"Good work, Lieutenant Van Hagen," said Captain Dunham of the SSV Lima. "From here on, I'll take command."
Moments earlier, the captain—a robust man in his late forties—had arrived with five shuttles from his ship. The hangar had since become a hive of activity as Dunham brought nearly a hundred Marines with him.
Ellen stood with the other members of the Rome crew behind Van Hagen, waiting for instructions about their next move. A sense of unease lingered in her chest. Clearing the hangar earlier had included one of the grimmer tasks: dragging aside the corpses of those they'd killed. The memory gnawed at her. It was one thing to shoot someone in the chaos of battle—often just a figure through her visor. But later, having to inspect their bodies and haul them like heavy sacks? That was something else entirely. She glanced at the dried blood caked on her gloves, her stomach twisting.
"We've scrambled some fighters," Captain Dunham informed Van Hagen, his tone brisk. "The attackers' ships should be kept busy for now. If you need to evacuate your wounded, this is your chance. We need every soldier here in fighting shape."
"Understood, sir!" Van Hagen saluted. Turning to his team, he barked, "Miles, Krieger—get the wounded to one of the two remaining operational shuttles. Lieutenant Dexter, you too!"
Grumbling, the injured officer emerged from the group and limped after the others toward one of the vehicles.
Van Hagen turned back to Dunham. "Sir, do we know who's behind the attack on Alcatraz Station yet?"
Dunham nodded grimly. "Yes. We've made contact with some of the station's security forces holed up in fortified positions. They described the crests on the attackers' armor. It appears to be an alliance of multiple factions. Our best guess? They're here to break their imprisoned comrades out."
Ellen exchanged uneasy glances with her squadmates as the captain continued.
"Fortunately, we've secured the hangar, which will slow their progress. But the station's massive—we still need to retake the rest. I'll take my Marines to reclaim the cell blocks. Meanwhile, your team's objective is the bridge. You'll assist the remaining security forces stationed there. Right now, they're defending the central hub, where the armory is located. If those prisoners or mercenaries get their hands on those weapons, this fight is over before it begins."
"Understood, sir," Van Hagen replied, his tone clipped. He opened a map of the station on his omni-tool, studying it intently before addressing his Marines.
"No time to waste. First group is me, Washington, Alpha Team, and Beta Team. Second group, led by August and Perkov, heads to the security hub."
With that, Van Hagen strode toward one of the barricaded doors with purpose. Ellen and the other twenty-eight Marines from the Rome fell into step behind him, weapons at the ready.
"Keep your rifles up," growled one of Dunham's Marines as they cleared the freight crates blocking the door. "Those idiots had this thing under constant fire earlier. As if they thought they'd shoot through solid steel."
Van Hagen smirked grimly. "Thanks for the warning. Marines, disengage safeties and stay sharp!"
Ellen double-checked her rifle, ensuring her magazine was loaded and ready. The last crate was shoved aside with a metallic screech, and the door was unlocked with a numeric code. Ellen stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her team as the doors slid open, her heart pounding.
The corridor beyond was shrouded in darkness. Two bodies—prisoners—lay sprawled on the floor, blood pooling beneath them. Broken glass from shattered ceiling lights littered the ground.
"Where the hell are they?" John muttered under his breath, his voice tight with tension.
"Stay quiet and focused, O'Malley," Norah hissed in response.
Washington leaned forward, murmuring, "This smells like a trap, LC."
"Agreed," Van Hagen replied, his tone low. "But we have no choice. Switch on your lamps and stay alert."
The two lieutenants led the way into the dark hallway, and Ellen followed, every nerve on edge. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. But the corridor remained eerily silent. After navigating several bends, they reached a section where the ceiling lights flickered back to life, illuminating the path ahead.
They stopped at a large elevator—miraculously still functional—and large enough to carry ten Marines at a time.
"Good luck up there!" August called as Lieutenant Washington, Van Hagen, and the Alpha and Beta teams filed into the lift.
"You too," Washington replied with a quick salute.
Packed tightly, the Marines ascended in the elevator. Ellen found herself pressed into a corner, with Alex on one side and Jenkins on the other, who was busy cracking his neck.
"Nervous, Jenkins?" Alex teased.
"Only because I'll have to babysit you two again," Jenkins grumbled, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Alex leaned forward to look past him at Ellen. "El, did Jenkins just crack a joke? I never thought I'd live to see the day!" she said, feigning astonishment.
The elevator climbed steadily, passing nine of the ten decks between the hangar and the bridge before it suddenly jolted to a stop. The abrupt motion rattled the Marines inside.
"Well, that would've been too easy," Washington groaned. "Looks like the prisoners found the elevator controls after all."
Van Hagen was already prying open the ceiling hatch, his movements precise and efficient. As he climbed, he spoke through the comm link to Lieutenant August.
"You'll have to find another way to the security hub. The direct route's no longer an option."
"We're already on it," August replied, his voice tense. "We had to abandon the lifts and are heading for the first staircase. They hit us right after you left. Things are under control now, but Perkov took a hit. He's headed back to the hangar with Miles to get patched up."
"Understood, Lieutenant. Carry on."
"Yes, sir."
