“Attention unidentified personnel. This is Captain Uriah V. Cleghorn, DSS Exeter First Marines. You are hereby ordered to surrender your weapons and stand down. If you do not comply we have orders to engage with lethal force. Acknowledge.”

Cleghorn was well aware of the fact the jamming field likely attenuated any possibility his message was received, but regulations required any Marine assault force approaching a friendly target to make at least one challenge.

Twin boats from Exeter roared towards the cargo locks located in a ring around Survey Station Nineteen’s center section. They were relatively large egress points for the facility, designed to soft-lock most vessels in the 100,000-ton and up freighter classes. Each boat held 31 heavily armed marines in fully powered tac suits. The personnel bay shook and heaved as the assault boat twisted and banked in its evasive approach pattern.

“I need an escort to records,” Lieutenant Hawkins announced. Hers was the only suit in the blue and silver colors of Skywatch Fleet. All 30 of the other tac suits were decorated with the green and gold of the Skywatch Marines. Hers was, of course, one of only three with an officer’s insignia and transponder.

“We do this one by the numbers, lieutenant,” Cleghorn replied. “We don’t know what we’re up against yet. I want to hit the deck with everyone squared away. Squad order, two by two and you secure every hatch, corner and light switch from hell to breakfast. Is that understood, Marines?”

The platoon barked a hearty “RAH!” in unison.

“We need to secure the landing party first,” Hawkins said. “I think I know what’s going on in there!”

Cleghorn turned to look back at the fleet officer. “As you were, Hawkins. You may outrank every sergeant aboard Exeter, but this is my company, my command. You will follow my orders during this mission without question. Is that understood, lieutenant?”

Hawkins was used to having the upper hand when interacting with Exeter marines. There was a lot she was allowed to get away with around certain gunnery sergeants and enlisted. One, because she was his fiancee and two, because for the last year or so she always had the option to playfully pull rank.

But here, 100 miles out from a potentially deadly firefight there was one inescapable fact: a Marine captain outranked a Fleet junior lieutenant, and Hawkins had now cashed in her one free screw-up. The look on Cleghorn’s face told her further outbursts were unlikely to be tolerated.

“Yes sir.”

“Outstanding. Rollins, hand me that exterminator.”

A marine corporal who could have easily passed for a starting defensive lineman on any championship-caliber pro football team reached up and dislodged an oversized shotgun from its wall mount and handed it to the captain. He inspected the weapon quickly and cocked it with a satisfying clik-clak sound.

“Captain has the point.”

A rapid-fire series of communications was exchanged between the station’s security systems and the two assault boats. The Exeter, of course, had all the necessary security overrides as it was a Skywatch ship attempting to re-establish contact with a Skywatch survey station. The docking systems aboard Station 19 authorized the approach of the two Marine shock platoons and set the bay doors to external control.

The boats approached very quickly, only applying their counter-thrusters at a range of 200 meters for final approach. They fast-locked into the station’s approach control lanes, immediately overrode all the safety mechanisms and established magnetic contacts with the outside bay assemblies. Five seconds later both ships had soft locks with the station’s hull. The doors breached and twin platoons of power-armored Marines poured into the cargo bay, weapons raised, sweeping the field of fire. Captain Cleghorn was first to touch the deck.

Not a word was spoken. A group of ten streamed right. Another group rapidly covered the distance across the bay to the personnel hatches. Around them were various conveyor assemblies, overhead cranes, loaders and pressurized containers. There was minimal light, but all of the Marines had fully-equipped tac suits with independent helmet lights and a variety of rangefinding options including infra-red, magnetic and scatter-band.

Cleghorn caught movement in one corner of the largest open area and raised his weapon to advance.

“Exeter Marines! Hands where I can see them!”

A tentative burst of weapons fire answered. The sound of energy ricochets echoed in the huge bay. Another burst blasted pieces of the floor in all directions. Cleghorn dove to one side and grunted when his back hit the containers he was now using for cover.

“Hostiles! Look sharp!”

Light strobed as short bursts of energy fire were exchanged. Given the number of obstacles in the room it wasn’t surprising most of the shots hit inanimate objects rather than their targets. Cleghorn heard running footsteps and consulted his tactical map.

“Six targets bearing three one zero!” He scrambled back to his feet and ran to a vantage point behind the barrier of pressure containers. He arrived at the corner of the stack at exactly the right moment.

“Hey!”

One of the intruders turned and pointed his weapon but it was too late.

BOOM!

The twin slugs from Cleghorn’s rail-assisted shotgun blew a foot-wide hole in the intruder’s torso.

clik-clak

He reloaded and moved up to a more aggressive vantage point just in time for one of the load frames to explode in dozens of mangled metal pieces overhead. Another blast of energy streamed past. Rapid-fire bolts sprayed across the open area in front of the Captain. He waited patiently until the enemy power pack drained, then he exploded from cover like a lawman in an old west prairie town.

BOOM!

A cry of pain echoed.

clik-clak

BOOM!

clik-clak

BOOM!

The third intruder’s startled shout faded quickly. Three shots, three neutralized intruders. Cleghorn marched forward, turning his weapon’s barrel skyward and reaching into his bandoleer for a slug pack. He reloaded.

clik-clak

A moment later, another intruder emerged from cover with his weapon pointed the wrong way. He turned an instant too late.

BOOM!

His left leg was vaporized by an exterminator slug.

clik-clak

BOOM!

His gurgling scream was silenced.

The flash of a much heavier weapon drove Cleghorn back into cover. The deck shook with explosions from overloaded concussion rounds.

“Second squad, report!”

“Maximum of eight, sir. Retreating along a two one five and headed for the magneto-lifts.”

“Affirmative. Secure your position and stand by. Comms, what’s the status on intrastation communications?”

“Working on it, sir.”

“Work faster, son. I want to know where the hell the commander is, and I want to know right now.”