Winds of Marque

by Bennett R. Coles

  “Keep the thrusters warm,” Liam said. “You’re our only way out of here.”

  “Good luck, sir,” Faith said with a knuckle to the forehead.

  “And to you.”

  The inner airlock door opened and Liam led his team in. Flatrock, the medic Song, and his old bowsman Hunter crowded close in their heavy space suits. They all wore armor underneath, with swords and pistols strapped to their outer belts, as well as grenades stuffed with compressed air and the same black powder that the ship’s cannons used. Flatrock carried a small battering ram, Hunter an electronics tool kit, and Song a medical pack.

  Helmet visors snapped down. Liam waited until the air was pumped out, then activated the outer door. He stepped out of the barge’s gravity, testing his footing against the alien surface. There was ice everywhere around the barge, melted by the thrusters and then flash-frozen again in the frigid vacuum. He pushed off from the barge’s side, sailing forward several paces before touching down amid a small cloud of dust. Looking back, he saw that his team was moving to follow him. He hand-gestured for the other teams to advance. Sky began to ascend the ridge in front of them. Amelia headed to the left and Swift to the far right.

  Liam started up the ridge.

  It took several paces to get comfortable moving, but Amelia finally settled into a long, bounding stride that kept her low. A big risk on a world this small was jumping too high and never coming down again. All around her, she saw her team bumbling forward unevenly as each sailor found his or her rhythm.

  She slowed as the ridge top approached, eventually dropping to a crawl as she eased up to the lip of the hill. Beyond was the sprawl of the pirate base. There were half a dozen buildings scattered around the brilliant white surface and two large docks that extended up in space. The last ship was just thrustering free of her mooring. The dock structure plunged down into the comet’s surface, and Sectoid thermal scans had indicated that the pirates had built a subterranean network. A single, massive crater cut through the open space between surface buildings—an opening shot by the Sectoids to start this battle and draw the fire.

  High above, the flashes of cannon fire were clearly visible against the stars. The giant Sectoid hull was ringed with sails, and smaller vessels were harrying it on all sides. The last pirate ship was intending to join that fight, but it would never get the chance.

  Over a ridge to Amelia’s left, the magnificent sight of Daring under full sail hove into view. The flash of a missile streaked away from her hull. Seconds later the pirate ship erupted into flame, crashing against her dock and tearing apart. Half her hull tumbled slowly down to pound the icy surface in a plume of dust, while the other half wrapped around the dock and disintegrated. Clouds of debris rained down across the base in a silent, slow-motion whirlwind of destruction. Daring unsheeted the port mast and began retracting it, steering a high, circular course to bring her cannon to bear.

  “All teams advance,” Liam barked over the radio. “Cause maximum damage to the outbuildings and then get into the base to press the attack. Unleash chaos!”

  Amelia gestured her own sailors forward. As Daring circled overhead, cannon fire raining down on the central docks, Amelia and her team bounded for the first surface building. It was a square metal box with no windows, but a locked set of double doors. No airlock. Able Rating Fence, her biggest sailor, hefted his battering ram and pounded at the doors. On the third strike the doors buckled inward. Amelia glanced in. The dark space was piled high with barrels of fuel for surface vehicles. Certainly useful for long-term pirate operations, but worth little on the open market.

  She hefted one of her grenades and each of her sailors followed suit. They pulled the pins, threw the grenades through the broken doors, and bounded away. With no atmosphere, there was no sound or shock wave, but Amelia saw the snow at her feet suddenly glow orange as the grenades detonated and greedily consumed as much fuel as they could before their air ran out. She slowed to pause behind an icy outcrop and glanced back. The base of the fuel building was a blackened shard, and a metal rain of roof fragments and unexploded barrels was drifting down all around.

  A flash of fire to his left caught Liam’s eye. An outbuilding was disintegrating in an explosive halo of debris. He smiled. Amelia and her team were making their presence known. His smile faded, though, as he saw new flashes on the landscape. Small but steady, these bursts of fire pointed upward: cannon fire. He looked up to where Daring was still circling, focusing her broadsides on the central docks. Even as Liam watched he saw the puffs of impact on her hull as the pirate guns struck home.

