“So it was a lot like this.”
“Not for a second.” Cumberland looked at his eleven remaining soldiers and was satisfied that they were rested up. “All right, we have about twenty meters to cover, then we head up to the uppermost deck.”
“We’re hooking up with another unit from the Command ship, sir?” Asked Sergeant Loman.
“I hope so,” it was a slip. For all he knew they were going up there to survey the deck, or to check the airlock seals. Raising their hopes over a rendezvous that might not happen was reckless. Regardless, he couldn’t help but have the same hope. Operating with one fifth a unit for much longer was poor judgement, plain and simple.
He took point, feeling alert, watching every corner, and listening between the boot steps for anything out of the normal. He didn’t have to wait long. The ceiling opened up directly overhead to reveal a meter and a half tall crawl way and several enemy soldiers.
Loman took a shot in the back as he turned out of the line of fire, and was saved by his armour. Cumberland fired blind, hitting the ceiling as much as the opening as he retreated out of the direct line. Everyone was so on edge that they only caught glancing shots, no one’s armour was hit enough for penetration, but the whole squad was split. Some were behind the opening, Loman and Voleman were with Cumberland in front, and the other three were against the wall, providing cover fire into the hole and most likely hitting nothing.
'David! Get back!' Cried a young woman as searing blue and white bolts of energy scorched the floor from above.
Cumberland took one step forward and made eye contact with a whip thin woman brandishing a pulse rifle half her size. She shot him three times in the breast plate before he could step back. He could feel the mild burns, his armour was finished. He had taken hits on the legs as he made a hasty retreat. In one quick manoeuvre, the scrappy resistance fighters had his people split, and it wouldn’t be long before Cumberland and his men would be rushed from behind.
There was no coming up for air against these people. They were desperate, dedicated and what was worse, they had a commander who seemed to know every corridor of the ship, how to milk the vessel for power to set traps when no one could get more than marginal readings on charged systems, and most of all, he wasn't interested in prisoners.
He barely had time to shout; “Cover!” before a concussion grenade hit the deck. It knocked him back three meters and battered the rest of his squad even harder. He couldn’t believe what he saw when he looked up. The enemy were coming down from the ceiling in groups of four. They dropped a portable shield generator the size of their palm that blocked him off from everyone but Baram, Loman, Voleman and two other Privates that were knocked onto Cumberland’s side of the hall by the concussion grenade. The rest were gunned down, well out of his reach behind the shield.
A square jawed man who he’d seen before with the issyrian, looked at him over his shoulder. There was a cold fire in his eyes, as though he wished they weren’t separated by an energy shield just as much as Cumberland did. As much as he was furious at the slaughter, and would like nothing more than to wait for the shield to come down so he could take a shot at him and the rest, it was suicide. The enemy outnumbered them. “Let’s get going before they outflank what’s left of us,” Cumberland said through his teeth.
“Tell your people; leave this ship or die,” growled the scruffy combatant.
“David! C’mon!” shouted the small woman who’d shot him several times.
Cumberland turned away from the field and rushed in the other direction. It was as if the enemy were not only defending their ship, but also taking revenge. He’d been in several situations where an engagement was about to turn bad, but it was the first time he’d been in the middle of one when it was already sour.
Finally, the hallway ahead was clear, and Cumberland led them in a dead run towards the cargo lift. 'Command, does the lift have power?'
'I’m sorry Major, the power was just cut.”
“All right, I’m re-tasking my people with getting that lift working again.”
“I’m seeing you’re down to-'
“Six people, no thanks to you boys up there. We’re going to get the lift running again and join with the forces you have gathered on the upper deck.”
“The recommendation I have here says you should wait for reinforcements.”
“Good thing it’s just a recommendation. Cumberland out.”
Cumberland and his six soldiers made the distance in quick order, they could hear the issyrian's people not far behind, it was like some angry horde was on their heels. They were out of breath when they arrived at the freight elevator. “Tell me someone knows how to hot wire this thing,” Cumberland said as he pulled a microcell from his front pocket.
Loman took the cell and pried the access panel open. “Man, they made this ship rugged. I bet I can jack this in full charge and she’ll power up just fine.” It took him seconds, with the main power down on all but the engineering level, the security on the ship seemed to be out of order. After a few more seconds he had the microcell in place and was accessing the panel that controlled the lift.
'Can you confirm that this thing’s going to take us where we want to go?' asked Sgt Cumberland.
'Looks like this one can travel through most of the ship, hooks up with that main transit hub we saw earlier, but there are other express cars in the way, so we're limited to up or down.'
'Does it go to deck twenty one and the upper mooring point?'
'It does.'
'Good, get us there.'
'This is Major Cumberland to Command. We're still being rushed by hold outs, I saw about fifteen during our last engagement, but they’re part of a larger group — at least fifty, accounting for casualties.'
'We hear you; did you get that lift back up and running?'
The first of their pursuers started firing around the corner, they were blind shots, but there were hundreds. They were burning through ammunition as though they had an armoury following them around, and the scorch marks on the wall were close enough to make Major Cumberland swear he'd be retiring from the service if he survived the Triton.
'This is Colonel Ratner, with the Nineteenth Incursion Unit. We just came aboard and have been listening. Get to us and we'll be glad to cover you.'
'Thank you Colonel, were on our way.'
The express car arrived and Major Cumberland shouted, 'get aboard and get us moving!' as he fired down the hallway. His rifle was on full auto, filling the dark corridor with hundreds of bursts of energy. The return fire was terrifying, including several shots that were fired using some new weapon they hadn't seen before, like a rocket propelled grenade that carried an impact shock, rattling the thick deck beneath their feet. Cumberland had gotten lucky twice, shooting two of the slow moving mini-rockets with his weapon, but his luck wouldn’t hold out. It was as if the whole crew had decided that preventing damage to the ship was secondary to causing as much harm as possible to the boarders.
The express doors started to close, and Private Farrar was right in front of him, grinning at their good fortune when he took a full burst of pulse rounds up the back and across his head. He was dead before he hit the floor.
The express car moved swiftly, covering the vertical distance between decks in seconds. He couldn't help but have a very bad feeling as the express car came to a gentle stop and the doors opened onto a massive, flat deck that covered a third of the dorsal section of the ship.
The darkened chamber was divided by bulkheads that had risen into place when sections became open to space. Major Cumberland could see the Command ship through the heavily damaged transparent hull, it was a welcome sight. It was moored to a primary docking point, helping to hold the Triton in place. From the large, heavy duty airlock extended a long emergency ramp way.
Colonel Ratner and his men were there to greet him. The group were surrounded by the eerie glow of personal lights as they approached. The darkened deck looked too big, there were too many shadows even though they could see the long lower hull of Battlecruiser 1009 above. They had deployed from a Battlecruiser hard docked to the port side of the Triton. There was one more battlecruiser on the opposite side, and between the three of them they had more than enough power to maintain full control of the ship from the outside. Escape for the Triton was impossible, why her crew fought so hard could only be explained by loyalty, or perhaps they had a plan to escape. Impossible. We can order reinforcements. There was nothing about this ship's record that suggests that they can expect help from anyone.
