David hefted his work belt and made sure it was strapped correctly around his waist. Tall and six months out of boot camp, he’d kept in good physical condition with a daily exercise regimen, despite the challenges of life in the fleet. His ship, the Coalition Star Vessel Artemis, was a small frigate specializing in point defense. She was assigned to a space battle group centered around a Saratoga-class fleet carrier engaged in combat operations against their enemies, the League of Sol.
Making good time, David walked the passageways like a practiced professional, even after only a few months of being stationed in the fleet. After he’d been given a battlefield promotion to corporal, his duties consisted of leading a damage-control team during and after battle. This shift, they were working on a section of the ship that had experienced a total loss of pressure and significant battle damage in their last engagement. They would replace piping and wiring bundles throughout the damaged bulkheads and overhead, since the hull patching had been completed the day before.
A young private from New Washington, Everard Beckett, groused as he pulled another length of burnt cabling out of the wall. “Corporal, can’t we just patch this stuff on the surface and wait for an overhaul to make it look pretty?”
David narrowed his eyes as he pushed through another bundle of wire. “While we’re at it, why don’t we just leave the holes in the side of the ship? I mean, we’ve been disabled four times in the last three weeks. Wouldn’t want to do it right so the ship is at maximum combat effectiveness for the next time we fight the League, would we?”
Private Rachel Munford laughed. “There we go, ladies and gentlemen. Another attempt at cutting corners smacked down by our esteemed corporal.”
Snorting, David pulled open another wiring tray. “I don’t know why I bother with you, Beckett. You’ll be someone else’s problem in a couple of years anyway.”
“Oh yeah, we know you want to get out, Corp,” Beckett said. “If I had a credit for every time you told us about your big plans to be a rabbi, I could buy one of these boats and go into business for myself, privateering League ships.”
“Are you daft, Beckett? The League doesn’t have any merchant ships on this side of the galactic arm for us to privateer,” Munford said. “I’m just glad we’re away from the front lines for a few days while we get repaired. Being able to relax and actually take a shower is nice. Sometimes it really is the little things in life.”
“How about less jawing and more pulling cables so we can still get to the mess while hot food is being served,” David snapped.
“Aye, aye, Corporal,” Beckett said, redoubling his efforts to pull the burnt cable out of its housing.
Over the next hour, the team worked their way through the passageway, and David noted with satisfaction that they were far closer to restoring the cabling to a functional state.
Just as he was going to order a break for chow, the alert klaxon sounded. Without needing an order, the team picked up their tools and loose materials.
The commanding officer’s voice suddenly boomed across the ship-wide intercom known as 1MC. “Attention, all hands. Prepare to repel boarders. I say again, prepare to repel boarders!”
David instantly recognized the voice of Major Benson Pipes, and his mind leaped into overdrive.
“Beckett, Munford, weapons locker… now.”
A look of fear crossed Beckett’s face. “Uh, Corporal, we’re not Marines. Shouldn’t we fall back to a protected space?”
In truth, David was terrified, not only of the enemy but also for the lives of those under his command. But he resolved not to show it and press on. “No. We can’t chicken out here, Beckett. We’ve got to bottle up any hostiles until our Marines can get here and save us. Let’s go!”
After leading the team to the nearest weapons locker, David entered his access code and swung the door open. He quickly passed out armored vests followed by particle-beam sidearms, battle rifles, and extra magazines. “Ugh. Only one pulse grenade. I guess the master-at-arms didn’t restock this one properly.” He took the grenade for himself.
Beckett threw an armored vest over his head and secured the straps around his chest. “Only things worse than corporals are sergeants. Present company excluded, of course.”
“Of course,” David replied as he inserted a magazine into his battle rifle, and the others followed suit.
Munford racked the action on her battle rifle. “Ever wonder how much razzing Major Pipes got in boot camp? With a name like that…”
“Pipes, like water pipes,” Beckett said, doing a passible impersonation of the CO’s voice.
