Tuttle and Cranden rushed to his either side. Samuel remained where he stood with his weapon still pointed at his chest.
"C'mon, we've got to get out of here,” Samuel said from behind the trigger guard of his rifle. “Right now.”
There was a loud crash outside the ship wall that made the Hideaway lurch and roll beneath their feet. The metal of the surrounding passageways emitted a low groan and then seemed to scream in pain.
Samuel rushed to a viewport to see the blinding blasts of another full scale weapons attack.
Tuttle and Cranden bent down and pulled the Hideaway Captain Jediah Parker to his feet.
Hoisting him roughly up with their hands beneath his arms, Parker’s head drooped limply forward across his chest. He drifted in and out of consciousness as they tried to get his legs to walk.
Samuel pointed his weapon forward again and stepped to the next corridor door. Dragging Parker between them, Tuttle and Cranden followed hurriedly after him.
When they reached the next section of the ship, Samuel waited for Tuttle and Cranden to haul Parker through the doorway and then hit the emergency seal-off control switch to the corridor. A heavy metal door drove itself hard into the ground at their feet.
A resounding clang resonated throughout the chamber.
Tuttle and Cranden lowered Parker to the ground. Cranden ripped off his medical pack and tore through it looking for anything that might keep Parker more coherent and awake. Or at least alive until he was able to show them how to take control of the ship before the J.G.U. boarded or completely destroyed it.
Tuttle held Parker's head while Cranden injected him with what he could from his pack. With his weapon raised, Samuel stood guard over them.
A few seconds later Parker moved around and opened his good eye.
It was then the explosion hit.
The blast knocked Samuel crashing down across their shoulders. Still holding his weapon, he quickly pulled himself from the pile and rushed to the nearest viewport.
“It’s gone,” he yelled quickly back. “The whole thing. Completely gone.”
Only jagged pieces of metal stemming from another damaged section of the Hideaway remained. Their ship and the entire section of the Hideaway they docked against had been blown away. Two of the small fighters from the larger J.G.U. ship flew quickly from view.
“They’re bringing in the fighters,” Samuel said yanking his two men and Parker roughly to their feet. “We’re running out of time.”
“Which way to the cockpit area?!” he shrieked at Parker. His back was toward the door they had just sealed. The heavy door that now separated them not from the rest of the ship but from the vastness of space.
"Straight," Parker said dazedly trying to stand without the help of the two men at his side. "Up the second corridor. Ten minute walk ahead."
"We gotta go," Samuel said raising his weapon and hurrying down the corridor in the direction Parker had pointed. “We gotta move! Move now!”
Tuttle reached down to grab his weapon from the floor and slung it across his back.
He wiped a thin trail of blood from his lip and put his arm around Parker to steady him.
Carrying Parker between them, he and Cranden rushed after Samuel to the front of the ship.
Chapter 29
The corridors they traveled through were smashed. Most of the floor grates were torn loose or completely destroyed. In some places entire sections were missing leaving giant holes that dropped many stories deeper into the ship. Gigantic pits they would have to cross to access the ship’s cockpit.
Most of the time they scaled the sides of the walls to get across. Their white-knuckled hands gripped at hanging pieces of metal and destroyed floor from the level above as the only means of supporting their weight.
Their progress was slow. And Tuttle and Cranden half-dragging, half-carrying Captain Jed Parker between them slowed them down even further.
The number of smaller ships outside grew by the minute. They streaked by the Hideaway viewports back towards the cargo area.
Everyone knew they were quickly running out of time.
The J.G.U. ship followed every fighter attack with a full-scale weapons bombardment methodically ripping the Hideaway apart bit by bit.
"Do you have any idea who it is?" Samuel asked from up ahead.
He had just picked himself up from the portion of the left wall that tried to bury him after the last laser blast. He raised his weapon again in the direction of their advance and stepped slowly forward. Both his knees were bloody and torn.
