Having lost her hair tie in the mayhem that was the last few minutes, Esma swept her curtain of hair aside and pressed an ear to the cargo bay door. Trying her best to discern the events unfolding on the other side. Rohner’s arrival was apparent, and it wouldn’t take a genius to infer what a meeting between the two individuals would devolve into.

  What was gnawing at the interim security officer’s conscience was whether some degree of intervention should be expected on her part. Because while she could be mistaken, the role of a security officer probably didn’t include cowering behind a door while a fellow crewmember weathered an assault on their person. Not that she intended to go so far as partaking in what sounded like quite the melee.

  Rather Esma ventured that her presence, or at least that of her rifle, could serve to dissuade the armor-clad assailant from prolonging his attack on the cargo bay. Or at the very least provide an opening for her new superior to gain the upper hand.

  Admittedly both takes were undeservedly optimistic given her earlier fumble in front of the engine room. So much so the raider could have already written her off as a threat and might not even flinch should she try to intervene.

  There was also a strong argument to be made that Rohner would disapprove of or take offense to her attempt at helping him. Because vacating the cargo bay would not only create an opening for Cloud Nine to exploit, but depending on when she exited, Esma could find herself obstructing her colleague’s efforts in the cramped corridor.

  With so many of these contradictory thoughts floating around her head it was no small wonder that the brunette couldn’t bring herself to make any decisive calls. Content to remain hidden as she searched for more roundabout methods of providing assistance. Pinging the bridge with the speaking tube to her left perhaps?

  Ping who exactly?! Anyone with the leeway to move freely would already be down here!

  Esma’s hand slipped down the door and a light thud reverberated as her forehead came to rest against the metal surface. A drop of sweat that had collected at the tip of her nose falling to the floor she gawked at pathetically. Amidst this despondence, the sounds of the engineer poking around the cargo could be heard somewhere behind her.

  At least someone here is capable of doing their job...

  That acknowledgment alone threatened to drag the young woman deeper into a pool of her own despair. Until the sound of a faint voice from the other side of the door summoned her back to the surface.

  “Captain Reed!”

  ...

  “Forget about me you fool!”

  The sound of a lantern shield crashing off one of the corridor’s walls punctuated the raider’s command.

  “Their belly is exposed, cripple the Crusader!”

  Esma could almost picture the look on the face of the Cloud Nine member who’d appeared below. Like someone who found a treasure chest with the key left inside its lock.

  “Dammit—!”

  No other word could have encapsulated Rohner’s frustration towards being caught on the wrong end of the corridor better. Not that the reimagined symbol of the thunderbird would have made it easy regardless. The engineer, also picking up on this development from behind her, stood from where he’d been fiddling with a crate’s temperature gauge. Remorse at the decision to vacate the engine room evident in his tone.

  “I screwed up...”

  For her part Esma ignored the incoherent murmurs coming from her associate and instead found herself taking a few shaky steps away from the door she’d been using as a crutch. She then collected the rifle off her back and checked the safety, her earlier gaffe having taught her one valuable lesson already. Flicking said safety off, she wordlessly tightened her grip on the rifle in hopes of stemming the tremors in her arms.

  “Hey, fellow screw up.”

  The engineer snapped out of whatever self-imposed trance he’d been in and met the slender frame of the brunette stood between him and the door to the cargo bay.

  “Open the door.”

  “Huh...?”

  The girl looked mortified.

  “Hurry! Before I lose my nerve...!”

  The man stepped around the young woman and reached for the door, his attempt at gauging her headspace coming back inconclusive due to the angle of her head. Namely the curtain of hair obscuring her features. His attention promptly shifted back towards what had come across as a plea. But rather than follow through on the request immediately, the engineer turned and waited for a final confirmation. Not a surprise given the one-eighty she’d done with regard to leaving the relative safety of the cargo bay.

