by A. Payne
Low walls provided cover for the enemy and a few came equipped with personal shields. Their bullets bounced off the shuttle’s kinetic barriers and pelted against military grade armor. The marines promptly returned fire, though it did little good. The pirates wore reinforced armor claimed from the bodies of the security forces slain in their assault.
Daniels deployed his team to positions with mobile bulwarks. They returned fire from behind their armor but their shots were useless. Victor hated to be right. For every three rounds fired, only one penetrated an assailant. Half of those didn’t so much as offer a flinch of discomfort.
“I said headshots, marines!” Daniels yelled over the gunfire.
“Davis and Fairchild, swap to armor-shredding rounds!” Victor ordered.
“Shit,” Zoe swore over their communications channel. “Rogers, get out of the shuttle!”
Victor whirled to face the shuttle, but Zoe’s warning came too late. A rocket tore through the air and struck their transport, igniting in a spectacular effect of rising fire and smoke. The failing barrier sparked and the flames rushed over the portside wing. Metal warped and melted under the intense heat.
Victor hit the ground, blown back by the resulting shockwave. The impact forced all the air from his lungs and left him gasping. He pushed to his feet and maneuvered around to the shuttle door where automatic extinguishers had begun showering the flames with foam particles.
“Rogers is down but alive. But I don’t think we’re getting off this rock anytime soon,” Victor reported.
“Stay with him, Commander del Toro, while we mop up this mess.” Daniels relayed over the sound of gunfire.
“Acknowledged,” Victor replied. He had no intention of leaving his patient. He knelt beside Rogers and removed his medical kit. The kid was in pain, and his left leg resembled charred steak below the knee. He’d lose it for sure, and there was nothing that Victor could do about it. The right leg suffered superficial burns. They could wait for now while he stabilized the most severe injuries. “Hang in there, Rogers. You are going to be just fine. Can you hear me?”
Rogers groaned in response and continued to lie frightfully still as Victor worked over him. He dosed him with a pre-prepared shot of morphine and applied antimicrobial ointment to the burns.
The four marines on the front line advanced with their shields, providing cover for the others behind them. Their mobility was their advantage. They pushed forward, forcing their opponents against the rocky outcropping that housed the facility entrance.
“They’re wearing stolen armor,” Zoe relayed. She held a position up on a rocky pillar with her rifle. “Aim for their joints, the plating is weak there since it’s not made for them. Pain or no pain, they can’t stand on a shattered knee.” To emphasize her point, the sniper fired. A crimson spray of blood exploded from the nearest pirate’s leg, and the man crumpled to the ground.
They made quick work of the remaining mercenaries and secured the landing pad. Victor finished with his patient and swept his gaze over the team for more wounded. No one appeared to require his services. The pirates were another matter.
One crawled forward on bloodied arms, trying to reach the missile launcher they had used on the shuttle. Daniels walked toward him and emptied his rifle. The mercenary’s body jumped with each bullet until he finally laid still.
“Jackson,” Victor spoke over the comm link. “Fall back and stay with Rogers in the shuttle. I can’t do anything else for him at this time.”
“Williams, you stay with them, too,” Daniels added. Hold this position and see if you can get this bird flying again.”
They faced less opposition inside, but the narrow space of the front warehouse proved to be treacherous ground to navigate. Containers stacked high at the forefront granted substantial cover to the armed attackers inside.
The brutal firefight continued in the facility. While the United Empire prohibited the sale and use of automatic firearms to civilians, various pirate and mercenary groups always managed to acquire them. Once the well-stocked mercenary group fell beneath military firepower, Victor and Daniels took charge of their troops.
“Raines, get up on that catwalk and keep an eye out. Abernathy, you maintain watch on our entrance. Chang, I want you on the door across the room.” Daniels issued orders with calm authority. “Lopez, accompany Commander del Toro and his medics on a sweep through the side rooms.”
