We were five meters in when we found the first body. His attire was a collection of armor and air tight material. Someone from Team 2-3 had the presence of mind to disable his rifle by shooting its trigger housing. The second body hung out of an air vent high above us. This unnerved me as the Pirate’s position would have caught 2-3 by surprise. We were in his kill zone. If he were still alive, he could do damage to my team.
Three more dead Pirates left examples of 2-3’s effectiveness. Finally, we climbed a ladder to the main body of the Transport Potifar. The Tramp Steamer was built around an old Clipper Ship. Beyond a row of offices, I could see the crew lounge seats. They were leather covered and held together with strips of tape.
I stepped onto the deck and eyed the corridor and the closed cabin doors. While the entrance to the Captain’s quarters was open, the other doors were closed. Whether 2-3 had screwed up or they were taking too much fire they didn’t follow procedures, didn’t matter. The body of a Marine lying across the Captain’s threshold was testament to the Pirates ambush of the Fire Team.
“2-4 to 2-3, report,” I radioed to the team ahead of us.
“2-4, we are pinned down,” a voice that wasn’t the team’s Corporal replied.
“2-3, be advised. We are coming in behind you,” I said hoping the Marine assuming the role of team leader for 2-3 wouldn’t turn around and begin to shoot at us.
“Phelan, look over here,” Cecilius called from the rear of our formation.
I scooted by Zoja and retraced my steps back to the top of the staircase. My assistant team leader was kneeling and pointing at holes in the skin of the ship. Through and through holes and, lots of them peppered the walls.
“Hard projectile weapons?” I asked even though I recognized the holes and resulting patterns.
“Looks like two gas operated, rapid round recycling, machine pistols,” he said stating the nomenclature of the guns that had fired the rounds. In short, the machine pistols used a form of gunpowder and automatically fired metal bullets.
There were three really bad things about this discovery. Two of them had to do with the bullets. The first was the weapon used gun powder. The ignition of gun powder would fowl the air with nitrates and an assortment of other poisons. The ship’s air system would take hours to clear the noxious mixture. This was related to a bullet’s second problem in space. The hard tipped projectile would penetrate the skin of the space ship. So while the air handling system attempted to clear the atmosphere, the atmosphere would be pouring through the sieve of the bulkhead. This would defeat the air system’s purpose.
The third issue with hard tipped bullets had nothing to do specifically with the rounds. It had to do with the crazy who would use that type of weapon in a space ship. We found out just how crazy as I was about to say something to Cecilius.
The bullets traced a line above our heads before the banging of the gun’s carriage reach us. We dropped to prone positions. Zoja and I were pressed on the right wall while Masao and Cecilius were hugging the left side of the corridor.
“Cecilius, you clear the stateroom to our left. I’ll provide cover,” I ordered, “You’re with me, Zoja. Masao follow Cecilius.”
I had two reasons for these orders. One was to get us out of the line of fire from the disruptive weapons. The other to assure no enemy was hiding in any of the rooms.
Cecilius rolled to the door and reached up for the door handle.
“Go, go, go,” I said as I rolled into position to aim my rifle across the corridor and into the room.
He pulled down on the handle and pushed the door open. From across the hallway, I fired a burst of kinetic rounds into the room. The pinging, as my rounds hit the far wall, would keep the head of anyone in the room down until my guys could clear the room.
After a dramatic entrance, they knelt in the empty room. I called to check on the other member of my team.
“Zoja, ready?” I asked
From her position in front of me, my heavy weapons specialist looked back with a sneer.
“When does the fun start?” she asked with a fatalistic shake of her head.
“I’ll take the next door,” I said to Cecilius, “ready Zoja?”
She didn’t wait for me. A low crawl took her a little beyond the next stateroom door. I took hold of the handle.
“Go, go, go,” Cecilius ordered from the doorway on the other side of the hallway.
