Seventy Hours on Raener-12 : Part 17

I awoke before my team and rose before Natalie. The lofty crack revealed it was still night outside. We took our time and ate what few rations remained then followed Natalie's direction to the bridge. She stayed at my side as we passed the gash, again pouring heavy flakes into the foyer.

There was little cause for security alarm. Natalie directed us through side halls, just as before. Inside my gut wrestled with what my princess had revealed. She was quiet the entire time, acted as if nothing was said. I longed to tell my men of her condition. I longed to search the ship for any traces of medicine. But the fact that she had revealed only to me the truth coerced me to submissively trek to the bridge.

After a while we came onto a small, rounded room. Natalie marched to the front of the group and motioned us to stop. She peered her head around the corner. Without turning back to me my princess grabbed my arm and pointed.

"That's it, Sean. That's the bridge."

I clearly saw large steel doors resting atop a wide stairwell, holopads beside. Then I looked closer.

They were big--too big for ground assault, and yet there they rested. Mounted anti-vehicle turrets resided beside the door frames. They were guarding the only path to our goal. The sentries were silent in the blue light of the room, almost innocent. A complete ruse; I'd seen such weapons before, alive and active. I'd seen the aftermath of battles and crash sites where they had been harnessed, releasing armor-piercing automatic fire.

A lump grew in my throat; my princess, my men, and myself were assuredly outgunned.

They were immobile, but under their stainless outer shells sensors were detecting heat variables. They knew we were there, waiting and planning. Aside from the turrets, there were many slipshod barricades, contorted seats ripped from the floor, and half opened armor and round crates. These barricades dotted the short and dangerous sprint it would take to reach the doors. I eyed a nearby row of seats large enough to crouch behind.

Suddenly Natalie pulled me back. Without pause she revealed her bare right shoulder. It was lined with scarred bullet wounds. "You cannot outmaneuver them, Captain. I've tried before."

"That was on your own, Natalie. Trust me." A plan pulsed inside like the bombs in the bowels.

"Natalie, stay with me at all times." She nodded starkly. "Ty, on my signal, as low as you can, cut an angle to that crate." I motioned to one kiddy-corner from our post. "On the same signal Collin will cut to the one opposite with us behind. We'll see if they track both groups or work in tandem."

I glanced around the corner once more--they remained still as stone. "This will get very loud," I warned.

I had no fear at that moment. All I felt was my duty--to Natalie, her father, and the survival of Raener-12. We could not fail. Natalie cupped my gloved hand in hers, a look of unflinching determination on her face. I could not stall any longer. My fingers moved out and my remaining pack lunged as one.

Inside my suit my eardrums hammered. I saw bursts of shells in deadly sequence propel at Ty to my right. He was rolling for cover. Natalie's grip was fierce, and in breathless seconds Collin, Natalie, and I were behind the toppled seats.

We were all ace, but the bullets didn't stop. Rounds rebounded off walls into sparks and dizzying swirls.

And then I looked across at Ty.

Though his expressions were masked behind his visor, I could sense his pain as he cradled his ankle. A quiet red puddle grew beneath his boot, and he looked across at me for direction. The din was too high for radio chat. I resorted to hand signals.

I tapped my shoulder and pointed: Are you okay?

He raised his free fist, then moved it left and right: No, I'm injured.

I raised my palm to him: Remain there.

He repeated his first motion: No. Ty pointed to himself, around his crate, and gave me his palm.

I shook my head at his plan and wagged my fist furisously: No! No!

Again he repeated his motions.

I wasted no more time arguing. There was no stopping my teammate. His mind was made solid. I sat there, hunched and fretful, and turned to my other side. Natalie's fingers were deep in her ears; she blocked out the noise of gunfire through clenched jaws. Collin had his firearm at ready position. Slowly I looked back at Ty, meters away. If he would do such a thing, I would not stop him.

I pointed at him, raised my arm, then lowered it to the tile: On your signal.

Such sacrifice I had never seen first-hand. To say that I was overcome with pride for that recruit is an understatement. To say that I would not have done the same thing in his role would be a blatant lie. Upon reflection, I still stand by my position to let him go. It had to be done.

Ty's arms extended: the signal was out.

The subsequent seconds seemed to stall the world to a crawl. In spite of his pain Ty steadied himself on his crate and cleared to the other side. I grabbed Natalie's hand and helped her quickly to her feet. Collin protected her other side. My small group of three rounded our crate and ran along the wall.

I watched his efforts with awe. Ty was like a warrior on blood lust. His ankle didn't dampen his stride toward the turrets. His finger never left his trigger.
The turret on our side swiveled mechanically, menacingly, cold and soulless to join its partner in pummeling the bravest man on my squad. We were near to the door, near enough for Collin to blast the holopads with shrapnel. The stream of fire was ceaseless and I watched in horror and honor as Ty's body met the ground.

Safely under the banister of the doorway the turrets wound down with loud motor motions. Their barrels resonated smoke as the three of us burst through the doors.

We had reached the bridge.