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Recruit Page 15

by Jonathan P. Brazee


  With gravity again, the four Marines rushed forward and were at the berthing hatch within moments. T-Rex reached forward and gently pushed on the entry switch. To all of their surprise, the door rose with a rush. It took all of them a split second to realize that they would not have to breach into the space. Sparta and Wan rushed in first, followed by T-Rex and Ryck. Sparta and Wan split to each side, getting down low while Ryck and T-Rex went in high.

  The space was chaos. The bunks were all deployed. This was Berthing 4-19, one of the two male third-class berthing spaces. The bunks folded up and were retracted into the overhead during waking hours. This left space for the passengers to relax, watch flicks, read, or whatever. During sleep hours, all or some of the berths would be lowered, three bunks to a column. With the bunks deployed, there was only a narrow passage between the bunks, a small common area, and a hatch to the heads.

  From the main hatch, the passage was twice as wide as those between the bunks, and it lead right to the common area. The first thing Ryck saw was the body of a man, hands tied behind him and a blindfold over his head, lying on his side. The blood pooling under his head did not bode well for his condition.

  Ryck jumped when someone, or something, slammed into his legs. He swung his weapon around, ready to blast, barely holding back when the hands tied behind the man’s back and the blindfold that had fallen to around his neck registered. The man looked up in resigned despair, a look which slowly shifted as he took Ryck in.

  “Help me!” the man shouted, wiggling out from between the bunks and scooting in back of Ryck.

  Wan was just in front of Ryck, and when the man appeared, he turned back. He and Ryck caught each other’s eyes, then hunkered down in unison, looking for the reason the man was asking for help. In front of them, cursing as he struggled to get through the bunks, was an armed, armored man. He fell between the bunks with a thud, only one bunk’s width away from the two Marines. He started forward again, only then seeing that it wasn’t his target in front of him, but two Federation Marines. With a curse, he struggled to bring up his Freelancer, the muzzle catching on the bunk in front of him.

  With him prone like that, not much of what was facing the two Marines was unprotected. Except for his neck. If he’d been standing upright, his neck would have been protected by his armor. However, on his belly, under his visor, there was a gap. Ryck and Wan opened up on that gap. At a meter or so, there was no way they could miss.

  The man’s armor was pretty good quality, from the look of it. It wasn’t Federation-made, but then, pirates didn’t recognize borders. Being well made, it could stop a dart. From the outside, as designed, but also from the inside. The two Marines each put several darts into the man’s neck where they ricocheted back and forth inside the armor, slicing him to ribbons. He simply collapsed like a deflating balloon.

  “To your right!” shouted Sparta, the circuit compensators bringing his volume down a few decibels before the two Marines heard it over their helmet speakers.

  The command was not very exact, and he hadn’t addressed it to anyone in particular, but both Wan and Ryck reacted, ignoring the still-tied captive as they rushed forward to a passage, then tried to force their EVA suits through it. The suits were not particularly bulky, but what they added made pushing through the bunks difficult. As they swung to the right, they flanked a pirate who was holding a man in front of him, an unrecognizable handgun of some sort to the man’s head. Like the other two pirates, he also had on armor. This was out of the ordinary. From pirate culture, armor was considered coward’s gear. In the flicks, pirates thought that armor was not manly. Fiction or not, flicks impacted opinion, and pirates tended to ape what was shown.

  Unlike modern Federation personnel armor, which tended to be flexible plates that were attached to or inserted inside of clothing, all three pirates had outer shells. That didn’t mean the armor was not effective. All that meant was that they probably acquired it outside of Federation space.

  The pirate to their left had what looked to be newer armor, but either he didn’t have a helmet or hadn’t a chance to put it on before the four Marines burst the space. His clean-shaven face and perfectly-groomed blonde hair gave him a look far different from that of the first pirate, an indication that this group was multi-cultural.

  As Ryck and Wan arrived, the man spun first towards them, then back towards Sparta and T-Rex, who had their weapons trained on him.

  “Stop, or . . . ” he began.

