Pixie Hazard, Archibald Bradford [100 best novels of all time .TXT] 📗

as she pumped the hydraulic failsafe with all her might.

Eva had meanwhile already untethered them and was standing by at the hatch with Donnie as it opened inch by inch with every pull of their shipmate’s arm.

“Assume the worst.” The captain ordered.

It was another half minute or so before the hatch was wide enough for them to float inside, then there was that moment of vertigo that accompanied stepping into an artificial mass field, most of their body floating while their feet found the arbitrary ‘down’ of the vessel.

The veterans were unfazed by the bizarre sensation though and took up position on either side of the interior door, out of sight of the small circular window in its center.

With her fire-team in place, Donnie smacked the emergency re-pressurization button hard enough to crack it and the hatch slammed back closed as oxygen began to fill the room.

Sound gradually returned as the vacuum around them filled with breathable atmosphere. The hiss of the airlock was the most noticeable, though they could also make out the klaxon blare of an alarm on the other side of the door as well as the general hum of the ships engines.

As the indicator next to the interior door counted down, Donnie shouldered her shotgun.

“Stack up. We’re going in hot.”

Chapter 9: Breach

The worn interior door of the airlock opened to reveal a grungy locker room with two rows of lockers, likely designed originally for storage of the miners’ suits, now they were in severe disrepair and the room looked largely unused.

The marines making entry were unconcerned with the place’s need for a mop and a coat of paint, too focused on clearing their corners. Maria and Donnie had their weapons gripped in two hands, but Eva had slung her repeater over her shoulder in exchange for a pistol and a functional combat knife, steadying the hand of the former with the hand of the latter.

It took them a few seconds to determine they were alone.

“Clear Skip.”

“We’re clear.” Eva muttered right after Maria as she moved to the first hatch.

But right as she finished speaking the interior door opened and a stout man with an ancient looking submachine gun entered to investigate the airlock alarm.

He barely had time to register the hulking brute that was Maria before Eva bull-rushed him from the side, slamming him into the nearest bank of lockers, the weight of her armour enough to crater the flimsy doors and crush a number of his ribs.

She finished him on his way to the floor with some bloody knife work, making a mess of her armour, but keeping the noise to a minimum.

“One down.” She called once he stopped struggling.

“I can see that.” Donnie said as she and Maria checked the corridor he came out of and found it empty to either side; “Let’s move, you bought us some time by killing the messenger, but they’ll figure out we stowed away soon.”

“Where to?”

The corridor had a number of hatches leading off of it into various storage spaces, while a set of stairs leading to the more habitable sections of the ship was immediately to their right.

Having a rough idea where they were on the vessel, Donnie gave her orders.

“Clear this deck Hooker, then find the engine room and see about scuttling this piece of shit. The Pixie isn’t getting close enough to pick us up so long as those Arbalests got power. Sledge and I are headed up. You both know why we’re here. Check your targets, move fast, and drop anyone who looks like a pirate.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Eva slipped away, moving stealthily despite her combat armour as she began to clear the lower holds, one by one.

“I’ve got point Skipper.” Maria said with her gun leading the way.

She went towards the stairs with the captain right behind her, both of them moving quickly; the shrill screech of the ship’s alarm echoing all around them serving as a constant reminder that they were on borrowed time and that further violence was imminent.

Once at the top of the stairs, they heard the sound of a man shouting coming from a corridor on their left. Following it they ended up at a T-junction deep in the belly of the vessel, close enough to make out what he was saying.

“-that alarm off! Dewey’s dealing with it!”

He stomped his way around the corner while still looking back at someone behind him, then turned to see the two marines in their hulking exo-rigs.

“What are you supposed to be?”

He didn’t sound in the least bit frightened, maybe even a bit impatient.

Maria answered by bringing the butt of her repeater down on his head.

Without her suit she would have cracked his skull, instead it caved inwards in mess of blood and grey matter.

The sound of him slumping to the floor was drowned out by the last second or so of the alarm before someone finally shut it off.

“I go right, you go left.” Donnie ordered, her voice deafening in the sudden silence.

“Copy.”

Together they moved into the T-junction, though neither of them saw anyone as they split up.

Taking a few seconds to clear a surprisingly clean bathroom, Donnie heard more coarse voices around the next corner when she came out.

“Alarms are off, hope the commodore isn’t too pissed with us for leaving. Need me some pussy.”

“Quit thinking with your dick and just be glad we’re not dead.”

Another pair of men came into view, both wearing almost identical worn coveralls, this time though they had a much more appropriate response to the sight of the armoured marine.

Or they would have if she didn’t rapidly discharge her shotgun twice, tearing through their torsos one after another.

But even as they too slumped to the floor, Donnie heard a yelped curse and the