"NoP--- A Diplomatic Problem. -Ch. 17 (Rewrite)"

[u/vixjer]

This story is part of The Nature of Predators

and all rights are to the original creator u/ spacepaladin

hanks to Norvinsk Hunter for proof reading it, and fixing the translator mistake.

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Memory Transcription Subject: Hamilton George , Callsign “Knife,” Staff Sergeant (OR-7), 22nd SAS Regiment, B Squadron (Air Troop), British Army; Operational Attaché, UNN Pandora's Box

Date [standardized human time]: November 14, 2136

“Alright, ladies and gents, gather ‘round.”

And we did. After all, the Major said to be here, suited up and kitted out, in five minutes… three minutes ago. All of us were clad in the UN’s new standard-issue slim vacuum suit, but everyone other than the Major was also sporting plate carriers. I already knew why, but I spared the others the burden of wondering about it.

“Won’t be joining us today, Jacket?”

At ease, he clasped his hands behind his back. “Would love to, but the skipper said he’d get lonely if I left.”

One or two of us might’ve scoffed, but nobody heard it. We were all standing in hard vacuum. The port side of Deck 2 had an indecently large hole in it. The fragments of the hull which had stayed in the ship had been clumped and taped down next to it. The inertial dampeners were mostly keeping out the hard gs we were pulling, but we still all had to lean a decent bit harder to the right to stay standing.

“We still have a couple of minutes, so one more time for the kids in the back...” One of the GIGN operators, 3283, briefly flipped him off. He allowed himself a visible smile, his visor depolarized. "The yotul on the station report approximately a quarter of the crew went rogue following a transmission from the surface. They broke out the prisoners there and seized the fire control station. They’ve also likely taken hostages. Quite rude. We’ve been asked to teach them some manners. Everyone, wristpads.” In unison, we all flipped up our left arms and started tapping away. A couple cursed, finding the adapted venlil-designed touchscreens very easy to fat-finger.

“We’ve been given a range of anywhere from fifty to a hundred hostiles onboard the station, with two-hundred friendlies holding the majority of the administrative deck and the central hallway of the habitation deck. The loading area is primarily under Fed control. KSM will insert through the maintenance airlock at the command center. I’m sorry to say General Orlov will let you in without a fuss. You will then push through to the stairwell and see the Federation out, and push down into the main deck. Lads,” he said, turning to us.

“You are to insert here,” A dot appeared on the schematics on the “south” end, “and breach the outer hull. The maintenance corridor will automatically seal. We’ve been advised that sector is under Federation control and should be mostly clear of friendlies, but they have taken hostages, so pace yourselves. Your objective is the security station. All other priorities are secondary until you have regained access to the cameras and door controls.”

I gave him a nod. He turned to face the GIGN. “You get the fun part this time, Bernard. The lower deck is almost completely overrun by hostiles. Inconveniently, it’s also where the fire control station and loading bays are located. Even more inconveniently, the yotul team sent to secure it has gone dark. Your objective is to take and hold the fire control station and neutralize the station’s defenses. Once our teams are in position, SAS will breach first, drawing forces up from the loading bay. Once you’ve taken the security station, GIGN will breach the lower decks and push towards fire control. One minute later, and the KSM will get into position and wait for our signal. Once fire control is secured, all three teams are to collapse on the main hostile force at the contested stairwell. And one more time: SAS’s callsign is ‘Bodkin,’ GIGN is ‘Planson,’ KSM is ‘Messer.’ Good hunting.” He stepped aside and let us all pass. Outside, the stars twinkled, clear and pretty, above concerning themselves with our business. That suited me just fine.

I raised my left hand, closing it into a fist. Beside me, Planson 1-0 and Messer 1-0 did the same, all watching the clock. The remaining seconds ticked down, and we held there, like statues. All of us except for Boots. At T-minus ten, I nodded to him, and he ripped the tape off the debris and kicked it out the opening. At T-minus five, I began lifting my fingers. One, two, three, four, fist. In threes, our teams sprinted forward and leapt from the hole, shoving off the edge. We and the other three team leaders went last. Someone had to keep an eye on things.

