different, probably due to a mixture of drugs pumping through her body.
“How you doing?” he asked as he checked for any other wounds.
She rolled her head, obviously dazed and unable to do much of use.
“I, uh, my,” she said before drifting off again.
Inside his helmet the voices of the squad leaders rocked back and forth as the pinned down marines tried to get out of their difficult position.
“More have arrived, there are about fifteen of them behind the barricades in the access corridor ahead. There’s also another group of about fifty coming from the primary habitation ring to the right. Can anybody get to the door guns?” asked the Colonel.
Before anybody could speak the second group unleashed a hail of fire as they ran and bounced along in the low gravity to the marines. As the group rushed ahead the defenders from the barricades stood up and also rushed ahead, joining them in a full assault on the marines’ positions.
Spartan, who was just a few metres away from the craft glanced back, checking the vessel. It was heavily damaged and he could see scores of holes along its front and sides. His eyes moved along its length until he came to the weapon mount on the door. There were more holes and a black scorch mark where the gun should be.
“Colonel, Spartan here. The gun on the starboard side is missing. It must have been lost in the landing. I’ll check the other side,” he said as he climbed inside the craft.
“Don’t bother, it is over eighty kilos, you won’t be able to do anything useful with it,” came back one of the sergeants.
The sound of weapon fire from the marines was now massive as they tried to repel the wave attacks of the suicidal attackers. At least two grenades sailed inside their perimeter, three commandos were badly wounded and knocked out of the fight. More volleys of gunfire blasted across the open area with the odd round striking the thick armour of the landing craft.
Spartan had different ideas though and jumped to the other side of the craft, finding the lower gravity allowed him to take steps he could never normally take. He landed and had to hold on to avoid flying straight out the other side. The weapon mount seemed intact, as did the twin-barrelled machine gun fitted to it. He pulled the locking pins and then with great effort forced the weapon from its mount. Even though the reduced gravity made it feel just over twenty kilos it was still a weighty item. He moved back to the other side of the craft, though now much slower with the added weight and bulk of the weapon system. As he jumped out he met around twenty fanatics with cudgels, knives and other improvised weapons. They had somehow crept around and were trying to outflank them. They were only a few metres away and Spartan, without thinking pulled the trigger on the weapon system. A massive muzzle flash erupted from the gun as it poured hundreds of large calibre explosive rounds at the unarmoured attackers. The impact was instant and brutal as limbs, heads and torsos were smashed apart by the finger-sized projectiles. Even more sickening was that as each round impacted on their flesh it triggered a tiny explosive that had enough power to vaporise the flesh within ten centimetres in each direction. The flanking attack was over as soon as it had began and Spartan found himself pinned against the side of the landing craft, the massive recoil on the weapon forcing him back.
He looked out at the trail of gore he had created and then down to Teresa who was looking up, her eyes a little clearer and a wicked grin on her face.
“You crazy son of a bitch!” she laughed.
There was no time for conversation as the Colonel was quickly voicing his concerns on the intercom.
“They’re going to overrun us, use everything you’ve got, we have to drive them back!” he barked.
Spartan pulled himself from the wall and after checking Teresa was in a secure spot, moved around the landing craft and to where the thin line of commandos was pinned down. He moved ahead and dumped the weapon mount on top of a shattered hydraulic loader. Colonel West turned to him and then pointed at the enemy.
“Marine, is that thing working?” he asked loudly.
Spartan nodded and with great effort leaned against the gun, doing his best to brace against the expected recoil and then pulled the trigger. As before, the muzzle blast was vast. The guns were not designed for use by infantry, their expected role was fire support during landing or evacuation. Though the recoil was great, this time Spartan controlled the bursts, easing off before it became too great and knocked him over. His first two bursts were a little high but the subsequent ones were deadly. The three closest insurgents who were heading to the landing craft, were shredded into pulp and the ones behind them scattered trying to find cover from the heavy machine gun. It was all pointless though, as Spartan hunted down each and every one of them. The large calibre explosive rounds made easy work until all that remained was one fighter who was pinned behind one of the wrecked loading trucks. The Colonel raised his hand, indicating an immediate ceasefire. As the weapons stopped and the dust and debris cleared, the carnage of the battle became clear. Blood and bone littered the ground as burn marks and small fires ran throughout the structure. One of the new recruits stood up, for a moment forgetting about the lone fighter. Before he could move, a single round pierced the front of his helmet and slammed him backwards, instantly killing him.
Colonel West lifted his L48 rifle and locked in the range to the sniper’s cover. With a quick flick of the weapon he fired off three large calibre explosive rounds. He ducked back down as the projectiles hit. Just as in the training exercises the weapon did its job beautifully but this was the first time Spartan had seen the effects of the live rounds. The man had hidden safely behind the thick metal, but the Colonel had fired slightly above him. As the projectile appeared over his head, there was a flash and the upper half of the man vaporised in a spray of blood and organs. Colonel West did a quick scan of the area and then stood up.
“Marines, move it, we are nine hundred metres from the Command Centre. Go, go, go!” he screamed at them.
The officer and his squad rushed ahead and were quickly followed by the rest of the marines except for two who stayed behind to tend the wounded. Spartan dumped the now empty weapon mount on the ground and jumped back to Teresa. She was already getting up, the drugs must have been working, as she almost seemed back to herself. One of the marine medics moved over, checking her injuries with a scanner.
“You should stay with the landing craft, the damage is serious but not fatal,” he explained.
“Good,” she replied as she pulled her rifle from her shoulder down into a low position.
“Ready?” she asked.
Spartan knew better than to argue and quickly moved ahead to follow the rest of the marines who were pushing on. With the lower gravity Teresa was able to keep up without straining her injured shoulder as much as she would have expected, it seemed the painkillers were masking much of the pain.
The survivors of the two squads pushed on and apart from sporadic fire from the odd hidden insurgent, they made quick progress from the loading bay and deep into the main corridor leading to the central plaza. From there, there were multiple paths leading to the commerce exchange and main Council Chamber that operated as a kind of central governmental building for the Station. Colonel West examined a detailed structural model on the display in his helmet, checking for the access points and possible weaknesses. The Military Command Centre was built onto the back of the Council Chambers. They would either have to fight through the building, or work their way around the back and through the Naval Academy to reach the Command Centre. His decision was cut short as they rounded the final corner. A flurry of gunshots blasted towards them from a hastily erected barricade that was flung across the entire front side of the square. One marine was cut down and Colonel West only avoided fire by jumping high and throwing himself over a wall as he hit it a metre off the ground.
The area in front of the Council Chambers was a vast square, packed with now ruined monuments and waterfalls. It was the most photogenic part of the Station and often used when visiting dignitaries arrived. Along the one side at least a dozen vehicles were abandoned and being used as part of the barricades. From the upper floors of the concrete neoclassical building a number of shooters fired rifles and carbines from windows and openings.
Colonel West kept going, knowing that if they held back they would be picked off, one by one. As he moved, the remnants of the two squads moved with him, each marine spreading out and firing from the shoulder as they bounced and ran. It was a peculiar sight to see, as they skipped, ran and jumped, because of the reduced gravity in the Station. Multiple explosions indicated rockets being fire at them as they pushed ahead. Three marines were killed by the time they reached the barricades, but then the situation changed completely.
The Colonel was first over the next wall and crashed down between two Zealots. He slammed his rifle butt
