Artemis Files 0.5: Lexington (6 page)

It was the first time he’d seen the other passengers, and running his eyes over them surmised that all but one were former Special Forces personnel based on the build and body shapes. It was either that, or the thick, heavy necks and well muscled arms combined with watchful facial expressions and calculating glances that flittered everywhere to assess risk and escape routes had become the new body norm while he had been on Aran.

One of them was different, and studying the man he realised it was a face he’d seen some years back in the RNFC
before it had been transformed into the RFC. With dark blonde hair and bright blue eyes, the medium height and slight figure was a pilot he’d seen in another squadron. He couldn’t place the name but as he stared at him he knew it would come soon.

Farquhar turned to the man that had spoken and made the familiar motion as if he was chewing gravel with his mouth. Glaring while his fat finger stabbed out to impact in the chest of the speaker, he hissed.

“Stow it, Harry, we’ll wait here until the skipper needs us. Mo, behind you there’s a storage locker with arms, open it up and we’ll do a weapons issue. Gibney, why aren’t you in your combat skin? Are you looking to get spaced or just decided to have a lobotomy while we were skimming fuel?”

Glancing at
him, Farquhar said nothing and then turned his eyes upon the other pilot.

“
Mister Brilliant, do you know what a privateer of that type is armed with and how many fighting men it carries?”

Nodding,
the other pilot opened his mouth to answer when Mo interrupted.

“
Sleeky… three cutlasses and a
gladius
, two
Grails
, and four snub pistols. I’ll take a
Grail
and the
gladius
.” The man announced, lowering his chosen weapons to the deck at his feet while the other Special Forces men tried to jostle him for access to the locker.

“Stand down!” Farquhar ordered. “
Gibney, you get nothing without a combat skin and you’re staying here for the duration. Mo, take your weapons and step aside for the others. Harry, take up the other
Grail
and a cutlass, Mister Brilliant take a snub pistol and cutlass, Montclare you get the same. Doc, I want you to take the remaining pistol. We’ll split the clips and mags between you evenly. I’ve got my own weapons, so between us we’ll make a handy reserve force.”

Jonty, that was the other pilot, he recalled. They used to call him ‘Mister Brilliant’ due to his cool-headed flying ability in the Fast Attack Boats and the many
fighter kills racked up against the Franks and Ukies. The last he’d heard about the skilled, young officer was that he’d headed off to command a squadron of new
Mosquito
Mark IV Fast Attack Boats undertaking deep strike missions on the other side of the kingdom, however that had been years ago and he’d never heard of him since.

Collecting the weapons handed to him by the man called Harry, he checked the safety of the snub pistol and then verified the chamber was empty. Both dual clips were full of
stun rounds, and he was handed another four clips with flechette rounds that he pushed into his thigh pockets after using two of them to replace the stun rounds for something more lethal.

“Okay, lads shut up for a minute and listen to Mister Brilliant.” Farquhar trumpeted through the small room as the noise of different weapons being checked or opened echoed within the space.

“Umm, okay then.” He began, clearing his throat as all attention was fixed on his face. “It’s a Gun-Brig, and they’re generally displacing between one to three thousand d-tons. Armed with at least four three-inch dual barrel gauss cannons, it should have one or two missile bays and assorted close-in defences. If it’s a smaller Brig, she can carry a crew of thirty, although the larger displacement vessels mean you could be facing fifty boarders. It all depends on the specific type and age, and how many crew they allocate to the boarding operation.”

There was silence at his words as the gathered men considered how outnumbered and outgunned they were aboard the Packet Boat.

“There are literally hundreds of designs for Brigs out there from most nations, but despite whoever built her, they’re going to be restricted in what they can do to take us, especially with an Indie ship in the system. If I was the enemy privateer, I would aim to assault our external hatches near engineering and the bridge, and that’s where you’ll find them… midships and aft airlocks.”

Farquhar nodded at the information. Grudgingly, he turned the gaze
across to him. “Anything to add?”

“No, I think Jonty has covered everything.
The only point I’d add is what you probably already know, those boarders will be armed with shotguns, swords and trying to cause as many casualties as quickly as possible. With an Indie ship in the system, they’ll only have a small window of time to board, capture and escape to a transition point. It’s the ship they want, along with any cargo so they can profit from the prize money… so they won’t hesitate in killing the passengers or crew to get the ship captured.”

