Ben and Harold led the charge from behind their shields as they fired and Samuel stayed close behind his friend, moving from side to side and firing from Ben’s flanks as the team pushed through. The combined forty rounds of buckshot from the shield-bearers, with support from the rest of the squad when and where they could get a clean shot, cleared the immediate vicinity as the marines rushed forward to take and hold a series of stacked metal containers.
Samuel, through force of habit long ingrained in him, checked his safety and ammo count. He was surprised to see that without realizing it he’d expended nearly all of his magazine, and it was only then, in the brief calm amid the violent storm, that he was able to take stock of his surroundings.
They were in a large compartment of the ship that appeared to be storing a vast hoard of shipping containers. They all had different corporate logos, makes, and models, proof that these pirates had been active and successful for a long time.
As expected for a pirate crew defending their stash, there was stiff resistance waiting for them. The pirates had to have known that this would be a prime target for the assault craft and had bolstered their numbers in the area.
Samuel could see that while plenty of broken corpses littered the deck, there were still several clusters of hostiles wearing their own patchwork battle armor rushing into the fight.
While many of the defenders were in plainclothes or general deckhand garb, those who did wear some type of battle armor all bore the same half-moon symbol painted or etched somewhere on their outfit. Though Samuel did not recognize the symbol, it did tell him that indeed this was an organized group and not at all the ‘squatters’ described in the briefing.
While Ben and Harold reloaded, Samuel looked around at the rest of the marines, performing a casualty assessment out of habit. While he’d never been awarded a command, he had learned from Mag that constant evaluation was key to a complete victory.
It was then that Samuel noticed Oliver Putin’s corpse some ten meters away, only a handful of steps from the now empty troop bay of the assault craft. In the midst of the firefight he must have taken a stray round to the head. Samuel could see the smoking, ragged hole in the man’s helmet. Oliver wasn’t even the first man out of the craft and he’d still been killed. The randomness of it bore down on Samuel’s mind like the crush of a black hole. It was only the ringing boom of a round striking the metal container he was crouched behind that pulled him back into the moment.
These were hardened space pirates with plenty of experience in repelling boarding actions and their strategists seemed to have predicted this area as one of the targets for the salvage marines. Several shooters had taken up high vantages on the tops of containers several meters away and began pouring suppressing fire down on Squad Taggart.
Ben kept Samuel and Patrick alive with his shield as the marines scampered for cover. A group of defenders rushed the marines in an attempt to flank and route them and it looked for a moment as if the momentum of the boarding party was about to be stopped cold. The defenders fired as they ran, apparently not as concerned with accuracy as much as they were with keeping the marines pinned down while they pushed forward. Somewhere out of the chaos Mag appeared on Samuel’s right side, hurling a frag grenade over the top of the container towards the approaching forces.
Samuel was shocked to see that Mag had broken combat protocols by even having the grenade in her kit, much less deploying it before the squad was able to secure a beachhead with an air seal.
“Boss! That explosion could depressurize the whole compartment!” shouted Samuel, forgetting her rank in the heat of the moment.
“Ben, you move when I move, and don’t stop for anything!” barked Mag, ignoring Samuel and gripping Ben’s shoulder with her robotic arm, “Now!” Mag pushed Ben ahead of her, out of their dubious cover and he did as he was ordered.
Samuel, still bewildered, but determined to follow orders, fell in behind Mag as Patrick and the new guy brought up the rear.
Samuel had never bothered to learn the new guy’s name, especially since he was the second man to replace Aaron Baen on Squad Taggart. The first new guy had been named Michael, though his last name was lost to dim memory. Michael had taken a high velocity crossbow bolt through the neck several months ago.
It had not been a particularly dangerous operation, just a sweep and clear of a small drilling platform. The squad had encountered a clan of squatters who had taken over the drill, managed to get it running again, and were extracting ferrite ore, which they no doubt sold on the black market. The marines came in with enough of a show of force that the squatters gave up without a fight, instead choosing to flee.
Sadly, there had been one squatter, a rather old man, who refused to back down. Before the marines shot him to pieces he managed to send Michael into early retirement. Since then, Samuel just hadn’t taken the time to learn the new guy’s name, as if anyone who wasn’t with him in Basic just didn’t merit a name. Oliver had told him this often happened with soldiers, no name, and no attachments. Staring at the body of the veteran lying cold on the ground, Samuel understood.
Mag’s grenade had sailed out from her position and landed among the defenders as they sprinted toward the marine’s. When the grenade landed among them, the tight formation scattered, abruptly ending their suppressing fire. This gap in the shooting allowed Ben to emerged from behind the container and give the rest of the squad time to form up behind him. Ben rushed forward as he rapid-fired his breaching shotgun to shred several of the pirates as they reacted to the simultaneous threats.
Mag and Samuel fired from Ben’s flanks and were able to drop more of the defenders while Patrick and the new guy fired as needed to keep random lone attackers from sweeping in behind the squad.
The marines sliced into the defender’s position and scattered the enemy. Ben knelt down behind his shield, working swiftly to reload his shotgun with the final magazine as the squad took up fighting positions around him. Mag’s charge had placed them right in the middle of the compartment, and they immediately began to draw sporadic fire from a multitude of directions. Despite their gains the boarding party’s momentum was again threatening to slow, as the squad swiftly became mired in a shootout from all sides.
Samuel realized the grenade Mag had thrown hadn’t gone off, suddenly appreciating the brazen brilliance of the tactic. The grenade hadn’t been primed and was never going to explode, though in the rush of the conflict the pirates had assumed it would blow. Anyone would, and that was the trick.
Across the compartment, the bodies of pirates littered the ground, swimming in a sea of blood, scrap metal, and shell casings. Despite all the gains made by the marines, the pirates were still managing to hold the compartment with bitter resilience. Bullets rang off the metal containers as both forces fought their hardest.
Samuel felt hard rounds bite into his armor and turned to see that a pirate wielding a combat rifle had opened fire on their position from atop a container. The new guy’s body was riddled with bullets as he and Samuel returned fire, killing the pirate.
Samuel looked down at the young man’s broken corpse and felt a sudden guilt in not learning his name. Suddenly, Samuel heard, then saw, Squad Marsters, which had disappeared on the left flank seemingly ages ago, join the fight and make a bold move.
“Fight through!” bellowed Boss Marsters as his squad appeared on the left side of the compartment. While Squad Taggart had held the attention of the bulk of the defenders, Boss Marsters had quietly and quickly moved his troops down the far wall, no doubt fighting their way there, though not through the kind of firefight Mag had taken her people through.