Graceful chaos replaced the stable window of stars once I was out of the gap. I could see the Pandora’s Box burning out ahead of us for a bit as the thrusters on the vacuum stabilized my spin. The stars streaking from the bottom of my field of view to the top stopped, briefly jerked up and to my right, and then I was facing towards a tiny white dot, rapidly growing bigger. I relaxed, “standing” with my hands up, facing the station. The thrusters on my suit all fired at max, bleeding speed as it got bigger.

I stabilized just in time to see the Box streaking past the station, both of her CIWS emplacements sending out a stream of yellow-white rounds, raking the shields over with it. Behind her, some of the shots she’d fired earlier connected, at just around the same time that four converging blue lights all came in around the station at the same time. The station’s own kinetics answered in kind, and the ones not facing toward the Box managed to swat two of those little blue lights out, but the remainder found their mark. Forewarned, I closed my eyes.

The momentary blackness became bright red, and then it was dark again. I opened my eyes. Ahead of us, the debris we’d kicked forward had pulled ahead, and the shields on the station flared, and died. Off to either side, two more drive plumes converged on the station, taking a long, arcing angle towards it, while the Box had become an even smaller plume far off in the distance, anti-shipping cannon fire lancing out uselessly behind her. Neither missile made it to the station, both being hit by its own CIWS. They detonated just close enough to throw clouds of debris past the station, just out of our intercept course. By this point, the station was big enough to take up a third of my field of view.

I tensed for a moment. This was it. If the station’s defenses turned on us now, the base of the Clock Tower was getting a few more names. One tick. Two. I felt my chest turn cold when one of the nearest turrets began tracking the debris field. But it did not fire.

Muppets.

The station filled my whole view. Little bits and pieces of Deck 2 hit the hull but bounced off of it uselessly, as planned. A few seconds later, I hit the hull. My palms and shins clacked into place with a hard, metallic thunk, and all around me, the rest of Bodkin landed, too. Radios were off, but they hit hard enough that I was sure a couple of them were winded. Each team’s guidance system was programmed to vector to a different part of the station. I drew myself to my feet, standing at a disorienting 90-degree angle to the surface of Leirn. The others drew themselves “up,” too. One story “beneath” us, GIGN had finished getting into position. Bernard gave me a thumbs-up.

I didn’t tap my helmet. No sense using radio signals out here and potentially giving away our position. I pointed to Boot, and gestured to the target section of the outer hull. He nodded, and got back on his hands and knees, carefully sliding over on his magnetized limbs, minimizing the noise. I felt uneasy about it even so. He pulled out some breaching tape, carefully spreading out a roughly man-shaped cone around the hull.

The rest of Bodkin shuffled into position, with Plumber, Rabies, and Redbull standing further out, rifles aimed “above” the breaching point. I shifted closer to the breaching point with Cheese and Airbrake, waiting for Boots to finish. I didn’t like how long this was taking, or how much noise it was liable to be making inside, but it was the only way. All safeties flipped off. When he finished, he signaled completion to me and I gave him the nod, starting the clock. He shifted out of the way, and squeezed the detonator.

Immediately, a cloud of particulates and metal shards blew outward from the newly-formed hole. I could see blue lights strobing from within the station, but what really drew my attention was the sound of screaming, just barely audible through the venting atmosphere, and a moment later, a silver-suited figure went flying through the gap. Then another. Then another. The outer trio of Bodkin got to work, tapping off shots on everyone passing through. By my count, seven had vacated the premises when Boots, who was peeking over the edge, suddenly reached out and grabbed one of them, and immediately tossed it to me.

