Hold the Star: Samair in Argos: Book 2 (87 page)

              One of the engineering crew, a young woman named Nona, attached a datapad to the controls on the freighter’s airlock and within seconds, she’d cracked it open.  The airlock slid to the side, and the boarding party hustled aboard, weapons ready.

              Jarron Ford considered himself very lucky.  He’d managed to get himself hired into Ghovorak’s mercenary company after a tour in the army, something that he’d been particularly proud of.  Ghovorak and his troops were considered the best, and were sent in to areas that no one else would go and the pay reflected that.  He’d managed to make a name for himself among the mercs during his first op, holding off opposition forces with his rifle and a box of plasma grenades.  He was also the only survivor from the mercenary group that hadn’t made it into the station.  His squad was to be the last off the ship and when the small warship fired on the airlock and sent the freighter reeling, spewing atmo and the others of the outside company of soldiers out into the black.  He’d managed to grab hold of a stanchion and pull himself out of the danger area before the emergency bulkhead slammed down, sealing off the breach.

              And now he was here, waiting on the other side of the airlock as the bitch on the warship sent a boarding party over to the freighter.  She had the biggest pair of brass ones that Ford had ever seen, and he admired her gumption, but the idea that Ghovorak’s soldiers would bow to a jumped-up businesswoman in a gunship.  No, he was going to show them exactly the kind of man he was.

              Leicasitaj was second through the airlock into the freighter.  One of the engineering ratings was first, aiming his pistol with a two-handed grip, moving forward cautiously.  The Romigani was right behind, his own stunner pistol held at the ready.  He could feel and hear the others moving at his back, as they advanced into the ship.  He was nervous, they all were, he knew that, but if the sensors were right, then there was nothing to worry about.  There was only the freighter crew left aboard and they should be easy enough to deal with.

              He saw the man dressed in body armor and pointing an assault rifle in their direction, crouching just beyond the next bulkhead at a corner, an instant before bullets came their way.  He only had the chance to shove the rating forward hard and then dive that way himself before bullets ripped through the air.  There were screams from behind him but Leicasitaj couldn’t look back from his prone position on the deck.  He raised his stunner and fired, and kept firing.  The man with the rifle took a hit in the face, the neck, the chest and he twitched uncontrollably before collapsing to the deck unconscious.

              Picking himself and the rating up off the deck, Leicasitaj turned and saw the others in his boarding party.  Three of them were down, unable to rise.  One was dead outright, the woman had a bullet hole right between her eyes.  The other two were moaning in agony, as blood poured from their wounds.

              He got on the comms.  “Captain, it’s Leicasitaj.  We encountered heavy resistance.  We have three people down from the boarding party.  We need medical assistance in the airlock, now.”

              “Understood,” Tamara’s voice came over the channel.  “As soon as they get there, continue with the operation.”

              In less than a minute, two of the sick berth attendants arrived to take charge of the two wounded crewmen, and the boarding party, slightly smaller now, rushed into the ship.  Two more crewmen hustled in and tied up the unconscious mercenary with plasticord ties and took all of his weapons.  It took less than a half hour to go through the rest of the ship.  Leicasitaj split his force, sending six to main engineering and lead the other six to the bridge.  Once they reached the bridge, the Romigani stuck his pistol in the Captain’s face and the man sagged in his command chair.  The other bridge personnel raised their hands in surrender.

              “Captain, we’ve secured the ship,” her XO reported a short while later.  “I’ve got all nineteen crewmen, including one of the mercenary soldiers secured.  Slight problem, though, we don’t have enough people to actually run the ship and I don’t dare trust any of Ferrod’s people.”

              “Have you swept the whole ship?” she asked, trying hard to keep herself calm.

              “Yes, Captain.  We went compartment by compartment and went through everything.  We have everyone.  Captain Ferrod is screaming bloody murder about the whole affair, and only quieted down when I threatened to stun him and lock him in a closet.”

              Tamara suppressed a grin.  She’d wanted to do that after he’d gotten all pompous at him about how she wouldn’t dare do anything to him and his government chartered ship.  “Very well done, XO.  I don’t have any more people to send you, unfortunately.  I’ll try and get in touch with the station and the
Samarkand
.  It’ll be a while before Galina can get back here to help, though, she’s a few light minutes away.”

              “I understand, ma’am.  We’ll hold things together as best we can until then.”  There was a pause.  “How are Ramza and Be’jilla?”

              Tamara sighed.  “They’re in medical right now.  They’re in critical condition.  The medics are doing what they can, but we’d need to get them to the Tyannikov on the
Samarkand
or to the medical facilities on the station.  Even then, I don’t know if they are going to pull through.  The medics aren’t optimistic.”