Victor stole a side glance at Zoe’s retreating form. She swiftly scaled a utility ladder and took her position above them. He needed to get his head back into the game, and he needed to do it fast before someone capitalized on his distraction and blasted a hole in him. Turning to appraise the situation, he viewed a few motionless bodies that identified as green and alive under his bioscanner. Unwilling to take any chances, Victor quickly barked out orders to his men. The medics fanned out as Victor commanded, sweeping from the entrance and tagging the deceased in passing on their way to the injured. They painted prominent fluorescent orange markers on each corpse. It differentiated the living and unconscious from the dead who were beyond their aid.
“I found a survivor over here! This man’s alive!” Davis called. The young woman took her hand away from the throat of a prone form near the stairwell leading to the sublevel.
“You tend to him. Jefferson, come with me. We’ll sweep the next room for more injured colonists,” Victor said.
It didn’t take long to discover the whereabouts of the remaining colonists. The pirates had herded them like cattle into a dormitory bunker and stormed the underground village to raid their homes and businesses. They removed all valuables and picked the houses clean. Because the pirates destroyed all surface communication towers with their ship, the colonists couldn’t send distress calls or send for help until the engineer had rigged a signal to the Jemison.
The marines discovered the corpse of the colony’s savior in the communications lab. Apparently, his team had been in the process of creating a new communication hub that operated by complex quantum mechanics. It bypassed the downed towers and sent the distress call directly to the Jemison.
The technician’s sacrifice brought aid from the Jemison. He died a hero.
“Damn shame that this had to happen this way,” Victor said.
“The governor’s dead. He died during the initial assault,” O’Malley reported to Victor when he arrived. The medic shook his head sadly. “We finished our head count. Most recent census indicates this is a colony of 631. We have 182 survivors.”
“Christ. What of the others?” Victor asked. His stomach twisted in knots. So many lives extinguished for nothing.
“It’s like the transmission said, Doc, most colonists were taken off-world. Maybe the Jemison will find ‘em on the ship if they catch them,” O’Malley replied.
“Commander Daniels and his people went to scout the rest of this place. We’re getting the colonists fed and cleaned now with supplies we found,” Davis said as she stepped into the room.
“I’m reviewing security footage on my helmet’s internal screen,” Lopez informed Victor quietly. “They were obliterated. These people didn’t have a chance, sir.”
Victor nodded, but he remained unsurprised. “As far as I’m concerned, it was irresponsible of Hephaestus to found a remote colony so far from civilization. The Empire patrols only come this way every 90 standard days.” Small colonies often became the target of raiders and pirates, as the chaos on Athena clearly proved.
And the news continued to worsen. Fairchild sprinted into the room.
“Sir, confirmation on the pregnant women. All three in labor,” Fairchild reported between heavy breaths. Sweaty strands of pale blonde hair clung to her flushed cheeks.
Victor tossed one of his kits toward the female medic. “Here’s the sterile gloves. Go find out dilation and the distance between contractions on all three.”
“But–”
“You can do this, comm me with any pertinent information. Comfort them in the meanti
me. Unless they’re a minute apart or hemorrhaging on the floor, I don’t want to hear anything else about it.”
“Aye aye, Commander.” Fairchild bowed her head and stepped away to return to the laboring women. They were her patients now, and Victor became all the more thankful that he possessed the foresight to invite her to the medical squad.
Chapter 12
Zoe wiped the sweat from her eyes, clearing her vision to examine their surroundings. The subterranean warehouse provided ample protection, built to withstand the inhospitable exterior conditions. In exchange for the colonists’ loyalty, the Hephaestus Corporation provided safe lodgings, healthcare, and a stable work environment. It had been safe at least, until the pirates arrived and decimated the security forces.
Daniels assigned her an easy task; her single duty was to clear the residential wing of the complex. She discovered ransacked homes and several cold, slightly smelly corpses. They hadn’t been dead for long.
Two mercenaries opened gunfire on her when she entered the last domicile, initiating forty-five of the most harrowing seconds of her life. Adrenaline fueled the frenzied pace of her heart, the sound of it pounding in her head.