  We’re only in this situation because YOU needed to be rescued. Some security officer. What will Lux think when she finds out how useless I’ve been? Meanwhile she’s off somewhere entrenching herself behind enemy lines for the sake of the convoy and so many others who won’t ever know the scope of the sacrifices she’s made.

  Esma thought she might cry. A natural reaction given the lengths her first real friend had gone to just to catch the hopeless CO up to speed on matters of the security division.

  Move damn it! Things aren’t like they were back then! You have the means to make a difference now! You said it yourself back in the armory, didn’t you?!

  She didn’t realize it at the time, but amidst that flurry of internal conflict Esma’s subconscious had already come to a decision for her. The product of which was a tenuous nod of the head to the unnamed engineer waiting beside the door. He answered that resolve in kind.

  It’s time to go now Esma. It’s time to take that second step. That’s one whole step further from the place you were before! And even if it is just the one, I promise you’ll be forgiven! Because life isn’t a race! And there’s no telling how many people are waiting for you on the other side of that step! Waiting for you just outside your comfort zone! So grab this opportunity and live! Live for the person you want to become, and live for the people you aspire to catch up to one day!

  Sparse tears gave way to a current of brown locks, the flow of which whipped side to side as it followed its champion. Such would best describe the wake of the young Communications Officer as she exploded through the door she’d held off on opening for so long. Equipped with a bottle of acetone, feronetic rifle, and budding new outlook on living.

  No need to panic, you have the upper hand here! Because only a fool...”

  *

  Rather than pursuing the Cloud Nine member down the ladder directly, Youn opted to vault over the railing and enter from the platform below. A decision that would tack on a few extra seconds of commute time but also put him in a less vulnerable position at contact. But even those precious few seconds could be offset by the wariness commonly exhibited by raiders when putting their backs to the ladder way. Though it often proved a worthwhile risk as it was by far the most direct route to the cargo bay.

  Making haste towards said location, Youn couldn’t help but question the efficacy of their officer allocation. Namely the whereabouts of their station worker who’d been performing admirably for his first convoy. But given the two of them made up the entirety of this Crusader’s current security forces, they couldn’t afford to move carelessly. Lest their lackluster distribution of defensive zones draw unwanted attention from the castle garrison. It was for this reason they’d need to assign someone to watch over the back deck ahead of the exit gate. And with Youn on his way to confront the Cloud Nine member with an inclination towards compact explosives, such responsibilities would have to fall to the inexperienced Gliel.

  A potential problem given his rudimentary understanding of both defensive alignments and the rotation system. Something they’d been able to mask thanks to a combination of the unexpectantly full crew roster (prior to the planned and unplanned departures) and the help of others like Cade directing the less inclined to their zones when confusion struck.

  This was only possible thanks to the engineer’s familiarity with how Lux typically called and organized a defense. Both responsibilities that fell under her purview when it concerned the role of acting security representative. In that regard Youn was also acting within the confines of her scheme. In particular her tendency to simplify the defense whenever atypical circumstances arose. Raiders falling from the sky for example.

  The usage of explosives could also be considered atypical now that Youn thought about it more. Even in cases where the yield was comparatively small. Not unlike the explosive he’d encountered in the turret bay. And while a feeder party of Baugh’s may not concern itself with the unwritten ramifications of damaging Crusaders, any party would balk at putting their spoils at risk. Which was probably why a second explosion hadn’t rocked the Crusader yet. Key word being yet.

  Passing through the corridor junction, Youn briefly turned his head to confirm the sanctity of engine room when a sudden lurch of the Crusader sent the security officer careening into the wall across from him. And while his left side took the brunt of the initial collision, the tumble he took afterwards resulted in the front of his head bouncing off the floor. Not hard enough to knock him unconscious, but enough to impair him momentarily.

  Frustrated by his carelessness, Youn soldiered through the stupor and climbed back to his feet using the wall to steady himself. All the while hoping any future threats or lurches would wait until his mind caught up with the rest of his body. Or at least until his surroundings stopped spinning.