              Leicasitaj grunted.  “It was my fault, ma’am,” he said.  “I should have tossed in a flash grenade before we went in.”

              But Tamara shook her head.  “Don’t beat yourself up about it, XO.  I’m the one who ordered the boarding action, knowing we don’t have trained security or troops aboard.  Besides they’d surrendered to us.”  She waited for a moment, trying to figure out what else she could possibly say to him.  “It will haunt us both, XO.”

              Leicasitaj didn’t answer for a long moment.  “Understood, Ma’am,” he said.  “I’ll hold the fort here.  You might want to detach in case anything else comes our way.”

              Corajen sliced forward with her blade, easily slicing through flesh and parting this careless mercenary from his head.  She reveled in this, but was slightly worried at the amount of time it was taking.  Also, the number of deputies still remaining with her had dwindled from a full squad to only two: the zheen Garank and a young human male named York, both of whom were doing pretty well for themselves, considering this was their first real taste of combat. 

              “Where to now, Chief?” Garank asked, a slight hum emanating from his thorax.  He was nervous, clearly, but he was holding it together.  Corajen, with her very sensitive ears, did her best to ignore the noise and focus. 

              She bent down and picked up the dead man’s rifle.  A quick check showed it to still be in working condition with half a magazine still full.  She grabbed the last remaining clip of ammo out of the pocket of the man’s vest and stuffed it into her own pocket.  “We keep on.  We’ve taken out eleven from this group, there can’t be that many left.”

              York shrugged as he scanned the corridor, making sure his rifle was pointed in that direction.  “I suppose, Chief, but we don’t really know how many there are.  What I do know is that there aren’t that many of
us
left.  Do you really think we can win this?”

              The security chief scowled at him.  “Are you giving up on me?”

              His antennae drooped.  “No, Chief,” he replied.  “Sorry.”

              She got right in his face.  “We do not stop,
ever
, until every last one of these invaders is dead or captured.”  She stared at him for a long moment more.  Then she flicked her muzzle in the direction of the corridor they’d been moving down.  “Now let’s move.  I want to get up to section eleven and ambush them there.” 

Chapter 29

             
That great furry bitch
, Glacis Ghovorak thought, grinding his teeth.  That last ambush had been bad.  The lupusan and her two deputies had blown through the bulkhead right in the middle of his force.  Superheated metal blasted out, crushing two of his men against the opposite bulkhead.  Gunfire savaged his people while they were all disoriented.  The return fire was sloppy and uncoordinated and as it turned out, ineffectual.  That security chief and the few deputies that were with her managed to take down three times as many of his men.  Glacis himself hadn’t particularly showered himself in glory then, though he was sure that he had winged the zheen with one of his shots before the bug had ducked back into the hole and out of his line of sight.

              “This way,” he ordered, leading the remainder of his soldiers in this group back down another corridor.  So far, the bitch and her small force hadn’t gone this way, and perhaps Glacis and his men could rush down this corridor and loop back around and take Operations.  And they had to get into Operations.  Right now they were just running in circles, burning through his soldiers and truly accomplishing nothing.

              “They’re headed for Ops,” Garank said, wincing in pain as York sprayed a coagulant and painkiller on his shoulder wound.  The deep hum coming from his chest was low in volume, but it was constant now.  Corajen couldn’t help twitching her head every few seconds, trying to get the sound out of her ears, but it didn’t work, of course.

              “I know,” Corajen replied, her ears flattened against her head.  “But that’s a straight shot, down that corridor.  They’ll make it back to Ops through the same door that we came out of before we can cut them off.  We’ll be fighting them just as they reach the hatchway.”

              “There are only ten or so of them left, Chief,” York replied.  “But can we really take them on with just the three of us?  And with them knowing we’re coming?”

              Corajen shrugged.  “It’s either that or we let them into Ops and end the game.”

              “But they know we’re coming!” York exclaimed.  “There’s no cover in that corridor and they’d just mow us down.”

              “Anyone got any grenades left?” Corajen asked, patting her own armored vest.  “I have one slimer left.”

              “Ha!” York crowed in triumph.  “I have a smoker.”

              But Garank just finished tying his injured arm, covering the wound and securing his hand to his belt.  He couldn’t properly immobilize the appendage, but it was the best he could do on short notice and without proper medical supplies.

              “Smoker’s good,” Corajen said.  “That’s going to have to be the plan then.  Pop smoke, then try and rush them before they get into Ops.”

              “Not a great plan, Chief,” Garank hissed.

