Frost’s stump tingled again. It happened every few hours, after his shin started itching, then burning and then his vacsuit would administer pain medication and nanobots would repair the worn, irritated skin as soon as it broke and began to bleed. He almost wished he hadn’t checked his prosthetic during their last break. It might have been better if he wasn’t aware of the crack filled with blood and pus. When it cracked, he couldn’t have guessed, but it had been bothering him since they were first knocked clear of their wormhole.
The inside of his vacsuit stunk with the smell, and he quietly regretted turning down the replacement limb that had been grown in the medical bay. The thought of a nafalli in charge of the attachment surgery didn’t appeal to him in the least, but the stench of a wound that opened over and over again, combined with the irritation of walking for so many hours he’d lost count made having one of the hairy non-humans affixing the limb more appealing.
The Sol Defence Encounter Suit was the perfect infantry command platform. Even the intelligence expert, Jason Everin, who had become his partner in the boarding operation, used one whenever he could. It limited them both, however. The height of the suits restricted them to large storage areas and main hallways. If he didn’t have competent, well armoured teams backing them up, they would have had to leave them behind.
The gunnery deck crew along with a few security personnel made for one mean unit of one hundred twenty six men and women. They wore the heaviest vacsuits, and a third were in the smaller loader suits. They’d outfitted most of them with weaponry at the last minute, and it didn’t take them long to refine their jury-rigged solutions.
Jason Everin was a genious. Frost had worked with several infantry commanders, and considered himself fortunate to know Jacob Valance, but this man was a different breed. On the bridge the man seemed easy going and competent. Nothing seemed like much of a challenge while he was running communications and helping with security. Since the counter boarding action began Frost had formed a different impression. Jason Everin was colder than anyone he’d ever met. The crew of Enforcer 1109, the destroyer attached to the ship, was the enemy. There was no compromise whatsoever. He also improvised at a moment’s notice. Pride seemed to have no place in his thinking process, and recognizing that a plan had to change because an assumption or idea was wrong happened as though by reflex.
Frost watched as Jason and a quarter of their forces moved around one of the shorter hallways towards the main crew habitation area. It was a fitful firefight, with enemy crew members backtracking towards the largest berth on the ship. At its centre was a galley, several offices, showers, and the convenience store. “Second team, move up. Put down barriers for cover,” Frost commanded as the second quarter of their people moved in from the other direction. “Make sure they don’t split into another section of the ship.” He would never admit that he could feel a cold sweat on his palms as he watched the plan come into place.
The remainder of their forces surrounded his encounter suit. There was another such suit beside him, fourteen battered loader suits, and a few dozen Triton crew in armoured vacsuits. “How goes the rush, Jason?” Frost asked.
“They’re falling back, and the rearmost are starting to run into team two. Looks like they’re going to have no choice but to retreat into the main habitation area,” replied Jason over the sounds of pulse and particle rifles firing all around him.
With a glance at the retinal tactical display projected at Frost’s eye, he could see Jason was getting close to the front of his team. Crewcast reported that he had depleted more than eight percent of his sidearm’s ammunition in the past six minutes. “Stay out of it lad, you’ve got fire teams with you so you can use that big brain o’ yours instead of getting it blown away.”
“Right,” Jason Everin replied flatly.
There was no arguing. He simply stopped firing and fell back to the middle of his team. It was the right thing to do, but Frost wasn’t used to working with someone who gave in to reason so quickly. His people followed orders quickly, but Frost was used to hearing some kind of counter argument when he gave advice to an equal or higher ranked officer.
The second team finished moving into place perfectly, and when the enemy crew tried to retreat around the corner behind them, they were greeted with a hail of gunfire. They were sandwiched between the Triton forces, and even though they had more numbers, they were hoplessly outflanked. In under a minute they retreated into the only door available to them; the central living quarters.
“That’s it, they’re contained. Your turn, Frost.”
All the other exits had been welded shut with an extra layer of plating affixed atop the door. “You said it, they’re contained. No need to follow through,” Frost said as he glanced at the locked panel in the wall beside him.
“We don’t know what kind of tools they have inside, and there are four to seven hundred people in there. This is going to be a problem moving forward.”
Frost watched as Jason took his team further up the hall to one of the main data access lines. “I still think we’ll do better using this as leverage. We go through with it now and we’re shooting any trust we can build with the Command Crew out the airlock.”