"Do you know who it is that's still onboard?" Samuel asked through set teeth as the ship rocked again from another blast.
Cranden left Parker's beaten figure in Tuttle's arms for the moment and pulled his medical pack from where it was strapped to his calf.
He walked ahead to Samuel and used a small knife to cut the uniform fabric around his leg. He sliced it into strips and wrapped it tightly around a large wound just above his knee.
The ship jolted again beneath their feet from another weapons hit.
"It’s not them," Parker struggled to speak. His broken body sagged in Tuttle’s arms. “Not J.G.U.”
Blood ran down his face from a gash Cranden hadn't been able to completely bandage above his eye. His breathing came in gasps cut short by broken ribs that jutted into his lungs.
"Could be United States. But nothing official."
Parker coughed twice. A gurgle of spit and blood crusted around his lips. His drooping form was becoming overwhelmingly heavy in Tuttle’s arms.
"Mercenaries,” Samuel’s voice echoed through the darkness of the broken corridor.
He kept his weapon trained straight ahead into the unknown at the front of the ship while Cranden finished bandaging his wound.
There were two deep cuts that went directly to the bone. The bleeding was bad to the point Samuel started to feel a faint tingle down the side of his leg. Cranden's entire chest and arms were instantly stained a deep thick red.
Cranden wrapped the last of the thick bandage across the joint and moved back to help Tuttle with his own bloody load.
"Thanks, Corn," Samuel said biting at the pain that crept into his voice.
He hobbled a step acclimating himself on his damaged leg and working the bulky bandage across his knee. Despite its awkwardness, he left it on. If anything, he wasn’t going to come all this way to die by bleeding to death in space.
"They never identified themselves," Parker said. His voice came easier once Cranden returned to help Tuttle support his weight. "Just came up on us and tried to board. No signal. No nothin’. We were able to keep them off. At least until the other ship came."
"Your copilot?" Tuttle asked while Cranden readjusted his gear and weaponry across his back.
They moved after Samuel towards the front of the ship.
"Dead," Parker answered back.
A piece of the metal deck gave way beneath Cranden’s step causing him to fall to one knee. He released his hold around Parker allowing his body to twist to the side. Parker screamed in pain.
"Can they pilot the ship?" Samuel asked stopping their advance. “If they got onboard?”
In front of him, the floor dropped away into the darkness of the lower layers of the ship. He pointed his light to find the bottom. The beam became lost in the gloom before it found the ground. Cranden and Tuttle dragged Parker until all three stood behind his back next to him.
It was more than ten feet across to the other side.
"Only I have access to ship controls," Parker said grimacing and stretching his neck to get a look over Samuel's shoulder at the gaping hole in front of them. The ship shuddered again from the aftershocks of the most recent weapons attack. "War procedures were initiated right out of hypersleep. Everything has been signaturized to my command."
"Retina scan?" Samuel asked.
"Palm recognition," Parker answered leaning back into Tuttle’s and Cranden's arms.
He looked
down and slowly flexed his wrist.
“I want you to take it if it comes to it,” Parker said.
None of the men looked at him when he spoke. They continued to stare across the divide.
“Even if I’m not dead. If it’s to a point where you can’t move me. I want you to take it. You’ll only need one for full command of the ship. Do you got that?”
“Yeah, we got it,” Samuel said without looking back.
Another blast threw all four men to the ground like a carpet had been yanked out from beneath their feet.
Samuel toppled forward toward the gaping hole. The entire weight of his body dropped hard across his weapon. Its metal trigger guard rammed into the small of his stomach. He gasped violently while more shattered metal from the disintegrating ship rained across his head.
The blast threw Tuttle and Parker into the air to the side of the corridor. Tuttle’s shoulder smashed into its metal side. Shredded pieces of steel grabbed hold of his arm. Parker’s weight yanked him in the opposite direction nearly ripping it from its socket.
