Hello again everyone. Sorry again for the ungodly massive delay involved in uploading this chapter. My duties and responsibilities have been increasing at work, to say nothing of at home (side effect of being the only attorney in a family, I suppose). I've also been kinda in a funk of late. In November, Shadow, my dog of 14 years, had to be put down. That and some other matters have thrown me into a bit of an emotional quagmire of late, but I think I'm starting to emerge from the proverbial dark tunnel, and it looks like for once, the light at the end of said tunnel might not be an oncoming train.
So I hope that you guys can forgive me for the long delay. I'm going to try to do better. I've got the next few chapters off with my beta readers, and as soon as they give me the okay, I'll be uploading more chapters. Thank you all again so much for taking the time to read this story, and for your patience with me. And an extra special thanks to Swordmaster, Atlan, Orsai, and Boondock Jake for their help.
With that said, here is Chapter 11. Hope you guys enjoy it.
Chapter Eleven: Occupational Hazards
Corta paced back and forth upon the bridge of the Nova, monitoring the status of the boarding actions. The pirate captain growled softly as he heard the death-cry of another one of his men, and then heard the excited chatter as another team managed to break into a civilian cabin area. He heard the sound of a breaching charge, some screams, swiftly silenced, and nodded his head. The Arcturus' crew was putting up fearsome resistance. No doubt word had spread that his crew weren't interested in looting, ransoms, and prisoners.
Why surrender when they were just going to kill you anyway? He glanced over to the Contact. The entity stood in its usual spot, unmoving save for turning its head. For a moment Corta found himself wondering who or what it was. Male? Female? Biological? Mechanical? Did it really matter? It was the thing that gave them the jobs and by that extension, their cash. Still, there was a coldness to the being that made Corta shudder. He was suddenly aware that the Contact had detached itself from the wall and headed over towards where he was standing.
"Yes?" he asked as the creature drew closer.
"Your operation is taking too long. Every moment we spend here gives local sub-sector authorities a chance to respond to the distress calls the convoy is no doubt sending." It crossed its arms over its chest. "We are running out of time."
"Yeah, well, funny thing, most people don't like to die, and they've figured out that we ain't taking prisoners," Corta jerked his thumb over his shoulder and gestured to where the stricken freighter could be seen on the display screens. "My boys and girls are pressing them as hard as we can, but this sorta thing is going to take time."
"'Press' the crew harder," the Contact growled.
"For the love of the Abyss, they're already being bled white!" Corta snarled, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the corporate enforcer.
"You will be compensated for their losses, as you have been told," the entity responded, its tone sounding almost bored. "And before you say anything, do remember your role in the order of things."
A low rumble came from Corta's throat. "You threatenin' me, pal?"
"If you wish to interpret this as a threat, that is your prerogative," the thing shrugged as it turned around and started to walk towards the exit of the bridge. "But I would advise you to remember how many pirates and raiders there are in this galaxy, Captain Corta. You have a lot of competition in your field, any number of which would be more than eager to step into your boots."
For a moment, Corta almost saw red and was tempted to reach for his storm pistol. He was able to check the urge, though his right hand twitched and spasmed as if longing to grasp something, and he was unable to rid his mind of the mental image of a bolt sailing into the back of the Contact's head. That would have been suicidal, though. Even if the entity didn't have some sort of failsafe or hidden defense, whatever corporation it worked for would track him down and find him. Offing a Corporate contact was one of the no-nos of this line of work. Megacorporations tended to take it personally, as though one was implying that the corporation wasn't able to protect its own operatives. Another rumble came from his throat and he glared at the retreating Contact.
"Where are you going?" he snarled.
"To find new ways to motivate your crew, Captain. If you'd care to accompany me and find a different method than my own, you are welcome to," it said as it continued towards the doors. They hissed open as they sensed it approaching and then shut behind it.
"Blast and damnation!" the pirate captain snarled, slamming his fist into the backrest of his chair hard enough to leave a massive dent in it. He drew his N-60 and his saber and turned to one of the other pirates, an insectoid alien that went by the name of Jentry. "Keep things under control here, I'm going to make sure that thing doesn't start butchering some of the crew to set an example for the others!"
He didn't even wait to hear the response before he was tearing off after the Contact. "Glad to see that you decided to join me. I think your men could use the morale boost."
The tone of the entity's voice made it impossible to determine if it was being sarcastic or not, and Corta snarled quietly as he glared at it. "Just need to do some of the killing myself. Been a while since I got some action."
"If you say so," the Contact responded.
Angela hurled another sonic grenade out into the corridor and the resulting concussion wave rattled her bones. Still, it had killed the raider that had been blindly firing around the edge of the door. She heard one of the pipes on the ceiling break loose and slam down into the floor with a colossal shriek. The stench of some sort of fluid filled the air and started to pour along the floor. Hopefully it wasn't flammable, the Lombax thought to herself. That was the last thing that she needed, more stuff blowing up. The air filters on her helmet would keep out most toxic fumes, but she couldn't say the same for her cabin-mates.
She checked on the charge of her SMG while she waited for the next attack to come. About seventy percent of the power cell was still there. Still it was alarming how fast the suppression fire she was using was burning through the charge. This would make it the fourth wave, and her gut instinct told her that it was going to be bigger than the last two. The first follow up team had had five, the second one four, causalities fighting the security detail, she assumed. These guys were communicating, though, and they had to realize that due to either a combination of firepower, luck, or just placement, that whoever was holding out down here was able to beat back the standard groups. They'd start sending larger groups soon. Will this be the one that breaks through? She thought. How many minutes had it been since that first pirate had stuck his head through the door and started this desperate battle for survival? Five? Ten? An hour? She couldn't tell. They'd held so far, but this couldn't last forever.