“We’re not in a situation where we have time to build trust with anyone, especially their Command Crew. If they have any intelligence training at all, and evidence says they do, then they’re not going to bargain with us.”
“This doesn’t sit right with me lad.”
“Frost! I’m not going to argue with you. I can’t move ahead without your back up and we can’t afford to get taken from behind when those people break through the doors. Either cut into that environmental panel or I’ll go back there and do it myself! It’ll delay my hack into the trunk line, and you know we can’t afford the time.”
“Aye. You’re right, guess I best get used to it,” Frost acquiesced. He turned and took two steps towards the heavy dividing wall. The three and a half meter tall encounter suit followed his every movement perfectly, even his limp. The enhanced plasma torch mounted at the end of the suit’s index finger cut through the ten cenimetre structural wall like it was made of tissue paper and he pulled the block of metal out with the other hand. After placing it against the wall he examined the wiring that was hidden behind. “I’m through.”
“Were the schematics right?”
One of the gun deck team stepped forward and wrapped a band around the bundle of wires, then opened a panel on the side of Frost’s encounter suit so he could connect the other end with the data jack there. “One minute,” Frost said as he watched his on board computer interpret the raw data coming from the lines. With dread he saw all the raw environment system connections, and after a few seconds the encounter suit computer devised a control screen that encompassed all the options available. “Aye. Interior pressure, temperature, it’s all here.”
“Good. Do it, Frost.”
He tried not to think about what it would be like in a bunk, the commissary, latrines or mess hall when he did what he had to do. He’d seen it first hand when he stripped Burke of his vacsuit and reduced the temperature in an unused crew compartment. The man had taken every credit he had, marooned him on an unfriendly world, and deserved the serious frostbite he suffered. These crewmen were only defending their ship, and had been beaten back so efficiently that they had no choice but to take refuge in what they probably felt was the safest part of the ship. Most of them weren’t even soldiers.
“Frost!”
“Aye, taking care of it now,” he said as he directed the temperature down past critical limits. Next he reduced the pressure until it passed well into the negative range and finally he ordered the biohazard seals in place for the entire section. The audio pickups on the outside of his encounter suit transmitted the screaming through the comparatively thin wall behind the wiring and Frost closed his eyes. “It’s done. Anyone without an atmosphere suit or emergency compartment should die in a minute. Emergency biohazard measures sealed them in.”
“Considering how few of the regular crew wear environment suits or liners there won’t be many left. What does the system say about containment breaches?”
“The pressure drop that’ll happen when someone busts out will force the nearest emergency door to close. They’ll have to bust through one compartment after another.”
“Good, nothing to worry about behind us then.”
Frost turned away from the makeshift access panel and ordered his people forward. He was keenly aware of the absence of sound coming from the next room.
It took them minutes to catch up to Jason and the rest of the invasion force. Jason was back in his encounter suit, and the third surviving suit stood beside him in front of a thick bulkhead door. “They know we’re comin’,” Frost stated.
“Open fire whenever you like, Gunnery Chief,” Jason said as Triton crew members rushed around in front of the heavily armoured encounter suits, placing directional charges two metres away from the bulkhead door.
“Aye, time to pick a fight,” he growled as he fired all the available weapons on the suit. The armoured door in front of them immediately began to degrade as a hail of particle weapons fire assaulted the metal. Triton soldiers took cover behind portable energy shields set several meters behind the suits. After a few seconds the air around them read over two hundred degrees, not enough to stress anyone’s vacsuit. Frost couldn’t help but smile a little as he heard the encounter suit’s environmental systems kick in. “At least it’s a dry heat.”
Several chuckles came in reply to his wise crack. The door surface had turned white right to the endges and Jason asked; “Think we’re ready?”
“Just a little more. It’s still loosening up on the other side.”
The sounds of warping deck plates and creaking metal added to the relentless auditory pounding of their suit’s weaponry until Frost finally saw the temperature he wanted at the door surface and he stopped. The other two encounter suits stopped as well. “Check energy shields,” Frost ordered. With a glance he could see all three suits were at over ninety percent. It was still best for each pilot to report in regardless.
“Ninety one percent, good,” Jason said.
“Ninety three point five,” reported the third pilot, Mark Hunsler.
