Carver pulled out a small portable computer from his gear case and began typing on it. I resisted the urge to tell him to stow it, if we had to move, he’d probably have it secured before I could say anything.

  In peacetime, decades ago, we’d once kept our basic gear in secure armouries down the hall from where we slept, but on today's battlefield that was no longer an option. While we did keep most of our most advanced equipment in armouries throughout the ship, we had to have weapons and armour within easy reach. Especially while we were in the field, which was only compounded by the realisation that we were always, always in the field. What if there was decompression or a fire in the corridors leading to the armoury? What if the doors wouldn't open or power was lost? These were challenges that we sidestepped by ensuring what we needed to fight was never too far away.

  “God damn it. This just couldn't be easy, could it?” I exhaled sharply, walking over to a wall panel with hazard lines that outlined a square. “I’ll patch in and ask the SL for a sit-rep.” We were part of Demon Company, First Platoon, First Squad. We had limited information from just our tactical maps and automated systems but my squad leader would know the score.

  I pulled the manual override lever for the wall panel in front of me and a section of the wall recessed slightly before sliding out of sight. Behind it, a steel gun rack slid out and into the room, holding four standard issue battle rifles aligned in neat rows at a forty-five degree angle. We each grabbed one, tethering them to our armour and checking to make sure there wasn't any damage or obstruction that could render them inoperable.

  “Fireteam Bravo, Oscar Mike.” I said, but I quickly noticed there was no comms connection. I tried to link into my squad's encrypted tactical network, rather than the local fireteam network, but my suit returned an angry red error message, again stating there was no connection. I went back to using a proximity channel, scoffing at our luck.

  "Fucking typical." I spat. "Carver, see if you can get us linked into squad comms. My suit says there's no connection."

  "Roger. I'll take a look." Carver responded.

  “So do you think someone got flipped?” I asked turning slightly to shoot Larsen a questioning glance.

  “I wouldn’t rule it out, but it could always be insurgents, pirates maybe.” Larsen responded. Her faceplate, identical to mine, was flat and red, giving no hint of its wearer’s emotions or identity. Visors were a needless design flaw with how compact we could get cameras and accounting for implants that could feed visuals directly to our brains. No matter how tough you made a transparent material, it would almost never be as tough as something opaque.

  “Well, personally, I think it’s fuckin’ aliens!” Chen grunted as he hefted his primary weapon onto his mattress from his own gear case. Unlike the rest of us, he carried a much larger firearm. It wasn't a battle rifle, but a squad automatic weapon and it took longer to check over and prepare. I could see he was already attaching bulky block-shaped magazines to his armour's tether points which took the form of small metal rings. The rest of us had already done so with our own slimmer magazines while we'd been talking.

  “It could be a bunch of rabbits chewing on the power conduits. It doesn’t make much of a difference, does it?” Carver asked sourly.

  “Oh, it makes a difference.” I countered, commanding the concealed gun rack to retract and seal itself behind the wall.

  "An enemy combatant, I’ll just shoot, but if they’re a traitor? I’ll find a way to shoot them slowly.” I got a few chuckles at that. “Everyone good?” I asked, stepping back towards the corner of the room so I could get a good visual of everyone.

  "Good to go."

  "Green."

  "Ready to kick ass."

  Four green lights pulsed on my HUD under each of my team’s surnames which were all listed down the left side of my HUD. I checked the time since the alert. One minute and forty-seven seconds. Not too shabby.

  I nodded back, exaggerating the motion inside my armour so they could see it more easily. “Good, stay on my six. Don't shoot anyone unless they're out of uniform and rush us, or they raise a weapon. I want to avoid paperwork, okay? You all know the drill.” I shouldered my rifle and checked my ammunition status. My suit computer automatically displayed the current capacity of my magazine, the reserve ammunition available to me and the fire mode I had selected.

  I toggled the rifle over to a four round burst and chambered a round.

  “Great, another one of these missions.” Chen groaned.

  “Hey, I don’t make the rules, I just follow them.” I told him loftily.

  As the most senior Marine present and our team's leader, I took point and commanded the door leading into the ship's corridors to open. We double-timed it down the gunmetal grey corridors. I passed Navy crewmen in dark blue fatigues scurrying around and saw similarly armoured Marines thundering through the halls as their metallic footfalls echoed around me. Everyone was in a state of controlled chaos, doggedly seeking information on the situation and acting on it.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The end of the passageway came into sight quickly after only a few dozen metres, the ship having been built like a bunker with lots of ninety-degree turns, blast doors and kill-boxes. When I reached the first sealed door I slowed briefly as it opened on my signal and then I ran right into the next compartment, barely slowing my stride.

  I neared a corner and crashed into a supply officer. He went sprawling, dropping a bunch of honest-to-god pen and paper clipboards. I was pretty sure we didn't have those issued to anyone or stocked anywhere on board. I didn't have time to wonder about it though.

  “Watch it!" I yelled as I ran past him. I didn’t have time to hold his hand and sing him a bedtime story. I had a battle to fight.

  “Fucking POGs.” Chen chuckled over the radio.

  "My thoughts exactly." I replied.

  "Riley, comms are back up. At least within the squad."

  I followed the route overlaid on my HUD and figured that with the comms network at least partially operating, now would be a good time to ask someone what the hell was going on.

  I toggled into the squad-channel, finally. “Demon 1-2 Actual, this is Bravo Actual, we’re Oscar Mike. Interrogative.” I paused briefly. “What’s this alert for, and why couldn't we reach you before?”

