Finally, the gravity stopped pressing, and we were in zero-G again. But the crew had already oriented themselves and switched to magnetic boots, making every step audible from very far away as the magnetic boots clattered against the metal plating. The outer sectors continue to evacuate; fortunately, there are many military personnel among the guests who are trained to move in zero-G conditions. But not all, one must assume.
And the shields fell too; a wind with icy shrapnel began to tear at the hull. The enemy destroyed the projectors, and the liner was physically defenseless against the elements. But there are pluses: the starting engines were carried further away; they can no longer cling to the shield.
The ship, deprived of shields, began to rise out of the storm again, exposing itself to boarding groups that began to land and clashed with security dragging the guests away. Stretched security forces, unable to close the airlocks and busy with evacuation, against robots and professionals.
I already encountered the robots when a squad of them attacked the personnel zone. Here there was already time to entrench, and a squad of humanoid robots accompanied by a large humanoid mech, as big as a Covenant Mgalekgolo, was here. The infantry is flimsy, slow; Geth are an order of magnitude better.
But the giant, though slow, is well-armored. The mech's left arm ends in a machine gun, the right in a grenade launcher. Bullets just bounce off it; if the corporates hadn't had rocket launchers, the defenders would have stayed lying there. As it was, two rockets fired in a volley, and the mech's chest cavity was torn open; it collapsed. It's quite clumsy and straightforward, after all. But our enemies did think to make the mechs isolated; they can't be hacked remotely.
Above us, the ships continue the battle. Missile Cruisers of the enemy against Earth's. One of the enemy's exploded, but the human ones are clearly heavily damaged; the MACs are not attacking, continuing to pour on missiles. Apparently, the weapons were damaged by the shelling. The missiles are definitely unusual; according to the chatter, they tear targets apart with gravity. Need to study them; could be useful. Ajax and the Vice Admiral agree.
Most likely, the human Cruisers won't be destroyed. External elements, weapons, engines, and sensors will be stripped; part of the compartments will be damaged. But the ships will remain drifting, and then the crew will have to be saved, as in the case of the liner. Drawing away forces—a good solution.
The problem here is that all this hardware, as well as the surviving escorts, are now showering the liner with boarding pods, where there are a lot of passengers and no gravity. Now the advance groups are rushing into the technical block; there are several dozen guards here and me, as they are sure, a technician.
Here, in the corridors around the reactor and engines, all the relevant personnel gathered. Technicians, security. Several servants in bulletproof vests and with weapons. A maid of twenty or thirty in a bulletproof vest, helmet, and with an assault rifle looks amusing. Но, likely, she will die. The Salarians proved they will clear everyone who is armed, which is reasonable.
I approached a security guard, a man in full armor with a shield and the corporation's mark:
"Technician Lily Schlasser reporting as ordered."
The guard looked at the pass card and nodded.
"Just in time. These freaks, whoever they are, are installing turrets in the corridors. They give a burst at any movement, interfering with regrouping. They don't target specifically, but you fly out onto a turret and that's it, you're torn apart."
Another good solution. Robots, turrets. All this can be abandoned after the attack so they draw the military to themselves and interfere with evacuation. And if the turrets are stationary, the robots will patrol and kill. The corporate soldier clearly got distracted by the next arrival. So, I need a weapon. I have my own boots. So I went to the corporate standing by the crates with a supply mark.
"Any weapons? I have a military pass."
The black helmet looked me over, snorted, and tried to deliver a blow to the body. Snorted again, looking at his twisted arm, and nodded.
"I believe you, here."
And gave me an assault rifle. Standard, military. And a pipe wrench for close combat. The case is on my back, tied with a strap. I'm going nowhere without the beacon; besides, it can be a bomb if needed.
"Hey, tech. Follow me."
A squad of three standard corporate fighters and I moved through the corridors. Not to the reactor; now there is a network of occupied passages around it; the first line of defense will be here. Actually, at the beginning of one such long corridor, we stopped.
"Good line of fire, but too few covers," the avatar noted.
Except for a few containers, this is a completely empty corridor five meters wide and three high. One of the corporates replied:
"Watch my hands, tech. This kind of thing is usually only on warships. But we got lucky too."
