I turned back to see Kwon go down. First, they blew off his shooting arm. He tried to use it anyway, making motions with his shoulders as if he had a laser projector, but it was dragging on the ground with his severed hand still gripping it. Then some of those purple bolts splashed his legs, burning through his armor with repeated hammering. He staggered backward, but his legs wouldn’t hold him up anymore.
Sometimes I’m stupid. Ask anyone in my unit. Hell, ask anyone in under my command, or any girl I’ve ever dated. I bounded once, twice, grabbed Kwon by his remaining arm and dragged him out of there. I was very thankful for my battle suit, as it repelled the scattered enemy fire. My suit was scored in a dozen places, but it took more than one bolt from the anti-personnel weapons to burn through completely.
My men provided covering fire without orders. After all, I was the commander. A few of them died because of my action. Did that make it the wrong move? Probably. But sometimes in combat, you just do things, and you aren’t really thinking about every ramification.
In the end, I was in the midst of a pack of marines, running through the ship. I had slid off Kwon’s pack and given it to another man. We needed every heavy beamer we could get our hands on. At an intersection, I paused and handed Kwon over to two men. He was unconscious by that time.
The enemy paused in their advance as well, but I wasn’t fooled. They might be burrowing through the deck plates to flank us, or massing their full strength before hitting us in the corridors. I figured we’d killed less than ten of them so far and it had cost us a hundred men.
“Get him back to the aft area,” I ordered. “Make your stand there.”
“Where are you going, sir?” one of them asked. He was a corporal. I’d seen him around, and done some maneuvers with him. I hoped he’d live through the day.
“You guys are all heading to the aft of the ship. Get into the belly. Set up firing positions, and if they advance, hold as long as you can.”
They looked like they were going to complain, so I shouted the next word into their faces: “GO!”
They went. I heard the rattle and clank of magnetic boots hitting deck plates. It died away, and left me with a lonely feeling. I was already running by that time, however, running in the opposite direction, toward the ship’s prow. I still had my heavy beamer, but now I picked up something else from one of the store rooms. It was a funny-looking thing, being a series of four spikes set at opposing angles. In the center of this contraption was a tiny, nuclear charge. On one of the spikes was a thumbable button.
I ran with the mine in one hand and my rifle projector in the other. While I ran, I talked to my bridge crew with my com-link.
“Gorski? Do you read me?”
“Colonel Riggs? Yes, I read you sir. You’re out of position, sir, we have you tracked.”
“Gorski, I know where I am. They can track me too, I believe. Listen carefully: tell me what they are doing now.”
“Heading amidships sir. As a mass. They bored through the deck of the hold and left our brick area. They are-”
“Good enough,” I said. “This is Colonel Kyle Riggs.”
“I know, sir.”
“What are they doing now, Gorski?”
There was a hesitation. “Not much. Maybe they are burning through the deck again or something.”
“No,” I said, “they are thinking about me. They love me, you see. They love Colonel Kyle Riggs.”
I took a deep breath, then gave them a little speech: “Macro Command? I know you can hear me. You are all going the wrong damned direction. You are a bunch of clueless, shit-for-brains toasters. Colonel Kyle Riggs is right here, and he is laughing at you.”
“Sir?” asked Gorski, sounding confused.
“What are they doing now?”
“Ah-they seem to have turned around. They are heading forward, to the nose of the ship. They are all converging on your position, Colonel.”
I nodded in my helmet and smiled grimly. “Stupid toasters,” I said. “I suppose I should feel flattered.”
I stopped messing around then and I ran for all I was worth. Every bulkhead door I passed I threw closed behind me and locked-but I didn’t figure that would stop them for more than a few minutes.
I ran to the very forward ports of the ship, where big Macro sensor systems were located. Our compact sensors were up there sitting around with their more powerful arrays. We hadn’t figured out how to operate their systems yet, so they’d never been much use.
I aimed my heavy laser at a spot that was dented in. The hull wasn’t quite as thick or strong there. I switched on the projector and shot the dented spot in the hull. I kept the firing stud down for long seconds until my eyes hurt from the brilliant light and my feet felt the heat of molten metal right through my suit.
I kept on firing, burning my way out of the ship.
31
“Major Sarin?” I called, trying to stay calm. It wasn’t easy, as my plan was so crazy it was all I could do to keep my mind from freezing over. “Jasmine?”
“Colonel?” Sarin finally responded. She sounded a little shook up. “I think we are losing this fight, sir. We can’t stop them.”
“I know,” I said. “Here’s what you are going to do. On my next signal, even if I can’t get out an articulate word, I want you to kill the main engines and fire the braking jets in the nose. Just give one tiny pulse on the jets, enough to brake us by a few hundred klicks per hour.”
“I’m not sure I can control this system that precisely,” she said.
“Try. And whatever you do, don’t change course.”
“Uh, yes sir.”
“Where are they now?” I asked.
“The main Macro force appears to be clustered forward at the nose. They are pausing at each bulkhead, but quickly burning through them.”
I was glad the Macros still believed in simple, lockable gear-based hatches. If they had put in complex combination locks or something, they could have just ordered them to open with a wireless transmission. That wasn’t their style, however. They liked big and basic. They were into primitive functionality wherever they could get away with it. I admired their design. Without all the manual systems, most of this ship would be inoperable after having suffered so much damage. My Jolly Rodger bore the scars of a dozen fights, but she was still flying.
“Colonel Riggs?” Sarin’s voice came into my helmet again.
I was busy kicking at the circular area of cherry-red metal at my feet. It didn’t want to give.
“Colonel?” called Sarin, I could hear the sound of rising panic in her voice. “Kyle?”
“Riggs here,” I responded. As I did I heard a ripping sound-like that of tortured metal nearby.
“They are breaking through, sir. They’ve bypassed your hatches and burned their way through the walls.”
“Got it,” I said. I began burning the spot at my feet again. I figured it only had to be a little bigger around than my shoulders. “Get ready to kill the engines and brake.”
She said something else, but I didn’t catch what it was. I suddenly realized, I wasn’t going to be able to burn through the outer hull. I gave up on drilling, it was just too thick. It wasn’t going to work in time. I ran instead to the nearest airlock.
There was a Macro there, waiting for me. It didn’t know it was waiting for me, of course. It was trying to burn its way into my chamber and burn me down to a charred pile of molecules. It was between me and airlock exit hatch, so I didn’t get fancy. I rushed it, and got in close. I don’t think these Macros were built with that tactic in mind. I supposed they were used to biotics running from them and getting themselves gunned down. Instead, I grappled with it.
Sometimes, something that sounded good at first glance doesn’t turn out the way you planned. This was
