Blood Impulse

Part 40.3 - SUPPLY AND DEMAND

Cardioid Sector, HR-14 System, Crimson Heart's Base of Operations

The hiss of pyrotechnics and a searing white light punctuated the detonation of the flashbang. On the other side of their shield wall, the pirates waiting in ambush cried out in surprise.

Anchoring the center of the shield wall, Johnston pushed in, the others falling into place to protect the flank as they traversed the chokepoint of the door. Writhing on the floor, prying at their blinded eyes, the six pirates on the other side offered little resistance. A few sightlessly tried to claw for their weapons, but Frenchie darted forth and quickly dispatched them. Valentina kicked the emergency lamp the pirates had used to illuminate the corridor in dim light and shattered the bulb, plunging Task Force Alpha back into darkness.

The team held up their shield wall for another moment, waiting for another adversary to take aim, but silence filled the corridor. Combat came in fits and starts, even on a mission like this. Minutes of boredom and anxiety were punctuated by seconds of violence.

Frenchie took a long look past the shields, searching for enemies, then announced, "Clear."

Captain Adams breathed out a sigh of relief and moved to tie her shield up against the wall where it wouldn't drift free in the corridor. Her arms ached from bracing it against the impacts. The gently curved front of the shield had a few bullet marks. She could feel them with her fingertips, but it was still structurally sound and would be taken and reused for another mission. Separated from the fleet, they were in no position to throw away usable equipment because it had a few dents.

By force of habit, Captain Adams kept herself anchored to the floor of the corridor. The Marine unit with her simply took up positions wherever they had stopped. For Frenchie, that meant perpendicular to her on the wall. Adams was envious of how quickly they adjusted and how little they seemed to care for their orientation. It annoyed her that her subconscious insisted she stay grounded in zero-G. In the cockpit, she had no issue turning this way or that, let alone flying opposite her home ship's orientation. Out among the stars, orientation was only perspective, but something about being here in the flesh, removed from her flight controls made it harder to adjust. Perhaps it was just the wrongness of seeing a corridor that clearly had a floor and a ceiling lined with lights without gravity. Or perhaps it was the strangeness trying to convince herself that she could walk along that ceiling without struggle as if gravity never meant anything at all. She wasn't used to it. Ordinarily, when she walked such corridors aboard ship or on station, gravity was a constant.

A droplet of wetness hit Adams' cheek as the airlock behind her began to cycle, bringing in more of their team. She wiped it away without a second thought, only pausing when the smell of it hit her: coppery, the scent of untreated metal left out in the elements, and a hint of salt. It congealed under the friction of her fingertips. In such a small quantity, it had already normalized to the temperature of her skin, and couldn't be seen through her infrared goggles. More droplets drifted around her, a fine spray that hovered without gravity. She closed her mouth, unwilling to tolerate the familiar taste.

The mist in the air might be hard to see, but the globule of blood oozing and quivering beside the pirate's head still glowed yellow in her infrared goggles. It was strange to find something that should have been gruesome so cheerfully colored. Adams turned from it before she could contemplate it more. She wasn't used to seeing the remains of her enemies so clearly laid out. From her cockpit, usually all she saw was the final detonation of the fuel or munitions stores. Seeing them like this was different, and she did not envy the Marines of it, but at least in this scenario they were facing down pirates. Pirates – the scum of the transport routes who stole life from their unlucky victims and livelihood from all the rest. It also didn't hurt that the pirates had shot first, and that the outcome of this mission dictated the survival of every soul in the refugee fleet. Adams and the rest of the crew were acutely aware of that.