by P W Hillard
“We’re going the wrong way!” said the first overseer, the one Sixth had been tasked to defend.
“You heard the message, the main launch bay has fallen,” said another.
“We’ve got to get out, it doesn’t matter how! The emergency rocket is our only choice,” said a third.
The arguing wasn't productive in Sixth's mind. With the main hangar taken, the only options left was the smaller secondary hangar at the far end of the facility, a distance of several miles away, or the much closer emergency rocket, a single-use vessel intended for use only if the dropships were busy elsewhere. Sixth had decided on the rocket as being the best course of action. First would have headed to the hangar once he had boarded his mechsuit, the mechbay directly adjacent. Taking his charges into a battlefield would have been reckless.
They were approaching a corner, and Sixth brought the group to a stop. He signalled the two brothers to his right to approach. The corner was blind, and he had no idea of knowing how many of the mercenary invaders were loose inside the facility.
The two brothers rounded the corner, rifles at the ready. They scanned the concrete tunnel beyond. It was a straight run forwards, and there were no enemies they could see. One of them noticed the glass had been smashed through on a doorway halfway down but assumed it had been done by an overseer attempting to escape.
“All clear,” said the brother who had noticed the glass.
***
Xander waited, his breath held as the enemy approached. They had to have seen the glass but had said nothing. He knew what he would do, proclaim that everything was clear as the Black Rose soldier had done, whilst also gesturing towards the window. He would want the enemy to think they were safe, before tossing in a grenade and storming the room.
“They’re going to flush us out,” Atticus whispered. He was thinking along the same lines as Xander. “We need to hit them first.”
“Agreed. We don’t know numbers, or armaments though.”
“An infantry brother carries a standard five-five-six bullpup, whilst an overseer has a nine millimetre sidearm,” Atticus said. “I…I don't know how I know that.”
“Must be some of their stuff got into your head. So, standard infantry loadouts then. We need to know how many there are.”
“Or, we need a distraction big enough that it won't matter.” Atticus had a wicked grin across his face. He had seen something within the closet. He shuffled away towards the back of the room, taking care to move as quietly as possible. He returned with a metal cylinder painted a vibrant red.
“A fire extinguisher? You know those don’t really explode if you shoot them, it’s an urban myth,” Xander said. He was trying to whisper as quietly as possible; the footsteps of the enemy were getting close now.
“They don’t explode, no, but what will it do?”
“Got it.” Xander nodded at Atticus. The infantryman had impressed him with his quick thinking. “On three.” Xander let Atticus get in position near the door with the extinguisher before starting the count. “One, two…”
***
Sixth moved down the corridor, his brothers and sisters beside him whilst the overseers trailed behind. It wasn't far to the rocket now, once at the end of this corridor they would need to take the left-hand turn then continue onwards until the end of that tunnel. As the group moved forward, Sixth noticed something.
“Why is that window broken?” he said.
Almost in reply to his question, the door flung open, a fire extinguisher quickly thrown out into the corridor. A figure appeared, leaning around the frame with a rifle in their arms. They fired, letting loose only a single shot that hit the extinguisher with a loud ding.
The corridor became a storm of white smoke as the contents of the extinguisher rushed to escape through the tiny hole in its body. The loud hiss of the gas was joined by the bark of a rifle, the figure in the doorway firing at full automatic into the smoke cloud. Sixth heard a grunt from one of his brothers as a round hit them, then a scream as a second struck an overseer. He panicked, searching his artificial memories for a similar scenario. The delay was his doom, one shot clipping his shoulder and twisting his body to the left whilst a second shot struck his exposed neck, blasting through an artery and exploding out through his voice box.
He hit the ground, unable to groan in pain as agony washed over him. The angry buzz of the rifle stopped. For a brief moment, the corridor was silent, the hiss from the gas having run its course. There was a new noise, the sound of something being slotted into a waiting gap. A magazine being inserted into a weapon. The death knell scream of their attacker's gun started again.
