by Brian Mansur
“Get out of there, Sean!” Paulson said.
The next instant, a sharp crack filled Sean’s speakers. The ship’s fire alarm blared. He made out frantic shouts from Lieutenant Figueroa and her marines before staccato bursts overwhelmed the channel. Then the growling burr of some unseen auto-cannon registered. The noise menaced for one second. Then two. And then three.
All the voices and weapons fell silent. Scrolling lines of red lettering verified the deaths of another six people. For a moment, Sean thought he heard their spent ammunition clinking like metal tears.
Platoon Sergeant Martinez shouted, “Let’s go! Shoot anything that moves!”
Before Sean could react, the marines beside him had deactivated their mag-boots and sprung for ladders to the lower bays. He slapped his wrist’s controls. “No!” he yelled. “No, seal those side doors and fall back to the MAC! Pull the drones and fifty cals from storage.”
“On it, L.T.,” Horvath called from the Feni’s main cabin.
As Sergeant Martinez landed at the port access way, he said, “This may be our only chance to attack it from two sides, Lieutenant.”
Sean said, “You saw what hit us outside!”
Claire added, “Sergeant, the helmet cams in Bay 5 showed a mech moving starboard. It can probably sight you right now through that tunnel you’re standing over!”
You manipulative little cyber-witch, he thought with grudging respect.
When the marine hesitated, Sean said, “Pull back so we can set up a kill zone.”
In the split-second it took the Gunnery Sergeant to reply, Sean imagined the man’s grief and anger urging him to avenge his fellows.
“Yes, sir.” Martinez yanked the starboard airlock door shut and said, “Irving, button up that other hatch. Everyone else, back to the MAC, now.”
Sean watched suited figures launch themselves one after another along the cramped space toward the hold’s main entrance. All except Corporal Irving.
“Get that door shut!” Sean shouted.
“It’s stuck on its wall catch, sir.” Irving tried repositioning his magnetic boots. The next instant, he convulsed like a puppet jerked by its strings. Sean realized with bone-chilling certainty that the mech had doubled back port-side on its way up.
Claire shouted, “Incoming port hatch!”
A small missile-drone whooshed through the lower bay’s access port. It bounced off Corporal Irving’s body, pivoted and rocketed at the retreating marines.
Sarah wore a troubled expression. They’d lost the teams both outside and deep below in Bay 5. Now she watched Commander Blake point his handgun at the Feni’s huddled crew.
Blake said, “Turn around and get in our ship or so help me, I will shoot you!”
The wild-eyed freighter captain said, “Let us leave in our lifeboat! This is not our fight.”
Blake shifted his aim and fired down the hall to the escape craft. Sarah jumped. She thanked heaven the bullet embedded itself someplace unseen instead of bouncing back to hit one of the unprotected crewmen.
Blake yelled, “Several of my people are dead! For all I know, you’re responsible! Now move!”
The Feni’s captain pushed off toward the MAC. His five crewmen filed behind him with frightened looks. As they passed the T-junction in the main corridor, everyone heard a blast from the upper cargo bay.
Several more medical alerts appeared on Sarah’s HUD. Red, pulsating map dots and text signaled survivors. A man’s piercing scream filled the radio. Sarah slapped her hands to her helmet’s sides. Claire adjusted his cries to a distant wail.
Blake shouted, “Keep moving!”
Sarah knew he probably meant his order for everyone within earshot, but several marine suits called for medical aid. She twisted around and propelled her body down the Feni’s main corridor.
The marine medic Staff Sergeant, Stephanie Holtz, gave chase but had to work around a Feni crewman. Sarah blocked out the woman’s angry admonitions for her to return to the MAC.
“Cover fire!” someone ahead shouted. The rat-tat-tat of automatic weapons broke over the air.
Sarah’s heart raced. A smoky haze filled the open airlock connecting the Feni’s crew module to the pressurized hold. She saw an indistinct figure moving. Her HUD labeled it as Lieutenant Sean Merrick.
Thank God! she thought while landing hands-first onto the hatchway’s wall. Sarah found Sean braced inside at the other porthole. He held the cargo space’s hatch open enough for a person to pass.
