The Cutlass had become a fractured battlefield. Emergency lighting cast everything in blood-red shadows, punctuated by the actinic blue flash of laser fire and the strobe of muzzle flashes. The air tasted of ozone and scorched metal. The bridge team remained isolated behind armored bulkheads with their thick reinforced titanium-ceramic composite plating, their voices tense over comms. The pirates' advance in that direction had stalled, but they were not giving up; the Ripper continued his methodical assault on the armored hatches, the rhythmic thud of breaching tools reverberating through the structure. Below, Engineering remained heavily damaged, the distant groan of stressed metal and escaping atmosphere through micro-fractures a constant reminder of their precarious situation, while damage control teams were busy repelling the second boarding party.
David Carter descended through the maintenance shaft, the rhythmic slap of his gloves against the metal rungs echoing in the confined space as he floated downward in zero-g. The emergency lighting cast everything in dim red, making the narrow passage feel like the throat of some mechanical beast. He paused at a junction, checking the stenciled markings. Two more decks to Damage Control Central. His decision to reinforce LCDR Vaughn and the vulnerable DC Central, rather than staying near the armored-up bridge, had been instinctive, born from years of combat experience. The bridge might have better coffee, but reactor control had better odds of fighting back.
The tactical net chimed. "Carter, it's Vale. Pirates pushing hard toward reactor access. We're falling back to DC Central. We will be able to hold them out, but they will have more freedom to breach the sealed hatches without interference."
"Copy that. Be there soon. Save me a good spot in the last stand."
"Very funny, Carter. Just bring more ammunition. These pirates don't seem to understand when they're not welcome."
David pushed off the ladder and floated to a side access panel. He pulled it open, revealing a narrow crawlspace that would bypass the main corridors where the pirates were likely advancing and take a route through a cargo hold. The ship schematics he'd memorized during his first week aboard were proving invaluable now.
He squeezed through the tight passage, moving as quickly as the confined space allowed. The distant crack of PAP fire grew louder, punctuated by shouts and the metallic ping of projectiles ricocheting off bulkheads.
The crawlspace ran over the upper level of the cargo hold. David paused at a vent grating, scanning the dimly lit space below. He gritted his teeth at the sight revealed; the boarding party was already in this section. Three pirates moved cautiously toward the aft access corridor, likely looking for an alternate way around the hatches the XO had welded shut, but unaware of his position above them. They wore the same armored spacesuits as the pirates forward, weapons at the ready, moving with the careful precision of scavenger beetles picking through the carcass of a dead ship. From his vantage point, their helmet lights swept through the darkness like the bioluminescent lures of deep-space predators.
David took a slow breath, sighted on the trailing pirate. The angle was awkward, but with his visor synced with his P-3M rifle, he could aim without needing his eyes behind the sights. He had dialed up the power to ensure armor penetration.
He slowly squeezed the trigger.
The P-3M rifle whined a shot with an echoing supersonic crack from the high-velocity slug. The pirate's helmet shattered, the contents of the pirate's skull pulped. He died instantly, his body crumpling to its knees from the impact and breaking the magnetic hold of his boots to the deck, and started to flip over with blood and brain matter escaping from the jagged hole in the helmet.
The other two pirates spun, searching for the source of the attack. David fired again, a three-round burst at one. The man's suit armor absorbed two slugs, but a third penetrated his shoulder. The injured man shouted a warning, and both pirates dove for cover behind cargo containers.
Rather than engage further, David scooted back into the maintenance shaft. He sealed the access panel to the crawlspace behind him and continued his descent. He hoped the pirates would waste precious minutes searching for him and relieve some of the pressure of their assault on DC Central.
He pushed through another access panel two decks down, emerging into a narrow engineering corridor. The passage was barely wide enough for one person, lined with conduits and control junctions. Emergency lighting flickered, casting strange shadows that made every corner seem like a potential ambush.
"Vale, status report," David subvocalized into his comm.