  Speaking of those surroundings, the security officer’s muddled vision made it hard to be certain, but he could have sworn that the form at the opposite end of the corridor belonged to that of the raider he was after. Though they appeared to be wavering in front of the cargo bay for some reason.

  Mindful not to announce his presence, Youn shuffled forward cautiously knowing that his aim wasn’t what he needed it to be right now. But as he grew closer and the intruder’s face clearer, it became apparent that they were fighting some sort of internal battle and losing. To the extent one could mistake the wobbly and possibly concussed deck officer as the bad guy here. It was this observation that kept him from pressing any further into the corridor.

  Do I take the shot? Or should I try to close more distance? My faculties haven’t fully recovered, but I might not get a better chance than this...

  Raising his firearm, Youn traced the raider’s form with the rifle’s sights when something they did drew his attention. At first he thought they were fiddling with their body armor, but something seemed off. And it wasn’t until he crept closer that he realized the raider was preparing to yank a handle of some kind.

  A rip cord!?

  The door to the cargo bay flew open the same instant Youn’s epiphany drove him to make a mad dash for the Cloud Nine member. Cade, the one emerging from behind said door, displayed a similar sense of urgency. But having started much closer and possessing the coordination to run in a straight line, the engineer arrived first and grabbed hold of the offending arm to prevent it from being extended. Calling out through struggle in the process.

  “It’s a reconfigured flash pack! He’s trying to go with the cargo!”

  Youn adjusted his course to narrowly avoid a second collision in as many seconds and closed in from behind.

  “No thanks! I already have one grave to visit!”

  But it didn’t make any sense, why try and destroy the cargo? And now of all times? Both Federation crewmen suddenly recalled the supposed rift in Baugh’s feeder party, courtesy of the rumored leadership dispute. But going to such lengths to sabotage an otherwise profitable raid attempt? It was practically unheard of.

  “I’ll restrain his upper body, you strip it off him!”

  Cade turned the man around and wrapped a strong forearm around his neck, extending him backwards while his other hand fought to keep the same arm restrained. Meanwhile Youn practically toppled the both of them as he came flying in and frantically began frisking the would-be suicide bomber.

  “No good! The charges are embedded inside the fucking armor!”

  Youn gave one last fruitless tug on the chest piece before backing up a step and taking up his rifle.

  “Keep him still, I’ll blow his head off!”

  A violent measure to take, but with no means of quickly removing the explosives, eliminating the enemy’s motor functions became the next safest bet. And as long as he took the right angle, all the engineer could complain about in the aftermath was being covered in some degree of viscera. An outcome the Cloud Nine member wasn’t keen on seeing come to pass. Prompting him to gamble on an unorthodox measure that could have just as easily sealed his fate as revived it.

  He went limp, instantaneously. And the whiplash of struggling with all one’s might to restrict an individual’s movement only to have them ragdoll made Cade’s own muscles slacken for a moment as they sought respite from the continuous strain. But that was long enough for the raider to free themselves from the engineer’s grasp and drive forward, stunning the preoccupied Youn with a headbutt to the nose. Superseded by a shoulder tackle hard enough to send the officer tumbling back down the way he’d come.

  “Ngh...!”

  Sensing the incoming strike, the raider turned on a dime and just managed to slip a follow-up punch from the engineer. A costly miss as the nature of the swing had Cade’s body rotating away from his enemy, opening him up to a blow that sent him stumbling away as well. This left neither crewmate in position to prevent a second self-sacrifice attempt.

  A wicked grin spread itself across the face of the party member as his hand found the handle of the rip cord once more.

  “Rest in pieces Federation do—!”

  Cade cut the man off.

  “Hard port!”

  Almost as if the Crusader adhered to voice commands, the entire corridor jerked to the side violently without warning. And the arm that had been set to extend and detonate the explosives was suddenly being jammed into the corridor wall instead.

