Metal Boxes - At the Edge

by Alan Black

  Allie said, “Why the hell am I in charge if you three are going to make all of the decisions for me? Never mind. All right, Numos on the barricade. Hammer on sixteen. I’ll take seventeen. Stone’s team is the smallest, so it hits eighteen where the fewest Hyrocanians ran to. Let’s get to it, people. We’ve already given them too much time to prepare, so keep it tight and hot.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Stone keyed his comms back to his team’s standard frequency. “We’re going to see if we can dig the Hyrocanians out of the ship at dock eighteen.”

  Hector said, “We, as in all of us?”

  Tuttle snorted, “All of us? Are you crazy? There’s a large number of enemy aliens in a confined space. Boy, I do not want to share such riches with some of these glory hounds.”

  Stone said, “It’s just our team. The others have their hands full with the other two ships.”

  Jay started wonking, obviously happy, “Peebee is going to be pissed that she missed this.”

  “I expect the enemy has barricaded the main hatchway on all three ships. We’ll be funneled into a shooting gallery if we can’t find a way to get past those first blockades. There may be human workers on these ships, but we can’t save them if we can’t get to them. Damage to the ship is of no concern. This is a weapons free engagement.”

  Jay typed into her TTS, “The fix is in.”

  Stone wondered where she picked up that bit of slang. He was about to ask her what she meant, but she sprang off the top of the barricade dragging her tri-barreled cannon with her. She flattened out low to the deck, scorpioned her tail, and shoved her armored spike through a thick sheet of deck plating. The metal sheets were a standard human four-by-eight configuration. Rather than shake the plate loose, she hefted it, giving it a little jiggle to make sure it stayed.

  Jay bounded away to the side of the corridor opposite dock ramp sixteen. She stood a hundred meters away from the gaping maw of ramp sixteen with her back to the far bulkhead. Scorpioning her tail, she slammed the deck plate upright, using it as a shield. She could hide below eight-feet tall objects if she scrunched down, but she was far too broad to hide behind something only four-feet wide. Bullets, slugs, and energy bolts pinged off the deck plate as the Hyrocanians opened fire.

  Stone grabbed the edge of a second deck plate, heaved, and grunted. The sheet was easy to grasp with the suit. It was heavy, but the suit’s stored energy managed to heft it with ease. He bounced over Jay, landing at her right side, and overlapped his deck plate with hers.

  Dollish grabbed a deck plate and bounced near them. Stone shoved him between Jay and himself, both keeping their shields upright and overlapped, protecting Jay’s right flank. Without being ordered, Tuttle pushed Hector toward a deck plate, grabbed one herself, and they bounced after Stone and Dollish, slamming the plates into place along Jay’s left flank.

  “Ready, Mama?”

  “Fire at will, Jay.”

  The drasco stuck her head up over their impromptu barricade. She ducked back as a new flurry of pings, dings, and clangs hammered a melody on the metal sheets. She held up her cannon aiming at the other side from the memory of her quick glimpse. The cannon chuffed two dozen rounds across the hundred-meter corridor. The metal sheet music stopped.

  Stone peeked around the corner of his sheet metal. Smoke and flames boiled into the corridor from the ship’s main hatch. He nodded in satisfaction. That much smoke would provide perfect cover for Hammermill’s assault team.

  Hammermill whooped over the comms. “Thanks for the diversion, Stone. Perfect timing.”

  Stone said, “Okay, team. Hammer is a go.”

  His brain said to bounce and attack eighteen now. That was what his orders were. His heart said to hold. Deep in his gut, he was loath to let Allie charge blindly into the murder hole of ship seventeen. She had no idea what she might be facing. He had gone into battle with her and without her. The pain of letting her go was not worth the thrill of their reconciliation after the danger of battle. The thought of her getting hurt again was too much.

  “Pivot clockwise on my position.”

  Tuttle and Jay began shuffling their deck plates around to the left. Someday, he was going to have to find out why turning in a circle that direction was counterclockwise—but now was not the time. It only took a second for Dollish to catch on to the movement and began pushing his deck plate edge to keep it overlapped with Jay’s plate. Hector was slower, but Tuttle was talking him through the movement.

