Cass nodded, and Naomi punched the cycle button. The outer door closed, and for two tense minutes the air pressure equalized. Everyone other than Naomi was pointing a gun at the inner door when it finally opened.
There was nothing on the other side but a short corridor that ended at another elevator, and a second hallway going left at the midway point.
“That’s the one that leads to the bridge,” Corin said. “Five meters long, a meter and a half or so wide. There’s a hatch, but it only closes and locks in the event of emergency decomp. Or if someone in the security station hits the override.”
“Then that’s our first target,” Holden said. “Cass, when we go in you break right and control the security station. Juarez, you go left and try to draw any return fire away from Cass. Corin and I will go right up the gut and try to get our hands on Ashford. If we put a gun to him, I think this ends immediately. Naomi, you stay here but be ready to come running when we call. Taking control of the ship will be your bit.”
“Pretty shitty plan, El Tee,” Juarez said with a grin.
“You have a better one?”
“Nope, so let’s get it done.” Juarez pulled the rifle to his shoulder and moved off down the corridor at a quick magnetic boot shuffle. Cass followed close behind, her hand on his back. Holden took third, with Corin bringing up the rear. Naomi waited by the elevator doors, clutching her tool case nervously.
When they reached the junction, Juarez signaled the stop, then leaned around the corner. He pulled back and said, “Looks clear to the bridge entry point. When we go, go fast. Stop for nothing. Maximum aggression wins the day here.”
After a round of assents from everyone, he counted down from three, yelled, “Go go go,” darted around the corner, and was immediately shot.
It was so unexpected, Cass actually took a step back into Holden. Juarez screamed in pain and launched himself back into their hallway. Bullets slammed into the bulkheads and deck around him. After the long silence of vacuum in the elevator shaft, the sound of gunfire and bullet impacts was disorienting. Deafening.
Cass and Holden grabbed Juarez by his arms and pulled him around the corner out of the gunfire. With Cass covering the intersection, Holden checked Juarez over for injuries. He had gunshot wounds in his hip, upper arm, and foot. None looked instantly lethal, but together they’d bleed him out in short order. Holden pulled him back down the corridor to the airlock. He pointed at the emergency locker until Naomi followed his gesture and nodded.
“Do what you can,” he said, and moved back down the hallway to Cass.
When he put his hand on her back to let her know he was there, she said, “Based on volume of fire, I’d guess ten to twelve shooters. Mostly light assault rifles and sidearms. One shotgun. That corridor is a kill box. No way through that.”
“Fuck!” Holden yelled in frustration. The universe kept waiting until he was thoroughly beaten, then tossing him a nibble of hope only to yank it away again.
“New plan?” Corin asked.
“Shoot back, I guess,” he said, then leaned partway around the corner and fired off three quick shots. He ducked back in time to avoid a fusillade that tore up the bulkhead behind him. When the shooting slowed, Cass launched herself across the opening to the other side. A risky move, but she made it without taking a hit, and started leaning out to lay down fire with her assault rifle. When they drove her back with return fire, Corin leaned around Holden and fired off a few shots.
Before she could pull back out of the line of fire, a round went through the arm of her environment suit, blowing white padding and black sealing gel into the air.
“Not hit, not hit,” she yelled, and Cass leaned out to fire again to keep the defenders off balance.
Holden looked back down the corridor, and Naomi was stripping Juarez out of his suit, spraying bandages on his open wounds as she went.
Another wave of fire drove Cass and Corin into cover. When it let up for a second, Holden leaned out and fired a few more shots.
It was what people like them did, even when there was no chance.
Chapter Fifty-One: Clarissa
“W
hat the hell did you do?” Ashford shouted. His face was thick and purple. The rage pulled his lips back like a dog baring his teeth. Clarissa knew she should feel fear. Should feel something. Instead, she shrugged the way she had when she was fourteen, and said it again.
“I opened the doors.”
A man appeared in the hallway for a fraction of a second, and Ashford’s men opened fire, driving him back.
“I’ve got five in the corridor,” one of Ashford’s people said. He was looking at the security camera feed. “Three women, two men. One of them’s Corin. I think Jim Holden’s one of them.”
Ashford shook his head in disgust.
“Why the f**k did you let them in here?” he said. His tone dripped acid.
“I didn’t kill them,” Clarissa said. “So you don’t get to.”
“She was in distress,” Cortez said, moving himself between her and Ashford. Shielding her with his body. “She misunderstood something I said. It wasn’t an act of malice, Captain. The girl only—”
“Someone shoot her,” Ashford said.
“No!” Cortez cried out. He sounded like someone was about to shoot him.
The guard nearest them turned. The barrel of his gun seemed suddenly enormous, but when the sound of gunfire came, it wasn’t from him. A shape—maybe a woman, maybe a man—flickered at the edge of the corridor to the bridge, and the staccato sound of gunfire filled the room. Clarissa, forgotten, pushed herself back through the doorway into the security office. Cortez followed her, his hands up around his ears to block the noise or a bullet or both. He put his hand on her shoulder as if to comfort her, but it only pushed her a little lower to the floor, him a little nearer the ceiling.
“Oh,” Cortez murmured, “I wish you hadn’t done that. I wish you hadn’t done that.”
Anna was still speaking on the security station monitor. Radio Free Slow Zone, soldiering on. There was a fresh crackle of gunfire from the bridge. Ashford shouted, “Take them out! Take them all out!” But as far as she could tell, the guards hadn’t rushed the corridor. They didn’t need to. Sooner or later, Holden and Naomi and whoever they had with them would run out of bullets, and then they’d die. Or Ashford and all his men would, and then Holden would kill them. Either way, she didn’t see how it looked good for her. And that was fine. That was what she’d come here for.