  “Or” what, the Marines could guess, but never know for sure as Wan calmly put a couple of darts over the shoulder of the captive passenger and into the pirate’s handsome blonde head. The tiny turn the pirate made back to Sparta and T-Rex gave the lance corporal all the opening he needed.

  The captive stood still as the pirate fell back. He slowly turned around, hands still tied behind him, and stared at the dead man for a moment before taking a step forward and leveling a powerful kick at the corpse’s head.

  “There’s three more,” he said matter-of-factly to the four Marines.

  “Wan, did you get anyone else?” Sparta asked.

  “One down,” Wan replied.

  “Where are the others?” Sparta asked, his external speakers broadcasting his voice into the compartment so any captives could hear.

  It was only then that Ryck really noticed the other four bodies on the deck, all with their hands tied, all executed. He hadn’t been able to see them from the front hatch, and his attention had been on the pirate when they’d gotten up there.

  “Over here!” a voice shouted out from within the deployed bunks to their left. “There’s one of them here!”

  A heavy report sounded out from that direction, followed by a cry of pain and sounds of somebody crashing around the bunks. At the same time, a finger of lightning reached out from between the bunks to their right, splashing across Sparta’s EVA suit.

  Someone had a plasma weapon over there, but this was a case where the EVA suits had an advantage over skins and bones. All the plasma had to do was to touch open skin, and it would essentially short-circuit the body’s nervous system. It acted like it had a life of its own when it stuck, seeking out the ground through a living body. It could be devastating to Marines in just their standard combat armor. To an EVA suit, though, it had no effect.

  The crewman they’d just saved dropped to the ground, whether kissed by the plasma or not, Ryck couldn’t take the time to check as he and Wan instinctively spun towards the sounds on the other side of the space. They split on each side of a line of bunks, then sprinted forward, trusting the other two Marines to take out the plasma pirate.

  The berthing space was not really that big. Any hangar was much larger. But with the bunks deployed and blocking the view, it seemed pretty vast. Ryck tried to keep abreast with Wan, glancing through the bunks to keep even with him. Blood covered the deck about eight or nine bunks down from the common area. Ryck took a quick glance at the bottom bunk where a man had dragged himself. A huge chunk of the man’s side was simply gone. The man was struggling to breath, and Ryck knew he needed medical care ASAP.

  “One friendly WIA, needs immediate care,” he hit on the medical circuit, knowing the AI would add Ryck’s position.

  That was about all he could do for the man at the moment. A sudden boom sounded, and the rack between Wan and him simply exploded. The concussion hit Ryck, actually pushing him aside a few centimeters.

  “What the hump was that?” Wan asked on Ryck’s direct circuit as both Marines hit the deck.

  Even though the EVA suits were not particularly bulky, they were not made for crawling around under gravity. The helmet’s design made looking forward while prone difficult, and the power packs, thrusters, and oxi cells added bulk to the back. Ryck wished they had stopped to get out of the EVA suits and into skins and bones after the breach, but with the time crunch, EVA suits in the attack it was.

  Another blast sounded over them, raining bits of bunks down like dirty snow. Whatever the pirate had
for a weapon, it was pretty big.

  “He’s heading for the front hatch!” Wan said. “We’ve got to stop him before he gets there.”

  “Cpl Pallas, can you cut this guy off? He’s trying to get out the front,” Wan passed on the team circuit.

  “Negative, Wan. We’ve got our hands full here. You two take him,” Sparta responded.

  Wan glanced over at Ryck across the bottom rack that separated the two of them and said, “You heard the man. I don’t know what the hump that bastard’s got with him for sure, but I think it’s like our bunker buster. Whatever it is, we can’t let him get away. I want you to flank him. On three, you scoot through these racks, keeping your ass low. I’m gonna get up, hit the bulkhead up ahead, and rush the arsehole. Iffen you get a shot, take him out while he’s glommed onto me.”

  “Oh, man! You sure? Maybe we both need to rush him, so he has to choose a target, you know, confuse him until we light him up,” Ryck said.