And even though she'd been somewhat successful, there had been a price to be paid. Her armor was blackened in several regions where laser bursts had struck it, and she was pretty sure that the ambient heat generated by all the weapons fire was getting to Samantha. The blue-skinned woman coughed every few seconds, and her eyes were bloodshot from the smoke, her face and exposed arms slick with sweat. Behind them, the rest of the family had covered up with the blankets and such in the cabin, using them as makeshift breathing filters while they passed around some oxygen masks. Each one would take a few huffs from one of them, and then pass it on to the next one. She could hear the filtration systems chugging away, trying to suck in and purify as much air as possible, but it was clear that they hadn't been designed with this sort of damage in mind.
She found herself wondering if they should try to make a break for it, get down to the cargo hold. She might be able to power up a couple of the Megacorp security drones and get them up and running. They wouldn't turn the tide by themselves, but they could at least bring some heavier firepower to bear.
But that would mean either abandoning the Novalians and Arden (to say nothing of the others), or trying to herd them all down tight, narrow corridors in an attempt to reach the cargo bays through the warren of the Arcturus' corridors. That had the potential to be just as much a death sentence as leaving them. But they couldn't stay here either. The pirates would just keep coming and eventually they would overrun this position. The frustration made Angela want to claw at her hair. No easy solutions, and she doubted that a fourth option was going to miraculously materialize. It occurred to Angela that she was the closest thing to a leader in this situation, and she going to have to make a call, a decision, and determine what they were going to do. She turned and faced Samantha, noticing that there were some burns on the side of the woman's face from where a few stray bolts had come uncomfortably close to hitting her.
"You ever been in a firefight like this before?" she asked.
"Once, but that was a long time ago." The other woman said with a grimace.
"What do you suggest we do?" Angela said, cocking her head to the side. She thought she heard the sound of boots on metal again.
"Honestly, I'm not sure. The last time that we had a fight like this, we outnumbered the other guys, and we had the option of falling back." The Novalian said, wiping some sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She coughed again shortly after that, a deep, hacking convulsion that came from deep inside her lungs.
Angela cursed inwardly. The fumes were also going to run the risk over overwhelming them. The filtration systems on Helios class ships had their own separate power systems, but massive ion cannon bombardments were notoriously indiscriminant. It was possible that part of the system might have been damaged. She thought for a moment, struggling to try to find the answer. Then her eyes narrowed as she made her decision. It was insane, absolutely insane, and she had little doubt that people would die as a result of it… but by this point, it was a matter of trying to reduce the casualties, not prevent them. And it might just give them the numbers to make a break for it. Her eyes drifted down to the collection of weapons that they'd scavenged from the dead raiders. About eight or so, and a handful of reloads.
"Arden," she asked over her shoulder.
"Yes?" his voice was heavy, laced with fatigue, and he coughed a bit as he finished.
"Which rooms in this section have Megacorp employees in them?"
"I think 'L' and 'M' do," he said quietly. "Why?"
Angela looked back at him, and then to the weapons, and then to Samantha one more time. The former security officer seemed to understand what she was implying. "Go," she said, moving up towards the door. "I'll cover you."
The Lombax nodded, and shouldered her weapon. She headed out, eyes on both ends of the corridor as she tore off down towards where the aforementioned cabins were. She skidded up to a halt next to them, knocking frantically on the door. There was silence behind it, as she'd expected.
"It's Doctor Cross, open up!" she shouted. More silence. She supposed she should have suspected as much, Angela thought to herself. After all, if she'd been in this same circumstance, with an obvious firefight raging around the ship, and someone knocked on the door and suddenly claimed that it was one of her fellow employees, she'd be rather suspicious too. "Look, I know there are Megacorp employees behind this door. I need you guys to crack the lock and speak to me. We've got to get out of here!"
Nothing. She gave a grunt of irritation. "Look, if I was a pirate, I'd have slagged the damn lock by now."
There was another couple of seconds, and the door opened a fraction of an inch. To her surprise, a hand reached out and tried to snag her Inferno. She jumped back as the door finished opening. It was indeed a Megacorp employee that had answered the door, another Novalian. He was clad in the black fatigues of an off duty security officer.
"Hey, hey, it's me!" she said, lowering the SMG and waiving her free hand.
"Doctor Cross?" he seemed to recognize her voice.
"I told you it was me," then she let out a sigh. "Look," she said, gesturing to her attire, "long story, but we can save it for another time." She pointed up the corridor with her free hand. "A couple of civilians and myself have been able to stall the raids into this area, but they're about to swamp us. We can't stay here. If the pirates don't kill us, the fumes will." She trailed off, realizing she didn't know his name.
"Corporal Antioch," the man said, understanding the silence. "And that's all well and good, but what do you propose we do? This ship isn't exactly designed for defensive holding actions."
"This area sure as hell isn't," Angela said with a nod. "What we need to do is to gather up everyone we can from this deck and head for the cargo bay. We can barricade ourselves in there with the containers, and I think I can hotwire the Class IV's."
"Corridors are a little bulky for combat drones," one of the other officers behind the Corporal said.
"We're not going to be trying to take the vessel back, not yet," Angela said with a shake of her head. "I can't tell you everything, but the pirates are after what we put on this ship. We get into the cargo bay and hole up, they'll come to us." Time was wasting, there could be another group of raiders rounding the corner at any moment, and Angela turned, her weapon shouldered again, her breathing a bit unsteady. So many things could go wrong here. But what choice did they have? If they did this, there was a good chance they would die. If they stayed where they were, their deaths would be a matter of when, not if.
Antioch frowned, and then nodded his head. "That's going to be a lot of people to cover, and the cargo hold's halfway across the ship from here." He sighed. "Still, if that," he nodded towards the destruction at the far end of the corridor, "is any indication of what's coming our way, I don't think we're going to have much of a choice."