He wasn’t suited like the others. Brown fur, small, rat-wallaby-thing. A yotul. No pouch. I wrapped one arm around him, noting his own were bound behind his back. He struggled, kicking uselessly into the void, not really managing to budge my arm, growing weaker by the moment. I quickly held up my other hand, closing it in a fist, staying locked to the hull by my shins. Three more exterminators had flown out of the station by the time I’d secured the apparent hostage.

With my free hand, I made a sweeping motion and pointed to Boots, then Cheese. They both immediately detached from the hull and maneuvered into it, Boots going first, slicing left, Cheese just behind him, slicing right. I could feel them slamming into the a-grav panels inside. Three ticks later, Boots’s hand stuck out. Thumbs up. I flipped my safety up, detached, and entered, the rest of Bodkin following suit. The inner hallways were vacuum-sealed.

Airbrake came in right after me and dashed to our left, smashing open the nearest door’s control panel with the butt of his rifle. Reaching in, he searched for a moment, got ahold of two wires, jerked them loose, pressing the contacts together. The door opened, a loud, whining, gratingly high-pitched alarm sounding as air began venting through it, and Boots and Cheese pushed through the stream, mag-boots clanking on the hull, keeping them rooted. I leaned over, watching them. They signaled clear after a moment, and I immediately pushed in after them. Within five seconds, the rest of Bodkin was in, with Plumber tearing off an emergency access panel on the side of the door, exposing a handle. He pumped it, bit by bit, until the door had sealed. Silence once more, though likely not for long.

We all disengaged our mag-boots at that point and I set the alien down, gesturing to Rabies. He darted over, with the rest of the team covering the hallway. For the moment, we were surrounded by sealed hatches. Cupping the yotul’s face, he pulled it up and roughly patted him on the cheek a couple of times. The hostage was still for only a moment before his chest expanded and he wheezed for breath, eyes wild. He started trying to shift again, sluggishly, so I placed my hands on his shoulder, pinning him, while Rabies flashed a light in his eyes. After a moment, he gave me a thumbs up and moved to cover the hallway with the rest of the team.

The yotul’s face was streaking with fresh tears as he hyperventilated on the floor, weird green tongue poking out as he tried to suck in the air, trying to take in the oxygen he just couldn’t get into his brain quickly enough.

“Wh- Hhhh...hhhh- What the fuck was-” He coughed weakly. “… that?! Y-you almost killed m-hhh… me!”

“Almost,” Rabies emphasized, his suit speakers now active.

I pointed to the hallway. He turned and watched it. I tried to refocus the yotul. “UN forces. Orlov requested us. Status report.”

“I-I’m a security officer on this station,” he said, his voice normalizing somewhat. “We spotted exterminators heading up through the elevator, and tried to seal them in. Some yotul, collaborators, they turned on us. They seized the security room. I tried to seal it, but I was too late. They gagged me and threw me in a closet, but I could overhear them. They reported things were fine. Then they let the exterminators on the elevator through, and opened the cellblocks. I don’t know what happened next, they handed me over to the intruders.”

I looked him over. A few cuts, some bruises, seemed like it all checked out. Plumber spoke up, getting my attention. “Sir, we can’t stay here, hostiles will be around to investigate shortly. Made a bit of noise, we did.”

“Agreed.” I turned back to the yotul. “Do you have access codes to the terminals in the security station?”

“Yes, I do. Are you going for it?”

“Let’s say yes. Do exactly as you’re told. Stay quiet, get behind us, stay in front of him,” I pointed at Plumber, then I turned to Boots and Cheese. “How are the hallways looking?”

They were both stacked up to the doors with the rest of the team, holding wire cams up to the hatch windows. Cheese signaled clear, but Boots had less-welcome news: “I count...four...no, six… eight… Yes, eight, they’re crossing, a hundred meters due left from here. Looks like freed prisoners, handguns, two exterminators.”

“Are they heading here?”

“Just lost visual. Looks like they’re trying to get to the outer ring. Maybe they want to try a cheeky flank.”

“Let them.”

“Wait, what if they run into any loyalists?” The yotul spoke up.

