Artemis Files 0.5: Lexington

by Bradley Warnes

  “Standby… standby… go!” Farquhar ordered while the hatch slid open. He was the first through the door, moving through it and to one side so the others could cover him as they moved up. Mo came next, followed by Jonty, with each of them tapping the man in front on the shoulder before stepping past.

  Waiting for the nod from Harry, he then stepped through following the same direction as the other team continuing down the narrow corridor toward the first set of stairs leading to the upper deck. There was no noise, only the soft padding of their footsteps as they moved closer to where they would split up. Farquhar was keeping his gauss pistol ready, swivelling with his eyes following the sights as the teams moved in unison.

  A shudder went through the ship and then slowly settling down, and as he thought about it when they arrived at the stairs, trying to imagine what was happening it came to him. It was the drives, the constant vibration through the hull that had become ignored after the first day aboard was now gone. In its place, like the silence, there was nothing. The lights were still on, and as he arrived at the base of the stairs the men were covering he saw a shadow move over them from the next deck.

  Farquhar signalled to stop moving, and as the stomp of boots ran past, followed by several more they waited to see if anyone came down from above. The Special Forces men exchanged hand signals and the first team moved down the corridor toward engineering while Harry motioned for him to cover the stairs with Gibney next to him aiming the Reaper rifle given to him by Farquhar. Once in place at the bottom of the stairs, Harry stepped up slowly with his head scanning both directions.

  Crouching at the top, Harry waved an all clear and waited for them to come up behind.

  “I’ll take point, flyboy you follow me after I go four paces, and then Gibney comes behind to watch our six. No talking and if you see a tango, in a side corridor or anywhere not in front or behind, tap us on the shoulder. Check your safety is off and make bloody sure to keep your finger on the trigger guard and not on the trigger while we move, understood?”

  At his nod, the man flicked off the safety on his weapon and stepped forward, moving at a slow, determined pace with the barrel aimed down the corridor. In this section of the Packet Boat, there were two corridors running parallel on either side of the ship, meaning that any time they might see boarders coming from the four cross corridors linking them together.

  The short, sharp crack of explosives popping off could be heard from up ahead, echoing through the sealed bulkheads and bringing a jump to his nerves each time. He guessed the attackers were using grenades, and if the bridge was sealed, would soon setup heavier charges to breach the hatch. Pausing at the first hatch, Harry palmed the controls and stepped to one side, crouching down and aiming at the entrance as the heavy door slid open.

  Four men in plain grey ship suits were moving into sight from the side corridor, heavy reinforced combat armour vests and helmets worn atop with the long barrels of gauss rifles pointing ahead of them. With their eyes fixed forward, they didn’t see or notice the hatch opening behind, or discover the weapons pointed at them. Aiming his snub pistol as the man in front gave a hand signal to take out the targets on the left while he focussed on those to the right, he waited for the man to fire.

  Harry calmly fired the Grail carbine with the action bringing loud whizz-cracks that were deafening in the enclosed space. Three times the weapon fired, sending flechette rounds to impact in the lower torso of a target where the armour wasn’t covering them. Squeezing the trigger on his own pistol, he let off two rounds at the closest man on the left, supporting the weapon with his offhand. His first round impacted near the bottom of the armoured vest, followed by the second just beneath the edge and into flesh.

  Unlike the loud retort from the gauss weapons, the snub pistol fired subsonically to minimise recoil and with a heavy drawn out pop it revealed to those targeted that he was armed with a pistol instead of a rifle or carbine. Fitted with dual clips and duplicate lower receivers, it could fire stun rounds, signal flares, or standard ammo load-outs including flechette and armour piercing rounds. In this case, the clips were filled with flechette rounds containing several small aerodynamic darts that would spall and tumble on contact, causing maximum lethal damage to flesh or lightly armoured opponents but nothing if he missed and hit the hull.

