This work was written by Silas Tine.

Please respect Silas Tine's original creative work.

Unauthorized reproduction or distribution is prohibited.

As the first of the kitted-out troopers' heels hit the grated deck, he stepped aside and unleashed a spray of automatic gunfire over his head.

Bullets screeched as they sparked off the steel ceiling, and the roar of gunfire reverberated throughout the bay.

Thulani cursed and dove for cover. Raiders, here? Joberg hadn't been raided in over five years.

Thulani peeked over a rolling cart as another two dozen figures slid into the bay on rappel lines. Those on the ground expertly combed through the room, cutting off all the exits.

"Everyone on the ground!" The one who initially fired hollered. As the raiders found cowering bay workers, they posted up, getting a gun on each potential threat.

Three crossed over to Thulani, Thshepo, and Johan. Synthetic black and teal body plates articulated over the invaders' wet suits. They brandished well-maintained and oiled carbines with worn paint jobs.

"Hands where we can see them!" Their leader barked.

Thulani's hand quivered as they drifted over his head, the grate flooring dug painfully into his knees. Water from the seal breach trickled over piped and wired under the grating, and the automatic pumps hummed to life, combating the leak.

Thshepo shrunk, with his hands up, but Johan glowered at the invaders, body half turned.

Oh no, what was he doing? Thulani recognized the coiled posture of a yellow-bellied sea snake readying a strike.

"You!" The corsair in the lead of a trio snapped at the mechanic. Dark eyes gleamed in waves under the red rotary emergency lights. A shallow beard of black coils sprouted from his dark skin. "I said hands up!"

Johan's lip curled.

Thulani didn't want to be anywhere near the stupid mechanic when he gave their captors a reason to open fire. Nobody liked Johan. His abrasive personality and antagonism drove people to flee like a school of fish from a net. Despite his being a total ass, Thulani had no desire to wipe Johan's brains off of his face.

"Hey, bring them all to the middle!" Their leader, who touched down last, ordered. Her sharp voice spurred her men to action.

The three confronting Thulani's trio prodded and pushed the technicians from the decomp doc to the cluttered cargo bay. About two dozen assailants corralled the twenty-five Joberg doc techs into a mob of primarily red jumpsuits.

"Identification cards!" The leader barked. "Now!"

I.D. cards? Thulani scrambled to comply, wondering why, in the ocean, the raiders would want to check their I.D.s. Come to think of it, these men were well-equipped for pirates. A fair-skinned elderly marauder with singed eyebrows snatched Thulani's I.D. as he unclipped it from its cheap plastic case. The intruders collected the cards and handed them to their commander, whose neck was marked with a splotchy red burn scar that seemed to pulsate in the emergency lights. She scrutinized each and then cross-referenced a handheld tablet.

Thulani kept his head down, trying not to make eye contact, contrary to Johan, who glared at the intruders through stormy eyes. They just needed to wait. The police force would arrive shortly and save them. Down one of the exit hatches, muted automatic gunfire sputtered. Were there other elements to the raid? How many soldiers did this obscure enemy have?

"There, there, there, and there," The leader pointed out four people, and the men dragged the unfortunate out of the group.

"To show we're serious —" The leader signaled by flicking her wrist.

Thulani cried out, flinching away, and screams echoed in the bay as gunfire flashed, illuminating the execution brighter than the red rotary lights. A young man sobbed, and the woman in charge of the band nodded in satisfaction, her lips pinched together.

"Delta, prepare for pick up." She pointed to a vacant decomp portal near a stack of cargo containers, not a man pod access hatch but bulkhead doors large enough for a cargo sub. "Take some techs and prepare for an Eel Fang pick-up pod. Who manages this bay?"

Thshepo's shaking hand climbed in the air, and the manager glanced up with his head bowed.

"Get that hatch ready to receive a sub."

"I can't," Thshebo croaked. "Emergency protocol locks down the dock."

The leader shifted irritably, her hand resting on a pistol strapped to her thigh.

"Okay, okay," Thshebo amended. "I need a mechanic and a systems tech to override the security system.

