Down the corridors 3 Section went. Sergeant Orisan was at the head of the single file, his right shoulder facing the wall. The every step of their heavy boots were audible, clanking on the metal deck of the ship. The barrels of their guns leading their steps, they shuffled carefully in a tight close-quarters formation through the hallways of the downed ship. Shooting was heavy, although muffled, in the background, paired by the sound of blinking lights around them. There were no other sounds of boots aside from theirs. It seemed like they were alone.
Orisan was at point. Behind him was Bray, then the half-limping Smitty, then Jonesy, and finally, rear guarding the group, Corporal Kyrgiakos. Orisan had understood the ins-and-outs of the Arcturian Uranus-class corvette, and he navigated through the corridors and sections by memory. Royal Marines Officers and NCOs had to memorize the inner plans of at least five types of enemy ships to earn their rank so when a boarding mission came about they would step up to the opportunity and execute the mission with swift and deadly efficiency.
Seeing an intersection ahead, the group made a stop. Orisan signaled for Kyrgiakos to take the left side. He dashed to the left side of the corridor and leaned slightly to scan the path to his right, while Orisan scanned the path to his left.
“Clear right,” Kyrgiakos said.
“Clear left. We’re taking right.”
“Roger.”
Orisan and the rest went right. Once they were secure with all four members inside the corridor, Kyrgiakos joined in facing the rear. Once clear of the intersection, he turned around. As they treaded their steps through that very corridor, they heard a quick succession of running boots. From what Orisan could hear, he could say there were about half a dozen of them. Some of the steps were heavy, meaning that they were in full combat gear.
Orisan, calmly, kept going. There was a T-intersection in front of them. The sounds came from their right. “We got something coming in. Captain’s and wardroom officers’ quarters are to the left. Fire on my go.” He said. “Bray, Andy, take left.”
“Roger.” Kyrgiakos said. He positioned himself next to Orisan, his left shoulder to the wall now. Bray went behind him. They kept moving. Slowly. The sound of the quick, heavy steps became more audible. Then there was someone yelling orders.
“These orders must not fall into enemy hands! Hurry up!”
Orders? Orisan thought.
Orisan raised an arm. The men halted. He went on one knee. Smitty, behind him, remained on his feet. Kyrgiakos crouched as well, with Bray standing.
The sounds got louder and louder. Then they found someone running in front of them through the T-intersection. It was a young man in officer’s colors. Orisan opened fire. Crack-crack! The recoil was nulled by his strong grip and his experienced handling of the firearm.
The sounds of gunshots became louder in the small space of the corridor, a terror to the unexperienced ears of Bray and Smitty. Kyrgiakos followed suit in opening fire. The ensign fell off his feet, dropping a heap of documents, which spilled on the floor. Another man came through, in full battle gear and utilities, albeit without a helmet. They fired. Bray and Smitty opened up as well this time. He was pushed away by the force of the rounds, slamming him to the wall. A large splatter of blood struck to the wall as he slid down to the ground. There other sounds of boots had seemingly stopped now, but the Marines knew that there were not only two of them.
Orisan took a grenade from a pouch. He pulled off the pin.
Ping!
The lock ejected, and the five-second fuse was triggered.
500… 400… 300… Now!
He hurled the grenade over the T-intersection. It bounced off the wall, landing on the corridor to the right. There was a loud boom. A body was thrown away onto the opposing hallway. Thumps of falling bodies. Shouts of now-dead men.
“Go! Go! Go!” Orisan said. Still staying in a tight formation, they converged onto the T-intersection.
He turned right, followed by Smitty and Jonesy. Kyrgiakos went left with Bray. Bodies. Three of them. There were two enemy Marines on the far side of the corridor. They opened fire in panic. Smitty and Orisan opened fire. The two of them got one, but the other managed to escape. Smitty aimed for him, finger on the trigger. Before he squeezed him out, Orisan had him lower his weapon by pushing the barrel down. “Save your ammo.”
The men hit by the grenades were in shreds. Guts and blood were all over the place. One man had his intestines blown open by the fragmentation grenade. He was, the unlucky bastard he is, still breathing. As witnessed by Smitty, Orisan did not hesitate a single moment, quickly putting in two rounds to the dying man. He put two rounds to the dead man on the wall, the dead ensign, the man who was thrown away. With a cold, dead look in his eyes, he looked at Smitty with apparent emptiness, like his soul was no longer there. As far as Smitty could see, he was no longer human. He had truly embraced becoming an expendable instrument of war. It sent chills down Smitty’s back.