Angela nodded her head. "I won't lie, not everyone's going to make it. Hell, even if we get to the cargo bay, we might not get out of this alive. And I can't do this alone. I've got wounded and young children in my own cabin. We're going to need everyone that can use a gun."
"You've got some procured weapons?" the other officer asked.
"Yeah. Their original owners don't need them anymore," the Lombax couldn't keep a slightly feral tone out of her voice as she spoke.
"Well," Antioch said with a sigh, "no time to waste then. Smith," he turned to the other officer, "I'll grab the guns, you get everyone ready to move and help Doctor Cross get into the other cabins."
"On it," Smith said.
Angela let out a breath. Here goes nothing, she thought.
Meanwhile, on the Twenty-fourth deck of the Arcturus, another pirate group was moving forward. Ten of the original dozen were still alive, and they'd managed to route the defenders covering the cabin area. Now it was time to do the dirty work and make sure that there was no one left to report the particulars of this little raid. The Agorian squad commander barked an order and they piled up at the first door. It was sealed shut, just as they'd expected, but a full-power shot from a disruptor pistol solved that minor problem.
Inside of the cabin, a dozen civilians huddled at the back, eyes wide with terror. The heavy repeater operator stepped up to the door and chuckled as he leveled the weapon. Before he pulled the trigger, though, there was a popping noise directly above his head.
"What the h—" he started to say as he looked up. It was as far as he got. The creak of metal and composites under pressure filled the air and finger-like indentations suddenly appeared on the sides of his helmet before a sickening snap echoed through the room as his head was oriented around in a manner that nature never intended for it to go. Limp as a dead fish, he tumbled to the ground. His companions were suddenly blown off their feet and landed in a heap.
One's expletive transformed into a gurgle as a knife seemed to materialize in his throat. The remaining eight cursed and swore as some of them tried to get back up to their feet. Others blindly fired in front of them, filling the corridor with plasma bolts and flechettes. The civilians huddled in the room watched as a veritable rainbow of energy bolts and super-heated metal flew past their open door. A loud bang, like a heavy object hitting metal, came from directly in front of it. Deep, booming roars followed, the discharge of an energy weapon. Screams were abruptly cut short and the acrid stench of burning flesh filled the air.
They heard the Agorian roar, and the massive alien charged forward and slammed into something. Metal deformed around the doorway as the impression of an armored figure was made in it. The reptilian creature screamed again as it started to orient its blaster pistol on the strange, invisible foe that it was grappling with. The armored boot that covered the Agorian's left foot suddenly crumpled inwards with a shriek of tortured metal and crunching bone. It howled again as another indention appeared on its groin, its eyes bulging in pain. Its arm was twisted outwards as the round of ripping tendons and snapping ligaments filled the air and then the creature was picked up off its feet and slammed into the floor hard enough to leave a dent and shatter bones.
Whimpering quietly as it coughed up blood, the crippled pirate attempted to rise up off the floor, only for its head to explode suddenly. The stench of flash-vaporized brain and bones filled the air, along with the odor of disintegrated metal from where the floor underneath the alien's head had also been transformed into free-floating vapor.
Someone gave a sob; another one clutched his child close as the group of civilians, now terrified for an entirely different reason, watched a rippling distortion appear in front of them. An entity seemed to melt out of thin air, its gray armor matching the color of the cabin perfectly. Its right hand clutched a smoking pistol of some kind, and its left one slowly traveled up towards its "face." It tapped its index finger against the front of the helmet, just above the gorget that covered the lower portions of it, in a gesture of silence. Then it gestured to the right, down the far side of the corridor and then turned and walked out, the air distorting around it as it disappeared once again.
Lear pulled his knife out of the throat of the pirate, shaking the blood free and inspecting it. Undamaged, as he'd suspected, but it never hurt to double check these sorts of things. Carelessness in weapon maintenance had been the death of more than one soldier. He returned the blade to its sheath and reloaded the '47, slipping the empty powercell back into its pouch. There were ten cells left, four hundred shots grand total. He was burning too many shots too fast. The Revenant reached down towards one of the raiders that he'd killed and picked up the pistol that it had had.
It was a strange affair, green colored and bulbous, covered in exposed tubes and fins. He didn't see a smart-link, or if there was one, it wasn't compatible enough for his armor to recognize it. There were some iron sights, though. No idea on ammo count. The operative weighed the choices in his mind, a dozen subroutines going over the pros and cons of each decision. He holstered his sidearm, and clasped his hand around the grip of the alien weapon. It felt a bit awkward (unsurprising, considering that it had apparently been designed for an operator that only had three fingers), and Lear found himself having to hold a couple of his fingers out away from the weapon, out of concern that they might get tangled up in the tubes and wires. He'd adjust or he wouldn't, and if he couldn't he'd toss the weapon. For now, though, it was a means to conserve ammo and still keep one of his hands free.
He grabbed some grenades off the bodies as well, tucking them into the webbing around his waist. Then he was off, following the remaining drones that he had deployed. He was down to seven. The constant EMP grenades that both sides were hucking back and forth was causing the insect sized sensors to literally drop like flies. Normally, that wouldn't have been an issue. Wasps were standard issue to squad leaders and advanced operatives, and resupplied daily. Unfortunately, the nearest MSE resupply station was likely a few hundred billion lightyears away. Waste not, Lear thought to himself. It seemed that much like with his ammo, he was going to have to be frugal with his drones. He sent out a recall signal, ordering the small robots back towards his location.