"We've sealed the main access to DC Central and a secondary. Pirates trying to cut through from both directions, but we are holding. XO's hit. Bad."
"Copy. Almost there."
The engineering access corridors formed a three-dimensional maze, stacked vertically through the ship's spine. Ladders connected the decks, with emergency crawl shafts branching off at irregular intervals. Maintenance hatches provided access to critical systems, most secured with manual locks that couldn't be hacked remotely.
David reached a junction where three corridors met at different levels. He oriented himself, checking the ship's layout in his mind. Damage Control Central would be one deck down, through the auxiliary systems monitoring station.
He floated through an access hatch, staying near the ceiling. The corridor ahead was clear, but he could hear the distinctive sound of cutting tools working on metal nearby. The pirates were trying to breach DC Central from the adjacent corridor.
Hugging the ceiling and the curved bulkhead, David moved silently to the DC Central access hatch. Gently clinking his boots to the ceiling, he straightened to reach down and key the entry code Vale had provided over the tactical net. The hatch slid open just enough for him to slip through before sealing behind him.
Damage Control Central was a hub of activity despite the crisis. Technicians worked frantically at monitoring stations, tracking system failures along the ship's 115-meter length, and coordinating repair efforts. The holographic displays showed critical heat levels in the remaining functional radiator panels, operating at 173% of rated capacity and unable to bleed off the excess heat generated. Three Type-7 autonomous repair drones were being dispatched through 40-centimeter access tubes too small for humans, their magnetic propulsion systems whining as they loaded with sealant compounds and replacement circuit modules. The air smelled of ozone and burned insulation, the environmental scrubbers struggling to filter the acrid particles.
LCDR Vaughn lay strapped into an acceleration couch that was being used as a makeshift medical station. His uniform was soaked with blood around the left shoulder and chest. A medic worked beside him, monitoring vital signs on a portable display. Despite his injuries, the XO remained conscious, issuing orders in a strained but steady voice.
"Status on reactor cooling?" he asked a technician.
"Holding at sixty-three percent capacity, sir. If we lose another heat exchanger, we'll need to reduce output."
"Prioritize repair drones to sections fourteen and seventeen. We need those ejectors back online."
David approached, catching LCDR Vaughn's eye. The XO looked pale, his face drawn with pain, the lines around his eyes deeper than usual against his ashen skin. Despite the charred and blackened holes in his uniform around the left shoulder and chest, his gaze remained sharp and focused, the same calculating stare David had seen during tactical briefings.
"Carter. Good timing." Vaughn winced as he shifted position, a tremor running through his usually steady hands. "Pirates are trying to reach the reactor control trunk. If they take it, they can override our lockouts or just knock the core offline and doom the ship itself."
"How bad?" David asked, glancing at the wound.
"Bad enough. Laser caught me while I was sealing the blast hatch. Through and through, but missed anything vital. Medic says I'll live if I don't bleed out first." Vaughn attempted a smile that came out as a grimace. "Not leaving this station. Ship needs damage control more than it needs another body with a gun."
David nodded, respecting the decision. "What's our defensive situation, sir?"
"Vale and Rickerson are holding the main access corridor. Two technicians with PAPs covering the secondary access." Vaughn gestured to a schematic displayed on a nearby screen. "Pirates can't get into Engineering proper thanks to the disabled hatches, but if they take this control center, they can access the main reactor core controls and override our lockouts. But we need to get damage control teams out to work in sections where they will be exposed to the pirates."
"Sir, I got this. We'll keep them out."
LCDR Vaughn nodded, then turned to issue another damage control order to a waiting technician. Despite his injury, he remained focused on his expertise, letting David handle the defense. The division of responsibility was clear and unspoken: Vaughn would keep the ship functioning; David would keep it from falling to the pirates.
"Carter," the XO called as David turned to leave. "The Bridge is still cut off. You're the ranking security specialist now. We are counting on you to defend the Cutlass."