Blood bubbled from his wounds as Sixth tried to look around. His brothers had fallen, their tight formation as they advanced giving them no cover from the onslaught that had come. Two of the overseers were similarly dead, whilst the rest were fleeing back the way they had come. Boots passed his eyes as the mercenary who had gunned him down stepped into the carnage.
“Nice work,” the man said, smoke drifting from the barrel of his gun. “Some good thinking there.”
“Thanks,” said a second man. He had implants pressed into his bald scalp.
It was a brother. Sixth watched as the brother reached down, picking up a rifle from one of the fallen. He was going to strike down the mercenary. Sixth struggled against his dying breaths, reaching for his sidearm, his hand wrapping around the grip.
Two shots rang out, thudding as they hit Sixth in the chest. He released the pistol, the weapon clattering to the ground.
“Thanks,” Xander said. “Getting shot in the back would have been embarrassing.”
“Here.” Atticus offered Xander the rifle. “I know you don’t trust me.”
“No, keep it.” Xander’s eyes glanced as the pistol on the ground, blood pooling around it. “If it bites me in the arse, well then it’s my own fault then, isn’t it?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The station wasn't far from the Sunchaser, careful thruster bursts had brought it just a few meters away, but to Sergei, it looked like a million miles. He couldn't quite believe that Mikal and a handful of the crew were getting ready to leap across. They had EVA packs, pushing themselves through space with controlled bursts of gas, but they would still be detached from any island of safety for a few precious moments. The thought terrified Sergei, and he was glad he was only observing.
That same fear didn’t seem to exist for the crew. They were walking around on the hull of the Sunchaser, getting the cable ready to stretch across to the station. One of them was already drifting in the endless void, trusting their EVA pack to keep them safe. There was four of them total, including Mikal, the captain insisting that he be present. Sergei had protested, but Mikal had muttered something about leading by example and pushed past him.
“Careful with that cable. It’s tough, but we’ll only get one chance at this. Anyone who messes up will be on bloody latrine duty for the next month,” Mikal said, his barked words transmitted by direct line of sight laser. A radio signal ran the risk of giving away their position. There was a chorus of acknowledgements. “We need to be sharpish though. Don’t want that bloody beast on the other side to realise we’re ‘ere.”
Two more of the crew pushed off from the hull, edging carefully towards the station with synchronised jets. They pulled the cable across the gulf, the thick wire spooling out from within the Sunchaser. Another had already reached the station and was opening a panel with a plasma torch, the brilliant light another brief star.
“You think this will really work?” Sergei said.
“It’ll do something at least.” Mikal edged across the black, his pack pushing him towards the station. “Better than sitting on our arses doing nothing.”
The panel removed, the cable from the Sunchaser was inserted into the waiting port. Sergei thought it looked like an umbilical cord. In a way it was, the Sunchaser looking to supply the station with life-giving energy.
Even though it was un
finished, the fragment of space station loomed over the smaller ship. A half-constructed shell that was suspended in the black. In time it would slowly lose orbit, crashing into the world below unless corrected. The crew walking on its surface were like mites on the back of a great beast, insignificant specks on its metal hide.
“All locked in, boss,” said a crewman.
“Right you are. Ok, let’s get these doors open and get inside, we’ve got work to be doing.” Mikal gestured up the side of the station, towards a set of sealed airlock doors. “Bird, I’m leaving the Sunchaser in your ‘ands. Don’t fuck it up. We’ll be out of radio contact until we’re ready to start, so it’ll be bloody quiet from us until then.”
“Understood,” Sergei said. He hadn’t expected Mikal to put the Sunchaser under his command. He wasn’t anything other than a glorified accountant. “Stay safe.”
“Nothing’s bloody safe in space, but I get your point.”