“Okay, I’m going to talk to the skipper and see if he knows this… with
only fifteen crew aboard, we’re going to assist wherever he needs us. Except for you, Gibney, you’re staying here to guard the Doc. At least she had the sense to stay in her combat skin, and she’s a bloody non-combatant.”

“Aw, come on, Sammy, even in my underwear I’m better than the rest of these layabouts. Give me a sword or pistol and let me join you.” Asked
the man, spreading his hands wide in supplication. “You owe me, for old time sakes.”

Ignoring him, Farquhar
turned away and went to one of the comm-points located against the bulkhead beside the hatch. As he connected with the bridge, he saw Gibney shake his head.

“It’s just like eighty-one again
and I’m left out of the fun… not bloody fair!”

“Wasn’t that when you
got caught in the sheik’s harem on Quriyat when the marines began landing around Assalt?” One of the other men asked, working the slide of his weapon as if it wasn’t moving to his satisfaction. “They still tell the story to everyone going through selection about how not to choose a sniper hide in a harem full of veil covered beauties.”

“I was trying to get into position for fire
support and it was easier if I wasn’t wearing my combat armour. It’s not true what they said I was doing, honest!”

“Firing what?” Asked one of the others, punching Gibney in the shoulder.
“Blanks?”

“I
heard it wasn’t a harem of women but the eunuchs he was found with!” The other said, following up with another punch and a cackle of laughter.

“You’re jealous! There was one, she was….”

Tuning them out, he stepped over to the other pilot.

“Jonty,
the last I heard you were out on the rimward border commanding a squadron aboard the Carrier
Furious
. What are you doing in this group?”

“I thought I saw you last week in the cargo bay,
Bren, but Farquhar wouldn’t confirm it. I was headhunted by them and asked to join this project for a deployment. They searched me out while I was on leave after getting shot down near Aramis and….”

“Knock it off!” Farquhar ordered, turning away from the comm
and facing the bickering Special Forces men. His eyes caught his and he frowned. “Brilliant and Montclare, no talking between the pair of you, this isn’t recess in kindergarten.”

As the room went silent, he felt the hull beneath his boots
tremor with the pitter-patter of what sounded like rain echoing through the bulkheads. They were taking fire from the Gun-Brig.

“We stay as the quick reaction force when the bastards come aboard. Doc
and Gibney, you stay here and don’t move no matter what you hear. Brilliant and Mo, you’re with me… and that leaves Montclare and Harry paired up. When they come aboard and focus their efforts on engineering and the bridge, we’ll take them from behind. My section will head aft to the engineering spaces, and Harry I want you to try and cover the bridge.”

Searching each of their faces, Farquhar smiled at what he saw.

“Remember your training, and cover the rest of your section. We don’t need any heroics, only to delay the privateers as long as possible until the Indie cavalry arrive. The skipper says they’ll be here in half a day… but he also says the brig displaces two thousand d-tons, so if they throw all in to take this ship, the tangoes will outnumber us by three to one. Check your combat skins and weapons while you have time because we’re waiting for the skipper to give the word before we head off to our targets. Any questions?”

“Any deckplans so we can plan our ambushes?” One of the other men asked.

Farquhar gave him a look of disdain, chewing his cheeks before spitting out an answer. “You’ve been aboard this ship for three weeks, Mo, and if you haven’t learned all there is to know about it in that time then I think our people made a mistake in selecting you for the project. Anyone else?”

“
What do I do if you men fail?” The Doc asked, her voice quiet and showing nerves.

Laughing at the question, Farquhar grinned.

“If we fail, Doc, then we’re all dead. This ship is rigged with a deadman trigger the skipper is carrying and between you people, the cargo, and whatever they might scrape from the datastore, we can’t let them have any of it. He’s already activated the trigger and if he is taken down by the tangoes at any time, you’ll have thirty seconds to say goodbye. So, Harry, protect the skipper with everything you’ve got when it comes time to rock and roll.”

“Sammy, I have to come with you… between Harry and this Brylcreem Boy, we haven’t a
hope to stop the skipper getting killed. Come on?

There was no further sound of incoming fire, but feeling the inertial compensators lurch and his stomach move with it, he knew they were under high-gravity manoeuvres to make life hard for the privateer ship. It wouldn’t be long until boarding teams broke through the airlocks to storm the ship, and then they’d all be fighting for their lives.

