The Royal Marine Space Commandos- RMSC Omnibus
Page 10
The weapon bucked and the alien fell back. Warden was already rising, rebreather on, moving into the smoke. It was risky, but the drone would have painted him a friendly blue and they didn’t have the numbers to be cautious.
He took the next alien with three hurried rounds to the chest, not even stopping as he rounded the corner of the balcony and began to move down it. Another blob appeared, coughing in the swirling smoke, and Warden lifted his weapon. He heard the tell-tale pings of rounds bouncing off powered armour as the towering figure became visible. His heart pounded. It was one of the enormous brutes he had tackled planetside, only this time in full power armour.
Warden glanced despondently at his pistol. The alien hadn’t seen him yet, but the smoke was clearing. He holstered his weapon and began to reach for another, staying as still as possible in the hope it wouldn’t spot him.
Then the head snapped towards him, the helmet expressionless. Warden could almost see the alien’s face, hear its grunt of surprise. He imagined the alien was looking at him and mouthing the equivalent of “What the fuck?”
Warden grinned lopsidedly and threw his weapons to the floor at the feet of the gigantic trooper. It looked down for a moment then looked back up as Warden waved and bravely ran away. He took three steps, unslinging his carbine as he ran towards the corner, then dove for cover through an open door.
The explosion of the grenades he’d gifted the alien was deafening. His ears rang and the air was acrid with smoke. He checked his HUD and realised where he was. Lifting his head from the deck, he saw two alien troopers gaping at him. He was in the armoury. Behind the enemy. Not the ideal place to take cover.
Their weapons came around and he had nowhere to go. His teams were behind cover but the space between them and Warden was wide open. He rolled and alien rounds chattered from the barrels. He kept rolling, waiting for the impact. Then he hit a wall and fumbled at his carbine, scrabbling to point it at the enemy.
He blinked. Both alien troopers were dead.
Ten stood over them, one foot on the crushed neck of an alien. Something dripped in his left hand and in his right was the large, glowing alien knife.
“I fucking love this knife, Lieutenant,” said Ten with obvious glee.
Warden looked at the body and back at the head Ten gripped by its hair. He’d taken it clean off with the knife. Then he casually tossed it out through the door, towards the spot in the hangar where the aliens had been. There were several bursts of fire.
“For fuck’s sake! Was that Ten? Would you tell him to stop doing that, Lieutenant, it’s not bloody funny anymore,” Milton shouted into her radio.
Warden sucked in a lungful of air and rolled onto his back laughing, “Sorry, Sergeant, not this time.”
14
“What’s the casualty list, Milton?”
“We lost Barber, Mitchell and Lee, sir, and Corporal Campbell is mortally injured. Some further injuries but nothing serious. All told, we have twenty-one personnel,” she replied.
Warden clenched his fist, the nails digging into his palm. The odds were not in their favour. They still had a substantial portion of the ship to clear and no way of knowing how many enemy combatants were still active. There could be half a dozen ship crew or thirty power-armoured troopers waiting for them.
“Wilson, what’s our drone situation?” he asked, turning to the corporal who was the most senior of their tech specialists.
“We lost a few in that engagement, sir. We have a handful of micro-drones but only two functioning combat drones. Not that they’re much use on board this ship,” he said apologetically.
“We need visibility, Wilson. I want any drones you have out there mapping the rest of the ship and gathering intel. If the combat drones can take any action, do so. We don’t need to worry about discretion now,” said Warden.
“Can do, sir, but it won’t leave us any spares. When we’re planetside, we won’t have surveillance until we can fabricate more drones. And the colonists lost their satellite network, as well as a lot of their communications grid. Do you want us to go ahead, bearing that in mind?”
Warden considered for a moment, then nodded. “We don’t have a choice, Corporal. If we don’t complete our mission here, we won’t be getting planetside anyway. Even if we retreated, they have three more dropships, and we’d be facing overwhelming odds within twenty-four hours if they deployed just the clones they already have. I’d rather have this ship crippled and be blind planetside than face those odds. Be careful with the combat drones but don’t hesitate to sacrifice them if you can take out an armoured trooper or we get another firefight like this one, okay?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Wilson nodded and turned to his colleagues. They set up out of the way and launched all their drones, the tiny hummingbirds zipping off to map the next area of corridors. The two combat drones, much larger but with only light arms, launched last. They hovered, advancing more cautiously, following the plans left by their smaller brethren.
Warden surveyed the rest of his team, only twenty strong with Richardson in the dropship. He frowned.
“Moyes, is that a railgun on your back?”
“Yes, sir,” the young Marine replied.
“Didn’t I specifically order that we weren’t to use railguns due to the risk of venting atmosphere?”
“I haven’t used it, sir,” she replied.
“I meant that we should leave them behind. Why did you bring it?”
“I thought if we had it, we could use it, sir. My sniping instructors always told me to be prepared.”