  They had shifted their plates about seventy degrees when he spotted Allie’s team in the rafter’s above them. He keyed his comms to unit-wide push. “Give me one minute, Captain Vedrian.”

  Her voice was edged and cold. “Listen, you little shit. I am not going to explain to your family that I let you get yourself killed.”

  Stone said, “Nor will I explain to your mother that I let you get killed when I could have helped.” He took a few quick seconds to give his team and Allie a diagram of the dock and what he planned. Sending it to their HUDs, he said, “Center on the ramp to ship seventeen. Pivot on my point. Shift now!”

  They had their backs to the ramp at sixteen, but he hoped the thick smoke would give them some cover. They began shuffling at an angle that would put them in the center of the corridor opposite the ramp to seventeen. Their backs would still face the hatch at sixteen, but they would be a kilometer farther along the corridor, and—hopefully—the angle would prevent them from being seen from the ship’s main hatch deep on the ramp.

  He hated their exposed position, but it was preferable to the anguish he would feel if he lost Allie. If she was killed, he did not know what he would do. Everyone said he was too young to get married, but he knew she was his and he was hers. Anything less than a lifetime together was too short.

  “Jay, fire as the hatch comes into view.”

  Stone heard Allie shout, “Spread out and give them some cover. Suppression fire into sixteen and eighteen.”

  Jay stuck her head up, swiveling it toward the hatch. Her knees twisted so she was walking sideways with ease and her head nearly rotated in a circle checking their surroundings. Raising her cannon, she sent three shots down range. Stone felt a few pings dance across their sheet metal barricade, heard an explosion, and the pinging stopped.

  They shuffled forward a few more steps and the pinging started again. A loud whang on his sheet of deck plate shoved him and Dollish back a foot. A deep dent in the center of the sheet was proof the Hyrocanians had some heavy firepower on their side. He jammed the plate back into place, wondering if the metal sheet would hold up to many more rounds. Leaning his shoulder into the plate, he tried to brace his feet against the corridor deck.

  Whang. Whang. Whang. Whang. The enemy shells vibrated the deck plating, shoving their impromptu shield back a few feet. The shells were spread across their shield face, dividing the force equally. Even Jay was pushed backward by the power of the blows, but their overlap held.

  Stone was thankful the Hyrocanian gunner had not fired all its shells into the same spot. Repeated poundings would have breached their shield. Spreading it hammered dents into the metal, but the plates held.

  Whang. Whang. Whang.

  Stone wanted to shout at Jay to fire, but he held his tongue. He had to trust her judgment, although it was hard not to shout each time they were shoved backward. Jay popped her head up, shuffled a few more feet and popped her head up again, never showing her face above the shield twice in the same place.

  Punctuated by a full force staccato barrage of pings, the next series of whangs sounding like a two-year-old child pounding on his new tin xylophone, beating out a jingle, sometimes with such melodious accuracy that Stone’s brain supplied an extra note or two. Each whang shoved them back a few feet. One of the shells managed to land on a previous impact point, stretching the earlier bulge to a balloon-sized bubble. One more shot there would blow a big hole in their shield.

  Allie shouted, “Stone, get out of there. Run!”

/>   Jay raised her cannon, squeezed the trigger, and sent a stream of shells directly down the throat of the Hyrocanian’s carefully constructed murder hole. Unfortunately, for the enemy, concentrated direct fire works both ways. Jay continued to fire, barely wiggling her cannon’s tri-barreled muzzle more than a fraction of an inch in any direction.

  Stone felt a rumble as something blew up in the hatch of ship seventeen. Jay glanced over their shield, wonked happily, and spit a long gob of goo in the direction of the ramp. They were almost sixty meters away and her spit did not travel near that far, but Stone understood her feelings, after all, it is the thought that counts.

  Tuttle grunted. “Okay, boss. Let’s pivot on my point to hit number eighteen. What do you say?”

  He glanced over the shield. Allie’s team had dropped from the rafters and were rushing, unimpeded up the ramp. They were moving in standard two-by-two cover formation, but no one was shooting back at them.

  Stone said, “Spin on your command, Sergeant Tuttle.”