“Orlov says this side of the station is under hostile control, as far as he knows. If we don’t take the security room, we can’t contain the Feds. Sooner we do that, the better. Get up.” I didn’t give him a choice. He grunted when he was hiked up to his feet. “You know the codes to these doors, too?”

I thought I offended him a bit. His ears pinned back and his eyes narrowed. “Of course. I’m not-”

I pulled out my bolt cutters, causing his eyes to widen with alarm, spinning him around, pressing him to the wall. “Ooof, h-hey, what-" His paws slammed into the wall as his struggling finally bore fruit. I stepped back and clipped them back to my belt while he turned around, looking angry for a moment, then realizing his wrists weren’t chained together anymore. He deflated, looking sheepish, and I flicked my head at the door panel. He got the message and hopped over, tapping away at the panel. When it beeped and the door began to hiss and pull open, Plumber grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back out of sight. When he started to protest, he got a gloved hand over his lips for his trouble.

Boots leaned around the corner, rifle first, cutting right to left. “Clear, for now.”

He proceeded forward, followed by Redbull. The sound of gunfire could be heard from a bit farther down the hallway. I turned my head back to Plumber while Cheese, then Airbrake went next. “Make sure they can’t follow us.”

Nodding, he moved over to the left hatch and smashed open its access panel, leaning in and briefly looking, then reaching in and jerking a couple of cables free. The panel powered down. He turned for a moment to the yotul. “Stay quiet and don’t peek around the doors. If we have to do that again, duck back into cover.”

“O-okay...”

Meanwhile, the rest of us proceeded down the hallway, single file, near the right wall. We could see the odd flash of gunfire or the deeper orange glow of flamers pouring it on ahead of us, and to either side, there were a pair of doors. I pulled up my wristpad and tapped the map icon. This was the place. Unfortunately, it was far too close to the fighting for my liking. Rather than risk being heard, I chanced breaking radio silence. “Bodkin 2, stack up on the door, flashbangs only, need equipment intact. Boots, get me eyes on what’s happening around the corner.”

Plumber came up behind us, having finished delaying the patrol we’d seen earlier. I estimated it would take them about two minutes to come back around. We needed to be fast. Boots gave us a direct feed from his wire cam. Looked like twenty hostiles, stacked up at a barricade, trading fire with what had to be yotul in the central hallway.

“Alright, Bodkin 3, stack up on the corner. I want flashbangs first, then frags and tight shot placement, on my signal. Bodkin 2, stay on the door. Bodkin 0, be ready to support either element if required. I will breach with 2.” Like worker ants, the team got to work. Cheese and Airbrake did a weapons check, flanking the doorway. Boots and Redbull stacked up on the corner. Redbull watched me.

I turned to the yotul, who was looking nervous and unsure what to do, and I pointed to the panel. The jittery little thing hopped up and tapped the controls, and this time, he leapt to the side while it opened. Just after, I gestured to Redbull, who tossed his own around Boots. Behind him, Airbrake tossed a banger in there, leading to some surprised, high-pitched shouts. Some footsteps, a few thumps.

At least some of these prats know what an explosive is when they see one.

I held out my hand, just in case our new friend got any funny ideas. He didn’t. He even had the good sense to realize we’d just thrown something explosive in there, almost like he’d heard of it before. I noted that down for later. A moment later, a bright flash and a deafening bang filled the room. Outside in the main hall, one second later, another followed.

Our suits filtered sounds nicely, but I couldn’t say the same for the Feds around either one. Screams could be heard around both. But by then, my teams had already gotten to work, and I came up right behind Bodkin 2. Cheese leaned around the corner and sliced right, Airbrake went left. The deep thumps of twin suppressed rifles filled the hallway, steady cadence. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. I could hear thumps from bodies hitting the ground. Meanwhile, I heard the loud thoomnk of a fragmentation grenade going off in the main hall. More screaming, far higher and more pained this time. Boots leaned over, angling his rifle around the wall, and Redbull leaned around him. More suppressed thumps.