  His team had gathered around him and he quickly surveyed the landscape. The nearest battery of surface cannon was directly ahead, a short dash across an open field of snow.

  “All teams, this is the XO,” he signaled, “priority target the surface cannons.”

  He peeked out from behind the outcrop, assessing the target. The battery was dug into the surface, the four cannon barrels pointing upward. Each one fired individually, taking an average of thirty seconds between shots. He motioned his team forward. They bounded across the open snow, each stride lifting Liam high enough to get a glimpse of the battery top. It was a transparent surface with flexible seals around each cannon to allow some freedom of aiming. Each cannon fired once in the time it took to close the distance. Liam slowed his approach, skidding along the slippery surface to finally stop within an easy throw of the battery. He lobbed a single grenade. It landed on the transparent surface, rolled backward, then detonated. As the flash cleared Liam saw that the battery surface was scarred but still intact. He frowned, judging whether another grenade would do enough damage.

  “Sir,” Flatrock signaled, “I have an idea. I’m going in.”

  Flatrock trotted forward carefully, a grenade in his hand. He reached the battery surface, shuffling right out on top of it. He was completely exposed to the pirates below, but Liam suddenly realized that there was nothing they could do to stop him as long as he avoided the barrels. Flatrock inched forward, pausing. Then, just after the nearest cannon fired, he lunged forward and dropped his grenade down the exposed barrel. He pushed himself off and sailed clear of the battery, touching down in the snow in a tuft of crystals.

  Liam was already advancing, Hunter and Song at his flanks. He saw the fire of a full explosion in atmosphere beneath the transparent surface, followed by another. By the time he slid to a stop and crawled to the lip of the battery, there was nothing visible beneath but thick smoke. The cannons had stopped firing. He signaled the ingenious tactic to the other teams, then scanned the terrain for their next target.

  Up ahead was a small but heavily reinforced shack. One side of it sloped down and the other was perfectly upright. A patch of ground had been cleared and leveled on the upright side. Liam approached and his suspicions were quickly confirmed—this was an airlock leading down into the main base.

  “All teams, this is the XO,” he signaled. “I am starting my assault into the base itself.”

  Amelia steadied herself in front of the airlock door and tried the controls. Unsurprisingly, they were locked. She motioned Able Rating Green forward with his tool kit; he pulled out a small encryption pad and plugged it into the airlock controls. His movements were clumsy in the thick space-suit gloves, but he carefully tapped in commands and his pad started its work.

  Amelia kept watch on the surrounding battlefield. One of the two towering docks was tipping dangerously under the constant barrage of Daring’s cannon fire and flashes from a single gun emplacement on the far side of the base still peppered the frigate as she circled overhead. She saw movement to her right, but recognized the suited figures of Liam and his team as they advanced toward another airlock more than a hundred paces away. She pulled out the rough map created by the Sectoid thermal scans. Everything in the subterranean base appeared to be interconnected, so whichever airlock the teams used to gain entry should allow for an eventual meet-up. But it was going to be a lot of guesswork. Chaos was t
heir friend today, she reminded herself.

  Green tapped her suit, indicating that the airlock was depressurizing and would open in moments. He stuffed his encryption pad back into the tool kit and drew his sword. The outer door opened and he led them into the tight space. Stairs descended along a narrow tube as normal gravity slowly took hold, and they paused at another door. This one was unlocked and opened into a long metal passageway, wide enough for two abreast, stretching away to a distant set of doors. Lanterns rested at ten-pace intervals, casting stark white light to combat the heavy shadows. Crates and barrels lined one wall.

  Amelia lifted her faceplate, wincing at the cold. It was uncomfortable, but not dangerous—and there was plenty of air. She moved up to Green’s side and pointed her cutlass toward the distant doors.