  “...?!”

  At the same time, further down the corridor, Youn extended a leg to keep from sliding into the wall and brandished his rifle a second time. Fortunately for the deck officer he had an unobstructed view of the staggered raider as the Crusader’s lurch had also taken Cade’s legs out from under him. Needless to say Youn didn’t hesitate to make good on his earlier proposal and dropped the raider with one shot, his form falling limp against the ladder. A sigh of relief passed between the men as they regained their footing and approached.

  “How about that, Wash’s eavesdropping actually proved useful for once.”

  Youn cast a glance in the direction of the cargo bay where the door remained ajar from Cade’s surprise attack. The speaking tube located just inside the door being the closest. If you excluded the ladderway as a means for sound to travel that is. A safe exclusion in this case given the bridge was under lockdown and therefore sealed.

  The security officer was incredulous.

  “You mean he’s been listening this whole time?!”

  Cade hummed in confirmation as began dragging the deceased raider down the corridor.

  “Word of advice Sigurd. Assume Wash is always listening.”

  “Kill confirmed.”

  Youn made a face at the unexpected commentary spilling from the room down the corridor before moving to help the engineer carry the body to one of the platforms.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “Why port by the way? This isn’t exactly a ship.”

  Cade grunted as he repositioned his hands, the plate armor and explosives adding to the raider’s weight considerably. Probably the reason he’d been able to generate the force to knock them both away so easily.

  “Because same as on a ship, saying left or right doesn’t account for the individual’s orientation. And applying the Crusader alternative of strong side or weak side doesn’t work when we’re operating out of a stack formation. Hence we rely on a term applicable to the mode of transportation itself to get on the same page.”

  The two men proceeded through the junction with their guest and settled on what would be considered the ‘starboard’ platform as their dump site.

  “I’m impressed you came up with that in such a high stakes situation. I’d have defaulted to my lefts and rights for sure.”

  “Well, I also had to factor in where everyone onboard was so Wash could pull the maneuver off without hesitating. And with the bridge on lockdown and the two of us here, that left our hopeless romantic as the only one I needed to account for.”

  The two reached the platform and readjusted the dead weight in their hands.

  “Hopeless romantic?”

  “The station worker. I’ll explain later. On three sound good?”

  Youn nodded and the two crewmen began to swing the body side to side to build enough momentum to toss it over the railing.

  “1. 2. Wait a minute...?”

  But by time they’d both taken a closer look at their surroundings, the momentum they’d generated had already carried the party member over the railing and onto the karst landscape below with an audible thud. What really made it so anticlimactic however was that the Crusader had stopped moving. Having parked within eyeshot of the very much open exit gate. This despite the sounds of rifle fire nearby suggesting the area remained contested.

  Both men noted that Crusader C471 had also stopped ahead of them and even saw what looked like the Convoy Commander and another officer disembarking from the equivalent platform in a hurry. Crusader C274 on the other hand was nowhere in sight. Taking their position in the formation into account this likely meant they were already out the exit gate and home free, whatever the reason. As if sensing their confusion from the speaking tubes, Wash spoke up.

  “This is where we’ll be picking up the kids from school. The oldest should be here any second.”

  Cade and Youn began scanning their immediate surroundings in response, not that they could see much beyond the massive limestone column looming over the Crusader. From behind which they could hear the sounds of footsteps growing closer. Youn trained his rifle on the spot their steps suggested they’d appear from out of caution while Cade jumped down from the platform.

  “You’re no spring chick yourself jackass!”

  Emica appeared from behind the impressive column with a party issued firearm and the headset that had been trusted to Lux for updates. Cade noted that the tall woman didn’t appear surprised or troubled by their presence. Not even the rifle pointed at her out of habit seemed to faze the woman as she slowed to a stop in front of them. But rather than open with a defense of her new equipment the former raider turned her attention towards the exit gate and the other Crusader parked nearby.

