“Determined hostile intent?” the recently-promoted Lance-Corporal Rhodes asked. “So if I've been shot, I get to take the bastard with me?”
“If you get shot,” Walpis said, flashing him a dirty look, “we'll take up a collection for the sniper.”
“You'd miss me, Corp, and you know it.”
“Ninety seconds, people,” Sub-Lieutenant Bradley, the shuttle's pilot, and not incidentally Cooper's wife, called over the ceiling intercom. “We've found three airlocks all in a row, and we're bringing you in together. I still can't get any signal from the freighter, so we're boarding blind.”
“Great,” Private Saltzman said, shaking his head. “I love surprises.”
“Good,” Cooper replied. “You can be in the lead with me. On your feet!”
The squad rose as one, and Cooper walked down the middle of the shuttle to the airlock, a frowning Saltzman next to him, Rhodes and Burke following, while Walpis and Donegan took up the rear. He hefted his rifle in his hands, the usual low-velocity ship-safe weapon, powerful enough to rip through flesh but not through the outer hull. In his pocket was a plasma pistol, charged and ready, that could amply burn holes in anything, no matter how tough. Given that carrying it at all in an artificial environment was technically a violation of Field Regulations, albeit one always overlooked, he was the only member of the unit to officially have such a weapon. He made sure to ignore the bulges in the pockets of Burke, Walpis and Rhodes, knowing that they were experienced enough to only draw their illegal weapons if they truly needed them.
“Thirty seconds,” Bradley said. “Hang on. This could get a little bumpy.”
The shuttle rocked around as it made its final approach, and Cooper raised his rifle to cover the door, waiting for the green light to flash to indicate a successful docking. With a series of loud clangs, the two hatches locked, clamps slamming into position to tie the two ships together. At the tap of a control, the double airlocks opened, revealing a battered corridor beyond. The distinctive odor of a damaged air system drifted through, and Cooper slid his respirator into position before cautiously stepping forward, Saltzman by his side.
Sounds of battle rang around the decks, the rattle of gunfire and the dull report of an explosion, traces of smoke trickling down the corridor towards them. Through the gloom, a pair of figures moved, and Cooper raised his gun as he moved forward into cover, grim determination on his face.
Saltzman took the first shot, sending the second figure flailing back to the wall, a long, sharp blade falling away as the first figure turned in surprise, looked across at the approaching troopers and raised his hands in surrender. Cooper gestured for his squad to advance, a series of loud clangs to the side telling him that the rest of his platoon had arrived, and moved towards the steely-eyed figure.
“Commander Ryan,” he said, “Copernicus Orbital Guard.”
“Ensign Gabriel Cooper, Triplanetary Espatier Corps.” He looked around, and asked, “What's the situation?”
“Most of the crew are up on the command deck, three levels up. We were trying to hold open a corridor to allow you to get through, but we're out of ammunition.” Turning to the Xandari, he added, “I think that bastard was hunting me.”
“Probably,” Cooper replied. “And the ship?”
“The limited control we had is gone, but they don't have control either. I took out the power junction.” Shaking his head, he added, “We don't even know what's going on outside.”
Sergeant Hunt raced down the corridor, and said, “Second and Third Squad are boarding now, sir. Orders?”
“Are you carrying any cargo?” Cooper asked, and Ryan shook his head.
“Not to speak of. A few bits of machine parts, industrial components, nothing that can't be replaced.” He patted a pocket, and said, “I already dumped everything we need from the ship's database.”
“How many Xandari?” Hunt asked.
“Thirty-plus,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “They're moving through the decks, and it's only a matter of time before they reach the barricades.”
Frowning, Cooper replied, “We can't save the ship, and by the sounds of it, we don't need to. Sergeant, I want you to take Second, Third and half of First Squad. Clear a route up to the command levels and see to the evacuation of the wounded. I'm going to see if I can create a distraction.” Turning to the rear, he yelled, “Rhodes, I want your fire team here on the double.”