  “They might be waiting for us,” she said. “Be ready for an ambush.”

  Liam and his team hustled down the passageway, feeling the extra bulk of their space suits in the full gravity. Reaching a set of doors, they paused long enough to test them, then, at a nod from Liam, threw them open.

  The passageway beyond was much the same, only with more light and fewer stores. It stretched away to the left and right, with occasional doors cut into the walls. Liam saw movement to the left—three Humans and a Theropod. They were armed and armored, and their expressions of shock upon seeing him quickly twisted into anger. They charged forward.

  Liam returned the charge, Hunter at his side with the others close behind. One of the Human pirates closed in on him, longsword already raised for a deadly swing. Liam raised his saber for a parry as he thundered forward. He watched the pirate’s arms tense, then, just as the longsword began to sweep down, Liam dropped to a slide and stabbed upward. His saber drove up into the pirate’s body. Flatrock’s cutlass followed through above, the force of his charge knocking the pirate backward. The Theropod behind him staggered under the deadweight and Liam slashed out from below, slicing the brute’s foot off at the ankle before swinging again at the next Human target.

  The Theropod screeched in pain, hopping backward on one foot as blood poured across the floor. It turned as if to flee, but then swung with its tailsword. Liam staggered back as he blocked the huge blade. He thumped against the wall and struggled to gain his footing. The brute’s sword pressed against him, pinning him in place. Small reptilian hands reached into a belt pouch and pulled out an acid bomb. Liam struggled to back away but the force of the tailsword held him fast. Both his hands pushed on his saber to hold the blade clear of cutting his space suit.

  The brute raised the acid bomb with a hiss.

  Liam shifted his weight to one leg, lifting the other to kick at the Theropod’s only functional knee. With a crack the joint snapped sideways. The brute toppled backward, desperately juggling the acid bomb as he fell. The bomb gently hit the floor and rolled away. Liam stepped forward, slashing down at the base of the tail. He stabbed again and the brute collapsed.

  Raising his saber, he turned back to the battle, just as Flatrock buried his blade into the final pirate. Liam scanned the passageway in both directions, then quickly examined his sailors’ suits. There were no obvious gashes.

  “Everybody okay?” he asked.

  Amid the gasping for breath, he received three affirmatives. He activated his headset.

  “Assault, XO: What’s your status?”

  “In the base,” Sky replied, “and seeking targets.”

  “Propulsion, XO: What’s your status?”

  “Topside,” came Swift’s scratchy response, “making our way to the last cannon emplacement.”

  “Quartermaster, XO: What’s your status?”

  There was no response. Liam repeated his query.

  “Inside,” Amelia finally answered, voice curt. “Heavy resistance!”

  Liam tensed—he had to help her. Quickly visualizing where he was in the base, he recalled that her team had been to his left. They had to be somewhere ahead down this passageway.

  “Remain defensive,” he said. “We’re coming to you.”

  He motioned his sailors into a run. Four sets of heavy footfalls thumped along the passageway as they abandoned any attempt at stealth. Liam drew one of his pistols, scanning each closed doorway they passed. Many were blue and marked with names, suggesting this was a barracks area, but they passed two black doors and one heavy red one with danger markings on it—an airlock.

  They reached a T-junction, pausing long enough to peek around both corners and assess their position. The right passageway extended for a hundred paces, the left for only ten before turning again to the right. Liam turned left.

  From around the corner ahead a Theropod face popped out then retracted. Liam sensed a trap but knew they couldn’t back away. He burst into a sprint, seeing a reptilian hand emerge long enough to lob an acid bomb. It sailed harmlessly past his running sailors, splattering down just behind them in an awful hiss. He skidded around the corner as he raised his pistol. Half a dozen pirates swung into view, poised to strike. He emptied his magazine into them and charged forward, swinging. The first three had collapsed under his hail of bullets, but the others were unafraid as they raised their blades.