The leader went to a panel on the wall and dialed a six-digit code. An armored door descended from the ceiling. But not an ordinary one—one with embrasures for assault rifles. Narrow ones; you can poke a barrel through.
"And here is our cover," one of the privates said.
Behind this door, we positioned ourselves. With this, it will be hard to dig us out without a sniper. Grenades won't help; the door is thick. Unless there's sufficient fire density, but from this side, they'll be firing back intensely. For the attackers, there really is no cover. The corporate leader pointed to a corner.
"So, technician. Stand by the wall; you have no armor. Got it? You'll answer to Shpala."
I grinned.
"Got it."
I stood by the left wall, slightly at an angle. To expose myself less and cover the sector on the right with fire. The corporate guard nodded; the others looked at each other. Well, yes, my appearance clearly hints at military training.
"Reach? " I nodded. "Hacking, tech?"
"Everything, tech support. If not for the health..."
The man nodded.
"You know how to hold a weapon. If you do well, I'll give you a recommendation to us. A little metal, good armor, you'll be the soul of the squad."
I nodded, looking through the sight. The others are also watching, waiting for the enemy.
"Task number one: don't die," I noted at the questioning look, "task number two: so our enemies die."
They liked the answer.
"Right! Ready!"
There's nothing wrong with defending this section together with the soldiers. Especially since they use airlock doors with embrasures for shooters. I didn't know about this construction detail on this ship, although there are such on the UNSC Apollo. It blocks the corridor, opening only from the inside. It might even have its own Liquid Shield dome. Without heavy weapons, you'll get tired of picking at it. There's no shield here, but there's a five-centimeter armor plate. If things are bad, a second layer descends, an ordinary pressure door. And I wish you luck in the assault.
Which is what surprised the enemy. Salarians in heavy armor with shields immediately found themselves under fire. They didn't lose their heads; they covered themselves with shields. When bullets hit the window, it flared with a Kinetic Barrier, which allowed them to slowly retreat back.
"Ha! Good luck breaking through, bastards!" one of the soldiers rejoiced.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Is there a lot of this beauty here?"
The corporate laughed from his helmet with a raspy laugh.
"You bet. This ship was made by the military, and they made it safe. It's the soldiers who can afford millions of recruits. Corporations work differently, Shpala. Professionals are valued. Think about it."
I bared my teeth, showing triangular teeth.
"Sounds good. Now, the main thing is to survive."
In our direction, organics didn't push anymore. Judging by the commands on the radio Krueger gave me, these airlocks cut off the technical block quite well, and the enemy boarding party found itself in a bad situation. They occupied the upper levels, but couldn't go lower.
One more time, a group of robots came. We killed the small ones; we had to lie low from the big one. But it fired from a grenade launcher, apparently realized it wasn't piercing, and left on its own. Activity ended there.
"They'll be breaking through..."
Personally, I see several options to bypass the blockade. Heavy weapons, a shot from a MAC that will scramble everything here (and risks hitting the necessary equipment), or cutting the deck to drill out behind the line of defense. The option "turn around and leave" is too stupid to consider.
Five minutes later, there was a clang and shooting.
"They broke through the ceiling!" so, the third option.
Two soldiers remained to watch the door; Krueger and another rushed back. As soon as he looked around the corner, he fell; half his skull was simply blown away.
"Employee killed, everyone respond code 3," the automation reported.
Judging by the size of the hole, into which you could poke a fist, the enemy decided to combine welding and heavy weapons. Likely a Railgun, under the cover of which the Salarians are landing. Hit accurately; the helmet was pierced.
A soldier tried to shoot around the corner but was yanked out by a purple sphere from a sorcerer. I didn't fly away, thanks to the suction cup on my hand. Minus one more.
Carefully uncoiling one tail, I poked the tip around the corner. So, fifteen meters ahead on the ceiling is a hole; under it is the enemy. Two clearly automatic machine guns, deployed in opposite directions; under their cover, Salarians are climbing into the corridor.
They're holding tight, an excellent target for a grenade. Calculation, a grenade from Krueger's belt, a careful throw... This won't be hard.