  “Nah, this is the way it’s gonna be. Iffen what he has is a bunker buster, you know the range is limited, and it’s about as accurate as throwing rotten apples. And you know the Wan man. I can move it. I’ll be juking and jiving, so no way he hits me. You just be sure to nail him.”

  He slowly reached up and hit the helmet release. There was a hiss as the slight overpressure inside the suit puffed out into the ship. He lifted the helmet up and placed it on the deck, detaching the comms buds and sliding them into his ears. This was against policy. If the ship suffered a catastrophic breach, Wan would have only seconds to find a pressurized space.

  He shrugged at Ryck’s questioning look and whispered, “Gotta be loose and light, you know.”

  He held up his hand, then counted down three, two, one with his fingers. On one, he stood up and rushed forward to the compartment bulkhead, five more bunk-lengths ahead. At the same time, Ryck turned to dive over the bottom rack next to him. After clearing it, he gathered his feet to dive over the next one. He barely noticed another body as he passed it. At least the guy hadn’t died like a sheep at the slaughter. He’d tried to get away.

  Just as he cleared the third rack, a huge boom sounded, and flames shot down the passage along the bulkhead. That pinpointed the pirate for him. He was just on the other side of the next line of bunks. Ryck slid over the next bunk and looked up.

  The pirate standing in front of him was not in some hodgepodge body armor. He was fully protected with black, interlaced, external plates that looked like ceramosteel. Ryck didn’t recognize the actual make, but it was doubtful that is was Federated or Brotherhood-made.

  There were two main trains of thought on body armor. The Federation went with flexible inserts that reacted within a split instant upon impact, hardening to stop a projectile before reverting back to its original state. The armor was far more comfortable than plate armor and was better at stopping solid projectiles. Plate armor, on the other hand, relied on sandwiched materials that were strong enough to withstand modern projectiles. The PICSs relied on plate armor, but they were big enough and powerful enough to carry pretty heavy plates. It was easier to make plate armor, and it didn’t have to be custom made for each soldier. It was actually better for protection against some energy weapons. However, it was bulky and heavy, and even with exoskeletal assists, it limited mobility.

  The armor was the first thing Ryck noticed. The second thing was the stubby tube-like weapon the pirate was holding. Wan was probably correct in that it was the pirate version of the Marine’s M-77 Bunker Buster. The bunker buster was designed to break or penetrate hardened targets. It sent a focused energy “shell-less shell” that would shoot forward and either re-focus that energy into a shape charge or simply explode in a blast ring. Due to the physics of energy dissipation, it had a very limited range of about 5 meters with a huge drop off in effectiveness beyond that. Within 5 meters, not much could withstand its power. It could even take out a Davis from point-blank range. Due to its power, it was almost never used aboard a ship. It could easily rupture the ship’s skin, opening it up to vacuum.

  Evidently the pirate was not too concerned about that. They were only a deck away from the skin of the ship, but that was far enough, along with whatever was between the weapon and the ship’s skin, to keep the pirate from creating the rupture.

  Bunker busters were not made for man-to-man fighting. The weapon was not very accurate, and there was a considerable re-charge time. The Marine Corps M-77, for example, carried six charges in a load, and each one took approximately 12 seconds to cycle and recharge. That was fine when taking on a hardened target, but not so fine when the shooter’s target was men who were attacking him.

  The pirate was looking down the passage alongside the bulkhead. Even in with the pirate in his armor, Ryck could see that he was focused on something, yet he was not scrambling to either move nr fire again. The only conclusion Ryck had was that Wan had been hit.

  Ryck didn’t know how much time he had before the pirate’s weapon would be re-charged. Just because the Marine Corps weapon needed 12 seconds didn’t mean that the pirate’s was the same. Instinct took over. He knew time would be tight, so he got to his feet and started charging the pirate, M-99 on full auto. He could see the impacts of the darts on the pirate’s armor as they ricocheted off without effect. Ryck needed something heavier, but as the assault element with speed of an essence, they had gone in light. T-Rex had an M-72 on his back, and that might be able to knock out the pirate, but T-Rex was otherwise engaged.