I pushed the door just as the bullets from the Bridge started punching holes in the walls again. The two Pirates hiding in the stateroom caught both Cecilius and Masao’s rounds in the head. They made a mess of the room. Zoja and I crawled into the safety of the gory room.
Two more sets of doors went down like that except there was no ambush team waiting for us. In hindsight, if we’d gone forward to take out the machine pistols and bypassed the staterooms, we’d be dead. The smartest way to accomplish an ambush was to catch your foe in a crossfire while they were focused on your comrades to the front.
“Zoja ready to have some fun?” I asked.
“About damn time,” she replied lifting the barrels of her weapon and motioning towards the door.
“Team 2-3, we are about to execute a hard advance,” I said warning the team ahead of us we were about to move up, “keep your heads down.”
“Rodger that 2-4,” the voice whispered making me wonder how close to the Bridge hatch 2-3 had gone before getting pinned down.
“Stand by, on Zoja’s count,” I said looking across the hallway to get confirmation.
Cecilius and Masao gave me a thumbs up and I turned to my heavy weapons specialist.
“The showroom is yours,” I said.
She replied as she swung into the corridor, “Let’s dance.”
Her salvo began with her pumping out three sonic grenades. One exploded beyond the hatch and a flash blinked out from the Bridge. Before the flash faded, two more followed. By then, Zoja was spraying the Bridge with hundreds of kinetic rounds. And, I couldn’t prove it without video but, I swear she was literally dancing down the corridor.
Cecilius, Masao and I rushed to follow her. We weren’t sure of the security of the seats so while I scanned those on the right, Cecilius on the left, Masao walked backward watching our rear.
We moved past the three remaining members of Fire Team 2-3. Zoja was at the hatch and sweeping from side to side.
“Stand by for entry,” I said tapping her on the shoulder.
“Entry, entry, entry,” she shouted stepping back as Cecilius and I flowed around her from either side.
The Bridge was a gruesome scene of carnage. Torn bodies lay across the control panels in such a tangle that I couldn’t tell where one started and another ended. I was aiming high and sweeping from left to right while my assistant team leader covered right to left aiming low. We both ended up targeting a woman who lay partially hidden behind a console box.
“Galactic Council Marine Corps,” I said identifying us, “It’s over. Keep your hands away from the weapon.”
She was tall at least I assumed she was tall as her legs were long enough to disappear behind the console box. Her hair didn’t match the olive color of her skin so I assumed it was bleached. I wouldn’t have noticed hair color as a rule but hers was so blond as to be almost white. Surely it wasn’t natural.
It’s a good thing Cecilius was looking at her hair instead of the machine pistol lying beside her. Because of the flashy hair, he noticed her quick glance at the Navigators position off to my right.
The blond grabbed for her weapon and I hit her with a burst from mine. Before I could survey my handy work, Lance Corporal Cecilius Esmee tackled me mid-section. It forced me to exhale and I couldn’t catch my breath as he drove me back through the Bridge hatch and to the deck in the corridor.
The ringing in my ears competed with my inability to catch my breath for the most annoying complication. I finally took in a lung full of air and my ears won the dubious prize. The ringing dampened all other sounds.
/> “Corporal, Corporal Piran,” someone was whispering to me.
I looked up to see Masao leaning over me. His mouth was open as if he was yelling. I could barely hear him.
“At ease,” I said, “How’s Cecilius?”
“He’s hurt but sitting up over there,” he replied pointing behind him.
I rolled over and pushed to my hands and knees. Sure enough, my assistant Team Leader was sitting on the deck with his back resting on a seat cushion.
“What was that?” I asked him.
“Another blond Pirate in the Navigation section,” he said slowly, “She had two fragmentation grenades. One in each hand. When she released the spoons, I figured we’d overstayed our welcome.”
Zoja squatted down in front of me and shook her head in disgust.
“Bridge and Environmental are secure,” she said with a sly smile, “better let Rashid know.”
“First, let’s evaluate our operatives,” I suggested using a seat back to climb to my feet, “Zoja, Masao status?”