“This mission's getting better by the moment,” Saltzman said, shaking his head. “Request permission to accompany you, sir.”
“Oddly, I had you in mind, Private.” Turning to Ryan, he asked, “How do I get to Engineering?”
“That was the first thing they took. It's swarming with them.”
“Good,” he replied. “Now how do I get there?”
With a sigh, Ryan said, “I'll take you. These corridors can be a bit of a maze if you don't know where you are going. Can I borrow a weapon?”
“Here,” Hunt said, passing him a sidearm. “Loaded and ready to go. Fires twelve, low-velocity, so aim for weak spots.” Fumbling his pocket, he fished out a pair of clips, and stuffed them in Ryan's pocket. “Watch yourself, sir.”
“I'll take point,” Cooper ordered. “Rhodes, you're taking the rear. Move out!”
Ryan guided them down a long corridor. A single Xandari heading towards them from the far end, quickly dismissed by a snap shot from Private Ghaison that sent him falling back against the wall, crimson blood trickling onto the floor. The group raced down the corridor, glancing left and right as they passed rooms, making as much noise as they could to attract attention. If the Xandari were attempting to capture the ship, they'd be more interested in an attack on a key area than on wiping out the crew. He hoped.
“Down, sir!” Burke said, pushing him to the ground as a rattle of machine gun fire opened up ahead of them, bullets ringing into the walls all around, a hail of shrapnel raining to the floor. He rolled into what little cover he could find, and saw a blast door in between them and the Xandari. Drawing his plasma pistol, he ramped the power up to maximum, and pulled the trigger, sending a bolt of green flame racing down the corridor towards the enemy.
He didn't need to hit them in order to kill them. The wave of heat that flooded through the air would have done that, but the plasma bolt went on to tear a hole on the hull, the whine of escaping air hurling their bodies into space. A loud scream echoed around the corridor as the blast door slammed shut, the automatic systems belatedly activating to isolate the decompressed part of the ship.
“What was that?” Ryan asked, wide-eyed.
“Something we don't usually use on boarding actions,” Cooper replied. “We're going to need another way down to Engineering.”
“Wait a minute,” he said. “If you've got weapons like that, then there might be a chance of retaking the ship! We could punch a hole...”
“The Xandari have plasma weapons as well,” Rhodes interrupted, “and you can be damn sure they'll have brought them along. If we start raining bolts around, they'll be nothing left of this ship to capture.”
Shaking his head, Ryan gestured towards a hatch on the floor, and said, “Three levels down, but that's a very confined area. No room for maneuver.”
“I'll take it,” Cooper said, pulling the hatch open and scrambling down into the inky blackness below. His feet found the rungs of the ladder as he took them two at a time, Ryan swinging out after him as they descended into the bowls of the ship. As the last man, Rhodes, followed, Cooper heard gunfire up above, the hatch clanging shut at the last minute. Their escape route had been cut off.
With nowhere else to go, they resumed their descent, climbing down for what seemed like hours. The ship was new, the smell of fresh paint still in the air, the light fittings all functioning perfectly. None of the usual maintenance problems were apparent, even those that freighter crews usually ignored as
unnecessary.
As he dropped to the bottom of the shaft, Cooper's communicator chirped, and he pulled it out, searching for the frequency through a burst of static. Someone was trying to jam their signals, and he only heard the voice at the other end with difficulty.
“Hunt here,” the communicator chirped, the roar of background noise overwhelming the tinny voice. “I've broken through to the command deck with Second Squad, but we're coming under heavy attack on all sides. Three wounded so far, all of them back on the shuttle. No dead, but we've had some damn narrow escapes.”
“With a little luck we'll be drawing the fire away from you in a minute, Sergeant,” he replied. “Hang on.” Gesturing at the hatch, he asked Ryan, “This the way?”
“Engineering's on the far side. This takes us right into the primary control room.”
Reaching into his pocket for a smoke grenade, he cracked the hatch and tossed it through, a rattle of fire on the hatch alerting him to the presence of Xandari soldiers on the far side. He counted to four, then pulled out his plasma pistol, checking that it had regained its charge, and fired at the lowest possible setting.