  Ryck kept charging as the pirate swung ponderously around to see who was attacking him. Ryck couldn’t see the man in back of the dark helmet visor, but he kept pumping out rounds in hopes that one would find a crease or weak spot in the man’s armor.

  The pirate brought up his weapon, aiming from the hip, the 20-centimeter barrel looking huge as it pointed at him. For a moment, Ryck thought he’d be able to reach him before he fired, physically tackling the man. Just a step away, the weapon went off, a flash of light blinding Ryck as something struck him hard along his right side. He wasn’t even aware of being thrown back, of his right arm and two fingers of his left hand being turned to hamburger. He wasn’t aware of when his EVA, acting on the breach, closed the torn sleeve and gauntlet, slicing away the mangled flesh that used to be his right arm and left finger tips. The EVA didn’t care if it was in a vacuum or on a pressurized ship. If the suit was breached, it acted to seal the breach and keep integrity.

  A sense of lassitude crept over him as drugs were injected into his body, drugs meant to calm him and slow down his respirations. In space, this made sense, lowering a Marine’s oxygen intake until someone could rescue him.

  He looked up to see the black armored creature approach him. The huge dragon stood over him, ready to breath fire again. He settled back to watch the show, but something wouldn’t let him relax.

  NO!

  He fought the pull into the cottony dreamland. That was not a dragon. That was a pirate, a man just waiting until his weapon cycled before he would end Ryck’s life. Ryck had to do something. He tried to push back, to get away, but he barely moved a few centimeters before the pirate stepped forward, foot on Ryck’s leg, holding him in place.

  The pirate held up his weapon, looking at something, probably a gauge that would indicate when the thing was charged. Ryck reached out to grab his M-99, but there was nothing with which to reach. It was only then that he realized his right arm was gone. Surprisingly, that didn’t bother him. He knew it should, but he just brushed it off. Those had to be some pretty good drugs.

  Ryck was at a loss. Would T-Rex come charging in, M-77 ablazing to save the day? Or would the fire from the pirate snuff out Ryck’s life.

  Fire. T-Rex. What was the connection?

  Then it hit him. As the pirate stared at his weapon’s display, waiting, Ryck reached with his left hand to his hip magazine. He flipped it open and reached inside. Something was off with his touch, how his hand was working, but he wasn’t sure just what. When he felt somet
hing give, though, he knew he had it.

  Pulling out his toad, he thumbed the fuse just as the pirate nodded and started to lower his weapon. Ryck casually flipped the toad up into the air. Even drugged, though, he realized he’d thrown it up behind the pirate, where it would fall in back of him, not to where it would hit him. He had lost. But the pirate was not going to shoot Ryck from point-blank range. He took a step back. Ryck was looking up as the toad started its descent. It passed just behind the pirate’s head and out of sight. Ryck knew the entire sequence was only three seconds from when he had thumbed the toad, but with the drugs, time was extended. Everything was in slow motion.

  The pirate finished his step back and raised his bunker buster. Ryck watched dispassionately for the fire to erupt from the weapon, and when he saw a flare of light, his muggy brain thought it was from the pirate’s bunker buster, that Ryck had lost. But the light was from behind the pirate’s back, up around the shoulder level. The pirate hesitated and tried to turn, one hand reaching up and in back of him. The next flash was when the toad ate through the armor plate. For an instant, Ryck thought he saw the pirate’s face through the man’s armor visor, lit from within as a small, intensely hot star burned through his body.

  Then Ryck went to sleep.

  Alexander

  Camp Kolesnikov

  Chapter 20

  Ryck opened his eyes. His stomach was growling, crying out for food. He had to get some breakfast to quiet it down. He tried to stretch, but his hands would not move. Confused, he turned his head to his left. His hand stretched out from him, but imprisoned in some sort of restraint. Thoughts of pirates, of fighting, of death suddenly flashed through his head. He had to get out of there!

 

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