***
Mikal advanced with his weapon drawn, a snub-nosed submachine gun specially designed to be wielded by a person wearing a spacesuit. Its grip was wider, the trigger oversized so it could be pulled in the padded suit. The side of the weapon had a powerful magnet designed to connect to the waist of the spacesuit, negating the need for a holster. Around him, his crew were doing the same. Mikal didn't expect there to be any trouble, but nothing about this job had gone as planned so far.
“The main power control is two floors down, Captain,” said the crewman on point. “We can route the power from the chaser and start up the reactors from there.”
“Good. Take Simmons with you and get it done. Me and Munroe will head for weapons control. We need our timing to be on bloody point if we want this to work. Can’t ‘ave that big bastard detecting the power and slagging the station before we can shoot.”
“Weapons control will be six floors up,” Munroe said. She was standing behind Mikal, a tablet attached to her right forearm displaying a map. The guild had provided a schematic of the station in the job data, just in case. “If we take the next left, we can follow that corridor to the central transit shaft and get up that way.”
“Makes sense to me,” Mikal said. “Right, how long do you think it will take before we can start the power?”
“Twenty minutes. Not long,” the lead crewman said.
“Sounds good. Radio us once you’re ready. If it doesn’t work then we’re buggered anyway, keeping quiet won’t help us. We better get a move on, Munroe.”
“Aye, cap.” Munroe pushed past Mikal, the tablet held out before her as she led the way down the corridor, magnetic boots making her footsteps heavy.
“Good luck, lads,” Mikal said as he followed. “Drinks are on me when we get back to the ship.”
“Company doesn’t charge for food, Cap. Drinks are always free,” Simmons said.
Mikal shook his head within the helmet of his suit. “It’s about the bloody sentiment, ain’t it?”
***
Mikal was glad the station was incomplete. If it were working the central shaft would be filled with fast-moving cars, whizzing up and down with incredible speed. The work crew hadn't yet installed them, leaving a void that stretched for over a mile before reaching open space.
From here he could see the enemy vessel, the enormous jump ship waiting just beyond. It was frighteningly close. Mikal was certain if he climbed to the end of the long shaft he could leap from the station, his EVA pack having just enough fuel to carry him to the waiting ship. He knew it was at least several dozen kilometres away, but in terms of orbiting starships, it and the Sunchaser were bumper to bumper.
“We need to be sharpish before someone looks out of the window and spots us.” Mikal knew he was being hyperbolic; from that distance, he would be invisible to the eye. For one of the jump ship's telescopes however it would be a different matter. It wasn’t likely one would sweep across the shaft; Mikal was certain they would be looking outwards for some sign of the Sunchaser, but there was always that tiny chance.
“Nearly there, Captain!” Munroe was checking the markings on the wall against her tablet. It wasn’t a long distance to travel, but both former pirates were experienced enough to know that taking their time with their EVA packs was a better bet than rushing. It was a rite of passage, overshooting your destination and having to waste time decelerating. “This is a hell of a first, right. There ever been pirates who have broken into a guild station before?”
“No. Still ain’t technically. We’re not pirates anymore. It’s hardly a working station either.”
“Never let specifics get in the way of a good story. Learnt that from you.”
Mikal allowed himself a laugh. “Right you are.”
“We’re here. I’m just going to blow the emergency bolts. We don’t need this door, right?”
“Unless you’re planning on moving in.” Mikal nodded within his suit. “Do it.”
Munroe placed her weapon against her waist and pulled open a panel on the wall before her. Her hands vanished into the eternal mechanics, tugging at unseen levers. If there was sound, there would have been a loud bang, though the vacuum robbed her of the satisfaction. The door was sealed against the void, but like most doorways, in major ships or stations, the frame around it had several emergency bolts. The entire section of wall hosting the doorway came loose, Munroe placing one magnetic boot to the wall and pulling it out.
“After you, Captain,” she said, releasing the boot. “Weapons control is at the end of the hall.”