              “No, it isn’t,” the lupusan acknowledged.  “But I’ll hit them with this,” she indicated the slimer grenade, “and hopefully that will sew enough chaos that we can burn them down.”  She hefted the captured rifle.  “Ready?  Good.  Let’s go.”

              Down in the hangar section of the station, Korqath and the rest of his Aplora Squadron pilots were nearly climbing the walls out of frustration.  The station had been boarded and the twit up in Ops had locked them down.  So they’d been down here in the hangar bay spinning their wheels for hours now.  Hukriss had managed to hack into the internal cameras on the station using his datapad and they’d been watching the ongoing attack. 

              “Well, Chief Nymeria sure can kick ass, huh, Boss?” the zheen asked.

              Korqath hissed a chuckle.  “Yes, Hukriss, she surely can.  But I’m going mad being stuck down here with nothing to do, watching as those bastards are cutting a swath.”

              “Boss,” Hukriss said urgently, pointing one blunt finger at the datapad’s display.  On it was a large group of the aggressor soldiers bunched up around the edges of the connecting junction just outside of Environmental.  There looked to be a half-dozen of the security types just inside of the Environmental compartments, exchanging fire down the corridor with the soldiers.  As Korqath watched, one of the deputies took a round in the chest and fell over backward.  The pilot hissed.  “Boss, we need to get over there.  Help those deputies out.”

              The leader’s antennae straightened and his mouthparts worked frantically.  If he was human, Hukriss would have said that his boss was grinning maniacally.  “What do we have in the way of weaponry?” Korqath asked.  He patted the 10mm pistol holstered at his thigh.  “I only have this and one extra clip of ammo.”

              Hukriss nodded.  “Me too, Boss.  I don’t have any other weapons.  We were always told we needed to request them from the security people, down at the security office.”  The other pilots had gathered around at the second’s initial call.  They all began to comment on their own weapons, but as Korqath quickly discovered, the only firearms any of them had, the Aploras or the few Delphon pilots on the station, were hand weapons.  Nothing heavy; only stunners or pistols.  But, it would have to do. 

              “Have to be good enough.  Besides,” Korqath said with a hiss, “The connecting corridors between here and Environmental will allow us to attack them from the flank.  We can get the drop on the bastards.”  There was a rumble of assent from the gathered pilots, all of whom had drawn weapons and were moving towards the hatch.

              Hukriss unhooked his datapad from the security feeds and rushed over to the hatch.  Popping the panel for the door controls, he attached the device and within seconds had hacked the door controls.  The hatch slid open without any fuss.  “All set, Boss,” he said, rewrapping the cables up and tucking the datapad into one of his pockets.  “Ready?’

              Korqath nodded, drawing his own pistol.  “Ready.  Ready?” he bellowed to the other pilots, all thirty in the hangar.  There were fifteen technicians in the room as well, they all growled their agreement, brandishing pipes, wrenches, and other improvised weaponry.  “All right, try to keep it down.  We want to try and ambush them.  Move!”  The pilots and mechanics rushed out from the hangar bay, enthusiastic, but trying their best to move quietly.

              “Can’t hold on much longer!” Deputy Jenelle Miller yelled, squeezing off another round from her rifle.  “I’ve only got two more rounds,” she said in a lower voice.

              “I’ve got five,” Bi’yan Misresh, a female Severite said next to the young woman, holding her own rifle.  Jenelle’s stunner pistol was on the deck, damaged, having saved its owner from a bullet strike.  She’d pulled the weapon from the holster and tossed it away, not wanting it near her in case it started sparking or something else equally horrible. 

              The others had fallen.  They were the only ones left defending the Environmental compartments from these people.  A few of the crew in here had offered to take up some of the fallen weapons and help out and up until now, the deputies had refused.  But at a look from Bi’yan, three of the techs rushed forward and picked up weapons.  They weren’t skilled in their use, they were trained to deal with algae matrices, scrubbers, and other air and water filtration systems to keep the people onboard the station alive.  But, all they needed to do was point and shoot.  It would be great if they could wound or kill any of the invaders at the end of the corridor, but all that was needed was to keep them pinned down. 

              One of the men fired a shot from a borrowed pistol and then pulled the trigger again but the gun clicked empty.  “I’m out!” he said in despair. 

              Jenelle fired again, reserving her last bullet, though truthfully she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with only one bullet against a large group of soldiers.  She shared a look with Bi’yan, who flattened her ears and blinked in despair.  It would be over soon, she knew.  Hopefully, their deaths would be quick. 