David met the man's gaze, understanding the weight of what LCDR Vaughn was saying. Unlike Commander Morris with his paralysis by analysis, Vaughn recognized when to delegate. With the captain isolated and the XO wounded, command authority had effectively split. Vaughn would handle damage control and repairs from his expertise, while David would run the ship's defense against the boarders. It was the kind of clear division that saved lives in crisis.
"Understood, sir."
He looked in on the two security team members guarding the main access corridor, where they crouched just in case the pirates were able to breach the welded hatch. It would take the pirates time to break through, and he did not need them so close to it.
"Rickerson, Vale, come here," he said, gesturing for them to come back to see an unused display showing deck layouts for the damage control teams. "We need to strike back and start taking them down."
Operations Technician Bill Rickerson looked pale but determined, his lean frame tense as he clutched his P-3B PAP with white-knuckled hands. Sweat beaded along his brow, running down his temple from beneath his helmet, and his narrow shoulders hunched forward as if bracing for impact. He was cross-training over to Security Specialist, so he had the training, but this was his first combat experience. Medical Technician Seren Vale moved with the efficient calm of someone who'd seen combat before, her slight frame belying her strength as she hauled medical supplies. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly, with one errant strand that escaped from under her helmet and plastered with sweat on her cheek. Her face was bare of expression, the same as when she was burdened with triage.
"We're going to use some hit-and-run tactics to catch them on their flanks," David said, pointing to the schematic. "We will need one or two of these engineering techs to help. Vale, you will stay in DC Central in case we have any wounded."
"Copy that. Engineering Tech Simms over there can help with his knowledge of the maintenance shafts. He can also shoot okay."
With the help of Simms, David outlined his plan, using the ship's architecture against the pirates. The maintenance corridors surrounding DC Central created a defensive honeycomb, with multiple access points that they could control. By using mag-locks and pressure doors, they could possibly lure and funnel the invaders into kill zones, then disappear before reinforcements arrived. It was classic asymmetric warfare, trading the pirates' superior numbers for the crew's superior knowledge of the terrain. Even with limited ammunition and personnel, they could maintain control of critical systems this way while whittling down the opposition's numbers.
"We open hatches, fire, then seal immediately," he explained. "They'll never know which direction we'll come from next. We will keep flanking them and trying to disrupt their push to get into DC Central. It will start spreading them thin if they have to maintain watch on locked-down hatches. Also, there might be a few still higher up in the cargo holds. I took out one and winged another on my way down."
Ops Tech Rickerson nodded, some color returning to his face. "I can rig remote releases for some of the hatches. Give us more options."
"Do it," David said. "Also, be on the lookout for any of their technicians trying to hack into our network. We cannot have them trying to bypass controls that way either."
David looked to Simms, and the unarmored Engineering Tech nodded. "I will bring the portable mag-locks. I will do my best, Carter."
A comm panel beeped. LCDR Vaughn toggled it from his position. "DC Central, XO here."
Commander Morris's voice filled the room, tight with frustration. "XO, status report. Why haven't you restored environmental controls? I need to isolate those decks."
"Sir, primary distribution is severed in three places. We've got drones working, but repairs take time with the damage we sustained."
"I don't want excuses, Lieutenant Commander. I need those pirates contained. They're still trying to break onto my bridge." The strain in Morris's voice betrayed more than impatience. It carried the weight of a man watching another command situation spiral beyond his control.
Vaughn's jaw tightened from the CO's lashing tone and the implied rebuke from using the XO's formal rank. "We're doing everything possible, captain. Many systems have been fragged more than the redundancies could handle in their design. We took significant damage."
"And the security situation? I heard Carter is down there."
David moved closer to the comm panel, keeping his expression neutral.
"Specialist Carter is coordinating our defense, sir," Vaughn replied. "He's keeping the pirates from taking DC Central and the reactor core access."
Morris's voice hardened. "I ordered Chief Voss to negotiate. Carter's insubordination is what got us into this mess."
David leaned toward the comm. "They executed our chief, sir. That was never negotiation and part of their plan from the beginning."