  “Good, they’ll need help considering your buddy’s injury. As for the rest of us we need to protect the gate so we can get out of here before its too late.”

  Youn looked about ready to protest taking orders from a party member when Cade cut him off and approached the woman.

  “Too late for what?”

  Emica was about to respond to the inquiry when she finally noticed the corpse littering the ground between them. She immediately crouched down, taking a special interest in the tailored armor or more specifically what it was concealing. Cade snapped his fingers to regain her attention. Causing all those present to flinch.

  “Too late for what?”

  “Seems there’s a Cloud Nine member with intentions even more confusing than my own.

  She rapped a bruised knuckle against the plating and made eye contact with the engineer.

  And they’re passing out this hardware like candy.”

  *

  “—fails to account for other fools!”

  The scene that greeted Esma on the other side of the cargo bay door was more or less what one would expect based on the audio clues, with both participants jockeying for leverage in a space ill-suited for individuals of their combat styles and statures. In regard to their exact positioning it wasn’t immediately obvious to a novice like Esma who held the upper hand, though intuition led her to believe that both parties were of similar martial skill.

  “You? What do you think you’re doing!?”

  It didn’t escape Esma just how dumbfounded Rohner sounded at her sudden incursion into the corridor, though she supposed the fact he could still bark at her despite the current predicament meant it wasn’t time to worry just yet.

  “Get back in... the cargo bay...!”

  Esma swallowed anxiously but refused to break stride as she neared the entangled duo. Instead focusing the entirety of her being on searching for a way past the melee so she could reach the engine room. The space being infringed upon by Cloud Nine in real time.

  “They’ll kill you!”

  Recognizing that their opponent’s attention was split, the armor-clad raider attempted to swipe one of his lantern shields down across Rohner’s abdomen. An attempt that proved successful albeit the cut was relatively shallow thanks to a well-timed knee disrupting the course of the blade. The security rep then released the hand that had been attempting to twist the raider’s helmet and used it to lock the same arm in an extended position towards the floor. It was around this time that Esma zeroed in on a narrow gap behind the raider that she could conceivably use to slip past the pair assuming she acted quick enough.

  Putting two and two together, Rohner began to apply more force into his points of contact with the intent of drawing the raider’s full attention. A tall order now that the brunette was right on top of them, making her almost impossible to ignore. Despite this the security rep didn’t observe any obvious changes in his adversary’s countenance or weight distribution, suggesting his offensive was working.

  He suspected the enemy was operating under the assumption that their subordinate in the engine room could handle one girl without fuss. But this assumption would soon prove false as the arm wielding the lantern shield that hadn’t been locked in place abruptly swung over the raider’s shoulder and embedded its blade in the corridor wall directly behind him. Right into the path Esma had been keen to exploit.

  Time slowed to a crawl and the interim security officer swore she caught of glimpse of her reflection in the blade prior to craning her head back towards the ceiling, narrowly avoiding clotheslining herself. But rather than pass under the blade seamlessly Esma felt her left hip collide with the raider’s lower body, causing her to ricochet into the corridor wall and kill whatever momentum she’d previously accumulated. Or more accurately, transfer it into what felt like every bone in the right side of her body.

  As a dull ache began to spread across multiple areas of her person as Esma heard rather than saw the end of the lantern shield being extracted from the wall somewhere above her. Panicking at the implications of the noise she pushed off the wall and tried to continue forward down the corridor.

  “Look out!”

  Esma yelped as the same blade from before flashed across her vision again, this time embedding itself at an awkward angle in front of her. The cause of which was Rohner releasing the arm he’d trapped in favor of resetting his hands on either side of the Cloud Nine member’s chest piece. This allowed him to steer the man’s entire upper body and influence the trajectory of the second jab attempt. That being said, the brunette had practically been crushed up against the wall in the process, with the awkwardly set blade still acting as an obstacle she’d have to somehow navigate past.

