The 113th’s medic leaned besides an ailing Nicholson.

“Sir, Private Nicholson is in bad shape. If we can reach the infirmary, I can fix the problem, but he’s losing blood, so we need to find it fast.”

“Fill him with plasma treatment for now. I’ll make his survival a priority.”

Private Nicholson held a wet gauze dressing on the hole in the abdomen as the medic stuffed the back opening of the wound with sterile cloth. Nick winced as Soel knelt beside and raised an eyebrow while inspecting Nick’s face.

“Private, your mission is to get through this injury, I’ll see you’re taken care of.”

“He’s lucky it went through his intestines,” said the medic, “It could have pierced a vital organ.”

The lieutenant stood.

“Come on, break’s over!”

Twelve units representing the 113th, two engineer units, and five from the 132nd made it through the next hatch two by two without squeezing. The entranceways were becoming larger as they progressed forward. Here, the Neimun was no longer a series of thin halls; in fact, they were invading a wide sleeping quarter. The walls were flanked by metal bunk beds with black iron trunks at their feet.

Beds were empty and flat, sheets taut on the hard thin mattresses; lockers and bins were at the sides of every bunk. The left wall had a large opening into a combined kitchen and eating area; in which dirty pots and pans were stuffed into a container next to a decontamination washer. Morgan and Jenson advanced to the front of the line, checking the kitchen. Four men in white aprons sprung up from behind the long tables and pummeled Jenson with laser fire. Both IEVs fired back, killing them with little effort.

“If that’s all they have left, we have nothing to worry about,” Jenson said.

There was an open hall, a sign indicated that it led to the infirmary.

“Corporal Forinth, secure the infirmary,” Soel Commanded, “Jenson, rejoin the main group.”

The IEVs spread out across the living quarters without further resistance, finally reaching the navigation hatch. Sawblade opened it, encountering a lone attack droid. Everyone took cover as it fired a chemical spray that cut the nearby bunks in half, causing them to fall atop one another.

“Another ambush?” Jenson asked, “Where do they get these guys?”

As Jenson concentrated his fire on the droid, disabling its weapon systems, a dozen Buldethian crew members rolled out from underneath their beds. They fired at the IEV formation’s rear. Corporal Forinth and his men came to the rescue, but ended up being overwhelmed by an enemy platoon from the infirmary. Laser fire flew freely, blackening the walls of the ship.

The enemy, equipped with simple Kevlar suits of laser resistant material, opposed larger and better armored IEVs brazenly. Soel knelt to take aim and was hit directly in the head from a sniper weapon. His communications, visual and voice systems went inactive. He removed the helmet and took cover. Privates Diatsu and Mobuto took hits in the hand and leg, their units were limping before the surprise wore off and they finally took cover.

“Morgan take cover,” Jenson yelled, “We have a sniper in back of us!”

Soel recognized the cry of one of his men from afar, but there was nothing he could do. The 122nd’s medic was bogged down in a corner behind a bin of clothing. He had lost his helmet. Corporal Forinth dove back and assaulted three men in hand-to-hand combat. One went down with a kick, the other took a chop to the head, and the third a punch through the stomach. The embattled medic fired, sending heated beams through enemy Kevlar. The remaining enemy fired back, blowing the medic’s neck and shoulder open; his cry pierced the area. When Corporal Forinth finally reach the medic’s unit he shuddered and stepped back.

Soel picked off two attackers as sniper fire hit the bed frame in front of him. The lieutenant took the Helmut from his IEV and lifted it slightly above his cover, it was knocked backwards by fire from the kitchen. He crawled along the floor, peering from an insignificant crevice. The sniper was only half covered by the entrance into the kitchen. Soel sprang up and fired, blasting through the man’s face, then he fell back to the floor, repeating the technique to avoid getting picked off because his head was exposed.

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The forward IEVs were wearing down; they were scratched, drained, stained with blood, electricity flowed from torn wiring and damaged circuits, some even had holes in their armor. Still, they launched a hail of fire against the enemy, covering the floor with corpses. Lieutenant Soel stood and knocked off another two snipers before yelling his commands. The men tuned their units so they could hear his shouts.

“Hobart, Gunther, Samson, Diatsu, Momar advance to the rear and clear the kitchen. Everyone else fight your way into the navigation room.”