  Ignoring the men on the right, he fired again for the next boarder and growled as his rounds hit too high in the armour and hammered the man into the wall. The impact caused the target to sprawl onto the deck, his weapon dropping while hands scrabbled for purchase on the pipes and tubing. Lining up more carefully, he shot at the exposed legs and buttocks of the target and heard the scream when rounds hit flesh.

  His first target was scrabbling on the deck, trying to turn and fire. Ignoring Harry firing again, he squeezed the trigger on the pistol and bracketed the man attempting to fire back at them despite the blood oozing from his back. Satisfied when the rounds stitched across the lower torso and ending the man’s attempt to fire, he scanned across and saw Harry’s targets were also down. The man sprang forward into the corridor and fired a single shot into the face of the four men as he passed each one.

  Not looking at the spray of blood and brains across the deck or walls, he followed Harry up the corridor to the next junction. They had one more at this section of the ship to traverse and then they’d be able to get to the bridge access corridor. Glancing behind, he saw Gibney crouching over the dead boarders and fiddling with the bodies, fully focussed on whatever he was doing. Turning back, he tapped Harry on the shoulder and pointed to the rear guard.

  Harry studied the scene and then gave a grin, turning away to wait for whatever the following man was doing without telling him what was happening. He split his attention between the two men and in less than a minute watched as the half naked Special Forces man re-joined them.

  “Booby trap.” He mouthed silently at the raised eyebrow questioning the action, then making a motion with his hands of an explosion. In his spare hand, he saw two apple-sized spheres clutched by the retaining pins.

  Surmising the man had found grenades and set them to go off if the bodies were moved or disturbed, he returned the grin. While Harry waited, he double checked the ammo count on the back of the snub pistol, noting one clip full and the other carrying just six left in the clip. Changing out the used one for a new clip, he hit the base of both with his palm to ensure they were seated. These pistol models had a reputation for dropping a clip if they weren’t seated properly, and more than once in the past he’d seen someone on the range or even in action lose both clips.

  Satisfied, he saw Harry make the movement gesture and begin to move away, scanning the cross-corridor while crouched and then darting across. Keeping close to the wall, he followed to the corner and readied himself to dash over as well. They’d be at the bridge access soon, and then everything would be crazy as they tried to stop the boarding privateers. Taking a deep breath, he paused as the man in front held up a hand and the sound of approaching boots slapped upon the deck.

  Harry went down to the deck and pushed his head around the corner just traversed, eyes going wide as he rolled back and a staccato of weapon fire erupted. Rounds slammed into the terminating wall, peppering the inner covering with a spray of holes and he saw Harry hold up five fingers.

  The man levered his carbine around the corner from down on the deck, keeping his head in cover and squeezed the trigger. He must have pushed the selector to full auto because the weapon gave a thunderous crack-crack-crack that continued for several seconds. Screams and shouts were heard from the down the corridor, but the returning fire showed not all, if any had been hit. Following suit, he stood straight and reached the pistol around with his offhand, lifting it high so if they were focussed on searching down low for Harry, they might not see his weapon.

  Pulling on the trigger instead of squeezing it, the rounds burst out with each pull and the weapon tried to fight it’s way from his grip. Forcing himself to relax, he s
lowed himself down and let the weapon fire more gently. When more fire came back to spark the corner plating near him, he pulled his hand back and switched the selector to semi-auto instead of single shot.

  Harry leaned around the corner from a kneeling position, adjusting where he was so they couldn’t get a bead on where he was going to appear. Snarling as he fired again, he let out several short bursts until the magazine went dry. Pulling back, he swapped in a new magazine and shook his head.

  “Four still standing… they’re in a bloody doorway ten metres down.” The man’s eyes went wide and in a smooth movement while tucking the weapon into his shoulder, it fired toward him.

  He could feel the rounds fly past his head, perhaps centimetres away from gouging through his skin and into his body. Suddenly the heavier crack of the Reaper gauss rifle began firing behind him, and sliding down to a crouch he saw Gibney on the deck firing at where they had just come from. There were three more boarders, one leaning wide out the cross-corridor they’d passed earlier and firing at them over the booby-trapped bodies.