"I'm not doing it," Johan growled, and Thshepo winced. "Don't be a chop, man," the bay manager hissed. Johan's was the only blue mechanic jumpsuit in the sea of red.

Thshepo turned to Thulani. "I know you're not a system's tech, but you're smart. Think you can override the protocol?

Thulani gaped. He had always dreamed of being a systems tech. He studied computers and electronic hardware independently, even if he wasn't conventionally trained. He just never thought his opportunity would come when he was forced to commit treason at gunpoint.

"Come on, Thul!" Thshebo hissed, a bead of sweat trailing down his dark cheek.

Thulani nodded.

"Team five, get the decomp hatch ready. Everyone else takes the hostages to the plaza and hold them there. Move!"

Black body armor and red jumpsuits migrated out of the bay in mass, the latter prompted by the former's weapons.

The three who had initially approached Thulani remained behind.

"Alright, you have a job to do," The dark-bearded one said. "Get the hatch ready."

Thulani shuffled over to the hardline terminal and used the side's rubber buttons to navigate the interface.

"Can you do it?" Thshepo asked, his voice low.

"A security officer might have an override key," Thulani explained. "I don't. I'll see if a safety feature bypasses program security and unlocks the manual override. Then Johan can use the maintenance hatch and haul it open."

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One of their three captors, a tall, muscular man with medium brown skin and hazel eyes, drifted near the Jobergers. "Relax, you're useful; we're not going to hurt you," he flashed them a white-toothed smile.

Why was he trying to calm them down? Thulani had just watched them execute four techs. Why had they taken their I.D.s?

Thulani accessed the safety interface and navigated to the settings menu. He nodded. He could turn off the security restraints on the system, but it would trigger an alarm, which would be concerning if the alarm wasn't already droning in repetitious groans.

"When the sub docs are ready, we'll have you help us load these crates," the friendly one patted the stack of containers.

Thulani stopped. The containers were neatly stacked near the door. The enemy commander only indicated that her men should take this shipment instead of the other priceless equipment in the dock. Why was this feeling less and less like a raid and more like a — Truthfully, Thulani had no idea what it felt like, but nothing about this made sense.

"You might need to operate a forklift, and as soon as you get everything out of the decomp chamber, we're gone."

A seething shadow in a blue jumpsuit shifted. "The only thing I'm sending out this decomp doc is you," Johan muttered.

Everyone froze. Oh, you dom chop. Their captors had gotten over intimidation and were trying to kindle positive rapport. Why would Johan antagonize them?

The youngest of the outsiders, a boy barely twenty, furrowed his brow, drew his pistol, and started toward Johan.

"Ruan," Their leader stopped the boy. "Remember your training: when you have a non-compliant subject, don't approach them; you can safely maintain control from a dist —"

A wet crunch interrupted the teaching moment as Johan practically materialized in front of the pair and crushed the leader's windpipe with a wrench.

Thulani stared in stunned silence. The mechanic had crossed over twenty-five feet and scooped up the wrench in under two and a half seconds. The man seemed to fall slowly, and the moment suspended longer than it should have. Then time caught up.

Johan grabbed the younger pirate in a bearhug and threw them both over a low cement retaining wall as four pits blasted into it.

Thulani dropped, rolling into a ball with a curse. Their leader thrashed, kicked, and gargled on the floor, clutching his throat.

The friendly marauder, face now contorted in rage, advanced pistol drawn and plugged the barrier's top with holes.

An arm in a blue jumpsuit with a wrench flashed above the barrier and whipped back down. The young combatant squealed, and another pair of wet crunches sounded before Johan's side went silent.

The final outsider cursed before sliding to cover, apparently considering that Johan now had access to his victim's firearms.

A head shifted, breaking the barrier's horizon, and the corsair put a bullet through an eye. It wasn't Johan but the lifeless, bloodied face of his companion, hoisted by the rampaging mechanic.

"Ha, you shot your bro, Jou Donner," Johan sneered behind his cover.

The raider cursed and pinched a receiver clipped to the kneck of his armor. "Commander Parker, this is Fire Team Five. I've got two down in the entry bay, requesting backup!"