“Blow it!” The directional charges exploded, sending most of the white hot bulkhead door down the hallway ahead of them in thousands of white hot chunks. “Cover fire!” Frost shouted, relishing the feeling of engaging in a straight firefight instead of resorting to hacks and work arounds. While soldiers fired between the encounter suits, Frost, Jason and Mark led the way, marching forward with most of their generated power ready to recharge their energy shields. They were taking a fortified position that the enemy had hours to prepare.
As they expected, there were explosive charges in the walls ahead, and the hail of weapons fire didn’t disable all of them. All the suits were rocked hard as the main hallway erupted. Jason’s suit reported a full depth pressure break, indicating that his suit couldn’t seal properly. “Fall back, lad! You won’t survive another blast.”
“There’s no way they’ll risk the structural integrity of the ship with another blast.”
“Fall back you git! I’m not going to tell your wife you got slagged because you were too stubborn to fall back.”
Jason didn’t argue, he simply took several steps back and turned his suit away from the advancing group.
Frost watched his shields charge back up from twenty percent and wished his tactical scanners would calibrate faster. The burst of hot metal and following explosions had blinded everyone. Particle scoops mounted on the shoulders of the encounter suits kicked in, dragging all the smoke filled air into the compression systems so they could be dumped into the dematerialization systems and converted into energy or redirected towards the nanobot resivour to be used to repair the suit’s ablative armour layer. The air cleared and the wreck of the hall ahead became visible. “These grunts are smarter than I thought. We’ve got six metres of no man’s land.” Frost griped. The deck plating was so badly damaged that even his command and control unit chirped with an environmental warning and painted it red on his head’s up display.
“Yup. We’re going to have to be careful. No loader or encounter suits either,” Jason said.
Frost looked at it for a moment longer and chuckled. “I’ve got it. Might not be able to run one of these big encounter suits across, but I know how we can get loaders across.” He didn’t wait to discuss it with anyone, but stepped up to the edge of the severely damaged section, turned and let the suit fall backwards.
“Frost, don’t you dare!” Jason shouted, uncharacteristically angry.
He let the suit fall back and extended his arms over his head. It collided with the weakened deck plating below, forcing much of it down into the room beneath, but the hands of the suit caught the edge of a structural beam. He adjusted his grip and checked the integrity of the metal. With a nod he said; “There ya go lad, a really expensive bridge.”
“You could have hovered over it, you moron,” Jason shot back.
“Aye, but then what would everyone not lucky enough to be in a suit do? Most vacsuit armour doesn’t come with thrusters, in case you dinna notice.”
“But the loader suits-“
“Right about a meter too short with their arms up. Stop your belly acheing and get ready to cross.” Frost double checked the seal on his vacsuit and opened the chest cavity door. “Going to miss this rig though.”
“I could let you pilot mine, sir,” offered Mark Hunsler. “Why, that’s awful kind of you, lad, I think I’ll take you up-“ Frost ducked as he heard weapons’ fire and ran for the line of Triton soldiers. His vacsuit reported a hit right in the middle of his back as he limped for dear life over the thick legs of the encounter suit.
His allies opened fire with a vengeace, and the air was alive with bright, deadly rounds as he finally made it to the safety of a mobile energy shield. He’d forgotten to activate his vacsuit energy shielding, and the back of his lightly armoured uniform was so badly damaged he may as well as have been wearing a bed sheet. He turned with his sidearm in both hands and felt something strike the tip of his sidearm. Frost followed it in the air and he realized it was a grenade just as it went off outside of lethal range. The energy shield in front of them absorbed most of the blast, and the front of his vacsuit protected the rest. “Damn that’s gotta be the luckiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said as he fired several particle rounds down the hall.
“I didn’t even see it until you batted it back, epic reflexes sir!” laughed one of the soldiers beside him.
“No reflexes there, lass. You’re just fightin’ beside an Irishman on a good day!” Frost laughed back as the air cleared, revealing a retreating group of soldiers. The scanner in his vacsuit mapped the way ahead, indicating that there was a broad elevator column. “I’d wager your trunk line’s right there, Jason.”
“Yup. Move up! First fire team get across the… bridge!”