  Unable to move forward and with the path back cut off, they were trapped with no cover and the boarders lining up to shoot them while they were in the open. Everything they were trying to achieve was about to come to an end. Rounds passed him by in both directions, and any second now he knew he was going to be hit.

  A meaty slap echoed as Gibney was struck, the round taking him in the shoulder and sending a small spray of blood into the air. Another grunt accompanied by a crash as a body went down came from behind and he knew that Harry must have been hit too, leaving him alone to be next.

  Chapter 6

  Aiming and firing down the corridor, he saw one of the men go down with strikes over the armoured chest. He was scrabbling to get back around the corner and one of his companions was leaning around aiming directly at him with a shotgun. The barrel was wide and menacing, and even though it was at least fifteen metres away, the muzzle appeared to be as large as a man-sized tunnel, attracting his eyes as if to lock him in place.

  Hypnotised by the sight, he blinked as the muzzle of the weapon drifted away and the man went down to the deck. Behind him, Harry was yelling a whooping war cry and firing triple bursts past his head to the corridor and had just saved his life.

  Glancing at Gibney struggling to grip the rifle, he scooted toward the man and grabbed at the two grenades discarded on the deck by his feet. While the man he had shot and knocked down crawled for the cover of the cross corridor, Harry’s shots took him in the thigh and legs as they disappeared out of sight. Ignoring both Gibney and Harry, he turned back to the corner where the other boarders were located and peered around with his pistol held ready.

  Two of them were creeping toward him and as they saw his face, gauss and shotgun rounds erupted from their weapons to pepper the air around him. Squeezing the trigger of his pistol as he pulled back, he saw them dive while his rounds passed overhead. Behind them, he could see the other two moving out of the cover of a cabin to join their fellows.

  While Harry kept him covered with the boarders to the rear, he tugged at the pin for one of the grenades, feeling it come loose with a solid pull. The pale white light on the crown near where the restraining pin had been turned red, and he knew it would go off at any time. He had no idea what they were fused for, it might be ten seconds or it might be more but without a thought, he threw it around the corner.

  He heard it bounce off the wall before dropping to the deck and as the attackers around the corner yelled out curses and scrambled for their former cover it detonated. Diving around the corner after the debris and shrapnel burst past, he fired at the figures on the deck. One was unmoving, but the others were rolling about with one clutching his face, the other his side and the third seemingly unharmed.

  With the weapon in his hand dry firing, he knew he’d used up both clips and there was still one boarder capable of shooting back once recovered from the shock of the grenade. Without thought, he pushed the empty pistol into his thigh pocket and leapt to his feet, hands scrabbling to draw the cutlass from its sheath at his belt.

  He was upon the doorway faster than he planned, the blade only just being transferred to his fighting hand when the boarder peered around with his weapon coming into sight. He saw the man’s eyes go wide, surprised at the charging cutlass, but faster than he expected the barrel of the carbine in his hands came up to block the blade.

  Twisting the cutlass away from the barrel, he swung it low and found the metal stock of the carbine meeting it to thwart his counter move. Letting out a bellow, the boarder pushed forward trying to get within the swing of the cutlass and body bash him away. He felt the man’s mass connect with both of them letting out a loud whoof from the contact, the forward motion of his cutlass attack halted.

  In desperate fear for his life, the man’s eyes were wide as he tried to use the length of the carbine as a barrier, thrusting it toward his face and causing him to lean away. In return, he swept out a leg while his head went back, catching the boarder’s ankle in a sweep that sent them both to the deck in a tangle. Bellowing at each other in rage or panic, he didn’t know which, they leapt back at each other without weapons, fists swinging for purchase upon the other.

  His opponent was a similar height and weight, and almost the same age based on what he could see under the helmet of the face. The man was trying to throw him back to the deck, his grip catching on the side of the combat skin and attempting a pivot that would throw him off balance and down across the hip. Grinning, he let the man’s momentum carry him around and before his own feet lost purchase on the deck propelled himself forward instead of resisting the attempt.