The Revenant advanced forward and turned on his active scanners. Crew or pirates alike might spot the energy spike if they knew what to look for, but with their patrols and raiding teams going down like this, it was just a matter of time before the enemy figured out that there was something picking them off. Every group he killed made it that much more likely that they were going to put two and two together. As the decks and walls peeled away, he saw the next nearest group of attackers, ten of them, two decks up and heavily engaged in a firefight with some security teams. As seemed to be their standard procedure, they had ducked back into the bulkheads of the connecting corridors, with a member of the team watching the flanks. He looked over his scanners for a split-second, identifying organic tissues, likely weak points and vital organs. Unsurprisingly, while a number of them had anatomy that might be described as "exotic", the most vulnerable places were almost always the ones with the heaviest armor plating covering them.
Lear nodded to himself and pulled the trigger on the weapon a couple of times to try to get a feel for it. The kick was less than he was expecting from a particle pistol, probably because whoever had designed it had intended for it to be used by someone not wearing power armor. Still, the green tinted bolt left a fairly sizeable crater in the wall. He nodded to himself, and teleported again.
He teleported in about twenty meters away, further down the corridor and hopefully far enough back that the flank guard wouldn't hear the telltale cracking of the displaced air over the racket of the firefight. The alien didn't react, and Lear let out a sigh of relief. He hoped this weapon was up to the challenge and carefully stared down the sights. He pulled the trigger twice and was relieved when the twin bolts rather dramatically removed its head. Its companions took notice of the slumping, decapitated body and a number of them began to fire down the corridor. With no room to run, dodge, and with his teleporter still recharging, Lear threw himself prone and began to fire methodically at the hostiles before him as energy bolts zipped over his head.
The first one, a heavy repeater operator, fell back a bit, the plates of his armor glowing. Lear growled and focused his mind, letting out a breath and observing the world as it slowly moved around him. Organic and synthetic muscles, mechanized systems, and automatic aim-assistance devices worked together in perfect harmony and realigned his aim towards the gaps between the armor plating, just along the lower parts of the abdomen and fired off six rounds in rapid succession. This time the shots did have an effect, and the creature howled as it fell back and the force of the explosive disintegration nearly tore it in half.
Its surviving companions noted where the shots had come from, however, and Lear quickly found their return fire slashing into his shields as he continued to fire at them. In seconds, they had dropped to 90%, and continued to plunge. It was clear that his active camo was no longer doing its job, and he cut it, feeding the power back into his defenses in an attempt to reinforce them as he fired again and again, reaching out with his mind and trying to throw one of the shield-toting aliens off its feet. The creature went down, but managed to angle its shield in such a way that it still blocked the Revenant's shots. The attackers continued to fire on Lear and in the confusion, he barely caught the warning his mind gave him. He focused on one of the raiders a split-second before it reached into a pouch around its waist. The Revenant's organic eyes widened and reoriented his aim, focusing it alien as he tried to use his powers to reinforce his shielding, grimacing as it dropped past 75%. A slight haze formed around his body as his powers manifested, while a barrage of green energy left the strange pistol. In the course of a second, the Imperial had put over a half-score shots on the target's right forearm. The armor failed on the eighth shot and the last two tore the attacker's hand off at the elbow, leaving an oozing, cauterized stump in its wake.
The raider snarled in rage as Lear rolled up and pressed himself back against the bulkheads, backpedalling as he waited for his teleporter to reach minimum charge levels, firing as he went. His mission clock indicated that it had been eight seconds since the engagement had begun and it was clear that this strategy wasn't working. Even reinforced by his psionics, his shields were being battered down. He cut down the wounded one with a headshot and managed to drop one of its companions before he reached a hallway junction and ducked behind it. There were muffled curses and more gunfire as the security team and their opponents continued to trade shots. The hallway that he'd ducked out of was suddenly filled with enough energy beams that Lear thought he might be able to try a hand walking on them. The ambient temperature rocketed up from the bolts passing, some condensation on the floor and walls transforming into steam as the attackers engaged in a classic suppression fire move.
Lear looked through the walls and took stock of the situation as his shields began to recharge. One of the surviving raiders had indeed picked up the heavy repeater turned it down the corridor in an attempt to keep him pinned. He'd have to maneuver quickly, or they'd likely start rolling grenades down here, and he still didn't know how powerful those devices were.
He looked about, seeing another T-junction on the far side of the other corridor that the raiders were bunched up in. It was about forty meters off and he had a subroutine calculate the jump, setting it to go as soon as his teleporter systems were charged up enough. As his shields finished charging, his teleporter hit thirty percent power, and a flashing icon warned him to brace. There was no flash or bright light, Lear simply disappeared from where he was and reappeared at his destination. He reengaged his stealth systems and leaned out as he lamented the lack of a compatible smartlink on this weapon. He sighted up the heavy weapon operator as the alien continued to turn the far-side wall into a glowing mess of toxic steam and liquid metal, while one of its compatriots pulled a grenade and tossed it down the hallway. Lear held his fire, wanting to see in detail what happened next. His enhanced vision allowed him to see the grenade slowly moving through the air and the details of the tiny ball as it tumbled end of end.
It bounced once, twice, and then rolled along the floor until it came to a stop about four meters past the entrance to the T-Junction that he'd originally ducked into. There was a flash of white-hot plasma and for five meters in every direction the floor, walls, ceilings, and bulkheads boiled away and steam hot enough to cause most carbon-based life forms to spontaneously combust shot outwards. At least one type of local plasma grenade of comparable power to Tribunal equivalent, the Revenant thought to himself, logging the detail away in the back of his mind, while another subroutine wondered why the fire suppression systems weren't kicking in. Perhaps this region's had been disabled by the earlier bombardment?
He shook his head and then he started firing again. He sent a three shot burst at the back of the head of the alien operating the heavy repeater. The first two shots were absorbed by the armor and the third one penetrated, blowing its head apart in a flash of superheated brains and bone.