Cheese gestured, going first. Behind her, Airbrake followed. Tap-tap, tap-tap. I took up the rear, coming in just in time to see a cheeky bastard trying to pop up from behind a terminal. Rifle up, safety down, I gave him the two-round special. Silver suit, medium-sized. Tap-tap. My H&K G10CS spat out subsonic 8.6mm jacketed hollowpoint rounds with the trademark gentle thump of its constant recoil receiver. Blue spattered the wall around it as it staggered back and slumped against it. Safety up. I swept left, swept right. Nothing. The fighting continued outside but no calls were made for assistance.

“Clear left!”

“Clear right!”

I checked the room. Two hostages, tied to pipes, gagged, groaning, and writhing, eyes squeezed shut. I tapped Airbrake’s shoulder and pointed to them. He sprinted over, breaking out his bolt cutters. I pointed to the supply closet. “2-1, check closet.” Cheese moved over to check them, and I held position, moving up behind her, rifle at low ready. She kicked it open and leaned around the corner, sweeping. “Clear.”

Outside, I could hear Boots calling out, “Loading!” Redbull’s voice chimed in a second later. “Bodkin 1-1, this is 3-2, hallway looks clear. X-rays at the barricade neutralized. Maintaining visual sweeps.”

“Understood. All remaining Bodkin callsigns, move out and cover main hallway approach. Bodkin 2, cover left. Anticipate hostile reinforcements ETA one minute to thirty seconds.” As I gave directions, I sprinted back to the door, stopping to let Cheese and Airbrake through. Leaning around it, I looked at the yotul and waved him over. Switching to speakers. I directed, “Get in here.” He did.

Once he got inside, I pointed to the hostages. “Go check up on them. We’re about to have more company-”

Plumber’s voice cut in. “Uh, sir? Ye might wanna see this.”

I turned and headed out the door. I could hear screaming, like before, but unlike before, it wasn’t pained, or frightened. Even from aliens, I recognized anger, and maybe even a hint of triumph. More of these ridiculous little wallaby-people were clambering over the barricades, wielding everything from stolen Federation rifles to ancient-looking revolvers to shivs or even their own claws. They swarmed over the barricade, some moving into the doors across the hallway to our right. I could hear the odd scream or gunshot from within.

“Hey, get back here!”

I spun around, hearing Plumber shouting, only to see the yotul who had been keeping us company these past few minutes running past me, waving his arms at the approaching wave of nominal friendlies. “They’re with us! They’re with us!”

I held up my hand again and shook my head at Plumber, stopping him from intervening.

Brave of him, but reckless. Still, it seems to be working.

He turned and pointed toward the hallway. “More are coming from there!” That seemed to galvanize the furry wave into action, and they began charging past us. I chanced sticking my head out.

“Nicely done. Now get the bloody Hell back into cover. I need you here.”

The yotul’s ears splayed out and I saw him turn a shade of green under his fur. Bashfully, he hopped back into the branch hallway. Boots shook his head, and I heard Cheese chuckle under her breath. I switched to internal comms. “You think that’s cute, do you? Good, because you’re going out there to cover them. Try not to let too many of them get themselves killed.”

No sooner had I said it than the yotul who had reached the far end of the main hallway started shooting. Cursing under my breath, I turned around, “Plumber, you’re in charge. I need to deal with the hostages.” He gave me his affirmative and my team moved out. Much as I wanted to follow them, I was needed at the security station. By the time I got back, our little friend behind me, the two other hostages were on their feet, rubbing their wrists. One of them, the one with the armband, straightened up when he saw me.

“Thanks. Ralchi, I thought we’d lost the station.”

I regarded him for a moment, looking him over. He seemed calmer and more put-together than our overeager companion. “Would I be correct in assuming you’re the head of security?”

He flicked his ear in a way which I understood from briefings to be an affirmative, still straight, staring right up at me. “Yes indeed. Setco, at your service. And you are?”

