The Dead Fleet (Juggernaut #3)

Fifty Five

'Nearly there,' said Grace.

The two women sprinted down what Grace had assured them was the final hallway. Maintenance stores lined the wall to their right. Doors to the mess hall lined the wall to their left. Ahead of them was the final bulkhead to the docking bay.

Grace held her weapon across her chest, favouring speed over the ability to shoot fast and first. Tila carried her staff in her right hand. Her left hand was empty. The pistol she had stowed behind her.

'Thirty meters,' said Grace.

It was a straight shot from here. They ran through the belly of the Solar Forge from one side to the other. Grace had gambled that any other cabal forces which had boarded the Forge would be hunting pirates. That meant they had their chance to escape.

Unfortunately, Grace was wrong.

Ahead of them, Tila saw the wheel of the bulkhead turning.

'Look!'

Grace dropped to one knee and skidded to a halt in the middle of the corridor. Her carbine locked to her shoulder in a flash.

'Down!' Grace commanded.

Tila obeyed at once. Grace thumbed a selector switch on the carbine. Full auto. Trigger finger took first pressure. She opened fire at the first target she saw.

Laser blasts ripped into the bulkhead, the surrounding wall, and anyone unfortunate enough to be in the open doorway. This wasn't the time to carefully choose targets and eliminate them one by one. The bulkhead was the last door to the hanger.  It was their final line, and Grace intended both of them to cross it.

Blue-white energy bolts zipped through the air. Grace stood up slowly and advanced, still firing. Left foot forward, right foot brought to meet it, left foot forward again, Repeat. Grace didn't cross her feet, didn't upset her balance. Stayed on target. Another agent appeared, his head ducking out to take in the scene, then retreated and emerged again with a carbine of his own. He only let off only one shot before Grace's assault mowed him down. His single shot blasted into a ceiling light panel, destroying it, and creating a band of darkness in the passageway.

Tila smelled ozone, saw smoke, saw the carbine muzzle changing colour to glow a deep and dangerous red.

Grace released the pressure of her finger. The carbine fell silent. Grace kept advancing. One finger moved. A power cell dropped from the pistol grip. Grace stepped over it as she advanced.

Another target appeared at the bulkhead, his pistol already drawn. He fired. Missed.

Grace's left hand let go of the barrel, dropped to her side, pulled another cell from its ready pouch, slapped it home.

The target fired again. He was joined by another, then another. The first with a pistol, the second with a carbine of his own. They leaned through the door, took positions, flicked off safeties.

Left hand back on the barrel. Right hand, middle finger, squeezed a button to accept the new cell.

The agent's weapons sent orange bolts of energy tearing down the hallway, sunset strobes casting deadly rays.

Grace dived to the floor, rolled to her side. Orange blasts ripped through the air where she had been standing. She opened fire. Blue-white light bust from her carbine like a hose. One agent fell. The other's ducked back in time. The bulkhead door sparkled under the impacts.

Tila threw herself to the right, tried a maintenance door. More Cabal fire scored the door in front of her. The control panel exploded, black smoke burst free and with it came the unmistakable smell of an electrical fire.

Grace returned fire, shouted something. Tila could hear nothing over the sound of weapons. Grace pointed at the other doors, put both hands back on her weapon. Tila lunged for the door panel on the other side. Punched it with her palm as if her life depended on it. It opened. Tila dived through, turned, called her mother.

Grace let rip one final bust from her carbine. The cabal agents ducked back. Grace half crawled, half threw herself through the door. Tila slapped the inner door panel. The door slid shut.

By the time Tila turned around she heard the clatter of another power cell dropping to the floor. Her eyes took in the layout of the mess hall in one quick sweep. Rectangular tables regularly spaced in rows of three. Serving hatches on the far side. Water fountains built into walls. Wheeled units full of napkins and cutlery dotted the room. To her left, tables had been turned on their side. By now Grace had reloaded and had her weapon pointed at the upturned tables, and at the pirates taking cover behind them.

Tila counted at least six. The pirates with blasters had already aimed them at Tila and Grace.

Tila drew a sharp breath and tightened her grip on the staff.

The doors on the far right, the doors leading from the docking bay, opened. Cabal agents poured through. Black armour, fully armed. They fanned out, weapons ready, targets chosen.

Confused pirates switched targets to agents. Some Agents switched target to Grace.

Grace didn't know who to target. So many options, so little time.

The room paused for breath.

'Now what?' Tila whispered.