Close to blacking out from the pain, Tuttle tried desperately not to fall backwards to the ground.
Still supporting the added weight of Parker leaning on top of him, he could not completely keep his balance. His body fell backward. More pieces of destroyed ceiling fell down around them.
Parker's heavy frame toppled on top of him.
Cranden was the only one left standing in the middle of the obliterated corridor. The blast had knocked him to his knees and threw him forcefully towards Tuttle and Parker. Still on his feet, he grabbed Parker by the shoulder and pulled him from Tuttle. Tuttle thrashed on his back across the ground grabbing his injured arm and spitting dirt from his mouth.
"Son of a bitch!" someone screamed.
"We've got to get out of here now!" Samuel shrieked. His heavy fall across his rifle had forced all the breath from his lungs in one quick blow. He struggled to ignore that his battered body was working hard at the moment to just breathe.
"How much farther to the cockpit?" he yelled again.
"It should be just ahead," Tuttle said raising himself to his knees. “Right?” he said looking over at Parker.
Cranden pulled Parker back up to his feet. Parker nodded in return.
"It should be right across that divide," Tuttle said his breath coming quickly. He pointed his light across the jagged metal of the huge pit in the center of the corridor. "We're at the foremost section of the ship. It should be right there unless the structure has already been blown off."
"Well, if it has, then we might as well just sit here," Cranden said. "There won't be anything more to do. Except wait for it to come."
"It's still there," Parker wheezed. "Loss of signal from that room to the cargo in back would have set off the nukes. Whoever's out there knows that. That's why they're only attacking the midsection of the ship. Not the front. Not the cargo area. They know exactly what they're doing."
"How do you know that?" another voice screamed from the darkness of the dying ship. The voice came from across the opening in the floor. It was panicked and filled with terror.
Hands scrambled for weapons in the dark.
Cranden dropped his hold around Parker's waist and let him slip to his knees across the deck. His hand snatched at the assault rifle hanging across his back. He ran to the edge of the gap and knelt next to Samuel who was crouched with his own weapon ready to fire.
"Come on out! Come on out!" Samuel screamed. Saliva sprayed from his lips. "Come on out right goddamn now!"
Tuttle grappled for a bigger brighter light strapped somewhere within his gear. He pulled his sidearm and stepping over Parker stood between Cranden and Samuel.
Tuttle remained standing while Samuel and Cranden both knelt to the floor next to him. He activated the larger light and pointed it towards the voice in the dark.
The beam bobbed around for a second showing only flaming rubble and wreckage from the ship. It then rested across a pair of booted feet.
Tuttle felt the muscles of the men next to him tense. Their drawn weapons sat tautly across their shoulders on both sides of his knees.
Tuttle held his Sunszk in his left hand and played the heavy beam up into the darkness with his right. He moved the light slowly while Samuel continued to scream for the figure to come out.
"Who are you?!" the man shrieked back. The ship rumbled and roared its hull again under attack.
"Drop to the ground now!" Samuel screamed over him.
Both of their voices rang through the darkness. Neither acknowledged the other.
"Get down now! Show us your goddamn hands!"
"Who are you!!!?"
"Get the fuck down now! Or I'll fucking kill you!"
Samuel pulled across his trigger and began to fire. Flame lit the dim passageway. Rounds pierced the ship’s walls, and sparks threw more light into the dark.
And then for a second again everything was quiet.
Tuttle played his beam further out into darkness to reveal the man hiding in the gloom.
Like the rest of them, the figure of RadCom was bloody and bruised. His body was soaked with sweat, and his face was covered with dirt and blood. A giant cut across his forehead dripped into his eyes. He approached the pit that separated him from Samuel and his crew.
His legs and body shook as he did.
"That's fucking enough!" Samuel yelled again.
Behind him, Parker worked loose another lamp from his pack. He rolled on his side and lit the air ahead with another beam.
Tuttle glanced quickly down at Cranden kneeling motionless next to him. He stared intently through his weapon sight.
