by Paul Teague
“A ride?” growled Stansfield.
“Ay, sir, on account of us being stuck inside an enemy station with no way to escape. I wondered if Conway might swing past and pick us up.”
“At least your HUD is working again,” said Stansfield.
“Ah, yes, sir. A bit of percussive maintenance and it was right as rain. I'll have an engineer check it out when I'm back on board.”
“Do what you must to survive, Marine,” said Stansfield, “but I want the Sphere intact, understood?”
“Understood, sir,” said Ten, “no problem at all.”
“Don’t let me down,” barked Stansfield. “Conway’s on her way. Vengeance out.”
“Sorted,” said Ten.
“He wants the Sphere intact?” said Gray, shaking her head. “The man’s mad.”
“They’re coming to us,” said Jackson, looking up through the shattered roof at a host of Mechs on discs that were descending towards them. They came as a wave, spread out and with weapons raised.
“I don’t think they’re looking to take prisoners anymore,” said Gray, backing away.
“Yeah,” said Ten as he aimed at the incoming discs. “I think you’re right. Head for the warehouse.”
With Hunter’s good arm around Jackson’s shoulders, the Marines made a dash for the ruined corridor as Ten opened fire. The Mechs broke formation like a flock of birds fleeing before a hawk, and Ten ducked into cover as they swarmed towards him.
“Go, go, go,” he yelled as he ran down the corridor. Behind him the ceiling of the operating theatre collapsed further as the Mechs began to crash into it, leaping clear of their discs to continue their pursuit.
Ten turned at the door that led to the warehouse and opened fire as the first of the Mechs appeared in the corridor. A second Mech blazed away from within the wrecked theatre, shooting blindly into the corridor through the drifting smoke. Rounds pinged from Ten’s power armour, knocking him back before he could swing around to face the new enemy.
Then Jackson was beside him, calmly returning fire and cutting down the Mechs.
“Get inside,” said Jackson. “Hunter’s in trouble.”
Jackson covered their retreat as Ten ducked through the door into the room they’d searched earlier.
“Through there,” said Jackson, nodding at the warehouse door.
Ten hurried on through the door, then pulled up sharp as Gray pointed her monstrous gun at him. She quickly lowered the weapon; then Jackson came into the warehouse and slammed the door shut behind him.
Ten wedged a splinter of packing crate under the door, then piled more crates against the door before backing further into the warehouse. The walls here were sturdier, but neither they nor the barricade would hold the Mechs back for long.
“We need to keep moving,” he said, eyeing the door with suspicion. “Where’s Hunter?”
“Here,” replied Hunter from along one of the aisles. He was on the floor, struggling to refit his cybernetic arm to the mounting plate in his stump. “This ain’t as easy as it looks,” he said through gritted teeth as he failed to get the plates to line up correctly. He almost dropped the arm and slumped back against the shelves he was leaning on.
“Is this really the time?” said Ten taking in Hunter’s grey face and shaking limbs. “You’ve had a rough day.”
“Need my arm,” hissed Hunter. “Just need to align it properly.” He made an effort to lift it again, but his exhaustion was obvious.
“We don’t really have time for this, mate,” said Ten with a calm he didn’t feel. “Let’s just get you back to Vengeance and let the docs put you back together.”
“No,” said Hunter firmly, pulling free from Ten’s helping hand. “Need my arm.” He nodded at something on the other side of the aisle. “Look.”
Ten looked across the aisles at the items on the shelves, but he wasn’t sure what it was he was supposed to be noticing.
“Looks like boxes of computers,” he said, as there was a bang from the warehouse door, “but they’re about as much use to us as a chocolate teaspoon.”
Hunter let his head flop back so that he could glare up at Ten and give him a sickly grin. “Computers in crates here means computers on networks somewhere else, right? Find the computers, find the commanders.”
“Time to move again,” shouted Gray, “they’re knocking on the door.” She had retreated into the aisle with Jackson, and now the two Marines stood guard, waiting for the Mechs to break through their improvised barrier.