“We’re both fit,” Masao replied.
“How about 2-3?” I asked knowing they had one dead and at least two hurt.
“I’m fit for duty. Private First Class Yoana Ora,” a short, muscular Marine announced from a few seats back, “My Corporal and assistant Team Leader are stable but unfit for duty.”
“Acknowledged,” I replied trying to figure what resources I had between the two teams.
Zoja, Masao, Yoana, and my slightly shaken self, were fit. Not enough to keep the Bridge guarded and begin deck clearing. My dilemma was partially solved when a voice followed by a head appeared over a seat beside Yoana.
“Piran, I’m able to handle a rifle. Not too mobile but I’m good for a fixed position,” the assistant Team Leader from 2-3 said.
“Welcome back,” I replied then I returned my attention to Cecilius, “Your condition?”
“Back hurts but I’m mobile,” he announced as he struggled to stand, “We’ve got the D. Let’s get to clearing those decks.”
I ignored him. He was hurt but wouldn’t stand down unless it was an order. His tenacity was an attribute that endeared him to the rest of the squad. In this case it would save him from the Deck search.
“Actual-2, Fire Team 2-4 reporting,” I said looking away from Cecilius.
“Go 2-4,” Sergeant Rashid replied.
“The Bridge and Environmental are secure,” I said looking around at the Marines, “I’m leaving Cecilius and 2-3’s Lance Corporal to guard the Bridge. 2-3’s new assistant Team Leader is Zoja, heavy weapon goes to Masao and I’m using Yoana Ora to complete the team.”
“Rodger, I confirm your decision,” the Sergeant said, “We have a Medical Boat inbound with two more Patrol Boats. You’ll have help soon but don’t sit on your collective asses.”
“Aye Sergeant,” I said smiling.
In the Corps, the job’s not done until you’ve completed your mission. We don’t leave tough jobs for other Marines while we’re still able to function. Before heading below to start the deck search, I walked into the Bridge.
There were pieces of blond hair scattered around the Bridge. A large hole with space visible beyond was grabbing anything not secured or glued down with gore and sucking it out. I snatched an armor vest off of one of the Pirates and jammed it against the bulkhead. Using a broken stool, I wedged the armor plating over the hole. It would only slow down the evacuation of the atmosphere, but at least nothing was flying around. The Marines left behind to guard the Bridge would have a sustainable environment.
“Cecilius be sure to tell intelligence, when they get here, about our blond fanatics,” I instructed, “Masao, Yoana, Zoja, saddle up, we’re moving out.”
Zoja wasn’t happy and her sneer was on display as she stepped out of the machine gun’s harness. I’ll give her credit she didn’t complain as she helped Masao with the straps. We lined up with me in the lead followed by Masao and the big machine gun. Zoja shoved Yoana in line then my new assistant Team Leader brought up the rear.
We made it through five decks with only two confrontations. My team was functioning and we’d just started down another of the twisting slapped together corridors when two teams of fresh Marines caught up with us.
“Corporal Piran, your team is relieved. Sergeant Rashid said to get your goldbricking butt back to the Command Post.”
“Aye Corporal, we were tired of the hospitality of the Potifar anyway,” I said turning over in my bed.
Chapter 28
I opened my eyes to the Fleet Merchant Hotel room. It was strange I hadn’t thought of that operation in years. The memory of fanatics willing to die while taking Marines with them rather than to surrender, ran a shiver through my body.
After a bite to eat, I strolled like a tourist to the industrial side of the hydroxyl Station. The elevator stopped and opened at the loading deck. The work crews didn’t pay any attention to me as I made for the canyons of empty crates.
There was little chance of anyone watching me, except for maybe a hidden Druid. Just to be sure, I took a circular route among the stored crates. As I walked by the crate with the strange box in it, I confirmed the tape on the lower edge was electronic sealing fiber. The date of installation flashed on the surface of the tape. If I attempted to remove it, the date would stop. And, the mystery retriever would know someone had tampered with the crate.