  It was from this unfortunate position that Esma was reminded of the plight they were facing if she were to be stalled any longer. The second Cloud Nine member having already disappeared into the engine room, doing who knows how much damage to the various engine components. And that cognizance frustrated her more than she ever thought possible.

  I expected things to be rough on the other side, but to become collateral damage in someone else’s fight! Pathetic. And I’m already so sick of it. Sick of my body being bashed around, sick of sharp things trying to impale me, sick of holding up this fucking wall!

  Releasing all that pent up frustration in the form of a near primal growl, Esma mustered the totality of her remaining strength and allocated it towards opposing the gilded form smothering her. A second wind that bought her several inches of forward progress, a feat the young woman never would have thought possible half a corridor ago. Not within the confines of her old familiar world.

  Off the tail end of such a welcome realization she continued to press onward, not even pausing when the blade of the lantern shield sliced the center of her right cheek open as it made one final attempt at stuffing her steady advancement along the wall. The security officer simply tabbed it as one more thing that would hurt when she awoke the next morning and stayed focused on what was in front of her. And no sooner had Esma cleared the influence of the blade and its wielder, did her legs resume their sprint for the target destination.

  It’s almost comical how many things just started making sense. Not to say I suddenly have all the answers. More like I discovered the means to arrive at them. The crux of so many of my anxieties and mistakes. That hallway I kept being dragged back to against my will for example.

  What kind of life would I be leading if I’d responded to that man the same way I did that raider? Or maybe it had always been part of his strategy to keep me from gaining the momentum to even try. Food for thought I suppose. Though there is one other thing I don’t know how to feel about yet. This rifle in my hand, it somehow feels heavier...

  “Doizer! Company!”

  The raider roared out a warning to his comrade in the engine room after having let the brunette slip past, hands much to full with the older officer who appeared to be having a small watershed moment of his own. A kind of renewed vigor in response to the effort being put on display by his colleague.

  But Cloud Nine wasn’t about to be caught sleeping either, and the raider who’d appeared before soon reemerged from the depths of the engine room with a sense of urgency. The unexpected sight of a woman storming down the corridor causing them to fumble their firearm as they made to cock it. And while Esma recognized she needed to take advantage of their mistake to close the remaining distance, she didn’t have a concrete plan for incapacitating the raider. As despite it all the CO still held considerable reservations about shooting someone. Especially when the person on the other end of the barrel was at such a close range. A memory from earlier in the day flashed across Esma’s mind.

  “What, you’re still uneasy about punching a hole in someone’s foot?”

  “Very much so. And your paraphrasing is only driving those insecurities home.”

  “I suppose it can’t be helped then. Come here.”

  Lux beckoned her student to come stand in front of her. Esma did so warily.

  “...why?”

  “Cause I’m gonna show you a move for disarming and disabling your enemy at close range.”

  Esma quickly ran through the finer points of what Lux had taught her. The first of which emphasizing the need for a firm grip of one’s rifle. As for the move itself, it necessitated swinging the stock of the rifle in an upward motion. A movement intended to fulfill the disarming portion of the stratagem.

  “Try and aim for a point just beyond whatever you’re actually targeting. A swing and a miss under these conditions will net you a quick death on account of how wide open it’ll leave you.”

  The brunette settled on the raider’s cleft chin as her target, well past the firearm he’d begun to brandish.

  “You’ll probably be tempted to hyper focus on whatever target you’ve settled on, but try to resist. What you need to be focusing on is the enemy’s eyes.”

  “Their eyes...?”

  “Eyes betray a person’s intent, reading them will give you a rough idea of how they’ll respond.”

  The raider notably continued to struggle in forming a response to the fast approaching security officer, their growing panic becoming evident in the way they kept shifting their focus from Esma to the rifle in their hands. Eyes flitting up, down and then back up again. Until finally they raised their rifle. Only to have it redirected towards the ceiling along with both of their arms.