“Come on!” he bellowed into the bay.
Sarah’s helmet told her that one of the casualties, Gunnery Sergeant Martinez, floated a meter past the door’s mouth. She could save him. She only needed to pull herself into the airlock, push past Sean and reach out.
To her astonishment, she froze. A knob of terror caught in her throat. Something had killed almost a dozen people beyond that opening. It was insanity to go in there.
The red cross on Sergeant Holtz’s arm flashed past as the medic dived inside the airlock.
“What are you—” Lieutenant Merrick began.
Holtz shouted, “I’ve got Martinez!” She poked her torso through the gap, grabbed the wounded marine and tugged him to safety. It took less than five seconds, start to finish.
“Take him, Lieutenant,” Holtz said, then twisted around, intent on trying for another casualty. Sean clutched the medic’s leg and yanked her back.
“They’re too far!” he said. “Everyone fall back right now before we get hit again!”
Stirred from her paralysis, Sarah said, “Sergeant, help me with Martinez.” Then Sarah noticed that one of the marines outside had stopped firing. The next moment, a figure made for the half-open door.
Claire called, “Incoming starboard!”
A deafening blast made Sarah’s heart jump. Instinctively, she clutched at her patient, hoping to shield him. Through ringing ears, she heard Sean order, “Get back to the MAC! Move! Move! Move!”
The marine tagged as Watson slipped partway through the hatch when the explosion hit. An instant later, he screamed in hideous agony. His legs ended in bloodied stumps. The sight froze her again.
Dimly, she registered Sean yelling, “Get those two into the MAC!”
Holtz said, “I’ve got Watson.” She launched herself and the mangled marine up the main corridor. Sarah watched in a daze as wobbling balls of blood trailed behind them.
“Lieutenant!” Sean said. “Go!” His harsh voice jolted Sarah. She leaped out of the airlock with the Platoon Sergeant in tow. No sooner had they cleared it than a series of sharp, metallic clanks reverberated through the hatch Sean had closed. She looked back to see Sean scrambling out. He barely managed to close the door before the transparent aluminum window on the hold-side hatch shattered.
“Where are those fifty cals!” Sean called.
In answer, Commander Blake said, “Make a hole!”
Sarah checked ahead to find herself sailing past the intel officer. He held a formidable looking weapon at the corridor’s edge. Distracted, Sarah and her patient bounced hard against the hall’s end. She adjusted quickly and sent them toward the MAC’s airlock. She caught the briefest glimpse of Sean kicking off to join them.
Maybe we have a chance, she thought.
Maybe we have a chance, Sean thought.
Blake said, “It’s in the hold’s airlock! Out of the way Merrick!”
Seeing the commander above with a heavy gun, Sean jarred himself to a halt on a railing. Flexing his biceps taught, he drew flush to the wall.
Blake yelled, “Fire in the hole!”
Thunderous cracks shook Sean’s skull. Peering below, he saw the cargo bay’s porthole shatter. Hope grew within him. If the fifty cal could break four centimeters of layered transparent aluminum, it could take out that murderous droid.
A thud near his helmet made him jerk. He realized with alarm that the sparks dancing around the porthole were ricocheting bullets. He wanted to tell Blake to stop, but the gunfire ke
pt the battle mech from shooting its Gatling and guided explosives. That last thought made him think to say, “We could use some drone grenades right about now.”
“Inbound, sir!” Horvath crowed. Twisting, Sean saw a fat, floating spearhead device pointed his way.
Unseen, Corporal Horvath said, “Commander, cease fire in three, two, one, now!”
No sooner had Blake let off his trigger than Horvath remotely sent the mini-bomb rocketing on a brilliant yellow flare. It flew straight into the porthole and detonated, blasting a gout of orange flame back the way it had come. Shrapnel sprayed Sean’s suit. He curled into a tight ball. It took him a few seconds to accept that he hadn’t been hurt.
“I’m coming up,” Sean called. He didn’t know if they’d killed the mech, but he didn’t want to find out by getting shot at. “Claire, where’s the other one?”
The MAC pilot said, “I can see it! It’ll be on us in seconds!”