Mikal tapped as his wrist, a small burst of gas pushing him forward. The section of wall twisted out of his way, the lack of gravity allowing Munroe to toss it about like a sheet of paper. Mikal fired another burst, accelerating down the corridor. There was a wall at the far end, an easy way to bring himself to a stop. With another tap, he twisted about so the end of the corridor was below his feet. It was something he was very used to, spending most of his adult life living in space in some capacity.
His knees bent as his boots locked to the wall, the kinetic force of the blow transferred to the station where its mass would make it insignificant. Mikal walked forward, stepping down from the wall and onto the floor of the corridor without missing a beat. He took a step to the right, bringing himself before the doorway to the weapons control room. Someone had helpfully stencilled that fact above the door, something Mikal knew would have been removed by the time the station was finished. It was hardly something you wanted to advertise.
He tugged the wheel to open the seal, but it didn’t move. It wasn’t surprising. The door was locked, a keypad on the wall next to it ready to receive a code. One Mikal didn't have, not that it would have mattered, the power was still out.
“How long do we have left?” He said.
“Just under ten minutes,” Munroe said. “I can get us in.”
“This I gotta see.”
“It’s not so impressive, just a design flaw.” Munroe walked along the wall, touching at the metal and checking her tablet. Should be just about…here.” She took a step back and unhooked her weapon. Her finger squeezed the trigger, firing a long burst on full-auto at the wall.
Firing bullets in a vacuum was dangerous, especially so against a metal wall. One errant ricochet could mean a torn suit, certain death this distance from the Sunchaser. As each bullet struck the wall, it punched clean through it, making dozens of little holes in the metal. Munroe reloaded, grabbing a magazine from a pocket on her shoulder. She fired again, completing a large circle on the wall. With a slam from the butt of her weapon, the metal buckled smashing through to a hollow section behind it.
“Maintenance access for the chamber’s wiring. I could tell from the schematic that the guild cut corners on the internal panelling.” She stepped forward to the new hole and tapped the newly exposed far wall. “We can punch through this stuff and get inside that way.”
“Nicely done,” Mikal said, handing his weapon over to his subordinate. She had expended her ammo making the first hole. �
�It’s all yours.”
***
Sergei unhooked his helmet, tucking it under his arm as he stepped onto the bridge. His steps were awkward, he still wasn’t used to the magnetic boots. The combination of his feet sticking to the ground and the lack of any gravity meant that Sergei was moving around like a baby in a paddling pool. Sergei suddenly felt embarrassed. Mikal had asked him to command the crew during his absence and Sergei could barely walk in his spacesuit. Anyone of the crew before him were more qualified to run the ship.
“Anything?” Sergei said, trying as hard as he could to sound commanding.
“Not yet, sir,” the nearest crewman said.
It felt weird to Sergei. He had spent most of his life managing others but had never once been called sir. It raised his confidence, and Sergei walked across the bridge, taking a seat in the captain’s chair. From warehouse manager to starship captain in under a year was a crazy career trajectory, even if his new role was only temporary.
“Any sign that the jump ship has spotted us?”
“Not at the moment,” another member of the crew replied. “That’ll change when we get the go signal.”
“Right, thank make s-”
“Simmons to Sunchaser.” The radio signal was loud, the line left open on the communications console with the volume turned up. “We’re ready on our end, start the energy flow.”
“Go ahead,” Sergei said. “Quickly as we can.” He understood that time was against them now. The enemy ship would have detected an outgoing radio wave easily.
“Beginning power transfer,” came the reply from one of the crew near the front of the bridge. “You’re good to go, Simmons.”
***
“Brother-Captain,” Forth said, watching the display before him. “We have detected a radio signal. I believe it is meant for the enemy ship.”
First, leant forward, trying to get a look at his subordinate’s display. “From the facility?”
“No, Brother-Captain. From the station.”
First's mind searched the vast repository of experience within it. It didn't like what it found. He slammed his hands against the armrests of his chair. “All ahead full! Evasive manoeuvres. Get us moving.”