  Staff Sergeant Hoffman’s voice came over the radio loud and clear, which was a relief since Carver’s earlier attempts to hook into comms had been fruitless. The Sergeant was my direct superior and in charge of four fireteams, two of which had duty stations at Engineering, including my own.

  “Bravo Team, Demon 1-2 Actual. Swap to frequency rotation Gamma-Five and confirm secure." Sergeant Hoffman said, after a long delay. He sounded grim.

  "Uh…" We normally didn’t bother changing our comm frequency rotations, our suit computers handled that laborious task with far greater efficiency, swapping between rotations thousands of times a second with practiced synchronicity. A manual change was only done under certain circumstances, like a breach in security or something that made the current frequency rotation unsuitable, like jamming.

  "Gamma-Five, confirm secure." Hoffman repeated, rather sternly.

  “The rest of you copy?” I asked my team.

  “Affirmative.” Larsen said in clipped tones, followed shortly by Chen and then Carver.

  I nodded and made the necessary adjustments.

  To my surprise, an additional screen popped up as I led my team through metal corridors. My suit was scanning my biometrics, fingerprint, handprint, retina, even voiceprint. The sharp pinprick in my upper arm told me they’d taken a blood and DNA sample, too. That was a surprise to me. Usually we didn't need any of that just to access our communications. Solid comms discipline was never a bad idea, but a full biometric scan, blood sample included, just for secure comms seemed a bit excessive to me.

  Carver hissed in pain, tensing up in his armour. I grinned, eyes flicking to the top of my HUD, a small wireless strength signal with a “G-5” next to it confirming that my comms were secure. I knew that Carver hadn’t been shot, or anything of the sort. It merely was the integrated syringe that allowed for wounded soldiers to receive medical injections without removing their suit. Of course, it did a lot more than that, too, allowing for the drawing and analysis of the occupant's blood. The pinprick of the needles in our armour was nothing compared to getting shot or stabbed, but Carver just liked to complain.

  Still, I could see where he was coming from. It was just a dick move to force someone’s armour to stab them without permission.

  I frowned. "I guess someone higher is feeling awfully paranoid. I can’t really blame them, what with the ship being under attack in a place that's supposedly impossible to find someone in.

  "If we'd pulled off something like that, whoever dreamed up the method would be getting a stack of tin and ribbons." Larsen agreed.

  I checked my HUD for warnings, then my ammo and then the vitals of Carver, Chen and Larsen, in a methodical order for what must have been the fourth time in as many minutes.

  “Riley, online. Comms check everyone.” I spoke.

  “Larsen, secure.”

  “Chen, secure.” Chen said.

  Another moment passed.

  Carver’s irate voice came over the channel loud and clear. “What the fuck was that for? I mean seriously, do you want to make sure it’s my brain in here too and not a fucking lamb chop?”

  That was one way to confirm comms were working. I stamped down on the impulse to smack him, though.

  "Belay that shit, Carver." I ordered, before asking the question that was on my mind. "Sarge, what's the deal? Who are we fighting?"

  The rest of us had been jabbed by our suit’s internal needles the same as Carver, but somehow his winning personality meant he couldn’t shut up about it. It was still a bit of a mystery to me how Carver had passed Basic; we’d had to suffer through dozens and dozens of different shots before we even began our training as well as regular blood samples to screen for toxins and drugs during the lengthy period.

  “We’re having security issues, suck it up, Carver.” Hoffman answered. ”And, I don't know yet, Riley. Situation. We've got an unknown number of bogeys onboard. They've got partial control of our systems and have hooked into the hardlines. Ship’s comm systems are compromised so we're operating on a peer to peer suit net right now. That means proximity comms only.” The Sergeant paused for a moment.

  “The enemy is pressing us hard everywhere and they’ve got heavy gun emplacements set up at key locations. They’re well-trained and have battle armour so watch yourselves. Link up with the rest of the squad at Engineering and hold it before these guys dig in and take it."

  “Understood. Have we lost anything yet?”

  “Reports are spotty at best, but I think we're holding. Last I heard, the flight bay’s locked down, infirmary is under siege, but that won't last long if we don't get backup to them soon. Take your team to Engineering and defend it until you hear otherwise. Demon 1-2 Actual Out.” The audio cut out abruptly after that, the channel closing.

  “You heard him." I told my three Marines. "Time to earn your pay. We’re reinforcing Engineering. I’ve never heard of an ambush on a ship outside established systems or jump zones so I’ll be dipped in shit if these are just a couple of skilled amateurs. They were probably tracking us somehow."

  Chen grunted, clearly unhappy with the news. “I suppose it would be too much to ask for clueless zealots to fight.”

  Privately, I agreed with Chen. I’d much rather fight an under-equipped and untrained force short on brains and high on fanaticism. At least fanatics could be handicapped by their blind fervor even if they did sometimes view death as a victory condition. A well-trained and well-equipped enemy was always a challenge at the best of times, assuming you didn’t outnumber them fifty to one.

  Right now? I think the only thing we might outnumber them in was casualties. I resolved not to become one of them and to get through this mess alive. We had to retake the ship, or die trying. If we failed, we would die out here in the cold of space where fuck all existed. Likely, our bodies would never be found by anyone, ever. I flat-out refused to let that happen. I wasn’t going to die in the middle of nowhere.