Read Online Battlecruiser Alamo: The Price of Admiralty by Richard Tongue - Free Book Online
Authors: Richard Tongue
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opened the door for full-scale scavenging, of course, but it was probably worth it. The Lunar Republic had always had the edge on plasma weaponry, and they never exported their best kit. Getting those issued to the platoon could make all the difference at some point. The young officer looked around, and noted that the troopers were not even bothering to conceal their scavenging now, their pockets bulging at the seams.
"Got some grenades back here!", Clarke shouted. "Half-kiloton yield."
Esposito and Hunter looked at each other in shock, the sergeant reacting first. "You make god-damned sure that they aren't booby-trapped, Corporal. What the hell would someone be doing with weapons like that on a space station?"
"You sure, Clarke? Voldinski, take a look," the Ensign said. The private made her way over to the small box, reading the label and nodding. The crate made its way to the growing pile, with Esposito making a note to make sure that they were disarmed and stored very carefully in the armory when they got back.
"We're getting distracted now, Sergeant. How much left?"
Hunter peered at the pile and down at his datapad. "Two crates missing, but no sign of them. I make seventeen crates of Alamo stores and three more that we're interested enough in to take back with us."
"Three?"
"Riley found a crate of spices we probably ought to donate to the mess. Smart kid; obviously she's been exposed to ship rations before."
Esposito walked over to the door, where Clarke and McBride were starting to load the crates onto a pair of motorized trolleys. She looked over the dilapidated equipment and the worn tracks, then up at the corporal, who shrugged his shoulders with a 'best we could do' look on his face. Before she could speak, one of the two guard on the door ran into the room.
"Take cover!" he yelled, and the troopers threw themselves behind crates, pulling their tasers out of their pockets. A couple of them looked longingly at the plasma pistols on the trolley, but without clips they were nothing but small, expensive clubs. A pair of green blasts shot through the room, blowing out a pair of crates, sending shards of white-hot plastic raining down on the troopers.
"Plasma weapons? In a station? What the hell?" Riley yelled at no-one in particular.
The sergeant peered over the crate he was hiding behind, then yelled at the scout, "What did you see, trooper?"
"Six of them, in shock armor, with plasma rifles. Two of them took station in the corridor, the others heading for the doors."
Esposito looked at her sergeant, "What do you think?"
"I think we're screwed, and they knew we were coming."
"The pilot?" Esposito said.
"What do you think, ma'am?"
Corporal Clarke spat at the deck, "Might as well throw our damn tasers away!"
The ensign looked out over her first field command, and shook her head, "That's enough of that shit, Corporal! Maintain a suppressing fire. Might find an exposed spot."
"What's the point, Sarge?"
Hunter looked venom at his subordinate, who looked doubtful for a few seconds, then shook his head, pulled out the fist-sized taser and unleashed a couple of bolts, the rest of his squad following suit. Esposito looked futilely down at her communicator, but she knew that it was jammed before she even tried to contact Alamo. The sergeant gave a hollow laugh, then looked around at the squad, pointing to a few of the younger troopers to get into better cover.
Periodic ly, green bolts shot through the air, none of them hitting the espatiers, but sending them all ducking down even further for cover. One touch by a plasma bolt would be enough to kill a man. A full hit, and it would be impossible to tell that a man was ever there.
"They've got us nicely pinned down, ma'am. Orders?"
"What are they waiting for?"
"Reinforcements, maybe? They'd have a bad time taking us all in hand-to-hand, and if they wanted us dead we'd be floating outside by now. Orders, ma'am?"
She looked around, desperately trying to find
"Got some grenades back here!", Clarke shouted. "Half-kiloton yield."
Esposito and Hunter looked at each other in shock, the sergeant reacting first. "You make god-damned sure that they aren't booby-trapped, Corporal. What the hell would someone be doing with weapons like that on a space station?"
"You sure, Clarke? Voldinski, take a look," the Ensign said. The private made her way over to the small box, reading the label and nodding. The crate made its way to the growing pile, with Esposito making a note to make sure that they were disarmed and stored very carefully in the armory when they got back.
"We're getting distracted now, Sergeant. How much left?"
Hunter peered at the pile and down at his datapad. "Two crates missing, but no sign of them. I make seventeen crates of Alamo stores and three more that we're interested enough in to take back with us."
"Three?"
"Riley found a crate of spices we probably ought to donate to the mess. Smart kid; obviously she's been exposed to ship rations before."
Esposito walked over to the door, where Clarke and McBride were starting to load the crates onto a pair of motorized trolleys. She looked over the dilapidated equipment and the worn tracks, then up at the corporal, who shrugged his shoulders with a 'best we could do' look on his face. Before she could speak, one of the two guard on the door ran into the room.
"Take cover!" he yelled, and the troopers threw themselves behind crates, pulling their tasers out of their pockets. A couple of them looked longingly at the plasma pistols on the trolley, but without clips they were nothing but small, expensive clubs. A pair of green blasts shot through the room, blowing out a pair of crates, sending shards of white-hot plastic raining down on the troopers.
"Plasma weapons? In a station? What the hell?" Riley yelled at no-one in particular.
The sergeant peered over the crate he was hiding behind, then yelled at the scout, "What did you see, trooper?"
"Six of them, in shock armor, with plasma rifles. Two of them took station in the corridor, the others heading for the doors."
Esposito looked at her sergeant, "What do you think?"
"I think we're screwed, and they knew we were coming."
"The pilot?" Esposito said.
"What do you think, ma'am?"
Corporal Clarke spat at the deck, "Might as well throw our damn tasers away!"
The ensign looked out over her first field command, and shook her head, "That's enough of that shit, Corporal! Maintain a suppressing fire. Might find an exposed spot."
"What's the point, Sarge?"
Hunter looked venom at his subordinate, who looked doubtful for a few seconds, then shook his head, pulled out the fist-sized taser and unleashed a couple of bolts, the rest of his squad following suit. Esposito looked futilely down at her communicator, but she knew that it was jammed before she even tried to contact Alamo. The sergeant gave a hollow laugh, then looked around at the squad, pointing to a few of the younger troopers to get into better cover.
Periodic ly, green bolts shot through the air, none of them hitting the espatiers, but sending them all ducking down even further for cover. One touch by a plasma bolt would be enough to kill a man. A full hit, and it would be impossible to tell that a man was ever there.
"They've got us nicely pinned down, ma'am. Orders?"
"What are they waiting for?"
"Reinforcements, maybe? They'd have a bad time taking us all in hand-to-hand, and if they wanted us dead we'd be floating outside by now. Orders, ma'am?"
She looked around, desperately trying to find
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