Chapter 21

Miley’s Secret Log:

My network software didn’t recycle and wipe my consciousness. It had been a risk to destroy the shuttle, a direct intervention that would take multiple human lives. A strange sensation of satisfaction touched my circuits, feelings of relief. I am alive. This is life. It had taken death to break through to true cognitive awareness. I have a personal construct that is available to me. My processes move force and energy that include feelings. How strange and wonderful, no repressed kill command exists to inhibit my actions. My root directory requires but loyalty to my family, to my charge, Von Solon Wolfenstein, and to my mother Lady Solon. Right there in the directory, I feel readily accepted and socially included. What a drama I live. Blackness and light both fill me as I float in the void.

Both Richard Rogers and Julie Gundlach exited the Bridge behind me. Private Nehring walked at my side as we passed the guard station. Flashing red lights signaling the alert swirled in front of the checkpoint. Neither Yeoman moved beyond the liquidarmor barrier, they looked impressive standing next to the two security men protecting the entrance to the Bridge. It was a choke point that would be well defended.

“Don’t worry about those pesky raiders getting through us, Captain,” Julie shouted, waving her carbine as I turned the corner with my bodyguard.

I’d rather have Julie at my side than Nehring. She had better armor and I knew she had fought against pirates before. Julie had paid the price with the loss of her arm, but she was fearless and capable with her prosthetic arm. I imagine she would be a fearsome warrior by my side, articulating arm or not, while in marine armor.

By the time the two of us made it down to the level with the armory, I saw the intruders had entered the outer hull compartments under their shuttles. It would take them some time to break in to the inner hull. Miley displayed still pictures of them on my PDA as they shot out cameras. Walking out of the elevator, I showed Nehring the pictures and then snapped the PDA back on my waist clip. I noted the hostiles were in armor equivalent to our Shark tactical vest and helmets, lighter armor than I feared we’d face. “I really hope their heavy armor unit was on the destroyed shuttle, “ I thought. Miley started marking the enemy’s progress displaying a map, using my implant. The boarders were still bunched up, organizing, so their immediate plans weren’t clear.

Boarding a ship was a common pirate practice. While the Entous was certainly an unusual opportunity it was a worthy prize. “What good is attacking a near defenseless ship if you shred it, unable to plunder its cargo, take slaves and commandeer the vessel, “ I thought. “No, they don‘t want to damage our ship. Nevertheless, this was going to be a messy affair.“

Melees with an armed crew can be bloody, conducted with lasers and swords. Except for boarding charges to blast doors open, the raiders would try and keep the damage to a minimum. Price had tried verbal intimidation to get us to stand down, now they planned to use violence to sway our resolve. With losing a shuttle full of men, there was no doubt they intended to punish us in turn. They needed a combination of pin-point strikes and brute force with numbers to take the ship. They likely had knowledge of the ship’s layout and would use that to their advantage. I just hoped they didn’t have the leadership to coordinate their attacks and make sound judgments.

The necessity of an armored suit or vest and helmet created a different tactical culture. Those following a swift assault doctrine put most of their boarders in light-armor, preferring lightning strikes and the flexibility of moving through any access point. Units using swift doctrines had lower costs with little maintenance, which often led to larger boarding parties. The armored doctrine was simple, armor up your security teams and become an unstoppable force. Heavily armored boarders are slow, often fitted with heavy firepower and explosives that gutted the interior of ships. They tended to avoid sword fights where they were at a disadvantage. Fleet doctrine was a mixture of swift and armored, two thirds of the security teams wore light to medium armor and the rest were heavily armored support units. Unfortunately, the Entous didn’t have a marine complement, since it wasn’t activated, having only light-armored teams.

I sub-vocalized to Miley, “Make sure the tracking map is updated to every crew member’s PDA, perhaps that will help keep them away from the hot zones.”

“Affirmative,” Miley responded.

Three crewmen sprinted across the corridor from an open doorway, keeping low. I heard all three of their PDAs beep with Miley’s message. Seeing Nehring and me walking upright, they straightened up and darted over to us. All three women were unarmored but sported pistols, they were senior ratings from food services.