  “Once you’ve created your opening, drive the end of the rifle forward into your opponent’s head or abdomen. If the first strike doesn’t get the job done make sure you don’t let up.”

  Lux playfully smacked her friend’s stomach to help bring the point home. Just hard enough to make Esma sputter in exasperation. It also had the added benefit of dissipating the tension that had settled into the girl’s posture during the conversation.

  “Someone wasn’t watching my eyes.”

  A teaching point that failed to translate over to the real thing as Esma’s eyes screwed themselves shut on her follow through. And while this could most likely be chalked up as a flinch in response to her gross inexperience with close combat, the main culprit was undoubtably the raider’s rifle going off as it was knocked upwards. Either way it was a mistake that could prove detrimental on multiple levels as the initial strike fell short of its objective to disarm the enemy completely. A development that now placed greater emphasis on the execution of the disabling strike as an insufficient amount of damage being dealt would equate to a reprisal Esma wasn’t trained up enough to fend off. A concerning prospect that oozed tenability given the upcoming attempt would be delivered blind.

  An altogether cruel twist of fate that a rookie CO’s life could very well come down to her inaugural test as a substitute security officer. But such happenstances weren’t so unusual in the scope of a Galen Run. Something a surprising number of field service men and women would site as the basis for their involvement in such convoys. Esma was not one of those people.

  Vision or no, the brunette launched the end of her rifle forward with all her might. Markedly unburdened by the conventional concerns of a proficient combatant as she did so. Namely the gravity of maintaining one’s balance in a fight. A negligence that in hindsight may have attributed to the success of the end result as her adversary wouldn’t have expected an all or nothing gamble from the get go. They were, after all, up against a security officer who had the guts to charge through a renowned party member.

  Ultimately this decisive blow would miss both the raider’s head and abdomen, splitting the difference and instead contacting the left side of their clavicle. But it was Esma’s repurposed momentum that made up for the whiff as the strike had managed to catch the raider flat footed, necessitating a tumble backwards. The young officer following suit as a result of her weight being shifted so far forward. Unlike Esma however the raider had no one to break his precarious fall into the jumble of aeriform engine components packed into the tight space. Leading the back of his head to collide with the closest module and rendering them unconscious upon impact.

  “...?!”

  For her part Esma’s only real concern at the time was finding herself atop the raider and scrambling to remove herself rather than press the advantage. Plucking her rifle from where it had fallen beside them in the process. With her rifle re-secured she trained it on the downed enemy from her own spot on the floor, half-expecting them to rise again in retaliation. Because despite the evidence in front of her proving otherwise, Esma’s psyche wouldn’t allow her to accept a reality in which she successfully took out an actual raiding party member on her own. And to have pulled it off without shedding blood... she winced as her hand absentmindedly grazed the oozing laceration on her cheek.

  Figuratively that is.

  Her state of personal reflection was soon interrupted however by the reminder of the ongoing struggle taking place back the way she’d come. Whipping her head back around to observe the state of the battle the security officer couldn’t help but notice her superior’s growing fatigue. Hands so full holding the raider’s lantern shields in check he couldn’t even spare the energy required to turn his head and confirm the outcome of his subordinate’s foolhardy aspirations to contribute.

  Knowing she had to do something to create an opening, Esma frantically looked around her immediate surrondings for something, anything she could hurl at the raider. Only for her face to become flushed upon recalling the feronectic rifle clasped in her hand. A weapon designed to accelerate a permanent magnet along a track as it passed through a series of coils, transforming it into a high velocity projectile capable of lethal damage. Stopping her however was the recurring sense of dread that snuck up whenever an opportunity to discharge the weapon presented itself. Even now when a fellow crewman’s life was at stake.