“Okay,” nodded Ten in broad agreement with one eye on the door. “And you need the arm because…?”
“I have skills,” said Hunter simply. “Direct neural coupling via the arm. Might be able to hack their systems and slow them down,” he explained when Ten looked sceptical.
“Fine,” said Ten, slinging his rifle and shaking his head. He squatted down on the floor beside Hunter. “How does it attach?”
Behind him, the crates piled against the door screeched as they were pushed back across the floor. Jackson opened fire, aiming for the narrow gap between door and frame, and something fell back.
“Just slap it on the mount and hold it in place,” whispered Hunter, his eyes closed. “It’ll do the rest itself.”
“Right,” said Ten doubtfully as he crouched down beside Hunter. He offered the cybernetic arm up to the mounting plate, squinted at the alignment, then pushed it home.
“Argh!” said Hunter as the arm reattached to the mounting plate and clamped itself against the battered flesh of his stump. His whole body tensed as the arm settled into place; then there was a gentle ping and the arm came alive.
“Help me up,” he said, holding up his cybernetic arm.
Ten looked at the metal hand for a moment, then grabbed it and heaved Hunter to his feet.
“What’s that way?” asked Hunter, nodding at the far end of the warehouse.
“No idea,” said Ten as Jackson fired again on the Mechs trying to gain entry to the warehouse.
“Pretty busy here,” yelled Gray as she and Jackson backed up towards Ten and Hunter. “Can we go now?”
“That way,” said Ten, pointing down the aisle. “Hunter has a plan to stop the Mechs. Take him, find a terminal, then get out of here.”
“Where are you going?” asked Gray as Ten’s helmet closed around his head.
“We need more time, and I know where to find it. I’ll catch you up.” Then he unslung his pilfered weapon and strolled down the warehouse towards the Mechs.
Gray watched Ten walk calmly towards the door; then Jackson grabbed at her arm and pulled her away. She took a step back, wondering if she should stay and help, but Jackson pulled again.
“Okay,” she snapped, knowing that she should be helping Ten but really not wanting to get caught in another firefight. She hurried after Jackson to find that Hunter was staggering along the aisle, leaning heavily on the shelves and dragging one foot.
“Grab him,” said Gray, glancing over her shoulder as the sound of gunfire floated up the aisle. “We don’t have much time.”
Jackson wrapped his arm around Hunter’s waist and half-carried the injured Marine down the warehouse. At the end of the aisle was another door, this one wide enough for three people to stagger through. To the left, in the warehouse’s other wall, stood another set of doors that appeared to open onto a freight conveyor of some sort.
“That could be interesting,” said Gray, but Jackson ignored her and triggered the control that opened the doors ahead of them. As they slid open, they revealed a wide concourse running left to right. At either end of the huge space were more doors, but it was the open area ahead that caught the attention of the Marines.
On the far side of the concourse, three steps led up to large open room set with a huge display that ran thirty metres across the wall. It showed video feeds from two dozen or more Mechs, as well as a long-shot of Vengeance and various charts and infographics. In front of the main display sat a rank of consoles, each with thei
r own display and, at each station, a Mech.
Gray froze, head whipping left and right as she looked for signs that they’d been seen.
Nothing.
“Ten, are you seeing this? Looks like we’ve found the command room,” said Gray, whispering inside her helmet.
“Thanks for getting in touch, Marine X is not available to take your call right now.”
She could tell by the strain in his voice that Ten was dealing with something unpleasant. She closed the channel and focussed on the room ahead.
“Do we…?” Jackson hefted his rifle and nodded at the bank of seated Mechs, all seemingly oblivious to the threat behind them.
Gray shook her head slowly, then opened her helmet so she could talk more easily to Hunter.
“They don’t have legs, their torsos are just mounted on those stool things,” she hissed, the creeping horror making her skin crawl.
“Hard-wired? What is this place,” said Jackson, “some sort of high-tech terror palace?”
“Can you work around them?” said Gray.