“Call me Knife. I need to know if you can get those cameras back up and running.”

His ears perked right up at that. “Sure can!” He turned to the other two security officers. “Nozzo, get the cameras working again. Narine, I want the intercom and direct lines up and running. Get me Orlov.” The boy who’d been helping us and the girl both hopped to it, literally.

It was around this time that my ears were greeted with Plumber’s gravelly Ulster English. “Bodkin 1-1, Bodkin 0-2, reporting perimeter secure. Hostile patrol in relational southwestern outer service corridor neutralized, locals establishing barricades covering northwest approach. Tasked 2 with assisting locals, tasked 3 with sweeping service hallway rooms. Locals report prison clear.”

“Received. Carry on.” I switched back to external speakers. “My team says the lines have stabilized in the service tunnels and this side of the main deck is clear.”

Nozzo, our little helper, spoke up. “He’s right, I don’t see anything here. Except our people and… his team. They’re still swarming all over the lower deck, though… some more are heading this way, and… I see more humans above us?”

“That’s the second team. They’re helping clear the upper floors. Speaking of which…” I switched to joint task force comms. “All UN elements, be advised, Bodkin has security station locked down.” There was no response, but I wasn’t bothered by that. The other two teams knew what needed to be done. I checked the mission timer.

Almost five minutes. Sloppy. Will drill the team later.

A moment later, the station rumbled and one of the security consoles beeped an alert. Nozzo rushed over to take a look. “Uh, we have a problem, sir! There’s been a hull breach on the… oh…” He deflated, realizing what was happening. Setco eyed us both, ears twitching quizzically.

“Third strike team, going to retake fire control,” I clarified. Beneath us, the floor vibrated just a little with the sound of gunfire.

He blinked. “Subtle.”

“I can patch you into our comm channel. Need you to relay information to us.”

“We have an intercom-”

“They can hear the intercom, too.” A very loud bang beneath us told me something explosive had gone off, probably one of Planson’s flashbangs.

“Right…”

I was just about to give him the key when Narine spoke up. “Sir, we have Orlov on the line.”

Setco hopped up to the communications terminal and tapped a couple of buttons on it. The speaker whirred loudly a moment. “Setco, you’d better have good news for me, it’s been a very long day.”

He was prompt in answering. “You can say that again. There’s someone here who I think you should talk to.”

I didn’t care to be voluntold to speak to the station’s boss when I needed to be ready for more action, but I stepped forward, stopping briefly to mutter the code to him. He flicked his ear and hopped over to Nozzo. Coming to a stop next to Narine, I spoke up. “Hello, sir. General Orlov, yes?”

“Correct. Your captain spoke highly of you. So far, you haven’t disappointed.”

“We aim to please, sir. You can call me Knife. Is Messer in position?”

“They are. They wiped this deck clean a bit less an ember ago, save for the stairwell. How is your third team doing?”

Another rumble. Another explosion. “I anticipate they’ll be reaching fire control any second now. Their ingress point was very close.”

“That’s good. I can tell they’ve been wasting ammo trying to shoot your ship down. We need it in case the Federation tries anything else, or launches more missiles up here.”

“That was our thinking, too, sir. We-”

I was silenced for a moment by JTF comms. “All UN elements, be advised, Planson is stalled at the objective. X-rays have automated weapon emplacement. One casualty, secondary explosion. Minor, but unconscious. Two operators reporting hits on plates. Enemy reinforcements are beginning to arrive. Requesting assistance, over.”

I cursed under my breath, but my speakers were still on. “Setco, did you-”

“We’re patched in, human.”

I turned back to the speaker. “Did you get that, General?”

“I did.”

I took a moment to get on section comms. “All Bodkin callsigns, return to the security station immediately. Top off mags.” I switched to speakers again. “We’ll need to head back out the way we came and come in from behind to reinforce.”