  But seeing as she wouldn’t be able to recreate the stunt she had just pulled against an armored opponent with dual melee weapons, Esma fell back on the original plan proposed to her for confrontations. The ole’ shoot a hole in the foot strategy. Something she’d run by the likes of Youn, Faust and even Wash in regard to its validity in the field. Not that she believed Lux would ever lead her astray on such a dangerous subject matter.

  And while those she’d surveyed had at least heard of the strategy in passing, each being too competent in battle to actually need it themselves, it appeared they’d each come across it under differing names. Including but not limited to, the dorsal delivery, tarsus terminator and last but certainly not least, the cold feet iron treat grit those teeth front row seat you know what let’s retreat plan. The latter coming courtesy of the yappy pilot.

  And though part of her suspected all these had been contrived on the spot in a misguided attempt to sow alacrity, she still considered it a thoughtful if not amusing gesture. One that did ultimately serve as a welcome distraction to the inherent discomfort of having to consciously shoot another person for the first time in her life. The fact they’d be armored offering little by way of respite to the young woman’s ever fickle conscience.

  Esma lifted her rifle and took aim all the same, not even bothering to raise herself back up from the engine room floor. Mostly out of fear that the shaking in her legs brought about by all the adrenaline in her system would exacerbate the shortcomings in her aiming mechanics. Plus remaining on the ground technically meant the target would be closer, right? Either way she’d need to hurry as Rohner’s endurance was dropping by the second.

  The brunette lay prone, propping up her elbows in a posture comparable to a sharpshooter as she took aim at the heel of the closest foot. Much of the training she’d received during her marksmanship courses at the Federation Academy flooding back to her all at once. Including the fact she’d completed the course with the lowest possible passing score. Something Esma was almost certain had been achieved thanks in large part to luck. A resource she’d never had want for even now. Her earlier tumble onto the platform of a neighboring Crusader coming to mind.

  But luck wasn’t going to pull the trigger for her here. So she did. Doing her best to keep at least one eye open as she did so to limit involuntary jerks to either side. And while the shot connected a bit higher than intended, the raider’s ankle, it did enough to slide the entire foot back a short but tangible distance. Not immediately privy to the cause of the shift, the armored man tried to reset his footing to maintain his advantage. Rohner was faster. The veteran officer pulled the raider down by one of his arms and simultaneously threw an elbow across the base of his helm. A blow that staggered the raiding captain and pushed him back until his backside collided with the opposite wall. The result of his arm having been released.

  Esma found herself holding her breath as she watched this exchange unfold from the end of the corridor, well aware that both her fate and that of the Crusader were more than likely tied to Rohner’s victory or defeat here. But the security representative left little room for doubt as he prevented the jarred raider from pushing off the corridor wall with the muzzle of his heavy rifle, pressing it firmly against the base of where the enemy’s throat would be. Though from this angle she couldn’t tell if that area was armored.

  One pull of the trigger later and Esma had her answer. Watching on warily as the raider’s entire body went from scrambling to defend itself to spasming its way down the wall and onto the floor. A horrid sight that was finally quelled by a second point blank shot just above the previous target. Rohner’s version of mercy if she had to guess.

  Then it was security officer’s turn to slump against the corridor wall as fatigue from the prolonged struggle began to take its toll. Esma used the opportunity to stand and make her way over on unsteady legs, only stopping when the man’s large heaving form turned towards her almost casually.

  “Not bad kid. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

  The brunette shuffled in place, unused to receiving this type of roundabout praise.

  “Yes well...I think this is the part where I’m supposed to say something along the lines of, ‘I was just doing my job’...”

  Rohner chuckled at the young woman’s antics as he looked past her at the incapacitated raider occupying the engine room floor. An exchange he’d failed to witness amidst his attempts to avoid being skewered, but one he’d be more than willing to give the rookie her flowers for. Through the appropriate channels that is.

  “—I thank her for her service but see no further need for intervention on my or the convoy commander’s part. As such idle pursuits would be nothing short of an offense to any individual who exhibits the ability to take decisive action in defense of their comrades...”