by Brian Dorsey
But it never came. She depressed the button again. Nothing.
“Must be a breach on the other side somewhere,” said Pi-ce, opening the opposite hatch.
Looking down the long, dimly-lit passage, she saw the flickering of emergency lighting and a light haze of smoke hanging in the compartment. The smoke told her there was at least a little atmosphere in the space.
Focusing on the passageway, she saw what appeared to be a body lying in the distance.
She stepped into the next compartment. Her next step felt labored. And the next. Pi-ce deactivated the magnetic lock in her boots. She moved each leg up and down then with a slight hop, verified gravitation controls were active in the compartment. Looking down at her environmental monitor, she saw the temperature: -125F. “You can turn off the mag-locks … but the suits stay on,” she ordered.
The lieutenant and her men continued to move toward the bridge, and past more dead crew and enemy troops. Ascending to the next deck, Pi-ce scanned the area, her head protruding from behind the ladder. A flash of movement drew her attention and she leapt onto the next level, skipping four ladder rungs and landing on her knees with her rifle leveled. “Movement,” she said calmly, focusing on the passageway ahead of her.
She saw the flash again, recognizing it as a shadow against the opposite wall. “Team One, stack up on starboard bulkhead.”
Pi-ce kept her focus on the opposite bulkhead as four of her troops rushed up the ladder and took up position to her right.
“Ready, sir,” reported Corporal Lan-re.
“Move!” ordered Pi-ce, and the Marines crept forward, weapons at the ready.
Moving parallel to her men, Pi-ce noticed the smoke at the corner of the passageway, swirling and twisting, as if being pulled toward —
“Stop!” she shouted, realizing the signs of a hull breach, but Corporal Lan-re was already turning the corner.
Pi-ce burst into a sprint, activating her magnetic locks as she did. Pushing hard to keep her speed against the increased resistance from the mag-locks, she saw the corporal’s feet leave the ground as the vacuum pulled him toward the yet unseen breach.
Leaping into the air, Pi-ce pulled an ax from her belt.
Crashing into the corporal’s body, she wrapped her arms around him. Still airborne, she twisted her feet toward the wall and let out a grunt as she drove her ax into metal wall.
The two hit the bulkhead with Pi-ce’s left arm wrapped around Corporal Lan-re’s body. Grabbing his vest with one hand, she tightened her grip on the ax she had sunk into the bulkhead while her feet locked against the wall.
“You okay, Corporal?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Corporal Lan-re, pulling a lanyard clip from his vest and locking it onto a pipe on the bulkhead. “I’m secure.”
Pi-ce released her hold on the corporal and locked herself in. She looked down the passageway to a large hole in a hatch to her left. “Make your way back to the others, Corporal,” she ordered, sliding her ax back into its sheath. “I’m going to check out the breach.”
She slowly made her way down the passageway, using her magnetic boots and lanyard clip to anchor herself. Positioning herself beside the damaged hatch, she looked into the hole. The opposite bulkhead was completely missing, open to the darkness of space. “We’re gonna need to find a detour,” she said into her comms circuit.
***
Retracing their path and moving further forward to starboard, the Marines finally reached the deck below the Bridge. Pi-ce stopped and activated her communications link again. “Relentless, Wolf One. Our location is one deck below the Bridge. Multiple hull breaches extending into ship’s interior. Gravitational control is sporadic, limited electrical power. No survivors so far. Approximately two hundred KIA with another forty Qua-la infantry.”
“Roger, Wolf One,” came the reply. “Proceed to Bridge.”
“En route,” she replied, turning toward her men. “Move out.”
Pi-ce climbed the ladder to the Bridge-deck, stopping at the top as the rest of her men joined her. When the last man reached the top, she spoke.
“The Bridge is a few frames forward. Alpha to starboard, Bravo to port,” she ordered. “Normal entry protocol.”
Pi-ce watched as her men fanned out to both sides of the passageway. Just around the corner were the armored doors leading to the bridge.
“Standby,” she ordered, stepping into the passageway and swinging her rifle toward the entrance to the bridge.