Farquhar studied the man in underwear, chewing his cheeks and finally giving a grunt. Passing over one of his weapons, he shook his head. “Maybe you can scare the privateers with your skid marks and send them running. Go with Harry and keep an eye on the flyboy.”

“Standby… standby… go!” Farquhar ordered while the hatch slid open. He was the first through the door, moving through it and to one side so the others could cover him as they moved up. Mo came next, followed by Jonty, with each of them tapping the man in front on the shoulder before stepping past.

Waiting
for the nod from Harry, he then stepped through following the same direction as the other team continuing down the narrow corridor toward the first set of stairs leading to the upper deck. There was no noise, only the soft padding of their footsteps as they moved closer to where they would split up. Farquhar was keeping his gauss pistol ready, swivelling with his eyes following the sights as the teams moved in unison.

A shudder went through the ship and
then slowly settling down, and as he thought about it when they arrived at the stairs, trying to imagine what was happening it came to him. It was the drives, the constant vibration through the hull that had become ignored after the first day aboard was now gone. In its place, like the silence, there was nothing. The lights were still on, and as he arrived at the base of the stairs the men were covering he saw a shadow move over them from the next deck.

Farquhar signalled to stop moving, and as the stomp of boots ran past, followed by several more they waited to see if anyone came down from above.
The Special Forces men exchanged hand signals and the first team moved down the corridor toward engineering while Harry motioned for him to cover the stairs with Gibney next to him aiming the
Reaper
rifle given to him by Farquhar. Once in place at the bottom of the stairs, Harry stepped up slowly with his head scanning both directions.

Crouching at the top, Harry waved an all clear and waited for
them to come up behind.

“I’ll take point,
flyboy you follow me after I go four paces, and then Gibney comes behind to watch our six. No talking and if you see a tango, in a side corridor or anywhere not in front or behind, tap us on the shoulder. Check your safety is off and make bloody sure to keep your finger on the trigger guard and not on the trigger while we move, understood?”

At his nod, the man flicked off the safety on his weapon and stepped forward, moving
at a slow, determined pace with the barrel aimed down the corridor. In this section of the Packet Boat, there were two corridors running parallel on either side of the ship, meaning that any time they might see boarders coming from the four cross corridors linking them together.

The short, sharp crack of explosives popping off could be heard from up ahead, echoing through the sealed bulkheads and bringing a jump to his nerves each time. He guessed the attackers were using grenades, and if the bridge was sealed
, would soon setup heavier charges to breach the hatch. Pausing at the first hatch, Harry palmed the controls and stepped to one side, crouching down and aiming at the entrance as the heavy door slid open.

Four men in plain grey ship suits were moving into sight from the side corridor, heavy reinforced combat armour vests
and helmets worn atop with the long barrels of gauss rifles pointing ahead of them. With their eyes fixed forward, they didn’t see or notice the hatch opening behind, or discover the weapons pointed at them. Aiming his snub pistol as the man in front gave a hand signal to take out the targets on the left while he focussed on those to the right, he waited for the man to fire.

Harry
calmly fired the
Grail
carbine with the action bringing loud whizz-cracks that were deafening in the enclosed space. Three times the weapon fired, sending flechette rounds to impact in the lower torso of a target where the armour wasn’t covering them. Squeezing the trigger on his own pistol, he let off two rounds at the closest man on the left, supporting the weapon with his offhand. His first round impacted near the bottom of the armoured vest, followed by the second just beneath the edge and into flesh.

Unlike the loud retort from the gauss weapons, the snub pistol fired s
ubsonically to minimise recoil and with a heavy drawn out pop it revealed to those targeted that he was armed with a pistol instead of a rifle or carbine. Fitted with dual clips and duplicate lower receivers, it could fire stun rounds, signal flares, or standard ammo load-outs including flechette and armour piercing rounds. In this case, the clips were filled with flechette rounds containing several small aerodynamic darts that would spall and tumble on contact, causing maximum lethal damage to flesh or lightly armoured opponents but nothing if he missed and hit the hull.

Ignoring the men on the right, he fired again for the next boarder and growled as his rounds hit too high
in the armour and hammered the man into the wall. The impact caused the target to sprawl onto the deck, his weapon dropping while hands scrabbled for purchase on the pipes and tubing. Lining up more carefully, he shot at the exposed legs and buttocks of the target and heard the scream when rounds hit flesh.