“Let’s keep moving. Captain’s quarters is just ahead.” Said Orisan.
Jonesy and Kyrgiakos fell in. Smitty just stood there. He was in confusion, and in shock. The carnage made him feel sick inside. What the hell just happened? How could someone do this to someone else?
“Hey, Smitty, you alright, mate?” Bray went to him and asked.
“N-no. No problem, mate.” He said. He weighed his rifle up now, and followed the rest. As he tried to catch up, he saw the dead ensign, who died in a puddle of his own blood. In a white naval service uniform now painted with large blobs of red, he laid on the floor lifelessly. He saw his face. He wasn’t any older than twenty, not even old enough to shave.
He spilled a good amount of documents, in which Orisan and Kyrgiakos were currently going through. Placed in a folder, some of the documents were a wet thick red with his blood. Orisan folded the documents and put it in a utility pouch.
They proceeded up the hallway, encountering a steel door at the far end. There was a small text at the front of it.
CDR LEWIS R. HOLCOMB, ANF
C.O. ANFC JOHN PAUL JONES
“This is it, lads.” Orisan said.
Kyrgiakos went to the door. He tried to open it. Door didn’t budge. It was locked from the other side. That also meant that someone was inside. The captain? One of the wardroom officers? Orisan turned to Bray. “Brayford, you got the explosives?”
“Roger, sergeant.” He said. Slinging his weapon behind him, he reached into one of the bigger pouches on the front of his vest. He took two hand-sized blocks of plastic explosives which were tied together with tape. He put a cable between the two. He then inserted the fuse inside one of the holes. He turned the fuse a couple of times, putting in a 10-second explosion delay. He then turned down a small switch at the bottom of the bomb. While he set up the bomb, the rest ran away back to the T-intersection, covering his rear. Once the bomb was rigged to blow, Bray went towards the rest, yelling as he scrammed: “Fire in the hole!”
The bomb ignited a few seconds after he rejoined the rest. Well behind cover, they heard the sound of the tight, well-positioned explosion. The sound of broken steel, the sound of a door cracked open.
When they looked at the door, it was blasted out. With Orisan at the head of the formation, the five charged down the hallway and into the captain’s quarters. Orisan stepped into the sound-proofed, carpeted captain’s quarters opening fire on the first person he saw. It was a female officer. There were three others; a further two Master-at-arms (naval military police) and a petty officer. Orisan quickly broke right, Kyrgiakos going left, Smitty, Jonesy, and Bray filling the center. The other four quickly opened fire on the rest as they entered, and they all fell to the ground before they could shoot back. Scanning for further targets in the room, the five men stood there for a few seconds, and until he was sure nobody was left, Orisan shouted, “Clear!”
They lowered their weapons. The captain’s quarters was filled with interesting objects. Books, which were now spilt on the floor, some old revolvers, a map of the humanosphere, and several computers. However, the most important thing was right in front of them. Folders were stacked on the captain’s desk. There was a large window on the far end of the captain’s cabin.
“Take what you can. Check the bodies. Navy MPs and officers have top-secret security clearance. Whatever they got in their pockets are gold.” Orisan said. Quickly, four of the five men searched the bodies, stripped the furniture bare. Smitty positioned himself at guard near the blown-out entrance.
Bray ripped open the drawers. There were plenty of ‘relics’ there: A gold watch and an old-model Colt Single-Action Navy. He grinned after seeing them. He quickly pocketed the two things, knowing they could be sold at a highly compensating price on the market.
Orisan went straight to the documents. He did not care what they were, since it was none of his business. If he wanted to go through damned documents as a day job he would’ve signed up as an intel rat back at base. He folded the documents and put them inside his 3D ruck.
Kyrgiakos broke open the window at the back and scanned for enemy movement in the horizon. Much to his surprise, there were a few flying objects to the distance. Troop transports. A squadron of them. It seemed by no means a counterattack force, but more an evacuation task force quickly assembled to make sure everything that could be saved from the downed corvette be retrieved. Kyrgiakos turned to Orisan. “Mike! we got enemy choppers coming in fast!”
***
ns 15.158.61.8da2