“That’s good advice, Moyes, but please tell me you understand why I don’t want to expose us all to vacuum when we don’t even have environment suits?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir, I just wanted to be able to vent the atmosphere if you needed me to. Like, if we shot some rounds through their bridge, the crew might find it hard to control the ship. They don’t seem to be well prepared for a boarding action. Maybe they won’t have their breathers at hand?”
Warden blinked. He turned to look at Milton who was having obvious difficulty stifling the impulse to laugh. He turned back to Moyes then called Lance Corporal Bailey and Marine Findlay over.
“Moyes, tell Bailey and Findlay what you just suggested.”
She looked a little shy about the prospect of suggesting her idea to the older Marines and Warden realised just how young she was. It was easy to lose track of such things when operating in clones, but his HUD confirmed Moyes was only twenty-two. She’d been in the Royal Marine Cadet program while pursuing her degree in fine art, of all things.
Moyes could easily have gone straight into the officer training course but instead had chosen the rapid acceleration track which would take her through the non-commissioned ranks before giving her the opportunity to attend officer training and be commissioned. It was an unusual route, but it spoke to a deep level of commitment and forethought.
Moyes cleared her throat and said, “Well, I thought that if we used the alien’s railgun against the ship’s bridge, we could vent their atmosphere into space. Even if they do have environment suits in there, it would be a bit inconvenient for them.”
“Assessment, Bailey?” Warden asked.
“I can’t think of a reason we shouldn’t, sir. If we can reach the corridor outside the bridge, we would have to shoot through one wall and out the other side. That would give us decent penetration, and if we can shoot from a doorway we can retreat quickly, seal the door behind us, and we’ll be secure. If they have power armour in there, though, you can bet they’ll follow us.”
“I can rig tripwires with our spare grenades,” Ten suggested.
“That might work,” said Bailey, nodding.
Warden walked over to the techs. “Report.”
“We have a good visualisation of this section, sir,” Wilson said, looking up. He pointed to a data slate and highlighted several rooms. “This is a cloning bay and, look, the monitors show clones being activated as we sp
eak. No way of knowing how long that will take. This is a cafeteria,” he said, pointing at a new spot, “and what looks like a recreation room, currently unoccupied. This is a medical bay, there’s a couple of staff in it, presumably medics. We can’t see inside the next three rooms so we’ll need to open those bulkhead doors to get drones in but we have the general corridor layout, and there aren’t any nasty surprises in the areas we can see. We have strong emissions from the other side of the bulkheads, so it’s reasonable to assume we’re not far from their communications and bridge areas, assuming they’ve got similar ship layouts and functionality to our own, which has been true so far.”
“Marine X, get those rooms cleared, pronto. Everyone else, ready to move out. I want to breach those doors and then get the drones in immediately.”
They moved out, going about their tasks efficiently. The techs gathered their gear and went mobile, ready to support if necessary and preparing their drones for the breach of the bulkhead doors. Warden pulled the snipers’ spotters from that duty and assigned them to the breaching team. At this range, the snipers’ only role was to use the railgun and they only had one, so the other two would look after Moyes.
Marines stepped forward to each of the three sealed doors, spinning the wheel locks and pulling them wide open. The micro-drones zipped through, visually clearing the corridors beyond in seconds. Warden checked the feeds and issued the next order to move.
Ten led the way through the starboard door and stormed into a communications room, glowing knife in one hand and pistol in the other. The aliens inside weren’t in a position to fight back; they barely freed their sidearms before Ten finished them.
Warden closed the feed from Ten and moved as the team cleared two staterooms on the port side of the ship. One large room between the communications room and the staterooms remained. He closed on it at the same time as Ten, and they burst through the door together.
It wasn’t surprising to find a war room with a large illuminated data table showing a map of the solar system and images of New Bristol. There were displays on all the walls. The surprise came from the two alien troopers in powered-armour who were waiting inside.
Warden admitted to himself later that the shock had thrown off his response time. Not so for Penal Marine X. Ten threw himself forward at the nearest enemy, his pistol firing as he closed the gap.
Warden targeted the second figure and emptied his magazine. He knew the alien rifle was powerful, but he wasn’t taking any chances with powered armour. It wouldn’t be a waste of ammo if he took down this trooper.
Ten dropped his pistol and switched the knife to his right hand. He batted the alien trooper’s weapon aside and closed into a close grapple. His left arm wrapped around the alien’s right and the knife came down hard, punching in and out through the weaker points in the alien’s armour. Under the armpit, the neck, the join between thigh and waist.
Warden’s alien staggered back, knocked off its feet by the rounds striking its helmet and chest. The lieutenant sprang forward, pulling the twin to Ten’s knife from its sheath and thumbing the mechanism as he landed on top of the trooper. He snarled as he raised the knife to finish his opponent and then let his hand drop. The front of the helmet was gone, smashed to pieces, and the face behind it was shattered. The rifle, it seemed, had been more than a match for the armour.