In the center of the massive armored door was a jagged hole the size of three men. By the looks of it, it had been made by an entry torch. Scattered around the outside of the door were the bodies of several Hardian Marines and dozens of Qua-La infantry.
Pi-ce quickly regained her balance as her left foot slipped in the blood pooled on the deck. “Alpha and Bravo, move up,” she ordered before activating the comms link to Relentless. “Relentless, Wolf One. Bridge has been breached. Moving in.”
With her Marines behind her, Pi-ce slowly moved through the wrecked bodies toward the door. At the entrance, she looked down to see the body of a Marine captain. To his right was the body of a Qua-la infantryman, the captain’s ax still protruding from his chest. At the captain’s left lay three other enemy troops, no doubt killed by the pistol in the captain’s left hand.
“You will awake in the valleys below the shadow of Mount Haridak, brother,” said Pi-ce, wishing the captain a good voyage to the Hardian afterlife.
Pi-ce stepped through the hole on to the bridge.
Scanning the room, she saw the carnage from the entrance had continued once the door was breached. Inside were dozens more bodies except this time in addition to Marines and Qua-la troops were crewmembers and —
Pi-ce froze in her tracks.
Underneath the body of a Qua-la officer was the unmistakable uniform of an Imperial Guard soldier.
“Relentless, Wolf One. There are Imperial Guards onboard.”
***
Catton leaned over the comms station. “Say again, Wolf One.” He had to have heard it wrong.
“Relentless, Wolf One. Imperial Guards are among the dead on the bridge.”
He stood up from his chair. “Damn it!”
“Sir?” asked Ensign Landa. “I thought Imperial Guards were only assigned to —”
“The royal family,” said Catton, finishing the ensign’s sentence. “Wolf One, this is Relentless Charlie Oscar. Search the compartment … search the whole ship if you need to.”
***
“Roger, Relentless,” replied Pi-ce.
Pi-ce turned toward her Marines as they entered the bridge. “There may be royal family members on board. Everyone —”
“Movement, Ma’am,” interrupted Corporal Tra-na, pointing behind Pi-ce.
Pi-ce spun around to see a hand raised in the air above the deck, carpeted in mangled flesh. Focusing on the insignia around the arm, she could tell it belonged to a flag officer.
Covering the distance across the massive bridge in four powerful strides, Pi-ce dropped to her knees next to the admiral. She looked over his body; the admiral had several fatal bullet wounds to his chest and stomach.
“A Marine … good,” coughed the admiral. “Where is Major Ta-ko?”
“I do not know a Major Ta-ko, Admiral,” replied Pi-ce.
“Y — you don’t …” said the Admiral, struggling to take in air. “You’re not from Thunder?”
“I’m from Relentless, sir,” said Pi-ce. “We received a distress —”
“Relentless,” interrupted the Admiral, grabbing Pi-ce’s arm. “Thank the Kings. The armory … find her.”
“Who, Admiral?”
“Princess Xendi,” said the admiral, his breathing growing more labored. “She’s the only one left.”
“Admiral?”
The admiral’s gaze shifted past Pi-ce. “The King and Queen are dead.”
Pi-ce looked over her shoulder to see the bodies of King Espara and his wife Katarina alon
g with two Imperial Guards and several Qua-la. Looking upon the bodies of her king and queen, her pulse quickened, rage consuming her body.
“Prince Saara was killed in the bombardment,” added the admiral. He paused, looking up toward Pi-ce. “Princess Xendi,” he said, his eyes wide. “We sent her to the armory with Major Ta-ko … she is the …” The admiral coughed hard, blood spurting from his mouth. “She’s the only one left.”
“What happened?” asked Pi-ce. “Admiral?”
The admiral was dead.
“Ma’am,” said Sergeant Bar-ke standing over the body of the King. “Is this —”
“Yes,” replied Pi-ce quietly. “Relentless Charlie Oscar, Wolf One,” said Pi-ce into the comms link. “Request secure comms.”
***
Catton let out a heavy breath as he picked up the handset, cutting out the speaker in Combat.