He could feel the heat pulse even through the closed hatch, and the screams of the dying at the far side told him he'd hit home, the gunfire ceasing. After waiting for a decompression warning that never came, he pushed open the door and looked into the room, now filled with wrecked, tangled machinery, most of it unidentifiable as anything other than worthless junk. Clambering into the room, he stepped over the charred remains of two Xandari and made for the door, sirens sounding all around him.
Shaking his head, Ryan followed, making for the one monitoring panel still functioning, beside the hatch from which they had emerged. Rhodes and Ghaison raced for the door, taking up defensive positions on either side, careful to avoid touching the still molten metal. Shapes moved outside, and Rhodes took a shot on instinct, firing into the mess of approaching Xandari, before turning back to Cooper.
“I think we've got them mad, boss.”
“I get that impression as well,” he replied, kicking bits of broken machinery into position to form a barricade, “Covering fire, people. Let's pin them down.”
Nodding, Rhodes tossed a smoke grenade through the door, following it up with a flash-bang for effect, the resulting flare sending the Xandari dropping to cover, fearful of a second plasma burst. Cooper moved over to Ryan as Burke finished work on the barricade, looking over his shoulder at the readings from the monitor display.
“It's bad,” Ryan said. “Very bad. We're looking at a reactor meltdown in minutes.”
Cooper flipped open his communicator and said, “Sergeant, get everyone out on the double. This ship will cease to exist any time now. Move it!”
“Yes, sir,” Hunt replied. “I'll bring Second Squad and...”
“You will not! Get the civilians out. We'll find our own way home.” He paused, then added, “That's an order, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir,” Hunt said. “Good luck, sir.”
“Not a factor.” Sliding his communicator back into his pocket, Cooper turned to Ryan and asked, “No prospect of getting it under control?”
“We've got ten minutes at most,” he replied. “Six is more likely. There's no equipment left to control it. Secondary control was destroyed in the first attack.”
“Those bastards showed true foresight. How do we get out of here?”
“Most of the escape pods were destroyed in the crash, but there are still a few left one level down.” He gestured at the corridor, and said, “We'll have to get through them to do it.”
With a beaming smile, Cooper pulled out his plasma pistol, and replied, “Call up the schematics. I think we can make our own accessway.”
The Xandari charged forward, doubtless knowing of the imminent fate, and eager to at the very least avenge their impending deaths. Whatever their objective had been, it had failed, and as bursts of flame ripped from the rifles of the troopers at the barricade, they dropped to the deck, bodies littering the floor. There was no strategy, no tactics, to this attack, only hatred.
“Got it,” Ryan said, throwing a piece of metal onto the floor in the far side of the room. “That'll take us to the right corridor. Won't it be too hot to use, though?”
“Not on full power,” Cooper replied, drawing his pistol and setting for maximum effect. “Everyone get down!”
Moving to the far side of the room, he fired, a ripple of flame slamming into the floor, melting the hull metal, a burst of heat slamming into the wall for a split-second before fading away. A quarter of the floor was gone, debris dropping through the gap into the corridor below. The Xandari assault had ended for a brief second, but they quickly resumed their desperate charge.
“Get going!” Cooper said, pushing Burke towards the hole. The trooper looked back for a moment, then jumped through the gap, careful to avoid hitting the sides, firing a pair of quick shots as he reached the floor. A scream followed, and Cooper peered into the darkness below before the trooper reappeared, gesturing for them to come down.
“Ryan, you're next!”
With a doubtful glance, the officer followed Burke, and Ghaison was hard on his heels. Only Rhodes and Cooper were left at the top, as the first of the Xandari jumped over the barricade, over the bodies of his comrades, met by a pair of well-aimed shots from the two veterans. As one, they jumped through the hole, Burke waiting for them on the next level as they rolled through the landing, sooty debris gathering on their uniforms.