The team leader stopped twitching with a few final shudders, and Thulani tried to slink away. Movement out of the corner of his eyes drew Thulani's attention to Thshebo, who was crawling toward the motionless leader's sidearm.

The techs made eye contact, and Thulani shook his head in a jerky spasm, pleading with the manager not to get them killed.

"You so lixado now!" The marauder hissed, changing his mag with his back at an angle to Thulani and Thshebo.

Thshebo got a hand on the fallen leader's pistol, the dead man's throat, a conclave unshapely form. Thshebo tried to tug it free, but a restraining strap held it in place.

"I smell piss," Johan taunted back. "You pee yourself, Domcop?" The sound of a round being chambered into a pistol and an ejected casing clinking against the grate sounded. Now, this was a gunfight.

The raider scanned the bay for another point of cover, seeking a flanking option. He holstered his pistol and unslung his carbine with an extended magazine. "Laugh now," he retorted. "Won't be so funny when we cut you down in a crossfire."

Thshebo flicked the snap on the pistol's restraining strap, and the intruder glanced back. Thshebo froze like a squid in a spotlight. The enemy whirled.

"No!" Thulani cried.

In a burst, the pirate fired three shots, and Thshebo staggered to the ground.

Like a guided torpedo, a wrench flew and struck the gunman's supporting hand. Too little too late, Johan roared as he lunged at the raider, catching the carbine in a two-handed grip.

Thulani didn't watch; he hurried to Thshebo's side. Even richer wet crimson spread from three small punctures in the manager's red jumpsuit.

"Shit!" Thulani tried to staunch the blood with his hands, prompting a groan from Thshebo. Wet warmth stuck to his palms. What was he doing? The Work Area First Aid Kit! (WAFAK).

Thulani sprinted to the aluminum box mounted on a support beam and caught a glimpse of the thrashing titans.

The raider's carbine flew from their contested grasp, skittering across the metallic floor. Johan shoved the pirate against a stationary hydraulic crane. The raider's head rapped against the machine, but his combat helmet saved him from injury. He responded with a desperate cross, catching a mechanic by the jaw and staggering him.

Thulani got to the WAFAK and practically tore the small door off to get to the kit inside. Whisking the hard plastic case, he sprinted back to his bleeding comrade.

Thshebo choked and gurgled. Two of the wounds dotted his chest, a third lower on his abdomen. Thulani was no medic, but all techs were trained to deal with trauma bleeds and recertified semi-annually.

Thulany unzipped his manager's jumpsuit and tore his shirt open, sending a spray of buttons whose sound was drowned by another repetition of the groaning alarm.

Thulani glanced up to see Johan and the final combatant wrestling for control of a combat knife. Blood stained Johan's shoulder.

Thulani watched blood swell from the holes and flow over Thshebo's naked chest.

Thshebo choked and gaged, hinting at the probability of air getting onto the lungs through a cavity it didn't belong in.

Chest seal, come on! Thulanis jerky hands undid the clasps and popped the case open, unexpectedly flinging about a third of the WAFAK's contents out. Shit.

Thulani snatched and grabbed paper-sealed medical supplies, reading labels in a font practically invisible to the red light.

Chest seal! Thulany tore the paper, not peeling the two halves from each other to expose the seal as intended but furiously ripping it down the middle and almost dropping it. Why was this so much easier during training?

Thshebo coughed and kicked, spitting a gout of blood.

"Hold on!" Thulani screamed as he peeled the covers on the sticky edges. He slapped the seal down, right over the bloody surface, but two separate edges folded under, leaving gaps in the seal. Thulani cursed. What did he do? Pull it off and try again, or would this be enough? Thshebo let out his final breath and slumped.

Johan grunted as the raider slammed him against the wall next to the decomp chamber. They had lost the knife at some point in the struggle, but Johan's left eye was swelling shut, and his nose bled freely.

Thulani stared at Thshebo numbly. He wasn't trained in revival procedure. He felt for a pulse in the neck but got nothing.