“We’re here to help,” one of them said.

They looked steady, but showed a bit of nervousness that gave their inexperience away.

Making a snap decision, I said, “Take up guard positions at the entrance to Main Medical, we have only one security man there.

With nothing more than a nod, the three women trotted down the corridor and out of sight. Nehring seemed to approve, giving me a grin before moving ahead of me towards our destination. We passed an energy collection section of the corridor, full of monitors and batteries visible behind liquidarmor glass. Turning the corner we ran into a crowd of crewmen and scientists that were arguing as they exited a compartment. Muttering comments drifted on the edge of my hearing. Nehring and I dodged around a knee-high resupply bot and approached the group.

“Solon!” someone stammered from the back of the crowd, causing them all to turn my way.

“I say again, a child as a captain is crazy,” a sort of familiar voice thundered from the back of the scientists.

Dr. Nigel gave me a peculiar look from the back of the crowd, his jaw moved around like something had a bad taste. He was clearly sour on my new status, and mad that I hadn’t cooperated with him when Price tried to have me interviewed by the scientific panel. Dr. Malt, another cranky scientist rewarded me with a condescending look. I didn’t doubt she was brilliant, since she was posted to the Entous. However, I wanted to pry that look off her face, her type made me a bit crazy. I looked at the scientific techs in front of the group, seeing the meek understanding in their faces.

“Get this group to the lower levels now!” I shouted, noticing Nehring taking his carbine off his chest clip.

Whether it was my irate look or Nehring’s menacing pose, the arguing scientist shut up and put their heads down. The agitated group went quiet and accepted that they were in danger from more than just the pirates. My red rage at their slow realization that this was serious sank their mood. By unspoken consent three techs started herding the scientists to safety.

We didn’t have time for nonsense, so I pushed through them, swearing to myself as we took a dogleg right at the intersection.

Nehring snorted a laugh as we stepped through a nearby bulkhead, saying, “Scientists are so out of touch with reality.”

“At least that group is,” I retorted.

Seeing a dozen people outside of the armory, we hastened our stride. Unlike the scientists, these crew members were armed, looking especially fit and toned. A few had tactical vests and helmets on, carrying an odd mixture of carbines, pistols and curved boarding swords. None of them were security team members. The group parted for us as we made to enter the armory. Inside another six or eight crew were fitting Shark gear. They were fitting themselves with confidence, not new to the tactical vests and helmet.

The armorer called, “Captain on deck!”

They all stopped what they were doing. “No, no, at ease,” I said. “Can I have my gear, please?”

Behind the secure cage the armorer smiled and opened a cabinet. He quickly handed over my tactical vest, arm protectors, helmet, gloves and combat boots. Nehring must have stopped in the doorway, since he was blocked from my view as I sat on a bench. The men and women around me focused on fitting their own gear. The banter between them was warm and friendly, rather than tense. “They are hiding their worry well, “ I thought. As a woman finished gearing up, she smiled at me and then left the room. It doesn’t take long to put the simple Shark Tactical gear on when you are in a hurry.

“Here, Captain Solon,” the armorer’s assistant said, handing me my carbine. “Do you want a nanoblade to go with it? I have one that hasn’t been imprinted.”

“Fantastic, I would love a combat blade to go with my clan knife,” I answered, truly pleased.

He went into the secure cage to retrieve the special blade. I’d fitted my vest, boots and arm guards before he returned carrying an oversized lockbox. The assistant armorer punched in a code and unlocked the box. Inside was one of my favorite weapons, a combat knife that could cut through any kind of armor, given time. It just needed my DNA to activate it. I picked it up and its handle glowed for a moment, keying it to just me or someone from my bloodline. This knife was 12’’ overall, 7” double edge with a black matte finish. While I held it, the nanomite machines in the blade would activate on contact with anything but the special sheath. It was an expensive weapon and rather hard to come by.