  It was enough to send the boarder off balance when he went around in the direction with a greater speed and force than expected. While the man went down he lunged with his boot into the face, hearing a crunch as the side made contact with the nose. To his credit, the boarder ignored what must have been blistering pain and lunged for the boot, attempting to take hold and grip it tightly.

  The man was successful and forced off balance by the tactic, it sent him down to the deck again. Scrambling up his body, he felt the man desperately trying to pin him down until close enough to finish the desperate hand-to-hand combat for his life.

  Rolling around, he suddenly found the grip of the cutlass under his hand as the attacker reached for his throat. Without thought, he pulled the blade up and hammered it toward the head. Clanging off the helmet’s rear, it seemed to energise the boarder into locking hands at his throat with thumbs pushing against his windpipe.

  Shaking his head from side to side, he tried to prolong the inevitable, knowing that if his opponent found his target it would be crushed and he’d die from asphyxiation before he could resist. Swinging the cutlass again, he felt it hit flesh beneath the helmet’s base.

  The mouth in front of him let out a screech, but the hands continued their maddened scramble for purchase. Dragging the cutlass as much as he could over the neck it had sliced into, he changed tack and swung it like a club at the face hovering over him with teeth bared. The edge of the blade struck the side of the helmet, but it was the guard that had the effect he was after. With the thickened pommel bashing against the man’s jaw, the guard hit home in one of the eyes blazing fury at him, grinding deep enough into the socket to bring a higher pitched screech of pain from above.

  Feeling the hands release their frenzied grip and reach for the face, he used the diversion to throw a punch into the jaw above and send the man tilting to the side. Rolling from underneath, he pivoted around and slashed down with the cutlass while his opponent clutched at where his eye had been. The twenty-five inch blade cut through the hands and deep into the face with a diagonal slash that sent fingers and blood in different directions. Grunting as he brought the blade back from the other direction in a follow up slash, the edge went through the boarder’s throat deep enough to cleave it in half.

  Dropping to his knees, he forced himself to gasp fo
r breath as the man shuddered in front of him, blood pulsing out of the slashed throat and single remaining eye staring in confusion. Shaking his head, he turned away and made for Harry and Gibney, pausing briefly to reload the snub pistol and fire a shot in each of the bodies on the deck as he passed them. Gritting his teeth at what he had done, he knew there was no other way. If the boarders recovered and came after them again, there would be no hope of saving the packet boat.

  He saw Harry watching up ahead, his face bleeding from where a shotgun pellet or gauss round nicked the cheek. Giving a nod as he arrived at the corner, he motioned toward the bridge.

  “Gibney’s in a bad way, but he’s gonna try and cover our backs until he passes out. It’s up to us to get to the bridge and stop the bastards from taking the boat, are you ready?”

  He turned away, ignoring the man’s questioning glance. Taking three paces back into the cross corridor, he bent down and retrieved two of the weapons on the deck, scooping up spare magazines from the bodies at the same time. Slinging one of the weapons, a Merovingian Minié gauss rifle over his shoulder, he stalked back to Harry and met the watching gaze.

  “Now I’m ready.”

  Sliding the works of the combat shotgun to chamber a round, he ignored the unused round that flew out of the chamber and then checked the ammo count on the bottom of the small magazine inserted into the base. He had ten rounds, almost a full magazine plus the two spare magazines he’d retrieved now sitting in his thigh pocket.

  Grinning at Harry, he motioned toward the remaining corridor. “Let’s finish this so we can save Gibney and give him a chance to tell the tale of how he saved a Packet Boat singlehandedly… without a harem.”

  “I heard that!” The man grunted from behind, following the comment with a curse at his pain.

  Following Harry as the man quickly dashed to the end of the corridor and the hatch that would open to the final passage to the bridge, he tried to focus. With every step, the bulging eye of the man he’d killed stared at him with a bloodied throat and face offering astonishment at his pending death. He knew he’d be haunted by the memory if they survived the battle for the ship, and it would be another one to add to his growing collection of dead bodies and defeated enemies.