Zoe scooted into cover behind a kitchen counter. A bullet ripped through the thin wood paneling and plinked off of a weak chink in her tactical armor. It grazed the skin beneath¸ introducing her to a world of pain. “Shit!” She swapped the sniper rifle for her handgun.
She popped up and let her enemies’ movement direct her aim. The first man dropped to the floor with a single round between his eyes. His companion kept to cover and blindly fired his weapon around the corner from the hall.
The fight ended when their handguns clicked dry and she rushed her attacker to squeeze the remaining life from him with her cybernetic hand. She crushed his skull to be safe.
“Damn, that hurts!” she swore, once the battle rush diminished, leaving exhaustion and pain in its place. Heat pooled against her skin inside the armor and her fingers came away from the slash bloodied. “Stupid mercs.”
All soldiers, regardless of whether they were combat, boarding parties, or medics, carried the necessary supplies for basic medical care. She opened her kit and set it on the kitchen counter. “All right. I can do this. Nothing to it,” Zoe convinced herself. She removed the damaged plate and pulled up the tank top beneath for a view of the raw wound. First, she cleansed away the dark, clotting blood then she snapped the antimicrobial dispenser and angled the tip of the tube toward her abdomen.
I can do this, I can do this. She swiped it over her injury and bit back a scream, grunting instead. The disinfectant solution was like fire in her wound, burning mercilessly through her injured tissue. Within seconds, it had also formed a protective seal over the tear. Not as bad as losing an arm, Zoe. Come on. Buck up, she told herself again. She wiped away the tears trickling down her cheeks and donned her damaged armor again.
It was a relief to return to her squad mates. The empty houses gave her the creeps.
Used as a warehouse before the arrival of the pirates, the sprawling underground complex had been transformed into a proper lair to store ill-gotten wealth. Beds carried from colonists’ homes, bathrooms, and a cafeteria filled with various cooking devices provided for the raiders’ every need. They imbibed alcohol and drugs, but worst of all, the pirates took sexual pleasures in the colonists while awaiting the return of their thieving comrades.
With the current hostile group cleared and their military shuttle practically a pile of slag, the only thing the marines could do was settle in and hope they could hold out against any incoming marauders. The strongest pirate bands typically consisted of a formidable flagship and two to five smaller raiding vessels. With the HMS Jemison on a rescue mission, the marines had no choice but to await their return. They were thoroughly grounded until the ship found a safe moment to retrieve them and their damaged rockskipper.
Doctor del Toro set up an impromptu clinic in the medical facilities, working alongside the medics. Last she heard, Rogers wouldn’t be walking back onto the Jemison with them. She sympathized with the man. No one could understand what it was like to lose a limb without experiencing it firsthand.
With all of her security tasks complete, Zoe reported to Daniels, who directed her to check on their downed pilot.
The smell of stale sweat and coppery blood invaded her nostrils as she stepped into the room. Every bed in the medical facility was filled. Those with less serious injuries took up a separate room on cots. After Zoe slipped in, she made her way over to Rogers’ bedside.
“How ya doin’, Rogers? Being a lazy bum already?” she smiled down at the freckled man.
“Heeeey,” the man slurred. “You got pretty, Doc.”
Zoe laughed. “Yeah, well, we’ll have to disagree there. It’s me, Zoe. He must have you drugged up pretty good, huh? I remember that feeling.”
“Feels like I’m drunk but better.” Rogers attempted to nod but his head lolled instead. His eyes rolled in his head, unable to focus on her face. “Don’t hurt at least.”
“You’ll be on the painkillers for a while. They’ll take good care of you, and our doctor is one of the best.” She stole a glance over one shoulder toward Victor. He toiled over a young woman with a head injury, stitching the wound shut with deft movements.
“Get a brand new leg huh? More impressive than your wussy arm.” Rogers laughed weakly. Zoe looked back and nudged him in the shoulder.
“Nah, I’m way better. But we can compare rigs once you’re all situated. Deal?”