The remaining seven aliens operated fairly smoothly, three of them turning towards where the shots had come from and filling the air with gunfire, while the remaining four kept the security team pinned down. Another grenade was hurled, this one towards where the security teams were. They scattered, and ran for cover. There was a deafening boom as the weapon cooked off, but to Lear's surprise there was not plasma blast. Instead, a massive concussion wave shot outwards, rippling along the corridor for about eight meters, catapulting one poor sod through the air. The shockwave dissipated shortly after that and dumped the broken, deceased security member on the floor in a heap. He logged the details as the data was removed from his HUDs and then opened fire once again. His shot hit one of the scatter-weapon operators, catching it between the shoulder plates of its armor. The alien howled, but its undersuit was sufficient to absorb the shot and it kept on firing as Lear let his shields take the blow and fired again, this time aiming for the neck and firing another four shots in rapid succession. The alien finally went down under the salvo while the super-heated flechettes ripped into the Revenant's shields.
This was taking far too long, Lear thought, frowning as he leaned back. He pulled one of the grenades that he'd taken out of his belt. There were a few small characters etched into the surface, but he couldn't read them. There were, however, three red buttons that were spread across the surface. He depressed them, felt the orb vibrate faintly, and hurled it around the corner, hoping that there wasn't a set time that you were supposed to hold them. When it doubt, better to get rid of them too soon than too late.
He saw the raiders scatter through the walls, and one of them got cut down by the regrouping security team as it ran through the open corridor. The small bomb detonated a few moments later and it seemed to be one of those sonic-concussion devices. Lear nodded to himself as he watched another member of the attacking team get pulverized by the blast and felt his augmented skeleton rattle a bit as the remnants of the shockwave passed by. He leaned out and resumed firing once again, distantly wondering if the alien sidearm that he was carrying was ever going to run out of ammunition. He saw the security team pressing forward and another raider was cut down by waves of blaster fire. Four left, he thought as his next shot caught one of the attackers through the lighter armor of its throat. Correction, three.
There were two shield carriers left and one hostile operating one of those flechette weapons. The trio ducked down, one shield carrier facing the security team, the other one down the corridor that Lear was leaning out into, while the scatter-gun operator frantically fired and cycled its weapon. One of the security team fell back, screaming as a dozen razors penetrated his armor between the plating. Lear noted how it had shredded most of the defender's internal organs, and felt a brief stab of pity. A dozen different options and tactical choices whirled through his mind at that moment and he finally decided to risk it. After all, what was the point of carrying that SLAG ammo pack around if he was never going to use it?
He leaned back and tucked the alien pistol into the webbing he wore. At the same time the ASPR-27 rifle on his back seemed to levitate out of its holster and into his left hand. At ninety-five centimeters in length, it wasn't the most ideal corridor fighting weapon, but he needed those attackers dead. A targeting icon and ammunition counter appeared on his HUD, showing sixty-one shots. He flicked the safety off and adjusted the accelerator rails for medium power. Hopefully enough to penetrate the armor, without over-penetrating into other compartments and risking friendly casualties. Then he leaned stuck the pulse rifle around the corner and smoothly lined up the shield carrier closest to him and squeezed the trigger. Recoil dampeners engaged and the immense strength of his power armor's auto-stabilizers helped negate the rest of the massive amount of recoil as the pulse rifle spat a slug out at three thousand meters per second. The shockwave echoed back and forth in the corridor like the dying screams of a colossal monster and the shield carrier howled as it was slammed back into the ground. The shield faded, having protected the alien from most of the damage, but momentum transfer had still left the raider a shattered, broken wreck, gurgling out its life.
Lear fired a double tap before the remaining two could react, and the hypersonic rounds literally tore their bodies to pieces and left the junction covered in so much blood and gore that it looked like a scene from a horror film. Area secure, leave it to local defense teams. Prioritize and move on. He thought, already looking about for the next place to go. He holstered the '27, and redrew the alien pistol as the security team began to cautiously move up. He teleported away before they saw him. Not that it mattered. By now, any member of the defense teams with an IQ that exceeded room temperature would have deduced that they were getting help from some sort of outside source. And he had little doubt that the same was true of the enemy.
Corta leaned out from behind the cover he was hiding behind and fired his kinetic blade thrower. The weapon let out a high-pitched shriek as it unleashed a half-dozen spinning blades at the security officer that he'd tagged with the device's targeting link. The man tried to get back down underneath his makeshift barricade, but he wasn't fast enough. The discs homed in, tore through his armor and undersuit, and he screamed in agony as he collapsed. The pirate captain chuckled as he stepped out from behind cover and charged forward. Another defender leaned out and fired only for his head to vanish as the twin barrels of Corta's N-60 sent a barrage of plasma bolts through it.
"Come on, boys, we've got them on the run!" he shouted to the squad that he was with. The raiders behind him gave a hearty cheer and started to push forward. At the far end of the hall, about thirty meters away, they could see the door to the bridge. Once they got there, they could get the cargo hold access codes and get this mess wrapped up so they could withdraw before they were bled anymore.
He cut down another defender and whirled to face a fourth one. Before he could shoot the security officer, there was a loud roar and she fell to the ground, ripped in two by whatever had hit her. Corta looked back over his shoulder and stared at the Contact as it lowered its right arm. The Storage Deck on its wrist had produced some sort of wrist mounted, double-barreled weapon. Both barrels smoked a bit as the halls grew silent.
"Pick up the pace, Captain. We are running out of time." It said as it moved up past him. It leveled its wrist at the pressure door on the far side of the hallway and the weapon roared once again, the barrels spitting fire and smoke as it discharged some sort of micro-missile.