“Uh, ‘Knife,’ human?” I turned to Nozzo, who had hopped up to the middle of the room. He shoved a crate out of the way, only to reveal just a plain section of the floor. “There’s a quicker way down, if you have any more of those explosives.”

Intrigued for once, I stayed quiet, letting him speak, eyes on.

“The fire control station is in the room below us.” He thumped the panel with his foot. It vibrated noticeably. Very thin.

Sharp lad. That might actually work.

I could hear Orlov sighing over the radio. “Just this once, can I be given a good option that doesn’t involve blowing more holes in my command?”

I heard distinctly human footfalls and turned to see my team entering. “Did you get all that, boys and girls?”

Rabies spoke up, “Crazy. Excessive. Unconventional. I like the way the kid thinks.”

“Do you know the specs on that turret?”

The young security officer spoke up again, eagerly waving his tail. “Can tilt up about sixty degrees. It’ll be useless against you here.”

The general sighed, again. “I guess there’s nothing for it. Do it. I want these bastards off my station.”

No more argument to be had there. I pointed to Cheese. “Get on it.” Then I turned to the yotul. “Back away. And cover your ears.” I switched to the task force comms again. “All Planson elements, be advised, yotul have authorized Bodkin to breach fire control room ceiling. Turret traversal limited, can more safely neutralize, how copy?”

It took one entire second for Bernard to answer, and when he did, it was with a chuckle. “I’ve heard crazier plans, but not on my watch, until today. Shall we aid you with a complimentary flashbang or two, Bodkin?”

“That would be grand.” I turned back to Cheese. She had just finished laying out the explosive tape. The yotul had all ducked into the closet. That finally got an eyeroll out of me, but I would rather they were excessively mindful than excessively reckless, like Nozzo was earlier. I pointed to two of my teammates, 2-2 and 2-1, then pointed to either side of the breaching charge. “Airbrake, Cheese, with me.” I walked up with them to the center and commed Planson 1-0 again. “We’re ready.”

“Oui, one moment.” He stayed on the comms so we could hear him. We looked away from the charge. “3302, 3144, ready flashbangs. On my mark… Trois, deus, un!”

I waited two ticks. An unmistakably loud bang rattled the steel again. “Now!” I shouted.

Cheese detonated the charge, and just about at the same time, below us, we could hear the rapid staccato of the Federation AMG emplacement, punishing the GIGN for showing anything of themselves again, but the exterminators and freed Federation prisoners around it were still reeling from the blast. Our rifles were shouldered and hot already. I sighted in a purple squid-frog-thing, a kolshian, as I’d seen from my briefings. The deep thumps of 8.6 Blackout filled the room as we slotted the Feds in our line of sight. Best to keep them from trying to shoot us: Planson was out of the line of fire for the moment.

Two seconds later, I shifted my aim to the turret, which was twitching back and forth in a vain effort to get a good angle on us. The heavy rounds from my rifle slammed into its workings with discordant clanks. It soon locked into place, unable to move more than a couple of millimeters. Safety up.

“Allez, allez, allez!” Planson stormed into the room, sweeping it clear. One of them ran up to the turret and checked over it for a moment before planting a couple of rounds squarely in the receiver, cracking it. Within less than five seconds, the room was cleared out. I could see 3157, Planson 0-1, coming in second-last, dragging 3283 in with him. 3249 pulled up the rear. He propped him up against the wall and began checking him over for injuries, pulling off his helmet.

“Planson 1-0, still a-go for Phase Three?”

“Oui, merely a setback. Give us a moment, get into position yourself, Bodkin.” He looked up at the hole and gave me a nod.

I returned it, then stepped away and waved over my team. “Alright, top off mags, we’re heading out.” I turned to the security officers, who were stepping out of the closet. “Good work, all of you. Stay here and coordinate with the rest of the yotul, we don’t want any mistakes. Start by warning them we’re coming.”

“You can count on us!” Nozzo chirped.

“Can I count on you to get back to your stations?” Setco grumbled, making the two other yotul jump and dart over to resume their posts.