When most of the troops had crossed and they set up several portable energy shields as cover Frost took Mark’s place in the last remaining encounter suit. “Kind of ya, lad. Don’t get yourself killed out there,” Frost said as the chest piece closed and he watched the Lieutennant, who was one of the night commanders of the Gunnery Deck normally, take a spare rifle from one of the rear soldiers. Frost knew that most of the people in the unit were painfully aware that he was the slowest among them. In the suit he was fine, and he was one of the best power suit pilots there, but outside of a loader or encounter suit, he’d hold them all back.
After he hovered across the gap he took the lead, and it was no surprise to him when several grenades came bouncing into the mouth of the hallway. He was well ahead of the rest of the unit, so he let the energy shielding take the hit. When they had all gone off the shielding was down to forty two percent. “Nothin’. These grunts just aren’t ready,” he said as he marched ahead. As soon as he came to the end of the hall he sighted several soldiers and opened fire. They had erected emergency barriers that gave them waist high cover, but none of it lasted long against the saw blade like shots from his main particle weapon.
“Teams one and two! Move up!” Jason called from the rear.
Frosts eyes went wide as he caught sight of several soldiers brandishing a weapon he hadn’t seen since his own time in the military. Expensive, dangerous, and difficult to handle, arc cannons were a brutal, last ditch infantry weapon. They required an exoskeleton to carry, an extreme environment protection suit to fire, and to anyone looking from a great distance it looked like the soldier was firing a thick lightening bolt, but a good arc cannon could strike its target with a thirty thousand degree focused shot.
“Back off!” Frost shouted as he opened fire at the armoured units coming out from the left hand hallway, forcing them back. He was just about to open fire on the right hand hallway when his suit alerted him to being struck with an electrical charge. It was the precursor to being struck with a plasma jet, and every alarm went off in the next moment. His shields were down to three percent, the ablaitive armour on his right hand side was gone, and one of his secondary particle guns had been destroyed. It was like being struck by lightening, and the only working on board computer was the connection he had to the left hand visual sensors.
He blindly opened fire with the last remaining particle cannon on his arm while maintaining fire with his left. “Rush left! Take out that cover, now!” he shouted as he tried to step back into the hall and shunted all the suit’s power to shields.
Another strike hit him and his world shook so hard the inertial dampeners in his vacsuit had to compensate. The right arm on his suit had been destroyed, and the shoulder reported that it had been cracked open by an ammunition explosion. The ship to ship micro rockets there had overheated and gone off. “You want ta play? Chew on this, whoreson!” he flung the left leg towards the hallway and activated the nearly overheated rocket back in the left shoulder of his suit, sending twenty eight ship to ship shape charged projectiles off.
When Frost came to he was lying beside the elevator column, his ears were still ringing. With a quick look around he could see that the suit he was piloting was lying on its face, they had to use the emergency hatch to extract him from the machine. The entire right side had taken critical damage from explosions, melting and plasma cutting. Evidence of serious explosive damage filled the right side of the large foot traffic hub, and signs of a firefight to the left told the rest of the story.
“You’re completely insane,” Jason said as he shook his head. “But we’d be on our way back to the Triton with a lot more dead and wounded if it weren’t for that stunt.”
“I aim to please. Too bad about the suit though,” he looked from the encounter suit to the medic who had been treating him for a moment. “All my important bits where they’re supposed to be?” he asked.
The medic smiled and nodded. “Yes sir. Looks like you’ll be sheep dogging us around the gunnery deck as soon as we’ll get back.”
“Sheep doggin’ — now where’d you hear that?”
“Saw a movie made in New Ireland right before all this started. Most of the Gunnery Crew did,” he replied.
“It All Points North,” another crewman confirmed, naming the picture.
“Good movie, makes us gunnery dregs look like heroes,” Frost smiled.
“Found it in your personal collection and made it public. The preview looked good,” Jason said as one of the Triton soldiers finished cutting through the bolts on a large access panel and let it drop to the side. “There it is, the main trunk line.” He stepped up to the collection of cables and, without a moment’s hesitation, reached into the bundle. A moment later he pulled several silver lines, affixed two boring clamps, verified that he had full contact with the ship systems and then deactivated all ship controls using program he had ready on his command and control unit. “The ship is ours.”
“Aye, as long as we can make sure you can stand right there patched in,” Frost replied, eyeing the way they’d come and the two broad hallways to either side. “Think I might just go get the last good encounter suit.”
“Sir, what will we do about a bridge?” asked Mark.
“We’ll use the one with cracked armour. Damn thing’s probably too fancy to repair in good time anyhow.”