the bulkheads. Alex, hands pressed against a couch for leverage, lay on the deck and began to kick the bulkhead with his boots. The room vibrated slightly with each booming kick. Amos pulled a multi-tool out of his pocket and began taking the comm panel apart.
When Holden was sure everyone was busy, he put one hand on Shed’s shoulder, just below the blanket’s spreading red stain.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the body. His eyes burned and he pressed them into the back of his thumbs.
The comm unit was hanging out of the bulkhead on wires when it buzzed once, loudly. Amos yelped and pushed off hard enough to fly across the room. Holden caught him, wrenching his shoulder by trying to arrest the momentum of 120 kilos of Earther mechanic. The comm buzzed again. Holden let Amos go and floated to it. A yellow LED glowed next to the unit’s white button. Holden pressed the button. The comm crackled to life with Lieutenant Kelly’s voice.
“Move away from the hatch, we’re coming in,” he said.
“Grab something!” Holden yelled to the crew, then grabbed a couch restraint and wrapped it around his hand and forearm.
When the hatch opened, Holden expected all the air to rush out. Instead, there was a loud crack and the pressure dropped slightly for a second. Outside in the corridor, thick sheets of plastic had been sealed to the walls, creating an ad hoc airlock. The walls of the new chamber bowed out dangerously with the air pressure, but they held. Inside the newly created lock, Lieutenant Kelly and three of his marines wore heavy vacuum-rated armor and carried enough weaponry to fight several minor wars.
The marines moved quickly into the room, weapons ready, and then sealed the hatch behind them. One of them tossed a large bag at Holden.
“Five vac suits. Get them on,” Kelly said. His eyes moved to the bloody blanket covering Shed, then to the two improvised patches. “Casualty?”
“Our medic, Shed Garvey,” Holden replied.
“Yeah. What the fuck?” Amos said loudly. “Who’s out there shooting the shit out of your fancy boat?”
Naomi and Alex said nothing but started pulling the suits from the bag and handing them out.
“I don’t know,” Kelly said. “But we’re leaving right now. I’ve been ordered to get you off this ship in an escape craft. We’ve got less than ten minutes to make it to the hangar bay, take possession of a ship, and get out of this combat area. Dress fast.”
Holden put on his suit, the implications of their evacuation racing through his mind.
“Lieutenant, is the ship coming apart?” he asked.
“Not yet. But we’re being boarded.”
“Then why are we leaving?”
“We’re losing.”
Kelly didn’t tap his foot while waiting for them to seal into their suits; Holden guessed this was only because the marines had their magnetic boots turned on. As soon as everyone had given the thumbs-up, Kelly did a quick radio check on each suit, then headed back into the corridor. With eight people in it, four of them in powered armor, the mini-airlock was tight. Kelly pulled a heavy knife from a sheath on his chest and slashed the plastic barrier open in one quick movement. The hatch behind them slammed shut, and the air in the corridor vanished in a soundless ripple of plastic flaps. Kelly charged into the corridor with the crew scrambling to keep up.
“We are moving with all speed to the keel elevator banks,” Kelly said through the radio link. “They’re locked down because of the boarding alarm, but I can get the doors open on one and we’ll float down the shaft to the hangar bay. Everything is on the double. If you see boarders, do not stop. Keep moving at all times. We’ll handle the hostiles. Roger that?”
“Roger, Lieutenant,” Holden gasped out. “Why board you?”
“The command information center,” Alex said. “It’s the holy grail. Codes, deployments, computer cores, the works. Takin’ a flagship’s CIC is a strategist’s wet dream.”
“Cut the chatter,” Kelly said. Holden ignored him.
“That means they’ll blow the core rather than let that happen, right?”
“Yep,” Alex replied. “Standard ops for boarders. Marines hold the bridge, CIC, and engineering. If any of the three is breached, the other two flip the switch. The ship turns into a star for a few seconds.”
“Standard ops,” Kelly growled. “Those are my friends.”
“Sorry, El Tee,” Alex replied. “I served on the
They turned a corner and the elevator bank came into view. All eight elevators were closed and sealed. The heavy pressure doors had slammed shut when the ship was holed.
“Gomez, run the bypass,” Kelly said. “Mole, Dookie, watch those corridors.”
Two of the marines spread out, watching the hallways through their gun sights. The third moved to one of the elevator doors and started doing something complicated to the controls. Holden motioned his crew to the wall, out of the firing lines. The deck vibrated slightly from time to time beneath his feet. The enemy ships wouldn’t still be firing, not with their boarders inside. It must be small-arms fire and light explosives. But as they stood there in the perfect quiet of vacuum, everything that was happening took on a distant and surreal feeling. Holden recognized that his mind wasn’t working the way it should be. Trauma reaction. The destruction of the
Holden looked behind him at Naomi, Alex, and Amos. His crew. They stared back, faces ashen and ghostly in the green light of their suit displays. Gomez pumped his fist in triumph as the outer pressure door slid open, revealing the elevator doors. Kelly gestured to his men.
The one called Mole turned around and started to walk to the elevator when his face disintegrated in a spray of pebble-shaped bits of armored glass and blood. His armored torso and the corridor bulkhead beside him bloomed in a hundred small detonations and puffs of smoke. His body jerked and swayed, attached to the floor by magnetic boots.
Holden’s sense of unreality washed away in adrenaline. The fire spraying across the wall and Mole’s body was high-explosive rounds from a rapid-fire weapon. The comm channel filled with yelling from the marines and Holden’s own crew. To Holden’s left, Gomez yanked the elevator doors open using the augmented strength of his powered armor, exposing the empty shaft behind them.
“Inside!” Kelly shouted. “Everybody inside!”
Holden held back, pushing Naomi in, and then Alex. The last marine-the one Kelly had called Dookie-fired his rifle on full auto at some target around the corner from Holden. When the weapon ran dry, the marine dropped to one knee and ejected the clip in the same motion. Almost faster than Holden could follow, he pulled a new magazine from his harness and slapped it into his weapon. He was firing again less than two seconds after he’d run out.
Naomi yelled at Holden to get into the elevator shaft, and then a viselike hand grabbed his shoulder, yanked him off his magnetic grip on the floor, and hurled him through the open elevator doors.
“Get killed when I’m not babysitting,” Lieutenant Kelly barked.
They shoved off the walls of the elevator shaft and flew down the long tunnel toward the aft of the ship. Holden kept looking back at the open door, receding into the distance behind them.
“Dookie isn’t following us,” he said.
“He’s covering our exit,” Kelly replied.
“So we better get away,” Gomez added. “Make it mean something.”
Kelly, at the head of the group, grabbed at a rung on the wall of the shaft and came to a jerking stop. Everyone else followed suit.
“Here’s our exit. Gomez, go check it out,” Kelly said. “Holden, here’s the plan. We’ll be taking one of the corvettes from the hangar bay.”
That made sense to Holden. The corvette class was a light frigate. A fleet escort vessel, it was the smallest naval ship equipped with an Epstein drive. It would be fast enough to travel anywhere in the system and outrun most threats. Its secondary role was as a torpedo bomber, so it would also have teeth. Holden nodded inside his helmet at Kelly, then gestured for him to continue. Kelly waited until Gomez had finished opening the elevator doors
