner, and the Marines began to return sporadic, poorly-aimed fire. Lu Bu took careful aim at one of the rifles and squeezed a shot, but missed. “Blast,” she cursed in Confederation Standard without thinking.

  The next time a rifle’s barrel came around the corner, she narrowed her focus and sent a round right through the trigger guard, nearly knocking the weapon from its wielder’s hands before he managed to recover it. However, the Marine made the fatal mistake of letting too much of his arm into view, and Joneson’s squad riddled it with repeated impacts which staggered his body and sent him down to one knee as he fell into view in the middle of the junction.

  A trio of shots from Unger and Lu Bu’s squad-mates impacted on the man’s helmet, and he fell to the ground—where Joneson’s squad finished the job and left the Marine’s puny armor a wrecked, smoking tomb.

  “Ready, Sergeant,” Sherman’s voice came over the link.

  “Lancers,” Joneson snapped, “lock mag-boots!”

  Lu Bu did as she was ordered, and less than a second after the boots had engaged, the corridor was filled with a violet rush of gas as shrapnel ricocheted off the walls of the corridor and the Lancers within it. Gnuko’s and Thomas’ units were still firing at the enemy throughout, but as soon as the shrapnel had fallen to the deck, Joneson bellowed, “Sherman, Unger: secure the deck! Thomas, you’re next.”

  The three Corporals acknowledged Joneson’s command, and Lu Bu felt a tap on her shoulder signaling she was to fall back from her position. She did so, and after Sherman’s team had gone through the newly-made hole on the deck-plates—a hole which was nearly two meters across, unlike the first entry made on the outer hull.

  Lu Bu had no idea why this particular hole was so much larger, but she was glad for the extra room as she leapt down to the deck below. Her Corporal had taken up position to the left, so she fell into the same formation as before as she knelt in front of her squad commander.

  This corridor was much like the previous one, except it appeared to extend slightly further. She felt the arrival of more Lancers through reverberations in the deck-plates, but she kept her eyes forward this time, mindful of a potential ambush.

  Several seconds passed as more and more boots landed on the decking behind her, until she heard Sergeant Joneson’s voice over the link. “All squads give me a count.”

  “Plus four, minus one,” Gnuko reported promptly.

  “Plus three, minus two,” Thomas followed.

  “Plus two, minus zero,” Unger reported snappily.

  “Zero-zero, Sergeant,” Sherman added.

  “Plus one, minus one,” Sergeant Joneson added finally, “total count: ten dead pirates, four downed Lancers. Good job, everyone,” he said gruffly, “advance to the next insertion point; Gnuko and Sherman take point. Thomas has the ball, Unger and Joneson manning the line.”

  “Sir!” the squad leaders replied in unison as the formation began to wind its way down the corridor.

  As they did so, Lu Bu got the distinct impression that this was not so unlike playing smashball. They had formed a team with a clear goal and distinct roles, and they followed specific actions, or plays, called by their team leader—in this case, the venerable and surprisingly sagacious Sergeant Walter Joneson.

  “Contact,” she heard Gnuko call out just before the flashes of blaster rifles could be seen reflected off the corridor’s walls. But Lu Bu refused to be distracted this time, and she kept her eyes focused on her zone of coverage down the corridor.

  She saw a flicker of motion from the corner of her eye, and before she knew it she was temporarily knocked off-balance as a blast of air came roaring out of a nearby door. But she kept her eyes on her assigned zone, as she knew that Corporal Unger was assigned to the wall where the blast had originated. Her diligence paid off, as she kept the barrel of her blaster rifle aimed down the corridor and she unthinkingly snapped off a pair of shots as a power-armored figure came into view attempting to cross the corridor.

  The Marine returned fire with an undisciplined spray of bolts, two of which impacted on her breastplate and threatened to relieve her of her precarious balance. But her own shots proved more accurate, as she put two rounds into his left leg. The knee of that leg seized up temporarily and caused the Marine to stagger.

  Lining up a shot on the Marine’s visor, Lu Bu sent a round at the Marine’s unseen face, but was disappointed as the shot went low when the barrel of her weapon unexpectedly wavered toward the floor.

  “Grav-plating,” Joneson bellowed. “Point and line squads, maintain your assignments; Thomas, disable these plates!”

  “Yes, sir,” Thomas replied, and Lu Bu found it nearly impossible to get a clear shot as the gravity of the corridor seemed to fluctuate completely at random. At times it seemed as though she was back in her mother’s compound, with gravity forces nearly twice that of normal human tolerances, and other times it seemed as though they were in a zero-gee environment.

  Still, she managed to send a few well-placed shots down the corridor as the Marines took advantage of the opportunity to cover both sides of their intersection, and to Lu Bu’s count it appeared there were four Marines positioned before her.

  But her shots did little more than strike the heavily-armored thighs and breastplates of the Marines, and only served to stagger them or force a brief retreat behind their respective corners.