“Yeah, but get closer,” said Hunter quietly, “need to get closer.”
Gray and Jackson exchanged a look, and then both closed their helmets. The Mechs looked peaceful enough, but looks could be deceiving, and neither Marine wanted to be left exposed when the firing began.
Gray went left to keep a clear arc of fire across the consoles, while Jackson helped Hunter to close on the nearest Mech. Even when they stood right behind it, looming over it, the Mech gave no sign of being aware of them.
“What’s wrong with them?” said Hunter, prodding at the nearest Mech. It ignored him and focussed on its display, utterly engaged by the feeds it was analysing.
Gray made ‘get on with it’ motions as the sound of gunfire and crashing metal floated across the concourse from the warehouse. Hunter nodded wearily and held up his hand. He closed his fist as his middle finger changed shape. Gray blinked in surprise as the finger became a long, prehensile cable.
Hunter leered at her briefly and gave her a wink. Then he reached past the Mech, closed his eyes, and plugged himself into the console.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then Hunter’s eyes flicked open.
“Shitloads of information,” he said, then he shuddered and shook his head. “We have a lot of problems, but I know how to deal with that death ray thing.”
“Focus on the Mechs,” said Gray firmly. “Can you shut them down?”
There was another burst of fire from the warehouse, louder and closer, and a stream of explosions.
“Not from here,” said Hunter with a grimace of pain. “They’re on a different system. But I reckon I can disable the Sphere’s weapon systems, shut them down and flag them as in need of repair. That’ll slow them down.”
“Good, because we’re going to need that time soon,” said Jackson. “I think they’re coming for us.”
Gray turned to look across the concourse as Ten emerged from the warehouse, backing through the open doorway and firing as he came. The Mechs were firing back, and even as he retreated Ten took multiple rounds to the chest.
“Shit,” said Gray, closing her helmet and dashing down the steps to the concourse. Ten staggered back, still firing. His power armour was battered and creased from the abuse it had received, and covered in scorch marks.
“Move,” said Gray as she raised her weapon towards the warehouse, but Ten just waved her back.
“Almost done,” he said. A Mech appeared in the doorway and Ten emptied the remains of his magazine into it, leaving it slumped across the threshold. Then from inside the warehouse came another round of explosions and the terrible screech of tortured metal and collapsing shelves. There was a long, drawn-out rumbling crash, and a spray of spare parts bounced through the open doorway and across the concourse.
The noise rolled away, and nothing moved for a few seconds. Then Ten tossed away the empty weapon and unslung his rifle.
“Is Hunter finished? Because I’m about ready to get out of here.”
26
“They’re coming again,” said Mason, slamming another magazine into his rifle. He and Kearney were at opposite ends of the short corridor that ran alongside the medical bay where Fernandez was working on the captured Mech. “Persistent little fuckers, ain’t they?”
“Clear at this end,” said Kearney as she peered around the bulkhead she was using for cover. Beyond, the Mechs were scurrying around, but she couldn’t work out what they were doing. “Better keep them on their toes,” she muttered, then she launched a grenade down the corridor.
“Drums in the deep,” she warned, ducking back behind the bulkhead. There was a rumbling crash as the grenade exploded, and a cloud of debris blew down the corridor.
“How’s it going in there, Lieutenant?” said Kearney in the brief lull that followed the explosion.
“It’s difficult to work with all the noise,” said Fernandez, “but we make progress.”
“Anything we can use yet?” said Kearney, squeezing off a few more rounds at the Mechs.
“Not yet,” said Fernandez testily. Then he closed the channel.
“Prick,” muttered Kearney as the Mechs gathered again at the nearby junction.
“Come on!” yelled Mason, firing at the oncoming enemy. Then he dodged away as the Mechs boiled down the corridor, firing blindly as they came. “Small calibre, high volume, spray and pray,” he murmured, back to the wall.
The first Mech charged past, and Mason shot it in the back. The second and third Mechs, moving too quickly to stop, went the same way, but the fourth turned to face Mason, struggling to bring its weapon to bear.