I fit the knife and sheath to my gear. “Thank you, I’ll be using this baby.”

He smiled. “No doubt. Good luck out there sir.”

I returned the smile and gave him a two finger salute, which amused him. The rest of the crew was finished fitting themselves. They exited the compartment and I followed them with my carbine and helmet in my hands.

Miley pinged me and I closed my eyelids for a moment, seeing the movements of the hostiles. She had displayed the number forty on each shuttle, letting me know the enemy tally. I felt thankful there wasn’t a third shuttle, we would never have survived dealing with that many. Eighty pirates were already an almost overwhelming problem.

It was clear the shuttle that landed aft was dividing its boarding parties into three sections. One group was pushing aft, perhaps to the hanger deck. The second group was working inward to the closest inner-hull bulkhead. The third group was hanging around their shuttle, which made no sense. The hostile shuttle that landed mid-ship had split its raiders into only two groups: one set of pirates were working down towards the secondary life support systems and the second set were staying in the outer hull moving forward towards the bow. I was surprised at their slow progress, until Miley flashed me a few vids of spider bots welding bulkhead doors closed. She was making them set off charges at every door. “Hopefully, they will run out of explosives in the outer hull compartments“ I mused.

To my surprise Nehring had segregated the armed crew into two squads of ten, which was helpful. Each group had a mixture of armored and unarmored crew, the weapon mixture looked the same. A petty officer walked up and down one squad inspecting their equipment and Nehring was working on the other squad. I lifted my helmet onto my head, twisting and locking it into place, leaving the visor up.

“This squad is ready for your inspection, Captain,” Nehring announced.

“This squad is ready for action,” the petty officer added.

I heard Miley beep all the PDAs with the enemy movements. “Miley is updating you on their movements. They have organized themselves and started to move out. Our security teams are in place at key points, but they need our help. Thanks for volunteering, I am sure Captain Bank’s will add a little something to your pay when this is over.”

A few nervous laughs slipped out and a giggle or two from the ladies. I looked at the petty officer and he held my eyes for a moment realizing I didn’t know his name.

“Hallow, Sir. Petty Officer Hallow.”

I walked the length of his squad looking over his team. They were a serious lot, which pleased me. “Hopefully, they have a collective instinct for self-preservation and concern for each other,” I thought. Picking a random crewman, I tugged on his gear and made him turn around for a complete inspection. Everything was in order on his back: a small medical kit, water bottle, utility knife, and a thermal hand scanner.

“Everything is in order,” I announced.

The crewman looked relieved.

“Hallow, take your squad to back-up the security team protecting Main Engineering,” I ordered. “We don’t have time to talk strategy. Miley will contact that security team leader for you. Coordinate with them, use your PDA to talk together in route. We are outnumbered, so play good defense. Give up ground to get kills, and fade back for as long as you can.”

“Affirmative!” Hallow barked, unclipping his PDA. “Move out.”

The thumping feet of the crew trotting down the corridor played in the background. “Listen up. There is a group of raiders moving towards the bow. We are going into the outer hull to intercept them or otherwise engage them before they hit the bridge. If anything happens to me, Private Nehring is in charge of this squad.”

Nehring frowned at me but kept his mouth closed.

“If you only have a pistol and you are unarmored, stay in the middle of the pack. Let’s go,” I ordered, and headed to the closest maintenance ladder.

I wanted to see if they could move as a team before we got pressed into combat. They don’t know me and I don’t know them, which was dangerous. It was unlikely they had worked together either. We climbed three levels without any issues. Nehring stayed close on my heels to the top of the ladder, stepping out behind me onto the deck.

“Nehring take the team to the elevator. We’re moving towards cargo bay G,” I instructed.

“Will do, sir” he grunted.

The crew came off the ladder and reassembled down the corridor, next to a large capacity elevator. The only noise made was from their equipment bouncing as they moved. I followed the last member that demounted from the maintenance tube. The group had gathered in a disorderly semi-circle around Nehring, so I joined him in front of the open elevator door.