  “Spin on my pivot. Now!”

  The maneuver was done quickly. Their backs were to the bulkhead and they now faced ramp eighteen. Jay shifted her sheet with ease, flicking her tail as she turned while her multi-jointed knees easily changed directions. She dropped a partially spent ammo container, slamming in a fresh load.

  She wonked with pleasure and wiggled the cannon’s muzzle as she scooped up the dropped container. Stone nodded in satisfaction. She had learned well about tactical reloads, but grabbed the almost empty ammo container, just in case.

  Stone said, “Let’s back up to the bulkhead. If we’re going to be targeted, let’s make them aim.”

  They had almost traversed the kilometer between ramp seventeen and eighteen when a familiar patter of small arms fire chimed on their shield. Nothing slamming into them would scratch them with or without their shield. Their suits were tougher than their impromptu metal deck plating shield, but Jay’s only protection was the shield. Her skin was tough and would withstand most small arms fire, but she was not invulnerable to heavy weapons fire.

  Jay peeked over the top of the shield, squinted, wonked, raised her cannon and fired down thier throats. There wouldn’t be more than a few pieces of hair, teeth, and eyeballs left of the Hyrocanians protecting the ramp. Smoke and flame belched from the ramp space. Then Jay dropped the cannon and its ammo.

  Stone was glad she was leaving the weapon behind. Ship hulls are tough, they have to be, but firing anti-armor weapons indiscriminately inside a ship was a recipe for inviting the vacuum of space into areas designed for breathing. She did not remain weaponless for long. Yanking a chain gun from the armor on her back, she ratcheted in a fresh round of fifty caliber shells. The chain gun was a two-man weapon, but Jay passed it from one hand to the next with excited ease. Bellowing a challenge, she ran straight at ship eighteen. She ran low, hunkered down, her tail scorpioned over her head—the metal plate skewered to her spike became a battering ram.

  Stone shouted, “Bounce.” Dropping the metal deck plate, he bounced high, dropping to the deck slightly to the side of the ramp.

  Jay thundered past Stone and he jumped into place behind her. She smacked into the tattered remains of a barrier. The Hyrocanian fool in charge had stacked construction crates and boxes to block the opening. Jay’s barrage had set their wall on fire. Jay slammed through it without effort, sending pieces of flaming debris in every direction. The next barrier was better constructed with stacked metal boxes and barrels, but there hadn’t been enough time for the Hyrocanians to build a sturdy wall, much less weld any of the metal pieces into a cohesive unit. Jay crashed through the second barrier. Metal screeched against metal.

  Stone heard a loud pitched squeal as Jay rushed onto the ship itself, across the ship’s main hatch area, and squashed a trio of unarmored Hyrocanians between her deck plate battering ram and a bulkhead.

  A dozen Hyrocanians were gathered in the hatchway, swarming back in after Jay’s initial barrage had decimated their mates. The corridor’s hatches lay to the side, blown off their massive hinges. Stone had a clear view of the enemy gathering in the hallway. They appeared to be forming up to counter attack the corridor barricade. They filled the hallway, shoulder to shoulder, as far as he could see. Most were armored, but a few were not. The ship at dock eighteen was not under construction, it was a fully staffed Hyrocanian vessel.

  Stone relayed a status warning about the ship to Gordy on the Platinum Pebble. If things went south, maybe the man could escape with whoever could make it back to the ship. He had seen many types of Hyrocanian ships, but with only a quick glance around their main hatch, he could not tell if this was a heavy cruiser, destroyer, or a garbage scow.

  He spun, flicked on the torch at the end of his wrist, twisted the control to its highest, hottest setting, and leaped into a small knot of armored Hyrocanians already in the hatch area. He burned through two faceplates and was working on a third when two Hyrocanians jumped on him from behind.

  He could hear the ripping sound of Jay’s chain gun and her wonking enthusiasm, but he could not turn to check on her status or help her. Bending at the waist, he reached over his shoulder. His hand found a finger hold. Clamping tightly, he jerked. One of the Hyrocanians on his back had not closed up its helmet. Stone grabbed the open faceplate to throw the creature over his shoulder. His enhanced suit used power from the stored kinetic energy it had accumulated earlier as he slammed the alien to the deck with a bone-crushing thump.