The barrage of explosives struck the door and blew it to pieces. Return fire from the bridge crew streaked out and a few red tinted bolts struck the Contact. An energy shield leaped to life and intercepted them as it fired again and again, each shot coinciding with one of the bridge crew being snuffed out.
Corta added his own weapons to the mix, firing the disruptor a few times as he tried to suppress the enemy. A bolt struck him in his helmet, throwing the captain's head back and momentarily disorienting him. He fired wildly as he shook his head and tried to regain his bearings, grateful for all the credits he'd spent over the years spiffing up his custom armor. He sighted up the defender that he thought had shot him, and neatly amputated the man's arm at the shoulder. The man fell back, howling and thrashing.
"Captain?" he heard a voice crackling over the comm. He recognized Jentry's voice. "Captain, are you there?"
"Little busy now, mate, trying to take the bridge. What do you need?" he growled as he fired his blade thrower and decapitated his target. Then he holstered the weapon and drew a couple of stun grenades as he rushed up next to the door's bulkhead, looking over at the Contact for a brief moment before priming them and throwing them in.
"We've been losing contact with a number of our teams along decks twenty-eight through twenty-two." His lieutenant said as the stun grenades went off with a high pitched roar and Corta's HUD was suddenly filled with static. "Some of them reported armed resistance among the passengers, at least one individual armed with an SDU holding out among the cabins. Others have just dropped off comms without reporting in a thing. It's like they up and vanished."
"We'll look at the security feeds once we've secured the bridge," the Contact said as it strode into the nerve center of the Arcturus.
All around, crewman lay blinded and disoriented, a number of them clutching their ears, blood oozing out between their fingers as they screamed in agony. The handful of robotic crew members that had been among the bridge crew were offline as well, taken out by the EMP blasts that the grenades had given off. The computers and consoles were already cycling through their reboot procedures.
"Secure them," the Captain growled, and then looked to the Contact. The enigmatic corporate operative was already over by the main console, its four fingers hands flying over the keyboards. "You want us to interrogate them for the access codes?"
"That would be inefficient and unnecessary. Keep them as leverage," it said. "I will obtain the codes."
"Leverage?" Corta gave the Contact a look, arching an eyebrow behind his helmet, his hands shaking a bit with the adrenaline rush of battle. "You really think that those saps down in the ship are going to give up because we threaten to execute their friends and Captain? They've already figured out that we ain't taking anyone alive."
"I was referring to dealing with the local authorities if and when they show up," the Contact said. "Military politics being what they are, captain, it is not likely they will be willing to atomize a trade vessel that has some hostages on it. For all their boasting, swaggering, and spouting of machismo nonsense, very few of them are prepared to intentionally and willfully kill civilians in their pursuit of 'the bad guys.'" It said. There was a ding from the console. "I have access. Downloading cargo hold codes. Reviewing security monitors." A moment later, some security feed popped up on the primary monitor. The feed cycled through a number of hallways and corridors, some of them still showing raging battles, before it eventually stopped on something.
Corta's eyes bulged as he saw what appeared to be a group of civilians trying to make their way down into the belly of the ship. Some were clutching children and carrying wounded. Others had armed themselves with what appeared to be captured pirate weaponry. A couple of security officers were among them as well, but it seemed to be mostly passengers. There was another individual as well, tall and armed with an Inferno, its face hidden behind a helmet that was definitely not standard issue.
"Well, you see something new every day," He muttered as he walked up next one of the disabled bridge crew, a reptilian looking creature with a breathing mask on. He kicked it aside as he strode forward. "Jentry, I think we've found one of our problems. Bunch of security packed in with civilians on Deck Twenty Three. Looks like they're headed for the cargo holds."
"Last stand, Captain?" the lieutenant asked.
"Possibly, but some of them are Megacorp employees more than likely," his eyes widened as it started to click. The Contact slowly gazed over at him.
"They're probably going to try and hotwire the security drones," it said, crossing its arms over its chest. "That could complicate matters."
"You sound uneasy." Corta cocked his head to the side a bit.
"This operation has taken too long as it is. You need to prepare the ship to be tethered to a more remote location." It said. "And our prize is down in the primary cargo hold. If those drones are activated and their weapon systems armed, we could have a major firefight around what we're trying to collect."
"Gotcha," Corta muttered and nodded his head, and then turned on his comm. "All unengaged squads, I need for you to get your asses in gear and head for the Arcturus's primary cargo hold. We've got security footage showing a large group of passengers and a few security teams down there. Stop them at all costs. Do not allow them to reach the cargo bay!"
Affirmatives echoed back over the comm. and Corta nodded his head. Good, good. "All hands on Nova and Meteor, stand by and make ready to engage ship tethers. We need to haul this thing out of here before the convoy gets their distress signal off and someone comes nosing around here."
"Interesting…" he heard the Contact mutter suddenly. The pirate captain turned to face the corporate operative. It was staring at more security footage. "Deck Twenty Four, corridor junction A-6," it said.
Corta saw footage, several minutes old by the looks of things, of a group of his men engaged with a security team. However, what was more interesting was that his raider team was firing in two directions, both at the security team and at something just off camera. The Contact pressed a few keys, and the picture jumped to another view, this one showing the smaller corridor. Corta's eyes widened as he saw something jump up off the floor and start to backpedal down a hallway.
"What in the hell…" he muttered as he stepped up close to the footage. "What is that?"
"Unknown. It is not part of the security teams, though." The Contact said, and he could see that the operative was running through a crew and passenger manifold. "No match on any of the crew or passengers, from what I can tell."
"It is wearing armor, ya know," Corta muttered as his men scurried about, restraining and securing the surviving members of the bridge crew.