A long silence followed before the CO spoke again. "This isn't over, Carter." The channel closed abruptly.
LCDR Vaughn glanced at David. "Handle the defense. I'll handle the captain." It wasn't quite approval, but it was permission to continue.
David nodded and turned back to his team. "Let's move."
Techs Rickerson and Simms followed him out of DC Central towards their first ambush point, positioning themselves at opposite sides of the hatchway. Peering through a small viewport, David signaled that pirates were approaching from the port maintenance shaft.
Simms opened the hatch.
David fired a controlled burst with his P-5M PAR, dropping one attacker as soon as he had a clear shot. Rickerson fired his P-3B from the opposite side, still maintaining his cover from the hatch combing. The two pirates were caught in the open, rounds impacting their spacesuit armor. At least one of David's shots drew blood.
Taking some cover, the pirates returned fire with laser pistols, but the albedo coating of David's armor protected him from the burn on his exposed shoulder. He triggered another tight, three-round burst and got one of the pirates in the head. Rickerson's rounds were pinging off the bulkhead near the other wounded one.
Cursing, the pirate tossed a grenade down the passageway. It bounced along the passageway towards David and his team, deflecting off a bulkhead and coming to rest at the hatch combing.
"Simms, shut the hatch!" David shouted.
He fired again at the pirate, the burst taking the target in the shoulder to spin him around in a spray of red blood splatter as he started to tumble in the zero-g.
With the hatch whooshing shut, the grenade popped off. A flash of blinding light and electrical energy crackled in the air.
Simms fell back, stunned, and would be incapacitated for several minutes. Rickerson dropped his PAP. His exposed side was numb, but the Ops Tech was otherwise fine. The stun grenade's effects would probably wear off in a couple of minutes. David was protected from most of the effects by his gauss screen.
The result of their attack was acceptable, and David chalked it up as a win. They were mostly okay, and two pirates were down. He checked the viewport and did not think either was alive.
He and Rickerson carried Simms back to DC Central for treatment.
Med Tech Vale worked quickly, treating the effects of the stunning. "Running low on synth-clot, the burn treatment salves, and painkillers," she reported. "If we have any serious cases, I will need to evac them to medical."
"Sorry, no evac options available right now. That compartment got vented to space from one of the pirate ship's laser beams," David replied. "Do what you can."
His comm chimed. "Winkle to Carter. Situation changing up here."
David pressed against the bulkhead, keeping his voice low. "Report."
"The Ripper's adapting. Using microcharges to open alternate stairwells. They're set up one deck below the bridge now. I'm delaying them with suppressive fire, but they've got sentries posted on every hatch I've used. My effectiveness has gone rock poor. Running low on ammo, I'll have to fall back soon, for burn's sake."
David knew the junior security specialist was probably enjoying himself a little too much. "Try not to sound so disappointed about retreating."
"What can I say?" Winkle's voice carried a strained chuckle. "First interesting performance review I've had in months. Anyway, I've one magazine left. Maybe fifteen rounds. Been practicing my ammo conservation like you taught us. One round, one pirate. Except when I miss. Then it's more like five rounds, still one pirate. No scrap, I'm trying."
"That's not how conservation works," David replied dryly.
"Hey, in my defense, they keep moving around. Burning inconsiderate of them. Vacuum's honest, these pirates have no manners." A pause, then the sound of another shot. "Make that fourteen rounds."
David considered their options. "Hold position as long as possible, then fall back to Deck Four."
"Copy that. Winkle out."
David contacted Security Specialist Navarro on the bridge. "We need to coordinate a crossfire with Winkle. Request permission to redeploy crew downward to take pressure off the bridge."
After a moment, Navarro's voice returned. "Captain refuses. Says isolation will eventually win as long as we keep the boarders out. He doesn't want to risk opening up the blast hatches."
In the background, David heard Reyes speaking. "Sir, the pirates are in sealed suits. And our life support control is degraded. We can't isolate and suffocate them even if they weren't in suits."
