Part 12 (2/2)
”Stick to the planned incursion order for now,” said Henley. ”When the second group arrives at the spindle leading into the factory floor, they can wait there to rendezvous with the others before we go in. The marines can stay on the heels of the a.s.sAILs.”
Bren thought about the message while the marines moved into the supply dock. He brought up schematics of the factory wing. The floor was long and wide, filled with the machines that produced the extremely light and strong plastics in the zero-G chamber. Bren suspected a trap. His data didn't indicate that the materials used in the production facility were explosive or particularly toxic. As large as the factory was, none of its walls directly bordered onto s.p.a.ce. Bren supposed that the entire room could still be evacuated of air, if that proved to be the defender's plan.
”It's time to move this a.s.sAIL group to the factory entrance,” Henley transmitted to the Guts channel.
The a.s.sAILs heard the announcement. Meridian's head tentacle slid forward and pushed open another metal door. An atrium led into three long, wide corridors with conveyor belt floors running from the dock toward the factory. Bren a.s.sumed that large amounts of raw material usually flowed along these corridors toward the factory for crystallization into the final products.
No one occupied the corridors. The vacant section made Bren nervous. Too quiet, he thought, even given the UNSF boarding warnings. There were security robots, armored locals, and maybe more Reds somewhere on the station, and according to the anonymous message, their enemies awaited them beyond the next bulkhead.
”If it's an ambush as we've been warned,” Bren transmitted, ”Don't hold back. Watch out for our marines, but don't hesitate to fire directly on the locals if they charge you again in the presence of robotic enemies.”
Bren selected the marines' channels and continued.
”Since there may be an organized force awaiting us inside, we may need to put both the marines and the a.s.sAIL units in there together. But I think it could be a trap. I suggest that the marines seal up their vac suits before we probe the factory. It would be a logical place to prepare a surprise atmosphere evacuation.”
Bren took a deep breath.
”Agreed. We'll need a few minutes to prepare for zero-g.”
Bren's mind raced.
Did they prepare the ambush there a.s.suming that the marines would be less effective in the absence of acceleration? Surely, the marines are extensively trained to orient themselves and move about in such an environment. What else about the factory is unique?
Bren looked at the schematics. The factory was complex. Large.
Its size, maybe. Or its centrality. I don't know.
”Move in,” said Henley on the a.s.sAIL channel.
Meridian entered the factory first and secured itself to the floor with its magnetic feet. Bren examined the ma.s.sive facility through the lenses of the a.s.sAIL machine. Soft lights on the walls illuminated large rows of ore processors that floated in the large s.p.a.ce, stabilized by metal struts. Gaping intake portals faced forward; ready to accept raw materials to be transformed into high tech building materials for s.p.a.ce habitats being constructed throughout the solar system. Bren knew from his study of the area that each row had fourteen separate machines to perform each stage of the manufacturing. He supposed that the factory equipment must be rife with niches and alcoves that could conceal combatants.
”Scout the factory,” Bren transmitted.
”Further reconnaissance is unnecessary,” Meridian responded.
Why is it always Meridian that responds? They must be aware that I'm watching this channel.
”Explain why,” Bren said.
”The factory contains many station malcons. They are hiding beyond the first set of ore processors. There are also security robots here. The warning was accurate.”
”Hold your positions. Shall we call in the-”
Two a.s.sAIL units went offline. Nemain and Nerad. Bren barely had time to blink before dozens of people in black gear leaped forward from hiding places twenty or thirty meters into the factory. They floated through the air toward the a.s.sAILs.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
”Henley ...” Bren said.
”Move in! Move in and a.s.sume defensive positions behind the a.s.sAIL units!” cried Henley. Bren wasn't sure if the marine commander realized that two of their machines had gone down.
More a.s.sAIL units stomped in through doors farther down the factory wall. Bren heard yells from the inhabitants in plastic suits, the stutter of the marines' slugthrowers, and the louder hammering of the 12mm weapons on the a.s.sAILs.
Boom. Boom.
Bren felt sure this was what battle had been like in centuries past. The noise, the chaos. Uncertainty everywhere. The only thing he could see at a glance from his overview displays was the number of disabled a.s.sAIL units-three dead now.
How? What's killing them? How can they die so quickly?
Bren witnessed bits of the battle as he paged through feeds in his PV. He caught a glimpse of a security robot lumbering forward amid the armored figures. It launched stun grenades at the marines arriving behind the a.s.sAIL screen. A black-clad station inhabitant spiraled up in the gravity-free factory, clutching a gun in both hands before a rubber slug knocked the weapon away.
Boom. Boom. Brrroooom.
Bren heard the retorts of the a.s.sAIL 12mm weapons. Too rapid, he thought. Too many of the rounds were flying.
Bren fought back fears of permanent damage or even the destruction of the station. The 12mm rounds were about ten centimeters long, traveling at velocities more than one thousand meters per second. He held onto the hope that the a.s.sAIL units were using the factory equipment as reliable backstops for the armor penetrating rounds.
A summary of the marine casualties started to increment in a small window in Bren's PV. He felt dismay at the thought of dead marines, but the count didn't rise rapidly. In fact, they'd lost more of the a.s.sAIL team than marines, but he knew that if all the a.s.sAIL units were destroyed the marines would be next.
Boom. Boom.
The sound of the a.s.sAIL cannons continued, distinct from the rattle of small arms fire. Bren's feed filtered the sound to tolerable levels.
The battle had outpaced his ability to keep up, so Bren brought up a tactical overview of all the units in the factory wing in his PV, trying to get a feel for how the situation had developed. He saw that the remaining a.s.sAIL units had countercharged deeper into the factory complex. They remained affixed to one wall and tilted their heads upward to fire toward the cover of the material processors. The marines hadn't advanced with them, but spread out more, hopping along at least three different walls. Bren hoped that most of the locals had gone down in the charge and weren't bothering the a.s.sAILs as they hunted.
Boom. Boom.
The hunt must not have been going well, since Bren could only see five of the robot killers online. His attention flitted back to Meridian's forward camera feed. He could tell the a.s.sAILs were engaged with another Red. They fired at machinery, st.i.tching holes through it, seeking the quick moving robot that must be behind.
Boom. Boom.
Bren saw something move. The 12mms stuttered again, hiding the target in a cloud of debris. The display showed ammo counts dropping as several more a.s.sAILs fired.
Boom. Boom. ... Boom. Boom.
The Red lured us in there so it could kill our machines in the confusion. And it has succeeded.
Bren watched his PV, helpless, while more rounds were fired.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The a.s.sAIL's fire converged on a single piece of equipment the size of a bus. Holes appeared in its sides rapidly as the armor-piercing 12mm rounds flew through it. Bren saw debris coming out the far side as if some of the projectiles were cutting completely through the metal.
Bren supposed the machinery must have a hollow tube through the center where the material flowed when it was being formed. Clearly, the a.s.sAIL units believed the enemy was inside.
Brrroooom.
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