  There was a series of sharp blasts behind her, after which the fluctuations in gravity ceased entirely and they were fully in a zero-gee environment.

  “Ready for insertion, Sergeant,” Thomas called out.

  “Mag-locks, Lancers!” Joneson ordered, and again Lu Bu barely had enough time to engage her boots’ locking mechanisms before the roar of venting atmosphere surged down the corridor, followed by yet another wave of shrapnel which skittered haphazardly off the metallic surfaces of the corridor and its inhabitants. “Thomas, Sherman,” Joneson ordered, “you’re in first. Unger, you’re next.”

  The weight of fire from the enemy Marines was significantly heavier this time as Lu Bu and her squad-mates retreated to the newly-made, two meter wide hole, and one of Unger’s Lancers fell to the deck just before reaching the hole. His helmet was clearly compromised, with the face shield having been shattered as blood trickled down its duralloy surface.

  “Insert, Lancer,” she heard Unger snap as she hesitated, wonder
ing if she should help her fallen squad-mate, “now!”

  His words spurred her to action, and she leapt down the hole to the deck below. No sooner had she arrived there than two things happened: first, Corporal Thomas’ squad began firing at a nearby panel and second, a stream of blaster bolts came down the corridor from both directions.

  Corporal Thomas and two of his men were hit immediately, and Lu Bu laid down a barrage of covering fire as quickly as she was able as she backed up against the wall. The Corporal staggered as a series of shots impacted on his armor, and he fell near Lu Bu’s position as his armor clearly failed from repeated, accurate blaster strikes.

  Without thinking, she continued firing with her left hand and reached to his belt with her right, where he kept his plasma grenades. She knew she would have to be accurate, or she would risk harming her fellow Lancers, but it was clear they had no time to re-group and fortify the position.

  Thumbing the activation button and twisting the cap of the grenade so it would explode on impact, she took aim—while still firing the blaster rifle with her left hand—and hurled the grenade down the corridor like she was gunning for the end-zone on a gadget play.

  The grenade sailed perfectly straight in the now zero-gee environment, where it struck the far wall of the intersecting corridor which the Marines were stationed within. The grenade exploded in a bright, fiery flash, and this time she barely even felt the energy of the explosion as the last wisps of blue fire barely reached her position.

  But the Marines’ fire from that intersection had ceased altogether, so Lu Bu turned quickly and saw one of her squad’s members fall to the ground, her body spasming as it was enveloped in a cloud of blue-white flame. The Lancer barely managed to utter a scream before going silent—and limp.

  “Plasma cannon,” Corporal Unger shouted as he took up his fallen squad-member’s position while firing as quickly as his blaster rifle would allow. “Unger minus two, Sarge!” he added between shots.

  “Larry that,” Lu Bu heard Joneson reply, just before the barrel of the plasma cannon swept around the corner toward her. She fired twice at the weapon, with each of her shots finding their home on the plasma cannon’s thick barrel, and Corporal Unger also landed a pair of shots on the weapon’s mid-section.

  But their efforts did little to deter the Marine wielding the bulky weapon, as he slung it around and, holding it at waist-level with both hands, fired the powerful weapon at their position.

  Lu Bu was determined that if she was to die in the cannon’s flames, she would take its wielder with her. So she took what she truly believed would be her final shot—aiming directly at the man’s visor.

  His head snapped back from the force of the impact, but not before the roaring blast of super-heated plasma shot down the corridor from the cannon’s barrel and smashed into Corporal Unger, spinning him like a top and spraying molten metal fragments in all directions as his suit was melted by the powerful weapon.

  Lu Bu had no time to consider her options, knowing that the Marine needed to wait at least five seconds before firing his hellish weapon again. So she stood and ran down the corridor as fast as she could, finding that her power-armored, servo-enhanced legs were far slower than she expected.

  With four seconds remaining, the Marine ducked back around the corner and his cohorts wrapped their weapons around the corner and they took aim at her as she charged toward them.

  With three seconds remaining before the plasma cannon could again fire, she managed to correctly predict the path of the rightward Marine’s fire and blocked all but one of his shots with the body of her blaster rifle. The leftward Marine’s blaster rifle hammered repeatedly into her shoulder and chest, but she continued her charge unabated.

  With two seconds left she had nearly reached the intersection, and hurled her ruined weapon—which had thankfully not yet exploded from repeated impacts near its power cell—at the leftward Marine just before slamming her power-armored knee into the right Marine’s forearm, knocking his weapon off-target.

  With one second left, she grabbed for his blaster rifle and pivoted her body as she slammed his armored bulk into the thin, metal wall of the corridor and sent his head into a power conduit. The electricity arced briefly before cutting out, but the interruption in his suit’s control systems was just enough time for her to grab the blaster rifle from his slackened fingers.