              There was a sudden roar from down the corridor.  A general level of noise rapidly increased in volume, as though a horde of people were racing pell mell down the corridor, followed by the barking of many weapons.  There was a cry of dismay from the soldiers who suddenly were under attack from the side as more than a few of them keeled over as they were shot dead.  The fire against Jenelle, Bi’yan and the few Environmental techs slacked off nearly completely as the soldiers turned to the side to face this new threat.

              Bi’yan’s ears perked up as hope was rekindled.  There was a deafening thunder of shouts, gunfire and booted feet on the deck plates and the soldiers were quickly swept under.  The Severite kept her weapon pointed down the corridor, but raised up one hand to hold the rest.  “Identify yourself!” she shouted.

              “Korqath!” a voice came back.  A hand stuck out from around the edge of the corridor, and waved.  The hand was purple, like all zheen and Jenelle nearly sobbed with relief.  “They’re all dead.  Don’t shoot!  We’re coming out!”  The pilot stepped out around the corridor, his hands raised, weapon back in his holster.

              Now the young woman did actually start to weep.  Bi’yan hugged her across the shoulders as the pilots began to loot the bodies of the dead soldiers, and in some cases making sure that they were all dead.  Korqath came over to where the two deputies were crouching low in the hatchway.  “Are you all right?” he asked, then his compound eyes swept over the many dead just inside of the Environmental spaces.  “No,” he said after a moment.  “No, of course you’re not all right.”  He turned his head back toward the other pilots, who were standing and waiting for him now.  Hukriss was flicking his antennae in impatience.  “You going to be all right?  We need to head up to Operations and try to find Chief Nymeria.”

              Jenelle hiccupped once, then rose to her feet, wiping her streaming eyes on her sleeve.  Bi’yan was on her feet right next to her.  “We need ammo, or more weapons.”  The pilot immediately handed over his pistol and the young woman accepted it.  She popped the magazine, noted that it was more than half full and slapped it back in place.  “Thank you,” she said simply.             

              Korqath sketched a sloppy salute.  “You both okay?  Because we’ve got to move.”

              Fighting had spilled out away from Operations, much to Corajen’s relief.  Unfortunately, the mercenaries had cut their way into the habitat areas of the station where the civilian workers were huddling together, trying to keep the soldiers locked away, to stay out of the fighting.  The mercs, however, weren’t particularly interested in the civilian workers themselves, but going through the habitat areas would provide a way to circle around past the station security forces and get back to Operations.

              Corajen and her forces were racing to catch up.  She wasn’t able to try and head them off because if they got out of sight, they might turn toward the Engineering spaces or simply start shooting their way through the habitat areas.  Unfortunately, her tactics really weren’t working.  She was following the mercenaries, popping off shots whenever she could, but so far they were leapfrogging back, forcing her and hers to hold their fire for fear of shooting civilians. 

              “No,” she growled, sighting down the barrel of her captured weapon.  “No, you are not getting away,” she vowed.  She couldn’t get a shot.  Either the mercs were hiding around corners, or else an idiot would go dashing through the corridors, trying to get away from the fighting.  For the most part, the mercs were ignoring the civilians, only firing at those stupid enough to try and attack them with wrenches or pipes or other such improvised weapons.  Corajen signaled for her small team to advance, carefully moving forward while trying to keep out of the fire the mercs were sending back their way.

              And the problem was she was running out of room and running out of time.  She had no one covering Operations and her very small security contingent was trailing behind.  Even if she could catch them, she wasn’t sure she could actually dispose of them.  But she wasn’t going to psych herself out.  She had a job to do and people to protect and she’d be damned if another installation would be lost to a hostile force on her watch.  Not again.

              Glacis nodded to himself.  “I can see the entrance to Operations,” he said to the rest of his squad, none of who responded.  They’d made it to the nerve center of the station, though with only the few soldiers he had left, Glacis was concerned about how exactly he was going to hold the station once he got inside.  “Hold here!” he ordered, and his men formed up into a phalanx while he stepped up to the door.  Pressing the button on the comm panel, he opened a channel to the crewmen inside.  “Open this hatch, or I will blast it open!”

              It took a moment, but then a woman’s voice responded.  “Don’t!  There are sensitive control consoles and linkages in here.  You’ll kill us all.”

              Glacis shrugged, though the woman inside couldn’t see.  “Your security forces have been trying to kill me all day.  I’m dead either way so killing you makes little difference to me.”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “You have thirty seconds to open this hatch.  That’s the time it will take me to get the explosives out of my pack to get the door open on my own.  After that, I’m coming in.”

              As he was reaching into the pack of one of his shoulders to extract the breaching tape, the woman responded.  “All right.  I’m opening it up.”