“I didn’t realize I ordered you to give us a comedy routine, Beckett. You’re welcome to share that bit of knowledge with the major after we’re done here. Now stow it.”
A loud thud nearly knocked them off their feet.
“They’ll breach the hull momentarily,” David said, steadying himself by holding on to the bulkhead. Working hard to ignore his building panic, he tried to focus on his next action. Drill Instructor Salazar always said to solve one problem at a time.
“Let’s double back one passageway over.” Seeing bafflement in the others’ eyes, he explained, “It’s a choke point. They’ll have to push through that area to get to anything of importance. We’ll hold there until the Marines arrive.”
“Or we all get killed,” Beckett said.
Ignoring Beckett’s doubt, David led them to a junction between two passageways, an excellent defensive position. “Beckett, take the right.” He tried to convince himself that the incoming League troops were nowhere near as tough as his drill instructor. If I survived Salazar, I can survive anything. “Munford, take the left.”
David crouched, shielding his body with the bulkhead, and pointed the battle rifle down the corridor. “Remember, they’ll use cannon fodder to wear us down. Aim well, fire short bursts, and remember that the real challenge is what comes after them.”
“Isn’t anyone trying to kill us a challenge, Corporal?” Munford asked.
“Valid point. You know what I mean, though. They always hit us with green troops and reeducated prisoners first. We can do this, team.”
After they’d held their position for what seemed like an eternity, the first League troops appeared from behind another bulkhead. David took aim and squeezed the trigger of his rifle, just like he had been taught in basic training. Nothing happened. He froze as the two Leaguers brought their rifles up and sent a volley of shots in his direction. The bullets smacked the walls of the corridor and the bulkheads, bouncing off the hardened alloy in a shower of sparks.
David cleared the mental block in his mind like the chamber of his rifle. He ducked back to cover as Beckett and Munford returned fire. While Munford opened up on full automatic with “pray and spray” tactics, Beckett carefully sighted down his weapon and squeezed the trigger once, putting a burst into the center mass of an onrushing enemy. When that soldier fell, the one behind tripped over the body, losing his balance and dropping his rifle.
Quickly checking his weapon, David realized he hadn’t chambered a round. I can’t believe I made that kind of rookie mistake. He slid the action back and heard the satisfying click of a bullet sliding in. Leaning out, he brought the rifle up and aimed at the remaining soldier, who was fumbling with a sidearm, and squeezed the trigger. All three rounds from the burst hit the Leaguer’s chest, and he flopped backward, landing on his fellow.
As the sound of gunfire subsided, David felt stunned by the brutality of combat and the results of his actions. He’d never fired a weapon in anger before, let alone killed anyone. It took a moment to snap himself out of his funk and hit the communications panel on the wall. “This is damage-control-team fifteen, deck five, passageway 3B. We have engaged League boarders. Request Marine backup.”
“We should fall back, Corporal!” Beckett shouted, his voice breaking.
“Get it together, Private!” David barked, trying to project confidence, though he felt anything but. “If we do
n’t hold here, the League gets full run of deck five. You know what that means.”
“They could take the engine room and jump the ship out,” Munford said.
“Exactly. I’m not interested in being a League POW the rest of my life. If they hold true to form, next we’ll be rushed by a human wave.”
“First guy up has a gun, second holds the ammo, and the third carries on once we finish killing the front of the line?” Beckett asked with a trace of mirth.
“That’s a myth.”
“Corporal, they’re coming,” Munford said urgently.
Incoming fire splattered against the bulkhead, pinging off the hard metal. David felt a searing pain in his leg and looked down to see red spreading out from a cut in his uniform pants. With the rush of adrenaline coursing through his body, the pain only lasted for a few moments.
“Return fire!” David shouted then leaned out and fired short bursts. He hit two more enemy soldiers, but numerous other Leaguers followed them and charged toward his small squad. They advanced without any real tactics, moving forward in a human wave, one with extremely lethal weapons.
