The remainder of their forces surrounded his encounter suit. There was another such suit beside him, fourteen battered loader suits, and a few dozen Triton crew in armoured vacsuits. “How goes the rush, Jason?” Frost asked.
“They’re falling back, and the rearmost are starting to run into team two. Looks like they’re going to have no choice but to retreat into the main habitation area,” replied Jason over the sounds of pulse and particle rifles firing all around him.
With a glance at the retinal tactical display projected at Frost’s eye, he could see Jason was getting close to the front of his team. Crewcast reported that he had depleted more than eight percent of his sidearm’s ammunition in the past six minutes. “Stay out of it lad, you’ve got fire teams with you so you can use that big brain o’ yours instead of getting it blown away.”
“Right,” Jason Everin replied flatly.
There was no arguing. He simply stopped firing and fell back to the middle of his team. It was the right thing to do, but Frost wasn’t used to working with someone who gave in to reason so quickly. His people followed orders quickly, but Frost was used to hearing some kind of counter argument when he gave advice to an equal or higher ranked officer.
The second team finished moving into place perfectly, and when the enemy crew tried to retreat around the corner behind them, they were greeted with a hail of gunfire. They were sandwiched between the Triton forces, and even though they had more numbers, they were hoplessly outflanked. In under a minute they retreated into the only door available to them; the central living quarters.
“That’s it, they’re contained. Your turn, Frost.”
All the other exits had been welded shut with an extra layer of plating affixed atop the door. “You said it, they’re contained. No need to follow through,” Frost said as he glanced at the locked panel in the wall beside him.
“We don’t know what kind of tools they have inside, and there are four to seven hundred people in there. This is going to be a problem moving forward.”
Frost watched as Jason took his team further up the hall to one of the main data access lines. “I still think we’ll do better using this as leverage. We go through with it now and we’re shooting any trust we can build with the Command Crew out the airlock.”
“We’re not in a situation where we have time to build trust with anyone, especially their Command Crew. If they have any intelligence training at all, and evidence says they do, then they’re not going to bargain with us.”
“This doesn’t sit right with me lad.”
“Frost! I’m not going to argue with you. I can’t move ahead without your back up and we can’t afford to get taken from behind when those people break through the doors. Either cut into that environmental panel or I’ll go back there and do it myself! It’ll delay my hack into the trunk line, and you know we can’t afford the time.”
“Aye. You’re right, guess I best get used to it,” Frost acquiesced. He turned and took two steps towards the heavy dividing wall. The three and a half meter tall encounter suit followed his every movement perfectly, even his limp. The enhanced plasma torch mounted at the end of the suit’s index finger cut through the ten cenimetre structural wall like it was made of tissue paper and he pulled the block of metal out with the other hand. After placing it against the wall he examined the wiring that was hidden behind. “I’m through.”
“Were the schematics right?”
One of the gun deck team stepped forward and wrapped a band around the bundle of wires, then opened a panel on the side of Frost’s encounter suit so he could connect the other end with the data jack there. “One minute,” Frost said as he watched his on board computer interpret the raw data coming from the lines. With dread he saw all the raw environment system connections, and after a few seconds the encounter suit computer devised a control screen that encompassed all the options available. “Aye. Interior pressure, temperature, it’s all here.”
“Good. Do it, Frost.”
He tried not to think about what it would be like in a bunk, the commissary, latrines or mess hall when he did what he had to do. He’d seen it first hand when he stripped Burke of his vacsuit and reduced the temperature in an unused crew compartment. The man had taken every credit he had, marooned him on an unfriendly world, and deserved the serious frostbite he suffered. These crewmen were only defending their ship, and had been beaten back so efficiently that they had no choice but to take refuge in what they probably felt was the safest part of the ship. Most of them weren’t even soldiers.
“Frost!”
“Aye, taking care of it now,” he said as he directed the temperature down past critical limits. Next he reduced the pressure until it passed well into the negative range and finally he ordered the biohazard seals in place for the entire section. The audio pickups on the outside of his encounter suit transmitted the screaming through the comparatively thin wall behind the wiring and Frost closed his eyes. “It’s done. Anyone without an atmosphere suit or emergency compartment should die in a minute. Emergency biohazard measures sealed them in.”
“Considering how few of the regular crew wear environment suits or liners there won’t be many left. What does the system say about containment breaches?”
“The pressure drop that’ll happen when someone busts out will force the nearest emergency door to close. They’ll have to bust through one compartment after another.”
“Good, nothing to worry about behind us then.”
Frost turned away from the makeshift access panel and ordered his people forward. He was keenly aware of the absence of sound coming from the next room.
It took them minutes to catch up to Jason and the rest of the invasion force. Jason was back in his encounter suit, and the third surviving suit stood beside him in front of a thick bulkhead door. “They know we’re comin’,” Frost stated.
“Open fire whenever you like, Gunnery Chief,” Jason said as Triton crew members rushed around in front of the heavily armoured encounter suits, placing directional charges two metres away from the bulkhead door.
“Aye, time to pick a fight,” he growled as he fired all the available weapons on the suit. The armoured door in front of them immediately began to degrade as a hail of particle weapons fire assaulted the metal. Triton soldiers took cover behind portable energy shields set several meters behind the suits. After a few seconds the air around them read over two hundred degrees, not enough to stress anyone’s vacsuit. Frost couldn’t help but smile a little as he heard the encounter suit’s environmental systems kick in. “At least it’s a dry heat.”
Several chuckles came in reply to his wise crack. The door surface had turned white right to the endges and Jason asked; “Think we’re ready?”
“Just a little more. It’s still loosening up on the other side.”
The sounds of warping deck plates and creaking metal added to the relentless auditory pounding of their suit’s weaponry until Frost finally saw the temperature he wanted at the door surface and he stopped. The other two encounter suits stopped as well. “Check energy shields,” Frost ordered. With a glance he could see all three suits were at over ninety percent. It was still best for each pilot to report in regardless.
“Ninety one percent, good,” Jason said.
“Ninety three point five,” reported the third pilot, Mark Hunsler.
“Blow it!” The directional charges exploded, sending most of the white hot bulkhead door down the hallway ahead of them in thousands of white hot chunks. “Cover fire!” Frost shouted, relishing the feeling of engaging in a straight firefight instead of resorting to hacks and work arounds. While soldiers fired between the encounter suits, Frost, Jason and Mark led the way, marching forward with most of their generated power ready to recharge their energy shields. They were taking a fortified position that the enemy had hours to prepare.