“Tsunami,” Sean said, “a little help here?”
“Feni,” Captain Paulson said. “We’re unable to fix Claire with a reboot, and whatever is in her system has affected MAC 58. We can’t assist. We’re going to try for a full wipe and reinstallation on one of her cores. Will take about thirty minutes. Suggest you do the same aboard MAC 117.”
The pilot said, “Already started, ma’am. Any other ideas?”
Stricken, Sean fought to think of what they should do next. Before he came up with anything, Claire said, “Enemy on the hull!”
Location: Rear main cabin, MAC 117_
Trembling, Sarah tended to the bloodied and quivering Corporal Watson. She gasped when the pilot said, “They’re cutting into us just behind the cockpit! Get some cover!”
She glanced up to see astronauts positioning themselves. From their vertical couches, the Lakshmians glanced worriedly at one another. Beside Sarah, Holtz struggled to get an I.V. into Sergeant Martinez.
She could almost hear Doc Apple reminding her, “Hey, you wanted excitement.”
A large hand gripped the nurse’s arm, making her jump. One of the Lakshmians said, “We need pressure suits, or we’ll die!”
Sarah twisted her limb away, indignant at being unnecessarily frightened while trying to save a life. It didn’t improve matters to find the Feni’s captain before her.
From nearby, Sergeant Holtz gestured to the rear and said, “Locker over there. It has some rescue balls.”
Channeling her shame, anger, and fear, Sarah added, “Will you take care of your crew?”
“We’ll get ourselves sealed up,” the Lakshmian said, ignoring her disdain. He directed his subordinates to find what they needed, then said, “Thank you for helping us.”
As Sarah repositioned her magnetized limbs, she wanted to ask if the man really gave a damn about the poor souls working for him. She reasoned that at least she cared for the people she’d let get hurt. She wondered if the Lakshmian had known about the dangerous robots in his hold and not bothered to tell anyone. It took some effort to push her vitriolic suspicions from her mind to concentrate on patching up Watson.
Scarcely a minute later, a terrible bang heralded the breaching of the craft’s skin. Everything not secured to the hull drifted forward. Sarah tightened her grip on Watson, trusting the mag-nodes in her suit’s knee and elbow joints to keep them in place.
She saw rescue balls floating by, their occupants thrashing within. She looked into her patient’s face. His panicked expression lashed at her heart. Leaning forward to protect the barely conscious man, she said, “I’ve got you, Corporal.”
Flickering lights at the craft’s front caught Sarah’s attention. Beyond the little white rescue globes, she made out muzzle flashes from astronauts firing into a jagged hole. She realized with sickening dread that the enemy droid would send more grenades their way.
A desperate “no” escaped her. She was only twenty-three. She didn’t want to die yet. She didn’t want any of her comrades to die.
Something drew her gaze up. Her racing heart faltered. A pair of unsuited Lakshmians floated past. She recognized the man who’d shared his human trafficking story.
I can’t help him! she thought, despairing. If I leave Watson exposed…
A figure on her other side moved. It was Holtz. She stood next to Sarah and said, “I’m going to—” A pair of blinding flashes fore and aft bleached the MAC’s interior.
Sarah felt hammer-blows against her back, arms, and legs at several points. Her suit’s status board went wild with blinking lights and alerts. The rebreather pack failed, leaving her with only a fifteen-minute emergency oxygen supply. Worse yet, the medical systems for three more astronauts pled for aid.
Sarah, however, paid the readouts no attention. Gaping with horror, she fixated on the tumbling form of Sergeant Holtz. The medic had taken the full wrath of a grenade, which had carved a crater in her abdomen.
Location: Forward main cabin, MAC 117_
Sean’s helmet blared with a cacophony of alarms. A ghostly red crosshair danced over the black mech. In his hands, a semi-automatic, high-caliber piston of destruction juddered as he plugged round after round into the encroacher. With vengeful satisfaction, he watched the mech waver and jerk under the constant barrage from Horvath, Blake, and himself.
In their adrenaline-suffused rage, the trio smashed the mech’s limbs, joints, gun barrel, and sensor dome. Chunks of metal and composites broke off, joining the ricocheting bullets hurtling about them.