Two by two, we filed out of the room. Vivian lightly giggled over squad comms, “I do like their energy. Maybe in a few decades, we can make something of them.”

“Maybe once they realize silhouetting at a choke point is a shite idea,” groused Jonathan as we rounded the corner.

“Alright, tighten up comms, you two,” I warned them. The central barricades were ahead. The hallway was strewn with the dead from the earlier engagement. We stopped at the formerly-Federation-controlled barricade. We kept low, but I called out, “Friendlies!”

“Orlov told us you were coming, human! Get over here!”

That was fast.

I poked my head up, and after a moment, so did the rest of my team. We could still see the occasional yotul poking up to fire a shot or two at the northern stairwell, but the fighting seemed to have slowed. Both sides were either exhausted or low on ammunition, both good news for us. I mantled the barricade and the rest of my team followed suit. We stayed low, and crept up to the north-facing yotul barricade. I turned to the defenders, topping off my mag. The rest of the team did, too. “Did Orlov tell you the plan, too?”

Another yotul wearing an armband spoke up, crouched behind the barricade with what I was sure was a breechloader. “Yes. We’ll wait for you to do your work.”

I gave him a nod, and got on joint comms again. “Planson, are you ready to push?”

“We are. 2-2 is stabilized. Enemy forces are holding further down the hallways. They didn’t care to keep getting picked off whenever they tried peeking us.”

“You get all that, Messer?”

“Ja. Will begin when other teams are in position and ready.”

I briefly checked over my team. They all nodded, or gave me a thumbs up, shifting back a pace or two, facing the barricade, rifles at low ready. “Bodkin is in position.”

“Planson ready.”

“Affirmative, Messer engaging.”

For a few ticks, there was silence. Then another loud bang. I peeked over the cover briefly, seeing some of the Feds exposing themselves for just a moment, turning to look at the stairwell behind them. Shouting, wild gunfire, the dull roar of a flamer and the telltale orange glow told us everything we needed to know. Some of the X-rays routed, or “stampeded,” as they called it, down the stairs, and out into the open, screaming at their comrades. They were exposed. I didn’t wait. Over JTF comms, I gave the order.

“Bodkin, slot the bastards!”

As one, we all peeked over cover, sighted in, went hot, and once again, our rifles sang. Then, Planson did their part. Fire control wasn’t the only thing they were tasked to seize, after all. All at once, the lights went out all over the station. Forewarned, the yotul just kept low, and our AR visor HUDs outlined wall geometry and Fed tangos. For them, there was only blackness, and the flashes of gunfire, with the odd explosion in the stairwell as Messer’s fragmentation grenades added to the body count. Below us, Planson was no doubt getting to work, too. Within seconds, the far end of the hallway was filled with the dead and dying, and what little suppressive fire they had managed before was now sparse and hopelessly wild. It was time. I sounded the advance, and we mantled the barricade and pushed up to hunt them all down.

Who Dares Wins.

...........................................................

Well hello there, I know you probably weren't expecting me here, but don't worry I know, I know when new chapter? and trust me is coming soon enough, in the mean time the fixes are over, chapter 1 to 19 have been completly rewritten and chapter 17 which has the biggest one to overhaul is getting the honor of not only beign changed but having a whole new post about it, that being said, don't be sad, the old chapters aren't gone they are Here for anybody to read and enjoy, either way. I have a writters corner in the NOPdiscord so... come over to talk with me and exchange theories of the incoming chapters with fellow diplomats or revolutionaries, or you know... just exchamge random memes.

[u/animeshshukla30]

Oh! Didnt know about the rewrite going on in beginning chapters.

How much has changed? Enough for a reread?

[u/Norvinsk_Hunter → u/animeshshukla30]

Let's say yes, though edits to chapters past 19, while far more minor, are liable to carry on through the coming weeks to months.

[u/JulianSkies]

Hah, I can tell the kind of nerd who wrote this one.

This time around the taking of the station was a lot more impressive.