  Knowing she had no more time before the plasma cannon could be turned on her, she turned and fired at the first, glassy visor she saw in the corridor opposite herself. The Marine’s head snapped back and she noted with satisfaction that it had been the plasma cannon-wielding warrior who she had struck. Uncertain if the first shot had penetrated his visor, she fired again as she clomped across the junction as quickly as her painfully slow, armored legs would take her.

  The second shot also landed on the man’s visor, and this time he went to his knees and the cannon slipped from his gauntleted hands to the deck. But his fellow Marine had brought his own weapon up, and was aiming at Lu Bu’s head.

  She knew she would be unable to bring her weapon up in time, so she tried to sink her weight in a last-ditch effort to avoid the incoming deathblow, but her armor prevented her from doing so.

  The Marine fired, but not before the barrel of his weapon was struck by a timely shot from one of her fellow Lancers, and the Marine’s blaster shot went just wide of her helmeted head. Needing no more providence from the Ancestors, Lu Bu screamed and lifted her leg before driving it forward into the man’s arm.

  Her duralloy boot slammed into the Marine’s forearm and pinned it against the wall of the corridor, but he kept his grip on the blaster rifle and grabbed her leg with his free hand before shoving it off his pinned arm.

  Squeezing the trigger, Lu Bu sent a round into the man’s lightly-armored neck. The Marine’s free hand went to the fresh gash in his armor, and Lu Bu knew she had him as she brought her leg back down before slamming her armored shin into his head, knocking his helmet completely off in the process and knocking the warrior prone to the deck.

  There was the sound of repeated blaster rifle impacts from behind her, and she turned just in time to see the Marine whose rifle she had taken crash against the wall of the corridor with a short vibro-blade in his hand. It took her a moment to realize he had been coming for her with the weapon, and that realization made her grind her teeth as she added her own weapon’s fire to that of her fellow Lancers until the blaster rifle’s power cell was completely empty—and the Marine’s armor was a shattered, smoking shell.

  She turned back to the Marine whose helmet she had knocked off and realized she had taken more than just his helmet; she had apparently kicked his head off as well! Finding the sight of a decapitated man more odd than disturbing, she reached down to collect the plasma cannon. Its dual grips felt good in her hands, and she swung the barrel of the weapon around to sweep the nearby corridors, only to find them all empty.

  “Regroup, Lancer,” she heard Sergeant Joneson call, and she turned to see him standing amid the fallen forms of her fellow warriors. The sight of so many downed Lancers—six, by her count—angered her and she felt the urge to fire her newfound weapon into the nearby wall in rage. “Regroup!” Sergeant Joneson snapped again.

  This time, Lu Bu managed to force her choler down as she trudged back toward their position just in time to hear Thomas call out, “Ready, Sarge.”

  “Mag-boots,” Joneson ordered, and again she had just enough time to lock her boots before the corridor was filled with the rush of escaping gas, which deformed the deck-plates around the jagged hole which the boarding tube had made.

  “Give me totals,” Joneson growled.

  “Gnuko: plus six, minus three,” Corporal Gnuko reported stiffly.

  “Thomas…plus five…minus three,” Thomas said through panting breaths. It was a miracle he had survived the ruination of his armor.

  “Sherman: plus five, minus one,” Sherman added, his voice crackling with static.

&
nbsp; Lu Bu looked down at Corporal Unger’s clearly lifeless body, of which barely half of his power armor remained. She knew she was the only surviving member of her squad, so she cleared her throat and reported, “Unger: plus four, minus three, Sergeant Joneson.”

  “Joneson plus three, minus three,” Joneson added with a nod to Lu Bu, “you’re with my squad now, Lu. There’s only one more deck between us and the bridge; let’s cap this drive off!”

  Overcome with the moment, Lu Bu found herself shouting wordlessly—along with the rest of the nineteen surviving Lancers, apparently, as her ears were filled with roars of approval coming in from the battle suit’s comm. unit.

  “Remember the mission,” Joneson barked as he gestured down the corridor with his blaster rifle. “Move out!”

  Surprisingly, they encountered no more resistance on their way to the bridge. Sergeant Joneson ordered Lu Bu to destroy the pressure doors sealing off the parts of the ship not affected by their series of forced entries which had exposed the interior of the destroyer to the cold vacuum of space. They had only left the final pressure door along their route intact.

  But unsurprisingly, the vault-like door to the bridge—which was also a large airlock—was sealed when they arrived.

  “Lu,” Joneson called over the link as he knocked on the seam of the blast doors, “you brought the key?”

  She looked at him in puzzlement for several seconds until realizing what he meant, and she felt her face flush with embarrassment as she replied, “Yes, Sergeant Joneson.”

  “Then let’s see ourselves in, Lancer,” he gestured after taking a step to the side.

  Lu Bu thumbed the two-part trigger of the plasma cannon and felt its thrum reverberate through her gauntlets as it cycled to full-charge. When it was primed, she released her index finger and the awesome recoil the weapon created nearly knocked her off her feet as the blue-white flame belched from the barrel of her weapon and leapt toward the door.