The grenade explosion caught three. One clearly died instantly, and the protection didn't save him, but the second and third are twitching. A second grenade for them by the same method, but another three are running toward me, suppressing the corner I'm sitting behind with fire. Not good. And the survivors are moving; Medi-gel hasn't been canceled.
I have two grenades. Let's click. Need to break both the machine gun and the enemy. Especially since another mercenary has approached. Only the last one remains at the airlock.
The Salarians didn't run around the corner. Instead, a grenade disk and a purple sphere flew around the corner. And we have no gravity.
I jumped to the ceiling, using the vacuum grip on my hand. The corporate was less lucky; the soldier was mowed down by the explosion. In response, I sent a grenade with a "flick" toward the three approaching enemies. The turret doesn't reach around the corner; turn these off, the two healing ones, and then I can deal with the turrets.
The grenade went around the corner just as the tip of a barrel began to peek out from there. A mercenary, already fallen to the floor, caught a burst, then the grenade exploded. One of the Salarians was thrown against the wall; the other two are not visible. But they should have taken damage. Falling to the floor and picking up Krueger's body as a shield, I looked out. So, two are done, one is at the wall, the second is on the floor, not moving. The third, seeing me, gave a burst from a submachine gun, which burned against the shield, and sent a purple sphere toward me. I threw Krueger forward at the sphere, who was immediately riddled by the turret. A motion sensor, it seems.
The Salarian didn't fall under the fire of the carbine, likely shields. Но he went around the corner. Where is my tail? A turret and three, a sorcerer and two wounded, aiming but not pushing anymore. More grenades? Unfortunately, no. Hmmmmmm. Need to hurry; this is only one breakthrough point. On the radio, they speak of at least five more. The scheme is the same: turrets, robots, followed by infantry. Speaking of robots, three light humanoids jumped out from—
From around the corner—and what is that shadow there?
A dash. The robots are somewhat sluggish; I use one as cover and open fire on the shadow. The Salarian threw something that unpleasantly scorched the Avatar's sensors and fried the robot along with the ammo display on my rifle. But the rifle itself didn't jam, and after a long burst, this one went down too. That's it; they aren't rushing anymore, they're pooling their strength. They threw two more grenades, but I react fast enough.
I have one grenade left. Fine, let's play a game. A corp corpse in one hand, the grenade in the other, carbine slung across my chest. I don't throw the grenade on a timer, so they have time to react. Calculated—and forward.
I toss the grenade so it takes out the turret and ensures the Salarians notice it. They scrambled in all directions, but with no gravity, the rolls of two of them turned into uncontrolled gliding. I shielded myself with the corpse to tank at least some damage while the turret shredded it. An explosion. The turret falls, smoking and crackling; the Salarians spotted me and started shooting, and I shot back. A dash forward toward the one levitating toward me. I wrench the weapon from his hand with an augmented grip—corpse into the Biotic, now you're my shield. His two colleagues didn't even think twice about shooting, but now my shield has a Kinetic Barrier and a med-kit. The second turret may have turned, but it won't fire at its own anymore. Good.
I ripped a grenade disk from my belt and sent it to its destination. Second turret down; as expected, it's controlled by a simple IFF system, not an AI. And the Salarians are marked as "friendly."
Then one of the remaining Salarians threw a grenade at me—well done. It seems my death concerns them more than the lives of their colleagues. So, I shove the Salarian onto the grenade and dash to the ceiling myself, continuing to fire. It's a good thing the casters don't have a high rate of fire; it would be worse. A dash into melee—need to finish this, shields aren't eternal. Not at the caster; a sphere at point-blank range would reflect poorly on the Avatar's performance. I need a new shield—one of the infantrymen.
And now, a dash using the Geth Hunter method. Boots straight to the face. He dodged, but his head simply fell into a manual grapple and flew in the desired direction. Striking the deck with my magnetic boots, I hurled the disoriented opponent into the Biotic and rushed into melee with them, continuing to pelt the last one with fire.
All of this without a single phrase—only shots, explosions, and the wail of the siren. Fast and brutal. And here comes the help, by the way.