The raider reeled back, pulling Johan's kneck down in a clutch, then stepped back to slam his right knee into Johan's face. The mechanic grunted and fell back.

The raider snared and snatched the discarded knife. Johan groaned on the ground.

Thulani looked at his dead manager and then at the raider, who stood over the only other man in the bay willing to defend his city. Something sparked within him, and Thulani lurched to the fallen bearded pirate and pulled the pistol Theshebo had died trying to secure.

"Hey!" He snapped, leveling it in an untrained two-handed grip.

The final pirate turned and froze.

"Go to hell," Thulani snapped and pulled the trigger. The trigger stuck. Thulani started in surprise and jerked the trigger again. It must have had some safety feature.

Thulani took the pistol in both hands, looking for a safety lever. There were several tabs, and he tried them; one ejected the magazine, which dropped to the floor.

The wide-shouldered pirate sneered and started for the struggling tech. He didn't notice the hulking figure rise behind him.

Johan sized the bandit by the shoulder, planted a foot on his back, and threw himself backward in a roll.

The marauder screamed as he was ripped from his feet and hurled over the mechanic and into the open decomp portal.

Johan and the raider scrambled to the door, but Johan got to it first. He heaved the hatch shut and spun the wheel, locking it in place.

The raider fumbled with the wheel on his side, but a spinning dile locked it on the outside. Every tech knew the code, but the raider might as well have been a minnow fighting a shark.

"I told you —" Johan grabbed his crooked nose and snapped it back into place, inducing a new flood of blood from both nostrils. "The only thing I'm sending out this decomp doc is you."

The raider's face twisted in dread, and he slammed the but of his knife against the circle of glass, sending muted thuds to the other side.

"Thulani, didn't they order you to bypass the security lockdown?"

"They did," Thulani said, drifting back to the panel.

"You had best do what you were told."

The bandit grasped his receiver, screaming words lost to six inches of steel and a water-tight seal.

Thulani shut off the security protocol. "Done," He said in mixed dread at his part in the morbid execution mixing with fiery satisfaction.

Johan ripped a maintenance panel from the side of the hatch, reached in, grabbed two levers, and pulled them.

Water rushed into the decompression chamber at almost three thousand five hundred feet deep, turning the enemy into a red smear on the glass.

Thulani watched in silence. Johan stared at the red-splattered porthole, already turning orange as the remains started drifting out.

"More are coming," Thulani croaked, then he hurried to the fallen leader. He examined the receiver clipped to his armor and found a line connecting it to an earpiece in his helmet and a plug-in port to a small box clipped to his belt.

Thulani stripped the com, donned the helmet, and seated the earpiece in his ear.

" — Hold out, James, team seven is coming to get you!" An unknown voice assured through the earpiece.

Johan stalked to the fallen leader, briskly pushing past Thulani and seized the corpse by the ankle, then dragged him to the crane.

"Come in, James!" The female commander's voice snapped.

"Mam, we've got eyes on them; they flushed him."

They had eyes on them? Thulani whirled and ducked for cover, searching the bay for more hidden bandits. Dozens of potential hiding spots spotted the bay. "Johan!" he hissed. "They're here."

Johan hooked a loop of the leader's boot on the crane's claw and set the hydraulics to pull, and it lethargically hoisted the corpse off the ground, sending him spinning and splayed as he hung from one foot.

"God, they're desecrating Lethabo's body!"

"Johan," Thulani snapped. "They have eyes on us right now!"

Johan scooped his discarded wrench.

"Sub team has a shot. Should we wait for team seven?"

Sub team? Thulani looked up at the black pit on the ceiling, a doorway for the invaders. A rifle barrel protruded from the opening. Idiot, of course, they would leave guards at their exit vehicle.

"Wait," the same speaker said. "I think our coms are compromised,"

"Take the shot," The woman ordered.

Thulani's muscles spasmed as he looked for cover, but the rifle wasn't aimed at him.

Thulani lunged at Johan, ripping him aside as the bullet sparked against the floor.

This work was written by Silas Tine.

Please respect Silas Tine's original creative work.

Unauthorized reproduction or distribution is prohibited.