David pulled out the pulse grenade on his belt. I’ve only got one. They’ll overrun us if I don’t use it, so I’d better make it count. But we need more than just a grenade blast right now. He peered back into the junction, desperately searching for any advantage they could use. Through the fog of the battle, his mind cleared and brought him an idea. The environmental controls!
“Beckett, there’s an artificial-gravity-control node right next to your leg. Open it and reverse the polarity for the passageway directly in front of us.”
“But it’ll only last a couple of seconds before the safeties reset and lock us out, Corp.”
“We only need a few seconds. Now, do it.”
Beckett opened the panel and fumbled around with something inside. “Got it, Corp.”
“Pulse, over!” David shouted, pulling the pin from the grenade before tossing it down the passageway.
He waited for the imminent explosion with his hands over ears, mouth open and eyes closed, hoping the other two had done the same, as they’d been trained. With the explosion, he threw himself back into the line of fire to find a most peculiar sight: a dozen enemy soldiers in a heap, collapsed on the overhead.
While a few of the poorly trained League soldiers groped about in the mound of bodies, trying to stand up, most held their hands up to their faces or fired blindly toward the bulkhead opening. David fired in bursts along with Munford and Beckett, targeting the few that still had their weapons. Once those enemies were down, the three of them methodically felled the rest as they groped for fallen weapons and struggled to draw holstered sidearms. The bodies that lay beyond were too numerous to count.
In the lull of the combat, they exchanged glances. David’s hands shook, making it difficult for him to reload his weapon. The resetting artificial gravity generator whined, preparing to flip the space beyond right side up again. Nice trick… while it lasted.
“I didn’t sign up for the Marines,” Munford said.
David couldn’t tell whether she was being serious or trying to lighten the situation. “I don’t think any of us did,” he replied, trying to focus on anything except the pile of bloody bodies around the corner. “They’re going to hit us again any second now.” He peered toward the next bulkhead, looking for a sign they were coming.
“We’re out of grenades, Corporal. If they hit us again like that, we’re dead. We’ve got to pull back,” Beckett said.
“No. We hold until the Marines arrive.”
“Why? We’re not equipped for this. We’re a freaking damage-control team, for the love of God!”
“Look, we don’t have many Marines on this tub. All of us are trained to repel boarders, just like we’re all trained to fight fires. Keep it together, Beckett. We can do this.”
“Aye, aye, Corporal,” Beckett muttered, finally getting his rifle reloaded.
“Marines? I call them the Terran Coalition’s misguided children,” Munford said.
I guess she was going for humor after all. For all the calm David portrayed, his mind was a roiling sea of fear that threatened to break free. They likely wouldn’t survive another push, and he was on the verge of ordering them to fall back when the communications panel beeped.
“Damage-control team fifteen, this is Sergeant Morrison. Are you still with us?”
David slapped the control. “Yes, Sergeant. Not sure for how long.”
“You must hold your position. League boarding parties are all over deck five, and if you let them get past you, they’ll flank our defense and overrun the section—maybe the ship. We’ll be there ASAP, but it’s all on you, Corporal Cohen. Can you do it?”
Without even thinking through what he was about to say, David replied, “We’ll hold, Sergeant. Whatever it takes.” He stepped back from the panel and eyed the other two. “No matter what.”
Beckett and Munford nodded grimly, courage, resolution, and fear flooding their faces.
Seconds later, another wave of League troops surged forward, firing down the passageway. Panic akin to his own filled their eyes, but they didn’t stop.
Bursts weren’t cutting it. “Full auto,” he ordered, toggling his rifle and hoping the others could hear him clearly above the din of battle.
Holding down the trigger and fighting to keep the gun level rather than wasting its precious stopping power on the overhead, he emptied the magazine in one long burst. He heard his fellows doing the same, sending dozens of rounds down the passageway in a storm of steel.
The carnage from going full auto broke the enemy assault. Twisted bodies lay on top of one another on the deck. Some screamed in pain. The smell of propellent hung heavily in the air, and spent shell casings were scattered all around.