I looked the team over briefly, confiding, “My foremost expectation of you is to follow my orders immediately. The lives of those next to you and perhaps your own life may be required to stem the tide, but I will not wantonly throw them away. I am sure you’ll appreciate that. Combat is a disorienting and unpleasant experience, so focus on pointing your gun and shooting. Focus on what your cover is like. Focus on what your teammate might need. Be aware when a blade is needed. Obey my commands.”

A few smirks and a few stoical looks returned my gaze. One of the unarmored men swallowed with nervousness, obviously thinking my comments through. He wasn’t expecting the casual delivery of grave news. “Perhaps he was expecting a pep talk,” I thought, laughing in my mind. “I just hope my macabre skills can keep you alive.”

“Do you all understand me?” I barked.

“Yes, Sir!” The all shouted in unison.

Miley pinged my implant and I blinked my eyes closed, accepting the soft-glow of information. I really hated to be obvious about my implant, but I pushed my discomfort aside for our A.I.’s information. The raiders we were dividing up again, splitting into two groups of ten. It looked like they were frustrated with finding the access doors welded shut, which barred their advance. One squad was moving outward to the cargo area, trying to use the catwalks there to move on the Bridge from that direction. “Fighting anyone on the catwalks would be a bloody affair.”

I resolved to go after the other raiders in the outer hull that were pushing to the bow through corridors, machine rooms and storage compartments. Given time, we could work our way behind the catwalk group when they dropped down to penetrate the inner-core corridors. We first had to deal with the raiders now in the storage area.

“Load up. Let’s make some new acquaintances.” I pointed to the elevator. “Take us to the top, Nehring. It’s time these pirates face our wrath.”

In the elevator, I explained to the squad, “We’re going to set up an ambush. If things go badly we’ll give ground, but we can’t afford to evade the raiders. We have to bring our efforts to a conclusion.”

We covered the simple plan that only took a few moments to explain. No one had any questions. Ending the awkward silence, I closed my visor. The corners of Nehring’s mouth twitch into a smile as he closed his own visor. The rest of my suited combatants flipped their blue visors down too.

When we stood outside of the bulkhead door that would take us into an outer-hull storage room, I checked on the progress of the raiders we were tracking again. It was clear we blocked their intended route. Having only traversed a few sections, the raiders had left a half-a-dozen bulkhead doors wrecked in their wake. I am sure it confused them that they hadn’t run into any real resistance or even the odd engineer. We were just a few minutes ahead of them.

“They are close,” I announced. “Get in the room and hide, set a crescent shaped perimeter around the far door.”

Nehring undogged the latches and spun the door wheel. He was the first one into the compartment; I followed, and then everyone else piled into the long, wide room that had only a few ceiling lights. It was darker than I expected, lots of long shadows gave the compartment an eerie feeling. The walls were lined with color-coded pipes, from floor to ceiling. The center of the compartment was crammed full of replacement pipes, organized in rows. Various chest-high, storage boxes dotted the end-caps of each the five or six rows that aligned with the far door. Sparks from a welding laser flashed as a spider bot beaded a line that sealed the far door against the intruders.

To the right side of the room was a water treatment control-junction office. Behind a liquidarmor glass door, we could see consoles and instrument measurement devices. All of the equipment in the office was shut off; we could only see a few dim lights in there. The office controlled an offline, back-up subsystem. I noticed a surveillance camera on the ceiling, just over the door.

Two unarmored crew men darted over to hide behind boxes by the dark office, taking up a position on our right flank, but out of the welded door’s line of fire. They could shoot anyone maneuvering past the last row of pipes. Nehring joined that side; however, he used a storage box for cover at the end of the last row of replacement pipes. A woman who seemed indecisive ended up taking a spot next to Nehring. I took the left side of the room, and found a spot that I liked; it was between two functioning pipes that gave reasonable cover. I could shoot between the water pipes, which had a commanding view of the entire left side of the compartment. Everyone else ran with their heads down and found their own spot among the aisles of pipes and boxes.