  Liam met the first strike high, parrying the sword to the right and smashing the butt of his pistol into the pirate’s face. It was enough to stagger the man back. Liam flicked his saber into an uppercut and slashed the pirate across the chest. Flatrock pressed forward, engaging the next pirate. Liam stepped back from the fray.

  “Quartermaster, XO,” he signaled. “What’s your status?”

  “Joy and Green are down,” she gasped. “Fence and I are retreating to the airlock.”

  “Get topside,” he ordered. “They can’t follow you there.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Flatrock, Hunter, and Song were pressing the pirates back, but Liam could see more on the way, funneling down the passageway from what looked like a large, central space. Beyond, he just caught a glimpse of pirates running by in space suits. He pursed his lips in grim assessment of the situation. His team of four would never be able to fight through to Amelia.

  But there was an airlock not thirty paces back.

  Song dropped the last of the nearest pirates. The next group was still ten paces away, advancing hungrily with swords up.

  “Withdraw,” he ordered his sailors as he unhooked his last grenade and threw it over their heads into the middle of the attacking pack.

  He ran back around the corner, his sailors close on his heels. The blast from the grenade rocked the entire passageway. Shrapnel clanged against the wall behind him and a rush of hot air knocked him forward. He staggered but kept his feet as he ducked down the passageway to the right, retracing his steps until he found the red door. It opened at his command and he motioned his sailors up the steep stairs. He stepped through, shut the door, and started the depressurization process. Moving under his full weight of armor and space suit was exhausting, and it was blessed relief as he stepped through the outer airlock and back into the comet’s natural gravity.

  Song did a rapid check of everyone’s space suits, slapping down several adhesive patches where blade strikes had cut through the outer layers. Flatrock’s suit had taken the most damage, but it would hold together for now.

  Liam paused while his eyes adjusted to the ghostly light of the surface again. One of the docks had collapsed down in a twisted, blackened heap and Daring was still circling, broadsides tearing up the surface of the comet as Riverton targeted the main power generators. Looking down the slope, Liam could see the airlock where he and his team had first entered, but the way to Amelia was hidden behind a ridge of dirty ice. He bounded up to the edge, looking down to where another small outbuilding suggested where Amelia’s escape route would be. It was deep down in a flat-bottomed basin. The landscape between rolled with icy formations that looked like a flash-frozen sea, with some outcrops five times the height of a man. It was going to be tough going.

  “We have to get to that airlock,”
he told his sailors, pointing at the outbuilding. “Let’s go.”

  Amelia backed up another stair, stabbing her sword over Fence’s shoulder. The big sailor had done well against half a dozen attackers, but he was clearly exhausted. His blade did nothing but parry attacks now. She stabbed again, catching the pirate in the ear. He stumbled back, losing his footing on the narrow steps and tumbling down into his compatriots, who were still surging up the airlock.

  “Let’s go!” Amelia said, grabbing Fence by the shoulder.

  She turned and ran up the last few steps, punching the switches to open the airlock. The panel flashed red at her, refusing to comply. She tried again, but the panel continued to flash at her: potential breach.

  “What’s wrong?” Fence asked.

  “The inner airlock door is still open,” she said, pointing down to where the pirates had wedged the lower door. “The airlock won’t activate until it’s closed.”

  The gaggle of pirates had picked themselves up and were already starting to climb the stairs again. Fence pulled out a grenade, but Amelia grabbed his arm.

  “If we damage this passageway the whole airlock will lock down, and the outer door will never open.”

  “Can you override the fail-safe?”

  “Maybe.”

  He handed her the grenade, raised his sword, and started down to meet the pirates.

  “You figure it out,” he called. “I’ll hold them off.”

  Amelia examined the console, desperately searching for some sort of manual override. The mechanism was civilian design, easy to use for basic functions but maddeningly bereft of any emergency capabilities. She heard the clash of swords as Fence engaged the lead pirate, and the jeers and shouts of those coming up behind. She searched for an access panel she could remove. Then a united cheer from the pirates wrenched her attention down the passageway. Fence’s suited form slumped down, sword dropping from his lifeless hand.