“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”
“SIR …”
Pi-ce never delayed comms. Something was wrong. “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”
“THE ROYAL FAMILY, SIR. THE KING, THE QUEEN, PRINCE SAARA … THEY’RE DEAD.”
Catton lowered the handset and looked up toward the overhead. Three quarters of the royal family, and the leadership of the entire Runan Empire, had just died.
“BUT PRINCESS XENDI MAY BE ALIVE,” blasted over the intercom before Catton could depress the key on the handset.
Catton instantly felt the eyes of everyone in Combat on him.
“Mind your stations!” he snapped, refocusing his crew.
He took a deep breath before activating the handset and placing it to his mouth. “Find her. You have to find her.”
***
Lieutenant Pi-ce and her Marines quickly made their way from the bridge toward Thunder’s main armory several decks below. Along the way they navigated several hull breaches and passed more bodies than Pi-ce cared to count.
Moving forward through the main passageway toward the elevator to the armory, Pi-ce watched Privates Tre-va and Eda-ra move a few yards ahead of the group. The two were young, but doing well, checking accesses and parallel passageways before moving forward. As she watched the two privates, she glanced down toward a body on the deck next to her.
Something drew her attention.
The dead crew member didn’t have any visible wounds from blades or bullets. No blood was pooling.
She slowly rolled the body over.
As the body of the crewmember rolled onto his back, Pi-ce saw multiple red mounds on the man’s face and arms, each with a bright yellow center.
“Damn it,” she cursed, scanning the overhead of the passageway.
Just beyond the two privates she saw a ball of black and orange in the far outboard corner of the passage.
“Fallback,” she ordered quietly into her comms circuit. “Slowly.”
The privates turned toward her. As one of them did, he knocked an emergency lighting bottle from its housing. It fell to the ground with a loud bang.
“Run!” she shouted. “Boarding Wasps!”
As the two privates broke into a sprint, the ball of orange and black exploded, a swarm of three-inch long killer insects filling the passage.
“Move!” shouted Pi-ce as the wave of wasps caught up to the two privates.
Private Tre-va was slower than Eda-ra and the wasps soon engulfed him, forcing him to the ground. Eda-ra continued forward but began struggle as more wasps found him.
Pi-ce looked back toward Sergeant Bar-ke. “Shut this hatch if the full swam gets here,” she ordered.
With a grunt, she leapt forward and raced toward the privates.
The piercing stings of the wasps began to ripple across her skin as she rushed to Private Eda-ra. Cursing against the scorching pain of stings, she grabbed Eda-ra’s arm, supporting his stumbling body as he. His legs give out and she lowered her shoulder, running her arm between his legs and lifting the private onto her shoulders as the stinging of the wasps intensified.
She looked back to see Private Tre-va’s body completely disappear in a boiling ball of giant insects.
Her lungs tightened and her vision tunneled with each step. Letting out a primal yell, she rushed past Sergeant Bar-ke, who activated the hatch as Pi-ce dove to the ground.
She rolled onto her back and let out a groan. As the door slammed shut, one last wasp drove its stinger into her thigh.
“Adrenalin!” she huffed, holding her hand out to the medic.
Grabbing the injector from the medic, she drove it into the thigh of Private Eda-ra. As the private gasped for air, she extended her arm to the medical again. “Me!”
She gritted her teeth as the medic sank the needle into her thigh.
Her breathing and vision improved almost instantly, but her skin burned and her muscles contracted involuntarily.
“Are you okay, Lieutenant?” asked the medic.
“I — I’m fine, corporal,” she replied, still gaining control of her breathing and grunting through the muscle spasms. “Check on Private Eda-ra.”
“What the hell were those things?” asked Private Han-zo.
“Boarding Wasps,” replied Sergeant Bar-ke. “The Qua-la will load them into sabot rounds and fire them into the hulls of ships. If the sabots penetrate the hull, a canister opens and thousands of those bastards come flying out.”
“They designed their stingers to be able to penetrate everything … even exposure suits,” added Pi-ce, slowly standing and wincing from the searing pain rippling over her skin. “Four or five stings will kill an average Runan.”