Hobart and Gunther moved along the beds, leaving a grenade under each one. Blood splattered over the ground underneath two, a gristly confirmation of hidden enemies. Ten Buldethian soldiers attempted to charge up the stairway. Momar threw an implosion grenade in the middle of their formation; leaving an unrecognizable lump of flesh and metal. Lieutenant Soel took out five Buldethians from the navigation room with direct head shots, ducking against the wall after every hit.

Another IEV unit dove beside him. “Sir Private Komito reporting, I couldn’t reach you on my communications panel. Sergeant Malfos is down. The enemy is trying to push out of the fighter bay. They’re trying to retake the first communications room. We’re talking about an enemy force of about forty men. Some have Space infantry protection suits, some mobile units. We’re running low on ammo and unit power. The situation is critical.”

“Tell them to hold the doorway at all cost. Use implosion devices if necessary. I’ll have the fighter bay depressurized once I reach the control room. Now get back there and help them. Tell the remaining medical officer to get ready to rush his wounded into the infirmary. Privates Diatsu, Momar, and Mobuto can join you after clearing the bunk, and the dining area.”

The men remaining with the lieutenant fought their way to the barricades around the control room. Corporal Jenson led the charge. His unit’s hand blasted off from accurate laser rifle as he attacked a soldier. Another shot tore through the torso of the unit and blood oozed through the hole. Corporal Jenson’s unit fell to the floor, writhing around in agony from the commands of the Corporal’s nerve impulses. The 113th’s medic, Corporal Jackson, entered at that moment, fully equipped. Soel commanded his attention.

“Get him out of here. He’s delaying the entire mission.”

“Yes sir, right away.”

Corporal Jackson opened the damaged unit and slid Jenson’s body from the vehicle’s torso. Corporal Jenson’s middle finger had detached at the joint, bleeding profusely; the severed end clung in the foam lining; he grasped the wound with his good hand, kicking and screaming. Ray and Mobuto pulled Jenson forcefully from the damaged IEV.

“How can a new recruit survive the loss of an IEV and still muster the balls to lead an attack, even taking a laser beam in the gut without flinching; when my most experienced and decorated squad leader risks the entire mission at a crucial moment over a wounded finger?!” Soel yelled, then he paused to calm himself before he issued further orders. “The next room is the control room, then the officer’s chambers. We have to breach their defenses here quickly. Because of the time wasted here, they’re probably ready for us, so take cover and get ready for a counter assault. Norwaki open her up.”

Private Freidman knelt in back of a line of metal boxes as he aimed the suits grenade launcher. Soel readied an implosion grenade. A minute later the hatch separated slowly. A four-millimeter beam cannon stood fortified behind bags of titanium chips laden with reactive substances. Soel threw the implosion grenade, but it did nothing more than suck a hunk of titanium chips into a dense molten pile. Its force was absorbed by the contents of the bags.

The enemy cannon fired, tearing a hole through the belly of Freidman’s IEV, though the beam was absorbed by the armor and the shields of the unit before affecting his flesh. Freidman fainted without firing another shot. Corporal Thegama jumped through the hole created by the implosion grenade and hacked the gun through with a laser whip.

Sawblade’s IEV took the initiative next, despite being hampered by dented metal, loose wires, leaking hydraulic lines, and a left hand missing a thumb and index finger. Morgan and Thegama followed close behind. Five enemy officers threw down their guns and simply surrendered.

Upon seeing the final defense breached, Manager Hiram of the Neimun put his laser pistol in his mouth and fired. Blood and smoke came simultaneously from the wounded orifice.

The controller was seated alone in his chambers. When the first units busted through the hatch they were faced only with his line of sentry guns. A dignified man with brilliant hair of silver spoke softly despite breathing fire through his eyes, it was none other than Judge Drek Hammon.

“When I say you have been given much, yet have disgraced the cause, I speak for the Judicature. You know what must be done.”

The picture faded from the screen as Private Morgan dispatched the sentry guns. Controller Sethin moved down the steps as a man lost would wonder through thick woods. He put a pistol against his temple as Soel rushed past the sentry formation to tackle him, but the Lieutenant was too late. The controller fell in the same manner as Manager Hiram, his blood blending into the red carpet.

The cap with the Buldethian emblem fell into the blood pool. It lay wilted. Soel kicked the body so it faced the ceiling. He tramped on the cap. Velvet liquid soaked into its cloth. A slow tormenting sound squished as the heel of the lieutenant’s unit twisted it, crushing it into the carpet.

“Cowards take all the glory out of it. Well men, good job, the Neimen is captured!”