“Back, fiend,” said Mason, slamming his rifle into the Mech’s head. The thing staggered back into the path of the following Mech, and both stumbled. Mason reared up, then punched down with all the force his power armour could muster. His fist crumpled the Mech’s helmet and crushed its skull. It fell senseless to the floor.
“And one for you too,” said Mason, slamming his heavy boot into the second Mech’s faceplate. The head snapped back; then Mason stomped down, crushing his enemy’s skull.
He stepped back and looked around, suddenly aware that no more Mechs had charged up the corridor. “Still alive,” he muttered to himself, peering around the bulkhead in search of enemies to fight. They were still there, twenty metres away, firing intermittently along the corridor, but they weren’t in a hurry to advance.
“Fine by me,” said Mason, firing a few rounds in their general direction to let them know he was still there.
“You okay?” said Kearney from the other end of the corridor. She still fired her rifle, keeping the Mechs clear.
“Not dead yet,” replied Mason as he pushed a new magazine into his rifle. “Running low on ammo, out of grenades.” He paused to check his HUD. “Suit power not looking too clever either.”
“Won’t have to worry about it much longer,” said Kearney. “Here they come again!”
And then Mason was too busy fighting to talk as the Mechs charged his position once more.
On the bridge of Vengeance, the atmosphere was tense. Unable to play a direct role in the defence of the ship, the crew could only watch as their colleagues were cut down or forced back. All around the bridge, monitors showed reports and feeds from helmet and static cams. None of it looked good.
“That’s it,” said Stansfield as the last of the defenders outside the bridge doors was killed. “The enemy is at the gates.”
“Permission to open the bridge armoury, sir?” asked Yau.
“Granted, Mr Yau,” said Stansfield. “One final stand.” He looked around as the crew began to move, and Yau started handing out rifles and ammunition from the bridge’s small store. “It has been an honour to serve with you all,” he said, taking a rifle and slamming in a magazine, “but every glittering summer must have its rainy day.”
“And that rainy day is here, I’m afraid,” said Vernon, looking up from his console as the dull sound o
f metal being cut reverberated across the bridge. “Because the only thing now standing between us and the Mechs are those four doors. Once they break through, the Mechs will have the ship.”
“That’s it,” said Hunter, unplugging his arm from the terminal. “I’ve downloaded everything I can find and disabled their weapons.” He paused, frowning. “At least, I think I’ve disabled their weapons. Difficult to be sure.”
“Good enough,” said Ten, looking around the command room. “We need to get out of here. This place is giving me the creeps.” He opened a channel. “How’s it looking, Conway? You coming to get us?”
“Couple of minutes out, Ten. Are we going to get shot to pieces as we approach?”
“Nope, Hunter’s killed their defences, you’ve got a clear run to the hangar.” He sent her an image of the exterior of the Sphere, with the hangar door ringed in pink. “That’s where we’ll be.”
“Got it,” said Conway. “Don’t hang around.”
“Roger, out,” said Ten, closing the channel.
“Shall I…?” asked Gray, waving her obscene weapons at the Mechs that still sat, oblivious, at their terminals.
“Waste of ammunition,” said Jackson. “It won’t help us get off the Sphere or back to Vengeance.”
“Maybe not,” said Ten, nodding his agreement, “but anything that hinders the enemy is a good thing right now.” He stepped back down the steps, away from the consoles, as Jackson helped Hunter. “Fill your boots, Gray.”
She looked at him, nonplussed, and Ten sighed. “Just get on with it,” he said in a weary tone, waving his hand at the screens and terminals.
Gray nodded and pressed the trigger on her weapon. There was a momentary pause as the barrels spun, then the gun roared as it spat bullets. Gray played the stream of fire across the Mechs and their terminals, then across the screens and consoles. For twenty seconds she sprayed the command room, splattering every surface with blood and shattered componentry.
Then she took her finger off the trigger, and the monstrous weapon wound down and was silent.