From the opposite end of the corridor, a shield was deployed, and a grenade flew from behind a shoulder toward the caster and the infantryman who had slammed into him. The hit concussed the caster and killed the infantry.
Together with the arriving corporatists, we finished off the survivors. Soldiers in closed black armor with corporate markings. They scanned the battlefield; one aimed his barrel at the hole in the ceiling. Everything was fast and silent.
"Well, I'll be damned, tech," one of them remarked, "you handled them rough. Special forces?"
Judging by the reaction, they were watching—likely through cameras. I shrugged.
"My mother was a good teacher."
The second one snorted from under his helmet.
"PE teacher?"
"Gymnastics and dance," I smirked. "What took you so long?"
The soldiers approached the hole in the ceiling, aiming into it, but kept an eye on me as well.
"Breaches everywhere, the bastards are crawling in and cluttering the space with turrets, leaving robots behind. And these damn casters—we have to check every corner. Not everyone is as quick as you. Plenty of your people ran straight into machine guns. They blast at any movement except their own."
As suspected. The last mercenary from Krueger's group approached from behind.
"Falling back to the reactor rooms," the local sergeant ordered. "Too many holes in the defense here. Tech, you get a bonus from management if we save the reactor. According to our price list. Deal?"
So they were definitely watching. But I'm still slower than a Spartan, so there shouldn't be any problems. I nodded.
"Let's move."
The technical corridors had changed somewhat. Bodies of personnel caught in the crossfire, blown-up turrets, and barricades. Occasionally, destroyed robots—both humanoid and assault models.
Human bodies behind them, and Salarians on the other side. Heavy infantry, assault versus defense. By the time we reached the reactor room, I saw seven destroyed turrets and two dozen Salarians; they were clearly setting up outposts. And nearly a hundred robots of both types.
What about space? The Human cruisers weren't destroyed, it seems, but their external elements were knocked out, turning them into effectively helpless floating containers. They didn't finish them off; the last Salarian cruiser and its five escorts took positions near the liner and are offloading boarding parties.
Is it just me, or are those three escorts...
"Yes, they are mining the space around the ships," Ajax confirmed my tag.
Lovely. The Vice Admiral is strikingly calm. Seeing the hologram's gaze, she replied:
"We have received a wealth of information about their methods and a mass of witnesses showing how incompetent Earth's ONI is. Sending you there was the right move. Especially since the reactor room is still holding."
Fact. The reactor and engine block is a massive three-story hall with plenty of positions for snipers, heavy weapons, and fire from above. You can dominate narrow corridors, but storming a hall full of heavy infantry and heavy weapons from them is a different matter entirely. But there is one nuance.
"How do they plan to haul away the engine? It's the size of a tank," the question was, of course, asked by the hologram in the Vice Admiral's office.
Margaret Parangosky looked at me, then at the others, and fell into thought. Black Box replied:
"They will likely identify the necessary spot and cut a passage. That is what I would do."
But for now, I can look around. My escorts reported to the leader. A cyborg, with only a head and torso remaining human—and even that not entirely. By the way, he's my height, towering over the others.
"You can call me Mercer, tech. Saw how you fight. Good training. As you understand, these freaks won't leave us alone. Which means I don't give a damn what you think. You know how to kill, and you'll do it on my orders. Questions?"
I shook my head. Defending the reactor and engine is on my task list.
"No questions."
Mercer nodded.
"Good. What's with the case on your back?"
I brushed it off.
"Work gear. I'm supposedly responsible for it. Plus, it'll catch a bullet if anything happens."
Mercer didn't seem to care.
"Your choice, lug it if you're not lazy. Your spot is over there, on the second level. There's a robot by the cooling pipes. Figure out what to do."
As I head up, I scan the area. It really is a large hall, designed so work can be done without dismantling half the ship. There's equipment for this, which is clearly being used to weld on plates and weapons. Judging by some elements, it's not makeshift. The robot supports the modernization. The total height of the hall is ten stories—three three-story levels; four entrances, the fifth leads to the Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine projector zone. So there are four enemy entry points left.