One by one, the Marines climbed out of the elevator and up a ladder bolted to the wall of the shaft. Van Hagen led the way, forcing open the doors on the tenth deck. Muffled shouting and gunfire erupted from the hallway beyond.
Washington hurled a grenade through the narrow opening. The blast was deafening, and the noise on the other side subsided. The Marines pushed the doors fully open and crawled out of the shaft, one after the other.
No sooner had they climbed out than they found themselves in a firefight. The open corridor offered no cover, forcing them to rely on their shields as they advanced and took out the mercenaries entrenched at the far end.
Washington surged forward with a biotic charge, slamming into the enemy's front line with devastating force. She threw up a barrier to block the hail of bullets that followed, buying enough time for Van Hagen and the Alpha and Beta teams to move up and flank the remaining mercenaries in the side passages.
With the immediate threat neutralized, the Marines pressed on. Finally, they reached the entrance to the bridge, where several gray-armored security officers stood waiting.
"There you are!" one of them greeted, snapping a salute to Van Hagen. "Second Lieutenant Tokita, sir. We've been holding position, waiting for your arrival to begin the assault on the bridge."
Van Hagen nodded. "Good work. Have you found us a way in?" He gestured toward the sealed bridge doors.
"Yes, but we'll need to take a slight detour. The primary door controls have been disabled. Fortunately, the station was designed with contingencies for situations like this. There's a secondary access route, though it's a bit cramped." Tokita moved to a console beside the wide doors and entered a code.
A hidden panel in the ceiling slid open, and a ladder extended to the floor.
"Clever," Washington remarked. "Lieutenant Tokita, do you have an estimate of how many hostiles are on the other side?"
"Nine or ten, at most."
"Then we'll go in with a smaller team," Van Hagen decided. "Tokita, bring your people. Washington, Jenkins, O'Malley, and I will join you. The rest will follow as the second wave once we engage. Cover us from here."
Van Hagen climbed the ladder first, followed by the selected Marines. The muffled sounds of gunfire and shouting echoed from the bridge as they climbed.
Ellen and Norah reached for the ladder at the same time, their hands brushing against each other.
"Uh… sorry," Ellen said quickly, withdrawing her hand. "Go ahead."
"Thanks," Norah muttered, looking equally awkward as she began to climb.
"Casey, I think I'm going to be sick," Alex quipped over the open comm channel.
Ellen shot her a death glare. Norah, pretending not to notice, motioned for Alpha Team to follow her up. Once everyone had disappeared into the access tunnel, Ellen, Alex, and Casey climbed after them.
The narrow crawlspace led to a grated floor panel that Tokita's team had already pried open. One by one, the Marines slid through and landed directly on the bridge.
The firefight was already over. Washington and Van Hagen were busy restraining and providing medical aid to the surviving mercenaries. Lieutenant Tokita, meanwhile, sat at a terminal, typing rapidly.
"Pete, Wheeler, see if you can regain control of the cell doors," Tokita ordered over his shoulder. A large display on the wall flickered to life, revealing an extensive list of names.
"These are all the prisoners we've got on this station—5,783, to be exact. The system should tell us soon who's dead and who's missing."
Moments later, some names dimmed while others turned red. Tokita filtered the display to show only the red-highlighted names and sighed.
"Looks like some of the worst of the worst slipped through our fingers—serial killers, rapists, gang leaders… the whole spectrum. At least they didn't manage to free the ones in cryo."
He pulled up individual profiles, his expression darkening with each image. "The Twykers got their leader back. Same with the RSK and a few other groups. Even the Black Krogan is gone."
A picture of the Krogan appeared briefly on the screen. His dark complexion, black cranial plates, and glowing red eyes made for a menacing sight. His wide, frog-like mouth twisted into a grimace, revealing rows of sharp, white teeth. The image disappeared as Tokita brought up another profile—a human.
"If I had to guess who orchestrated this chaos, I'd put my money on him."
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. Ellen noticed Washington's hand tightening around the grip of her pistol, her face contorted with fury. Van Hagen wore a similar expression of barely restrained anger.
Kyle had just landed back in the Alcatraz Station with his shuttle when two medics from the SSV Lima loaded a Marine, helmet visor closed, into his cargo bay.
"He says he's one of yours. Showed up alone—Perkov or something like that. Took a bullet to the leg," one of the medics explained, helping the Marine strap into a seat.
"Perkov," the pilot corrected. "Yeah, he's with the Rome. I'll get him over there right away."
As soon as the Lima Marines left, Kyle fired up the shuttle and quickly found himself back in open space. He groaned inwardly at the thought of doing this all day. Cobb's shuttle had taken too much damage, so the entire job fell to him.
He heard movement in the back. Perkov was getting up.
"Perkov, better stay seated," Kyle called over his shoulder.
Instead of replying, Perkov limped forward into the cockpit.
"Sorry, Kyle. I'm going to have to borrow your shuttle," the Marine said, now standing directly behind him.
Kyle froze as he felt the cold, metallic barrel of a gun press against his temple. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and his stomach sank as he recognized the voice. It definitely wasn't Perkov.
"Polk!" he shouted, but the former Marine from the SSV Rome pulled the trigger before Kyle could react.