  Dropping to one knee, he slid below the arms of the enemy clamping onto his back. Grabbing an ankle, he yanked upward as he stood. The Hyrocanian fell over backward. Rather than slam to the deck like a human, the creature caught himself with its back arms in a pushup position—its suit absorbing the impact. It arched its back, trying to regain its feet.

  A memory flash reminded Stone of when Dollish had jumped on his back at the barbecue by the lake while still in orbit around Lazzaroni. Twisting this leg in the same movement, he put a booted foot on the alien’s throat and stomped. The alien’s suit held.

  The Hyrocanian screamed. Normally, Stone would not have been able to hear the creature, but they were in suit-to-suit contact and the sound vibrations carried, though they were dampened by his suit audio receptors. He had forgotten he still had the cutting torch activated at the end of his arm. It was pressed up against the back of the creature’s knee. The metal in its suit was not as heat resistant as Stone’s custom designed suit or even a standard marine combat suit. The torch cut through bone and tendon, lopping its leg off at the knee.

  He flicked off the torch. Shooting out a hand, he grabbed the throat of an unarmored Hyrocanian. The creature was desperately stabbing at Dollish’s back with a kitchen knife. Stone doubted Dollish knew the alien was there, being busy with a pair of armored aliens. He gave a quick squeeze, felt something break, and let go.

  Glancing around, he saw Jay standing at the end of the corridor. Her chain gun was spinning with unrelenting fury, smoke trickling off the barrels. She had rigged up a long ammunition feed belt from a huge bag hanging on her back harness, eliminating the need to reload. The chain gun had eight rotating barrels. He could see that one barrel had already melted from the heat. It continued spinning, but without firing, giving the ripping sound of the gun a strange stutter. He could not see down the corridor from his angle, but he knew the chain gun bullets could pass through a Hyrocanian suit and impact two or three bodies deep.

  Tuttle finished off a pair of Hyrocanians who had attempted to mount a heavy caliber weapon on the back of a cart. She jumped over to Hector, grabbed two of the four aliens trying to pin him to the deck and slammed their helmets together. Her suit would not have enough force to dent Hyrocanian armor, but their heads would rattle around enough to disorient them. She fired a high explosive bolt from her left suit arm into the center of each creature’s chest.

  Before the first of Tuttle’s dead adversaries collapsed to the deck, Stone vaulted into the fray. Rather
than kill the armored Hyrocanian, he threw it into Jay’s line of fire. The four-armed freak died as the last stream of her chain gun spat down the corridor. The gun stopped its ripping sound with a satisfied sigh.

  The alien still facing Hector was trying to jam a weapon against his faceplate. Hector kept turning his helmet and twisting out of the way. Finally, he managed to get an arm up and trigger a high-velocity round through the creature’s torso. He stepped back and gave a little shudder. The young man glanced around with his arms up, ready to fire. His faceplate was clear and from the hard look in his eyes, he was more than willing to continue the fight.

  The only remaining Hyrocanian in the main hatchway was unarmored. Before anyone could kill it, it grabbed a dropped weapon and fired point blank at Dollish’s chest. Dollish somersaulting over backward. Hector flicked a wrist and fired a round into the creature’s face. His shot was a nano-second ahead of Tuttle and Stone’s shots. They blew the creature to bits. The obese creature splattered against a bulkhead, its garish purple and yellow pants making odd patterns with little blood-covered body parts.

  Hector shouted in anguish. “Tim! Tim! It’s my fault. If I’d shot this bastard when I had him in my sights before, Tim wouldn’t be dead.”

  Dollish chuckled.

  Tuttle slapped Hector on the back of his helmet.

  Stone said, “Hector, use your HUD to check on a teammate’s status before you declare him gone.” Dollish’s suit had held up, though the force of the impact had sent him tumbling.

  Dollish stood up and rubbed the armored chest of his suit with a gauntlet-covered hand. “Weird to see that shell coming at you, almost like it was in slow motion, but I couldn’t get out of the way.”