His first target was scrabbling on the deck, trying to turn and fire. Ignoring Harry firing again, he squeezed the trigger on the pistol and bracketed the man attempting to fire back at them despite
the blood oozing from his back. Satisfied when the rounds stitched across the lower torso and ending the man’s attempt to fire, he scanned across and saw Harry’s targets were also down. The man sprang forward into the corridor and fired a single shot into the face of the four men as he passed each one.

Not looking at the spray of blood and brains across the deck or walls, he followed Harry up the corridor to the next junction. They had one more at this section of the ship to traverse and then they’d be able to get to the bridge access corridor. Glan
cing behind, he saw Gibney crouching over the dead boarders and fiddling with the bodies, fully focussed on whatever he was doing. Turning back, he tapped Harry on the shoulder and pointed to the rear guard.

Harry
studied the scene and then gave a grin, turning away to wait for whatever the following man was doing without telling him what was happening. He split his attention between the two men and in less than a minute watched as the half naked Special Forces man re-joined them.

“Booby trap.” He mouthed silently
at the raised eyebrow questioning the action, then making a motion with his hands of an explosion. In his spare hand, he saw two apple-sized spheres clutched by the retaining pins.

Surmising the man had found grenades and set them to go off if the bodies were moved or disturbed, he returned the grin.
While Harry waited, he double checked the ammo count on the back of the snub pistol, noting one clip full and the other carrying just six left in the clip. Changing out the used one for a new clip, he hit the base of both with his palm to ensure they were seated. These pistol models had a reputation for dropping a clip if they weren’t seated properly, and more than once in the past he’d seen someone on the range or even in action lose both clips.

Satisfied, he saw Harry make the movement gesture and begin to move away, scanning the cross-corridor while crouched and then darting across. Keeping close to the wall, he followed to the corner and readied himself to dash over as well. They’d be at the bridge access soon, and then everything would be crazy as they tried to stop the boarding privateers. Taking a deep breath, he paused as the man in front held up a hand and the sound of approaching boots slapped upon the deck.

Harry went down to the deck and pushed his head around the corner just traversed, eyes going wide as he rolled back and a staccato of weapon fire erupted. Rounds slammed into the terminating wall, peppering the inner covering with a spray of holes and he saw Harry hold up five fingers.

The man levered his carbine around the corner from down on the deck, keeping his head in cover and squeezed the trigger. He must have pushed the selector to full auto because the weapon gave a thunderous crack-crack-crack that continued for several seconds. Screams and shouts were heard from the down the corridor, but the returning fire showed not all, if any had been hit. Following suit, he stood straight and reached the pistol around with his offhand, lifting it high so if they were focussed on searching down low for Harry, they might not see his weapon.

Pulling on the trigger instead of squeezing it, the rounds burst out with each pull and the weapon tried to fight it’s way from his grip. Forcing himself to relax, he slowed himself down and let the weapon fire more gently. When more fire came back to spark the corner plating near him, he pulled his hand back and switched the selector to semi-auto instead of single shot.

Harry leaned around the corner from a kneeling position, adjusting where he was so they couldn’t get a bead on where he was going to appear. Snarling as he fired again, he let out several short bursts until the magazine went dry. Pulling back, he swapped in a new magazine and shook his head.

“Four still standing… they’re in a bloody doorway ten metres down.” The man’s eyes went wide and in a smooth movement while tucking the weapon into his shoulder, it fired toward him.

He could feel the rounds fly past his head, perhaps centimetres away from gouging through his skin and into his body.
Suddenly the heavier crack of the
Reaper
gauss rifle began firing behind him, and sliding down to a crouch he saw Gibney on the deck firing at where they had just come from. There were three more boarders, one leaning wide out the cross-corridor they’d passed earlier and firing at them over the booby-trapped bodies.

Unable to move forward and with the path back cut off, they were trapped with no cover and the boarders lining up to shoot the
m while they were in the open. Everything they were trying to achieve was about to come to an end. Rounds passed him by in both directions, and any second now he knew he was going to be hit.

A meaty slap echoed as Gibney was
struck, the round taking him in the shoulder and sending a small spray of blood into the air. Another grunt accompanied by a crash as a body went down came from behind and he knew that Harry must have been hit too, leaving him alone to be next.