When a big, bulky power-armored League Marine came into view behind more cannon fodder, David’s heart sank. Power armor, even the less effective League variant, was extraordinarily potent and made its wearer difficult to disable or kill. “Goliath! Aim for the upper body and head.”
Munford leaned out and sprayed the enemy formation with unaimed fire. As her rifle clicked dry, return fire from the Goliath’s directed-energy weapon ripped into her arm and threw her to the ground, bringing forth a grunt of pain.
“Beckett, when I fire, pull Munford back,” David yelled over the din of battle, reloading his rifle. He was on his last magazine. Leaning to the right, he opened fire, trying to distract the Goliath.
Beckett grabbed Munford’s good arm and dragged her out of the passageway and the line of fire.
“Get her to the rear and find a corpsman.”
“They’ll overrun you, David,” Munford said, trying to stem the flow of blood from her arm. Funny. She called me David, not Corporal. Probably the pain getting to her head.
“Yeah, Corp, we can’t leave you,” Beckett added.
“I’ll be all right. Get moving. She needs medical attention.” David fired blindly down the passageway. “Now, go.”
To cover their escape, David leaned back out and emptied his rifle into the Leaguers. It almost worked.
Dragging Munford across the deck, Beckett had almost gotten her to safety when a stray energy beam caught him in the chest. He fell to the ground in a heap. Munford lay behind him, frozen in shock.
A moment later, she found the ability to flee, scrambling a few more feet to land behind the next bulkhead. Munford’s harsh grunts of effort echoed in David’s head, distracting him as he felt for his sidearm. He was out of bullets for the rifle. With the practiced muscle memory of his training, he slipped the pulse pistol into his hand and brought it up while turning the energy setting to maximum. Firing through the bulkhead opening, he felled another Leaguer who made the mistake of blindly charging forward.
A stray bullet connected with David’s shoulder, sending him backward and causing searing pain to radiate through his body. His pistol clattered to the deck.
He knew
he was about to die.
At any moment, the Goliath would crash into the junction, and even if David could kill him, they would come one right after the other until an enemy finally ended his life. His thoughts ran wild. I don’t want to die here. I never wanted to kill anyone. I cost Beckett his life. The last thought caused a wave of guilt that distracted him from the task at hand.
David forced himself to pick up the fallen sidearm, fighting through excruciating pain to aim at the bulkhead opening. Time slowed as the Goliath burst through the bulkhead. The immense armor suit was even more foreboding at close range. David squeezed the trigger, and the energy beam connected with the Leaguer’s helmet, its weakest piece.
The heavy armor held as the Leaguer brought his own weapon up. He fired, sending a burst of rounds into David’s torso, slamming into his thin body armor. More pain swept over David, and his pistol jerked up as the beam finally penetrated the enemy’s helmet and sliced through his head. Little blood or human matter sprayed because of the cauterizing effects of the energy weapon.
David let go of the trigger, and the Goliath collapsed to the ground. Gasping, David felt shocked he was still alive. With the wind knocked out of him, he barely registered the curses and shouts from the remaining League troops. He tried to force his body to comply with the mental command to raise the pistol once again, then shots poured down the passageway from behind him. For a moment, he despaired, certain the enemy had flanked them, until he realized they were friendlies, thanks to the distinctive sounds of the weapons. The Marines had finally arrived. A group of six, heavily armed and armored, thundered into the passageway junction.
“Report, Corporal!” the lead Marine, Sergeant Morrison, yelled as they filed into ready positions, weapons up and searching for targets.
David couldn’t force a word out. He still reached for his sidearm, hands shaking and brain foggy.
Morrison came over and shook his shoulder roughly. “Corporal!”
The loud word snapped David out of his trance. “My guys got hit. Beckett and Munford.” He pointed toward Beckett’s fallen body and the bulkhead Munford hid behind.
Coalition Defense Force Boxed Set: First to Fight Page 22