Rogers passed out before she received an answer.
“Gave him a solid dose of the good stuff. He shouldn’t be in any pain for a while,” Victor spoke up as he stepped to the bedside. He leaned over Rogers and scanned the man’s vitals. “Thanks for that. Speaking to him, I mean.”
“I remember what it was like…” Zoe told Victor softly, smoothing Roger’s red hair back from his brow. Trauma had flash-burned it into her memory, everything from the fire to waking up minus a limb. The excruciating pain, the numbness, and the way people tiptoed around her afterward.
Zoe cleared her throat and shook off the old memories. “Least I can do is talk to him some. Let him know what to expect.”
“I appreciate it and so will he.” Victor forced a thin smile to his weary face. “I’ve done all I can for him now. It’s mangled beyond anything I can aid with field medicine. Once we return to the ship, it will have to go,” Victor explained with a gesture toward the sedated soldier’s left leg. Bandages concealed his mangled calf.
The doc moved away again, shaking his head in sympathy. With wounded people all around, Victor stubbornly assessed even the most minor scrapes and cuts. He moved from patient to patient, passing very few of his duties off on his medics. Zoe admired him for it and watched him from the corner of her eye. The compassionate doctor didn’t pause for breaks, too driven to stop until the last patient lay resting.
“We’re stranded until they receive our signal. Is that it?” Dark circles beneath Victor’s eyes revealed his poorly rested state. He couldn’t go on forever.
“Wait and hold our position, yeah.” Zoe leaned back against the cold metal wall and sipped from her water bottle.
“I’m not a communications expert. How long would you say we’ve got to wait before we hear word back from the Jemison?”
“A day, maybe two. We’ve got all the healthy civilians in that back room so they’re good. Rest of us are scattered around to cover any possible entries. Best thing to do, Doc, is find a spot to catch some rest in.”
“I suppose so.” He smiled wistfully. “I haven’t been in the field like this in a while. I prefer it actually. Feels like I’m really doing my job and making a difference when I’m planetside. Don’t get me wrong, I meant what I said about fancying the ship over living on the ground, but after a while… Most of what I see from day to day are the petty things. Someone with the flu wants out of their duties. A case of the clap. Or some unlucky wom
an goes toe to toe with Daniels and learns he’s an asshole. This is more like home to me.”
He gestured toward the resting crewmen in varying states of recovery, thanks to his tireless efforts. It was how military doctors spent their first years of post-medical school training, working on the front lines and learning to apply urgent medical care to the seriously wounded.
“Yeah, well, we like you plenty onboard. You do lots for us. But enough of that. Let’s find you a spot to cozy up in. No one will say a word after all the time you just put in on them.”
He shook his head. “I took the first watch. I’m not injured, and I think you could use the rest more. Go ahead,” he urged her. “I already told Daniels I plan to remain awake for a while. I need to be while he’s sleeping.”
“Awfully considerate of you.” Especially considering you’ve been working harder than anyone else all day… She kept the thought to herself. “Guess I’ll go grab a pile of pillows somewhere. Keep an eye on that western access hatch. If I were going to attack this place, that’s the way I would come,” Zoe warned as she strode away.
The next day passed without either incident or word from their ship. Zoe spent most of her hours on the surface, maintaining the watch while her fellow Marines worked on the damaged shuttle. Several workers from the colony volunteered their services for the repairs. Their mechanical expertise expedited its completion.
By the third day, tempers among the colonists flared. Some were convinced the Jemison had been destroyed by the pirates. They wanted someone to take the patched shuttle and make a run for help. Commander Daniels quickly squashed the idea with Victor’s agreement. The angry mutterings stopped completely after a garbled message came in from the Jemison.
The Jemison had successfully caught up to their quarry and damaged the pirate ship’s engines but sustained a surprising hit to their own barriers that overloaded Jem and left them dead in the water, so to speak. Bishop described it as the kind of against-the-odds one shot that only happened to Imperial Lottery winners.