Ryan urged them forward, and with the Xandari hard on their heels, they sprinted down the corridor towards the waiting escape pods, bundling in without ceremony, diving through the hatches as gunfire sounded all around them. Cooper, last in, fired one last pulse from his plasma pistol blind before slamming the hatch shut, the mechanism automatically rolling them away from the ship, tossing them into the safety of deep space.
Ryan knelt over the controls, bringing up a sensor display and nodding with satisfaction. Cooper peered past him, spotting a trio of shapes moving away from the freighter, on direct flight towards Alamo. At last Hunt had managed to get the civilians out in time.
A blinding flare flooded through the viewport as the freighter exploded behind them, tumbling wreckage rolling through eternity, taking the Xandari with them. Ryan looked back, shaking his head.
“Don't worry, Commander,” Rhodes said. “It's over.”
“No,” he replied. “It's hardly begun.”
Chapter 4
The cries of the wounded and the dying greeted Salazar as he stepped into Sickbay. Every bed held a patient, with others slumped on the floor around them. Duquesne and her medical staff moved from person to person, frantically trying to keep their charges alive. The three wounded Espatiers, casualties of the boarding action, were clustered together at the far end of the room, one of the field medics monitoring them, but most of the occupants were Koltoc. Kneeling down beside a freighter crewman was Ryan, muttering soft words to the wounded woman, trying to sooth her.
Behind him, the door slid open, and a pair of white-uniformed Koltoc rushed through bearing medical kits, ignoring him as they rushed towards Duquesne before beginning their work. Colonel Kilquan was with them, a mask of disapproval on his face as he looked across the room.
“Was any of this necessary, Lieutenant?” he asked.
“I'd ask that question of the Xandari, sir,” he replied. “They didn't give us any choice.”
“If your Ensign Cooper hadn't gone crazy with his plasma pistol, we might have salvaged the ship, and not forced badly wounded people onto cramped shuttles. Two people died during the transfer, Lieutenant, and I hold your crew responsible.”
“I didn't see any forces from the Koltoc ship joining the boarding action,” Salazar replied. “and the Xandari were massacring everyone they found. Far more died at their hands.” With a sigh, he continued, “I'm
sorry that you lost people, Colonel, but we're at war, and not one we started.”
“True.” One of the Koltoc screamed, a medic instantly rushing to his side, and Kilquan shook his head as he moved into the room. “It's been a long time since my first aid training, but I might be able to help. Excuse me.”
“By all means,” Salazar said, looking at the officer as he walked towards the worst of the patients. At least he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, and while he might be annoying, he at least appeared to have the best interests of his people in mind. Walking over to Ryan, he looked down at the Koltoc on the bed.
“Looks like she's asleep,” he said.
“At last,” Ryan replied, rising to his feet. “She's nineteen years old, Lieutenant. Her first cruise as an apprentice, and your medical team only gives her a fifty-fifty chance of making it. It's all so damned pointless, isn't it.” He looked down at her, shaking his head, then across at the others in the room.
Nodding, Salazar said, “You can't do any more good here, Commander.”
“No,” he replied, “but that doesn't make me feel any better.” Turning to him, he continued, “I'd like to speak to your commanding officer, right away.”
“We're still dealing with the aftermath of the battle,” he replied, “but I've been sent down to debrief you.” Holding out his hand, he added, “Lieutenant Pavel Salazar, Operations Officer.”
“Commander Eric Ryan, Copernicus Colony Orbital Guard.” He took the preferred hand, gripping it weakly as he shook it. “Are you leaving this system soon?”
“In a few hours.”
“Good. Then at least I might be able to salvage something from this nightmare yet.”
Moving to the door, Salazar said, “My office is one deck up from here. I think it best if we can talk privately, at least for the present.”
Walking over to Duquesne, Ryan asked, “Can you let me know if Itzel's situation worsens?”
“Sure,” she said, “I've got nothing more important to do right now, Commander.”
Battlecruiser Alamo: Operation Damocles Page 3