Warden got to his feet and sheathed the knife. He rammed a fresh magazine into the rifle and looked around.
“Charges, sir?”
“You think the next room is the bridge?”
“Only two doors and they’re close together. Looks like one room to me, Lieutenant.”
“Go ahead then. Let’s finish this.”
Warden pointed his rifle at the doors while Ten set the charges. The other teams took up positions in the doorways and corridors that had sight lines to the room they’d decided must be the bridge.
“How long, Marine X?” he asked.
“Want it good and efficient or quick and unreliable?”
“I’m an officer, Marine X. I want it done quickly and I want it done well.”
“Bloody typical,” Ten muttered, though hardly sotto voce.
“Do you want another thirty days on your sentence, Marine X?” Warden asked.
“Oh, yes please, sir? Can I? I do so love coming to shitholes and looking after moisture farmers and asteroid miners. Another couple of minutes should do it, if you want my best work.”
“Cut the comedy routine, Ten. Just get it done.”
“It’ll never be enough, I tell you! As if I have anything else in my life.”
Warden rolled his eyes and checked the HUD readouts again. He glanced down at Ten’s work; he was almost done.
A metallic whir from his left drew his attention. The wheel lock on the bulkhead door was turning. Warden’s eyes tracked down to the cluster of grenades and the jury-rigged mechanism Ten had attached to them and the door. It was already armed. His head snapped back to Ten, oblivious and muttering under his breath.
As the wheel creaked ominously, Warden shot out, stooping as he moved, his arms tucking under Ten’s armpits and lifting him as he headed for the doorway. “What the…” was all that Ten managed to splutter before the grenades behind them detonated.
The blast slammed into Warden’s back and punched him sideways into the room with Ten under him. He slammed into the door frame on his way through, hearing at least one rib break. Bollocks, he thought, I don’t have time for this. Worse, he’d ended up lying on top of a prone Ten in an entirely unflattering position.
Automatic weapons fire erupted behind him as Warden staggered to his feet. Ten stood up too and glared at Moyes, who’d been dragged back out of the way by Bailey and was staring at him in shock.
“Not a word,” he growled.
Warden clutched his side and gritted his teeth. Ten looked him up and down and swore. Then he pulled an auto-injector from a belt pouch and slammed it into Warden’s thigh before the lieutenant could protest.
“Shut up, Lieutenant. I heard the rib break and you need to stay functional. Unless you want to stay behind when we blow this rust bucket,” Ten said.
The drug flooded through Warden and the pain in his chest faded into the background.
“What does it look like?” he asked.
Ten grabbed a rifle and risked sticking his head out to check the corridor. His reward was a sustained burst of fully automatic weapon fire. The rounds were ricocheting around the whole corridor as Ten jerked back into the room.
“Bloody hellfire! It’s one of those big bastards in heavy power armour. He’s only got a massive Gatling gun on each arm.”
Warden turned to Moyes. “Marine, want to show us what you can do with that?”
She gulped. “I don’t have a clear shot, sir.”
She was right; it would be suicide to stick her head into that corridor and try to aim at that thing.
Bailey solved it. She threw something into the corridor and pulled Warden further into the room, leaving nothing but the wall of the room between Moyes and the gargantuan alien.
“The reflection, Moyes, check it, fire and adjust. The rifle is semi-automatic. Don’t think, just shoot.”
Moyes looked through the doorway; the object was a display Bailey had grabbed off a desk. The surface wasn’t mirrored, but it was reflective enough to give a distorted view of the corridor. She squinted to pick out details, matching them to the layout she had in her HUD, then she brought the rifle to bear.
The railgun spat and the sabot tore through the wall.
>
“To the left, Moyes,” Ten called out.
She adjusted the angle and fired again.
“That’s it!” Ten shouted gleefully. “Pile on.”
Moyes fired again, adjusted a fraction to the left and fired a fourth time.
“Nice, throw it to me, Moyes,” Ten shouted. She tossed the railgun to him, and he shouldered it, leaned out into the corridor and fired again. “Done,” he said, handing the rifle back to her, “nicely done, newbie. You’re empty, reload.”
“How many magazines do you have?” asked Warden.
“Five, sir,” Moyes replied.
Well, that really was prepared.
“How do you feel about filling that bridge room with as many as you can get out?” suggested Warden. Moyes nodded.
“Covering fire for the retreat. Breathers on.” He slipped his mask up and over his nose and mouth and flipped it on.
Ten and Bailey let loose a few bursts down the corridor before Milton confirmed everyone else was back through the bulkhead and it was sealed.
“Let rip, Moyes,” said Warden.
Moyes moved to the doorway and fired five rounds, ejecting the magazine and emptying the next into the bridge room as well. At least one must have penetrated the outer hull as an awful whistling began to suck the atmosphere from the ship.
“Richardson, can we get any more of the dropships down? How much time would it take if we can?”