The entire area near the ruined cockpit entrance was now bright with light. The battered man stood directly in front of them on the other side of the hole ripped in the deck.
Hair still burned on the left side of his head, and another long red streak marked a giant wound across his chest. His legs wobbled when he tried to step.
Tuttle lowered his weapon.
"We don't have much time," he said just loud enough to be heard over the attack on the outside.
He stepped closer to the edge of the drop. Samuel and Cranden nudged closer to Tuttle’s side when he did.
"There’s plenty," RadCom said to them with a slight edge to his voice. "There’s plenty of time, because it’s all going to end. It’s all going to end right here."
He dropped slowly to his knees.
"Put down your weapon,” Samuel ordered. “We’re coming across.”
Tuttle dropped his arm and put his sidearm back in its holster. Cranden also lowered his weapon and joined Tuttle in trying to find a way across.
Parker crouched behind the three of them keeping his beam centered across RadCom's face.
"You're not coming across," RadCom said with no emotion in his voice.
He reached slowly behind him and pulled a small metal object from behind his back. Several lights blinked across its top. The lights threw a series of small brightly colored beams across the darkened corridor.
"Grenade!" Parker screamed. “Fucking goddamn concussion grenade!”
Cranden and Samuel snatched their weapons and pointed them again at the man’s chest. They stood rigidly next to Tuttle. Their muscles tensed behind their weapon sights.
"Drop that fucking thing!" Samuel yelled. His voice was almost a panicked scream "We are not fucking around! We will kill you right fucking now!"
Samuel and Cranden crouched on either side of Tuttle with weapons raised and ready to fire. Pieces of the ceiling and walls still fell around them.
"You’re not coming across," RadCom's unsteady voice said again.
The ship rocked again more violently from the onslaught of the outside attack. His body lurched with the moving structure of the ship, but he didn’t lose his step.
"Everything ends right here."
Tuttle remained standing between Samuel and Cranden.
"Don't do it," he heard Cranden
muttering to himself. "C'mon, don't make me kill you. C'mon, put that fucking thing down. Don't make me do it."
Tuttle lowered his hands to the shoulders of both men next to him. He felt the anxiety rushing through their limbs like an uncontrolled wildfire. He could see the tips of their weapons shake.
"Let's just take it easy," he said softly to the two men.
"If he arms it, we're all going to fucking die," Samuel said the tension across his weapon not letting up. He kept it pressed hard against his face.
"He's right," Parker said softly from behind his light. "If the sensors are damaged in the cockpit, it'll set off the nukes. Pretty much right away. We won’t have a chance to disarm it."
"C'mon son, put that down and let us come across," Tuttle tried to sound calm and reassuring. He tried to control the tremor that started to creep into his voice. "Help us bring this ship back to Earth."
Samuel squinted his left eye shut lining up his shot through his weapon sight.
"Captain, hold your fire," Tuttle ordered evenly.
Samuel didn’t acknowledge that Tuttle had spoken. He pressed his finger down harder across his weapon’s trigger. He propped his arm across his bloody knee and steadied his aim.
"Captain, this is a direct order not to fire your weapon," Tuttle's voice became more calm.
For a moment, the blasts from outside the ship had stopped. The passageway was quiet again. Dust settled through the still air.
Tuttle took a step closer to the edge of the gap that reached deep into the floor.
"C'mon son," he spoke quietly again.
RadCom's body didn't react. Belligerence and contempt seared from the one eye that had not swollen completely shut. He took a step towards the edge of the giant hole between them and locked eyes with Tuttle.
"Please don't do this," Tuttle pleaded. "We're almost out of time."
The massive amount of blood streaming from the man's face did little to mask his hate. Defiantly, he wrapped his palms around the concussion grenade and lifted it away from his body. While his arms were in motion, his first finger stretched across the arming mechanism.
Overrun: Project Hideaway Page 31