"Yes. But there are still clues. Look at the hands," the Contact froze the image and zoomed in. "Six fingers. That doesn't match any species on board. Nor does it coincide with any robotic configuration." It gestured up at the image, and Corta could see something crackling over its body. "Energy shield. None of the security officers on this ship have those, either."
"What are you suggesting? Insurance? Little surprise from Megacorp?"
"Meaningless conjecture, but I would suggest it to be a stowaway of sorts." The Contact said, as play resumed. "Look how it operates. There's no communication between it and the security teams. They don't even appear to know that it's there."
It sped the footage up a bit, and a few moments later a grenade rolled down the corridor and detonated. Then in the seconds that passed his men came under attack from a different angle, opposite of the one they were firing down. The Contact switched views again, and caught the remains of a whispery distortion that quickly faded from view.
"Active camouflage, possible teleportation capability." It muttered, leaning forward against the consol. "Definitely not a member of the crew."
"But it's hostile, that much is certain," Corta muttered, and then watched a couple of his men seemingly explode, the faint line of an ionization trail visible through the air. "And heavily armed." He activated his communications unit again. "All squads, this is the Captain. Watch your backs, we've got a third party involved here. No clue who it is, but it's dangerous and extremely mobile. You see anything out of the ordinary, shoot first, max power, then ask questions."
"Come on," the Contact said, turning to leave the bridge.
"We're going to the cargo hold, I take it?"
"Yes, I want to oversee this personally. I will not risk either those passengers or this new entity further jeopardizing this mission."
"Fair enough. Just don't get yourself killed," Corta said as he walked past the Contact. "I don't need your bosses docking our pay. We're taking serious hits to our profit margins as it is."
"Keep moving, keep moving," Angela said as she looked back over her shoulder. The forty odd civilians, a mix of megacorp employees and random passengers, huddled together and moved as quickly as they could. Some had to help wounded hobble along, others clutched at children and the Lombax winced as she saw one person being carried by two others, his leg amputated by a stray shot from one of their previous firefights. The "escort" were a mix of Arcturus's own security officers that they'd come across and a half dozen other Megacorp employees that had been mixed in among the cabins.
"Damn it, how much further?" she heard Samantha mutter. The Novalian woman was nearly doubled over, her breathing coming in deep gasps and she coughed from time to time, hacking up a bit of mucus when she did so.
"It's down another two decks, we're almost there." Angela said. "Come on." She started to filter back into the group, dipping, twisting and weaving as only one of her kind could. She flicked her wrist as the last of the security officers passed her, a fist sized object appearing in her left hand. She pressed the switch in the middle of it, and activated the mine. There were a couple of areas near the floor where some panels had been removed. Apparently before the fighting had started, someone had been repairing some of the power conduits. She placed the device down in amongst them, pulling out a monofilament string. Keeping it a few centimeters off the ground, she trailed it across the floor and attached it to the far side. A tripwire was a bit old fashioned, but she knew that there was a lot of modern sensor gear that was designed to detect motion trackers and infrared sensors. You could spot a monofilament wire if you looked hard enough, but with the pirates intent on silencing the lot of them, she suspected that none of them would think to look down as they pounded around the corner.
With any luck, that would be the last mistake that they ever made. Angela nodded to herself as she finished up, and then turned back towards where the group was heading.
A tiny, dark voice in the back of her head wondered why she was doing this. What did it matter if the drones were activated? There was still the problem of the actual pirate ships, and the very real possibility that if they came to the conclusion that they couldn't get what they wanted, they'd simply blow the Arcturus up. If that's what it comes to, then that's what it comes to, Angela thought to herself. I am not just going to lay down and let them execute me.
They turned another corridor and it was about a minute later that there was a resounding boom that echoed through the air, the lights overhead flickering for a moment. Guess they found the surprise that I left for them, Angela thought.
"Contact rear! Contact rear!" she heard one of the security troops shout, shouldering his weapon and waiting to see if there were any survivors among the enemy group.
Seconds later, the answer was confirmed to be "yes" as another Agorian, energy shield held high, strafed around and began to unload his disruptor pistol towards the group. There was a panicked shout among the group and they surged forward, trying to avoid trampling each other as the security team opened up. "Return fire, return fire!"
Bastards are fething relentless!, Angela thought to herself. They'd probably figured out what they were up to. It wouldn't take too long before they got another team into position and tried to head them off. They needed to move faster, or they weren't going to make it. If the raiders caught them out in the open like this, dozens would die in the opening seconds. One heavy repeater at the far end of a corridor would turn this place into a killing field. She flicked the switch on her Inferno up to full power. It would reduce the amount of shots that she had and cause the gun to heat up incredibly quickly but in this situation, being able to put an enemy down and keep him down was more important. The SDU had spare cells anyway.
For a moment, she envied Ratchet. His contacts with Gadgetron, Grummlenet, and other heavy weapon manufacturers had enabled him to have just about any weapon he needed for situations like this, and heavier is what she needed. A Predator or Negotiator class rocket launcher would be ideal, or better yet, one of his RYNOs. Still, nothing to be gained by wishing she had something that she didn't. She'd just have to keep being creative. The blaster fire behind them was drawing closer. They were nearly at the stairwells, and once they got there, it was a short dash down two flights, a thirty meter jaunt towards the stern of the freighter and then they were at the cargo hold. It shouldn't have been too hard to slice inside, find the drones, and get them online. And once that happened… well… they'd go from there.
She was suddenly aware that the temperature was rising, and she could feel a number of resounding thumps moving through the metal floors and walls. They sounded like the shockwaves of grenades, a large number of them cooking off in rapid succession. Automatic grenade launcher, she thought to herself. Some of Tachyon's heavier security bots had been equipped with those devices. She'd seen them tear apart entire military formations in short order. Rounding another corner, she could see the distortions of the air in front of her and the glow of the bulkhead door in front of them. Whatever was on the other side was throwing out a lot of ambient heat. She grimaced and looked back at the largely unprotected civilians behind her. They'd be incinerated just trying to pass through that area.