Below, where I came from. Above, where a warship would have an elevator to a Class 7 corridor and a MAC. And two large ones for vehicles.
The technical ones are closed and piled with containers. So we expect an attack from above or below. Or the Salarians will breach another door, as they've already done.
The robot turned out to be a five-meter loader mech that "accidentally" had armor and machine guns installed.
"Combat robots disguised as loaders—who would have doubted it," the Vice Admiral noted irritably.
Corporatists are forbidden from having such heavy weapons. They clearly bypassed this by making them detachable. And it seems to be working. The Salarians are pushing through with losses despite the casters, as they ran into well-equipped corporate infantrymen. Somewhere at the level of ODSTs—in my case, ODSTs will have maximum gear short of Spartans. They don't give such things to expendable infantry.
The enemy tried to seep through the entrance a couple of times but was quickly stopped. Even the assault robots, four of which arrived at once. But the boarding continues, meaning they will look for another entrance. The AI has gone silent—likely deactivated or destroyed according to the Cole Protocol. But the corporatists have access to the cameras; it's better not to show off too much.
The next breach attempt was made by soldiers under cloaking. A fluke helped. While everyone was pounding the robots, a few stray hits knocked out the cloaked infantry. An alarm was raised; it seemed everyone was killed.
And then the transport hangar door exploded. And a substantial hole was blown in the ceiling as well. And judging by what I see, more than one. Assault mechs charged through the passage again. The enemy didn't bother throwing meat at us; they immediately threw vehicles into the fray from several directions.
Strange, jumping APCs with cannons and machine guns drove out of the cargo hangar. This nine-meter machine jumped toward the ceiling, continuing to fire and dodging missiles. Robots are marching in steady ranks from the main entrance, firing in all directions. Small, humanoid robots are crawling from the passage above, and flying drones are raining down from the ceiling.
And under the cover of all this machinery comes the enemy infantry. We have just as many soldiers, but half the enemy forces can only be taken out with rocket launchers, and we simply don't have enough anti-tech for this many enemies.
"Did they herd every vehicle they had here?"
Very likely, if this is their objective. With a probability of 0.8, the defenders will be finished within ten minutes. Retreat to the Shaw-Fujikawa engine, rig it. The intercom crackled.
"Attention everyone! Retreat to the engines, I'm opening the cooling system vents for maintenance. The AI is dead, the engine is toast, we're going to poison the frogs with radiation! Move it!"
Humans certainly know how to run. And our enemy knows how to shoot them in the back. Apparently, they realized something bad was coming, or they understand English.
And they were waiting for us in the engine room. A squad with cutters had successfully carved through the deck and destroyed the security detail. Aren't there too few bodies here? They could have captured some of the personnel; I'm certain there should be more techs than corpses. The security is dead in the right numbers. The techs don't match up.
But behind us, they are cracking the reactor systems and disabling the fuses to cook whoever is left in the compartment—the finale of the first Halo, but less radical. There are far more people wanting to get into the safe zone than there are Salarians. And here, they aren't shooting in the back, grenades aren't flying, and that insane APC isn't jumping around—the one that jumps even without wheels or parts of its external elements and with a hole in its troop compartment.
An explosion rang out, and I was simply hurled into the engine zone. Not fatal, but unpleasant. The enemy sees where everyone is retreating and is pelting the area with heavy weapons. The guy who decided to open the vents is a damn genius. And where did he get a senior command code? You can't pull that off without a Captain's key... Right, this isn't a warship.
Though the purge is a good solution—everything will burn except that hellish APC; in theory, it should be shielded. "Hellish" isn't my name for it, but the soldiers' over the radio.
"Faster, faster! It's starting!"
As if it will help them. After heavy shelling and an attack from all sides, about twenty people survived. The enemy lost a lot, but for the most part, those were robots—no pity there. They are stupid but durable and numerous. A good diversion.
The pipes continued to disconnect, the cooling system grates glowed white cheerfully, rapidly increasing the temperature in the room. Finally, the sealing system engaged.
"We're still alive!" someone shouted.
Temporarily. The enemy cut themselves an entrance; they'll send more.
***
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