It took a lot of secret glances around before I found the Druid on watch. He or she was high up in the crossbeams that supported the ceiling. Like a small brown smudge on the dull gray metal, the Druid was almost invisible. I didn’t ruin the Druid’s confidence by waving or acknowledging the hiding place.
We had a day or so left until the pickup. I could use the time to our advantage. But first, I needed to find Agdta Hernan and ask her for another favor. I pinged her PID and she gave me directions to her location.
House of Betserai deck was paneled in dark wood. Even the lighting was subdued. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Once I could make out the venue, I was pleased by the décor.
The space was open like a cargo deck with islands of privacy stretching from the entrance where I stood all the way to the curved glass of the outer edge. A short, dark skinned man approached me.
“The House of Betserai and I, Halima, welcome you,” he announced with a rhythmic accent that made his words flow together, “What is your pleasure today. We offer the finest in whiskeys, scotches and bourbons. Sweet and young or aged to perfection.”
“I’m meeting someone,” I replied than added, “A well-aged scotch would be a treat.”
“The name of your party?”
“Agdta Hernan. She’s the Navigator off of the Clipper ship Uno Shoda,” I explained.
“Ah, please wait just a minute,” Halima said turning to a man who’d appeared at his side, “Please inform Miss Hernan, she has a guest.”
The man sprinted off. It wasn’t as if he could run far but, he gave the appearance of swift motion. Whether it was a show for the guests or he really was fast didn’t matter, he was out of sight quickly.
“We don’t like to interrupt Miss Hernan when she visits,” Halima the greeter stated, “No, no she’s not to be disturbed.”
My appreciation for the Navigator was growing. She seemed to make friends or create interesting stories wherever she landed on shore leave.
The runner retuned and whispered in Halima’s ear.
“There will be a delay,” he said to me, “If you’ll allow us, we would be happy to seat you until Miss Hernan is available.”
“That’s fine,” I replied, “Somewhere with a view screen of the Galactic Video-Team Competition.”
“Why of course, we all enjoy the video games,” Halima stated.
They left me at the end of a long bar with a good view of the screen. Best of all was the short glass filled with caramel colored liquid refreshment. The aged scotch was peat, smoke and smooth fire rolling along my tongue.
I was lost in the
scotch and the team on the screen. They were all injured even the small flying orb directing them displayed damage. It was a close game. The orb communicated something and all four of the avatars shook their heads, no. For a round floating object, the guide was very expressive signifying its frustration at the team by buzzing at their crouches. The female member of the team broke the stalemate by laughing at the automatic response of her male avatars.
Crossed hands covering the manhood of video characters was funny. But it got the desired effect and the team leaned in to hear what the orb wanted.
The screen flashed to another team and they were spreading out in a defense arc. It looked like the final level of a hard fought game.
I was so intent on the video game I didn’t see Halima approach.
“Miss Hernan will see you now,” he said, “Please follow me.”
The final attack of the game was getting underway and I was tempted to stay and watch the results. But I needed a favor and having Agdta wait for me wasn’t the best way to go about asking for it.
She had procured one of the largest islands of grass. The walls of the enclave reached almost to the dark ceiling. I entered and a hand halted my progress. A man just a little shorter than me owned the hand.
“If you value that arm,” I said pressing forward, “You’ll remove it, before I do.”
We both turned when Agdta broke out laughing.
“At ease, Marines,” she said between bouts of laughter, “Izan meet Phelan, Phelan meet Sergeant Izan. The good Sergeant was here when we docked. It seems the video team didn’t want me to be bothered when we played. And so, I have a Marine guard. Sweet, don’t you think?”
I looked closely at Izan. His thick arms were scarred from fighting and his face had the unmistakable marks of space scaring. He was most likely a Combat Marine and I wondered again about the team Agdta navigated for in the competition. They had some serious Marine Corps connections.
Galactic Council Realm 1: On Station Page 16