She summoned a cryo grenade and armed it. Hurling the device forward, it impacted against the door and went off. Special, heat absorbing and super-chilled liquids splattered everywhere cloaking the corridor in a wall of steam. It began to cool and sink towards the floor, forming an eerie looking mist. She could hear something else as well, now that she listened closely, a sort of strange, thunderous shockwave, unlike any weapon or explosive device that she knew of.
The Lombax heard a pain filled scream behind her, and knew that another one of their security escorts had just been shot. Lethal or not, the individual was probably out of the fight. They had to move quickly. Firefight in front, firefight to the rear. Just wonderful, Angela thought to herself. She looked at her HUD, nodding to herself as the temperatures started to fall. She was going to need to use more cryogrenades if the main part of the corridor was anything like this. Just their luck that the fire suppression systems had probably been damaged, if not outright knocked out of commission by the ion cannon bombardments that they'd been subjected to.
"Everyone get back!" she said as she used her free hand to open the manual release for the bulkhead door. She pulled the door back, and even through the environmental suit of her armor, she could feel the heat and see glowing, melted bits of metal and acrid steam pouring through them. Fire alarms blared, and there was actually a suppression system or two running. Not near enough to keep the heat under control without outside aid, but it was something.
The strange shockwave resonated again, echoing down the corridor. A moment later there was the sound of shrieking and Angela winced as she heard the explosions of multiple plasma grenades cooking off up ahead. Two streaked past whatever they'd been aimed at and she caught a split-second glimpse of them striking the far wall. The holographic feedback of her optics kept her from being blinded by the flash, but the bits of molten hot metal flying down the corridor still made her duck back. She cursed and looked back over her shoulder at Samantha.
"I'm guessing that we're going to have to take a detour?" the Novalian said, before she coughed again.
"Not necessarily," Angela shook her head as she heard another shockwave and a noise that sounded disturbingly akin to an oversized water-balloon exploding. There was a few seconds of silence, and she dared to peak out again.
The fire suppression system was slowly bringing the temperatures back under control, but not fast enough. She could still hear the security troops at the rear guard firing off a shot from time to time, and cursing as they engaged in a fighting retreat.
She conjured up a couple more cryogrenades from her SDU, and hurled them at the semi-molten regions of the Arcturus' hallways. Steam and smoke poured through the air, and she could hear more alarms blaring as the toxic substances rose to the top of the hallways. The corridors themselves in this region were about four meters tall, enough that most would be able to pass through relatively unscathed.
"Keep your heads down and keep moving," she said, looking back over her shoulder for a moment, before she started forward. "Pass around the oxygen masks, I want everyone to get a few good breaths, then cut the feed off." The air around them was already heated to an elevated temperature. No sense risking a pure oxygen feed getting hot enough to auto-ignite. Even if it wasn't that hot, there was always the chance that there'd be a sparking wire or something.
She started forward, her Inferno raised to her shoulder. She glanced up at her HUD's upper right corner, her large eyes settling on a dim, green sensor light. She blinked her eyes in a certain pattern and the view on her HUD changed a bit, going to a sort of off-blue and black, allowing her to pierce through the smoke and fire suppressant jets. She armed a few more cryogrenades just to make sure the lesser protected civilians could move through without having to worry about their skin, fur, and scales being cooked off their bodies.
Samantha and two members of the freighter's security crew moved up behind her as she moved up the corridor, towards the bend. She leaned around it, and was met with a scene that a few years ago would have made her wretch.
What was left of about a half-dozen bodies lay in the corridor, clearly raiders. Some were missing limbs and heads, others had smoldering craters in their torsos; all along the walls, she could see the remains of limbs and spattered bits of gore dripping off the surfaces and ceilings. It was as though someone had been unfortunate enough to have a bomb blow up inside of them. She looked over her shoulder again and watched the last of the group make their way into the corridor. One of the trailing security team members stood off to the side of the door and pointed their blaster rifle around the corner, laying down suppression fire before one of the others slammed the bulkhead shut and sealed it. It wouldn't buy much time, but it might be just enough.
The stairs were just ahead and she kept her weapon shouldered as she moved up the corridor, passing by the bodies and a few craters in the floor that still glowed with the heat of weapon impacts. She tried to ignore the sensation of blood dripping onto the pauldron of her armor, and pressed forward. The Lombax eased herself around the corner and found another dead pirate, shot in the back as he'd tried to flee. However, that wasn't what caused her Inferno to suddenly jump up to her shoulder and her finger to start to tighten around the trigger. Rather, it was the figure that was standing over the body. It held a disruptor pistol in a somewhat awkward grip, and stood slightly shorter than her. The armor, though, was unmistakable: her mystery intruder from the other night.
Her eyes narrowed and she snarled behind her helmet as it turned to face her, the pistol in its hand still smoking a bit. It took a half step back and raised its hands slightly as the other armed members of their motley group started to round the corner.
The entity merely stood there, silent and still as death. For a moment, it seemed as though time itself had stopped.
Okay, thank you all again for taking the time to read the story. Hope it was worth your while. :) I'm setting a deadline for myself, to have the next chapter ready to go by this time two weeks from now. I've got it marked on calendars and notepads, and god willing, it'll be the start of something better and more reliable.
Feedback is appreciated, as I'm always looking to improve. Anything you guys think could have been done better, or things that stood out or were jarring, or that you believe were a bit off, I'd like to hear about. Things you enjoyed as well, if you found it to your liking, please, let me know.
Thank you all again so much for your time. I hope life treats you well in the meanwhile.