“And what about us?” asked Han-zo, looking at the welts forming on Pi-ce’s hands and face.
“More,” she grunted. “But if they swarm …” she looked back toward the hatch, with Private Tre-va’s body on the other side. “They can actually pull the flesh off you with their teeth.”
“I guess we’re taking the long way,” said Bar-ke.
“Looks like it, Sergeant,” said Pi-ce. “Let’s take the maintenance passage.”
***
After climbing down several vertical ladders and moving through two ventilation voids, the Marines finally reached the armory level.
Pi-ce watched as each Marine took positions around the final, long passageway to the armory. Once they were in position, she moved forward with her rifle at the ready. No more time for training the privates.
As she moved forward, bodies came into view — and then more.
Pi-ce glanced down at the bodies and back up toward the entrance to the armory. With each step the bodies grew thicker, transitioning from strictly Qua-la warriors to include those of Marines. A few yards from the armory doors, the dead were so thick there was no option but to step on them.
As they reached the armory, the Qua-la bodies were stacked two and three deep in a perfect semi-circle around the entrance to the armory where they had crashed into the wall of Marines defending it. With a slight hop, she jumped over the last pile of dead Qua-la and landed in the protective circle created by the dead Marines. Lying just inside the circle was a major, no-doubt Major Ta-ko. His right arm was almost severed, his ax still resting in his mangled hand. Around him were two Qua-la — one’s neck was obviously broken and the other’s shoulder was torn from his socket and a knife protruded from his left temple. Pi-ce placed her hand on the major’s temple and closed her eyes. “There will be feasting for days in the afterlife with so many brave warriors joining the ancestors.”
She stood and waved for her men to move forward.
As the Marines moved toward her, a flash of movement near a stanchion to the right caught her attention. “Movement!” she shouted, bringing her rifle to bear as the others did the same.
Looking down the barrel of her rifle, she saw a Qua-la warrior step out from the cover of the stanchion. The enemy soldier was clearly wounded, brown blood dripping to the deck from a soaked left sleeve. In his good hand, the warrior held the long, curved blade of an officer. He stepped forward as the Marines held their weapo
ns on him.
The warrior’s dark eyes looked like pits compared to his ashen skin as he forced himself fully erect. Pounding his chest, the Qua-la officer shouted a chant in his native language. Although Pi-ce did not understand the words, she understood the message. As the senior officer, it was her honor to claim individual combat. She pulled an ax from her vest, gripping it tightly as she stepped toward the enemy.
Then she froze.
She glanced toward Private Han-zo. He had yet to spill blood — he needed to do this. “Private Han-zo!” she boomed, lowering her ax and turning toward the young Marine.
The private stepped forward, dropping his rifle as he slowly walked toward the soldier. Near the enemy, he drew a knife from his belt.
“With your hands, Private,” echoed the voice of Sergeant Bar-ke.
The private turned, glancing toward his sergeant before sheathing the blade. Stepping in front of the warrior, the Marine towered over his opponent — but that was to be expected. The average Hardian was average six foot six inches while most Qua-la — and Runan Empire subjects — were several inches shorter.
But Qua-la infantry were fast. And fanatical.
Pi-ce sheathed her ax and placed her hand on the pistol on her belt as the private and the enemy soldier faced on another.
The Qua-la warrior struck first.
He rushed forward, slashing with his blade. Private Han-zo shifted his stance, but his opponent’s blade still found flesh, slashing through the Marine’s right thigh. Han-zo ignored the flesh wound and stepped into the enemy as the Qua-la repositioned to strike again.
Catching the Qua-la warrior’s arm as he swung his blade, Han-zo twisted his enemy’s arm and pulled upward in a powerful motion. The sound of the Qua-la’s arm snapping echoed through the passageway as the private grabbed his opponent’s neck and lifted him into the air.
Letting out a roar, the private slammed his opponent’s head against the bulkhead with a thud.
“Good,” said Pi-ce when Han-zo let the body of the enemy solider fall to the deck.
“See, private,” added Sergeant Bar-ke. “They are fast and determined, but if you get in close, they can easily be overpowered.”