Morris's voice, distant but clear: "That's enough, Ensign."
David exchanged looks with Vale and Rickerson. They all understood what Morris couldn't seem to grasp: there would be no waiting this out.
He contacted Specialist Winkle again, "You are still on your own. Morris is not going to let Navarro out to coordinate with you. Stay safe and do what you can."
"So, I get the hot hull while you play diplomat in Damage Control? Typical burn-off," Winkle replied, his strained voice betraying the tension despite the casual tone. "Next time I call dibs on the section with fewer people trying to kill me."
"You volunteered for the security team," David reminded him. "Something about 'where the action would be.' By the cold dark, you got what you asked for, so quit scrapping me."
"Remind me to be more specific next time," Winkle said, followed by the distinctive whine-crack of his PAP firing. "Gotta go. My new friends are burning impatient."
Gathering his two security team members, Simms, and two more from the damage control teams, David started outlining a breakout plan for the XO's approval.
"Sir, we need to push," he said. "Clear this section completely. We are running short on time. I will lead one team to break out from this hatchway. Technician Rickerson will lead the team that will go up one deck and take out any pirates there. Then his team can advance to that ladderway and then catch those on this deck in the crossfire. Sir, the damage control teams here can open the main access hatch to catch the remaining pirates trying to break into DC Central by surprise in the confusion."
LCDR Vaughn nodded, "Sounds good."
Turning to a young officer, "Ensign Ortiz, you organize that team."
"Aye, aye, sir," the lean and long-limbed officer acknowledged.
Getting into position, David kicked things off with the first attack. His team floated through a side corridor and used a corner as cover to take the main group of pirates outside DC Central under fire. The whining-cracks of their weapons traded shots with laser pistols and rifles of the pirates. However, both sides had cover, protecting them from direct fire.
A few moments later, he received the report from Ops Tech Rickerson about catching two pirates just below the cargo holds. Both targets were down, and his team was getting into position on the access hatch from above.
A grenade came bouncing down the corridor towards David and his team. He pushed off the bulkhead to land on it before it could flash and stun the rest of his team. Luckily, it was a stun grenade and not something worse. The small explosive pop was still like a punch to the chest, even though the harmful effects were absorbed by his body armor and the gauss screen's electromagnetic field.
There was a loud bang from a shotgun. Tiny pellets of the blast pinged off the bulkhead and peppered his body armor while he was exposed. Twisting around, he let his mag-boots click home on the bulkhead to secure his motion in a prone position on the floor. He was able to return fire and took down the two pirates charging his position with a couple of sustained bursts.
"Ensign Ortiz, now would be a good time to attack, sir," he called over their tactical net.
With three teams effectively flanking the pirates, the battle quickly turned in favor of the Cutlass's crew. Only three pirates were still moving, and their morale broke after finding themselves outnumbered and almost surrounded. They fled back towards the aft shuttle docking collar in an attempt to escape. Despite the pain from multiple bruises, David charged after snapping off shots to keep the pirates from making a stand.
At the hatch leading to their docked shuttle, Ops Tech Rickerson's team caught them in a crossfire from a maintenance hatch, killing one instantly. Another burst from David's P-5M took out a pirate carrying a shotgun. The pirate's neck sprayed blood along the bulkhead as he tumbled to bounce off the ceiling in zero-g.
The third pirate raised his hands in surrender, tossing aside his weapon.
The fight was over.
"Secure him," David ordered Ops Tech Rickerson, who bound the pirate's hands and feet with restraint cuffs.
David cautiously peered through the hatch and into the shuttle. There were no pirates inside. By all appearances the shuttle's systems had not taken any damage in the fighting either.
Taking their prisoner, they all returned to DC Central. "We've got control of their aft shuttle," he reported to LCDR Vaughn. "Section is clear."
The cost had been high. They had lost three crew members from the damage control teams, and nearly everyone else had suffered at least minor injuries. Vale moved among them, her medical supplies nearly exhausted.