Horvath exclaimed, “I think we got its grenade palate!”
Sean figured that had to be why the rest of them weren’t dead yet. Also, the thing seemed stuck in the jagged breaching hole it had made, blocking its lethal Gatling.
Sean yelled, “Die, you bastard!” He took a step forward on his mag-boots to push aside one of the rescue balls. He sent three final rounds into the inorganic monster’s heart. The machine twitched like a half-dead animal. Hydraulic fluid streamed from several gashes, coalescing into clear spherules.
Sean raised his rifle. “Cease fire! Pull those rescue balloons back before the thing decides to explode or something.”
While the others move to police up the Lakshmians, Sean stepped up to the droid hanging halfway through the MAC’s ceiling. He whacked it with his rifle’s muzzle. To his surprise, the hulk shimmied upward a smidgen.
“Hey,” he said, “Whatever it grappled us with has released.” He motioned to Horvath. “Give me a hand.” Standing on mag-boots, they lifted the intruder until it had cleared the ship. The wrecked juggernaut drifted away at several centimeters per second. As Sean stood watching, he felt his fight-or-flight juices thinning.
In a subdued monotone, he said, “Merrick to Tsunami. Second mech neutralized.”
“Copy Lieutenant,” Paulson replied. Her voice sounded equally grave. She could see the body count as well as Sean. Seventeen marines—the pilot included—were dead. Only seven of the original boarding party remained. Of those, three lay severely wounded.
Operating from the MAC’s backup computer core, Claire relayed the rescue bubble’s status onto Sean’s helmet. Four of the Feni’s crewmen had survived the firefight.
He turned his attention to their one remaining medical expert. “Lieutenant Riley, you still functioning?”
Her reply came after a noticeable pause. “Yes. Yes, sir.”
In a controlled voice, he said, “Tell us how we can help you.”
“Can,” she faltered. “Can we get everyone back aboard the Feni? I need to work in atmo.”
Sean looked to the airlock. The lights on the Feni-side door indicated full pressure within the ship. Lucky for them, the battle hadn’t breached the freighter’s multi-layered hull.
Sean said, “Move the wounded into the airlock. Horvath, fly a drone down the Feni’s main corridor. I don’t want anyone going aboard until we’re sure the mech there is really out of commission.”
“Roger, sir,” she said and headed aft. She passed Sarah, who had begun moving Corporal Watson.
This time Sarah responded readily. “We should swallow painkillers on the off-chance we get the bends from the drop in pressure we all just took.”
“Everyone heard the lady,” Sean said. “Pop a pill, now.” Turning to his helmet’s dispenser, he noticed Commander Blake planted under the hole in their ship, staring upward.
Blake said, “We need to get away from the Feni. There might be more surprises waiting.”
Sean made an exasperated noise. “I’m open to suggestions, sir. The MAC’s dead until Claire’s backup core finishes reinstalling. Even then, we have no guarantee we’ll have control again.”
Blake turned to Sean. “Lifeboat, Lieutenant.” He made it sound like the most obvious thing in the world.
Of course, Sean thought. He’d forgotten about the Feni’s escape shuttle.
“Claire,” he said, “how many can the Feni’s skiff carry, and how hard will it accelerate?”
“It seats ten and has a chemical rocket engine that’ll boost for thirty seconds at full gee. It’s enough to clear the light-sail’s laser before heat becomes a problem.”
“We may have to take it,” Sean said. “Let’s see if our airlock still works and get our people transferred.” He paused to regard the commander. “Good idea, sir. Thanks.”
Blake didn’t reply. Instead, he turned to help Lieutenant Riley. Sean fought down the urge to flip the man off.
His adrenaline-high waning, he started to wonder what he was going to tell the board of inquiry about their disaster. Seventeen men and women had died on his watch.
Survive first, he scolded himself. Figure the rest out later.
Location: Lilith’s private estate, Lakshmi Colony_
Beside Lilith, Henry Wilkinson scratched at his cheek and said, “You know, you really should have loaded the mechs closer to the MAC.”
Lilith said, “And how would that be a fair test of our new abilities?”