The Reign is Over

Part 15 - The Catch

Lieutenant Armsworth let out a grunt, muscles straining as he threw Brutus forward into the hanger bay as far as he could manage. Right on the heels of his impromptu shot-put, he broke into a mad dash back down the hallway the assault team had been pinned down in. Rifle fire splashed around him as he went, his arms and legs pumped like a maddened rhinoceros. Without breaking stride he scooped up Lieutenant McNamara with one arm as he flew past. She let out a string of curses as she found herself bumping against his shoulder. Once she spotted Brutus on the floor of the hangar glowing cherry red, she increased her cursing and began firing madly into the hangar. She had to do everything she could to keep their attackers focus on her so they wouldn't figure out why Armsworth had flung Brutus hangar until it was too late.

Armsworth made it to the last recessed storage bay they had passed, rounded the corner, sprinted to the nearest blocky transport shell that faced the door, and unceremoniously dumped McNamara behind it before curling himself around her, hugging her close to him. The remaining eight officers were hot on his heels, taking up their own spots behind cover and bracing themselves. They didn't know what they were running from, but when you see over two meters of muscle hurtling away from a firefight like a derailed freight train, you didn't waste time on questions. You just tried to keep up.

Moments after they had found cover, reality broke. For a time madness reigned as sound and light and fury poured into the storage bay like a vengeful spirit seeking to destroy its summoner. The blast sent the full transport shells scooting backwards along the smooth compcrete floor, those who had ducked for cover behind them tumbling frantically as they were tumbled about by both blastwave and shells alike.

After several eternities had passed under the geas of madness, McNamara's eyes began to work again. Images began to float in front of her, blurry and unfocused. As she waited for her eyes to start up again, she tried to get the coppery taste of blood out of her mouth. She shook her head once, twice, hands pressed to her temples as though she could will away the aftershocks of such carnage. Her ears rang, but she'd had her helmet on, so the chances she'd blown her eardrums were minimal. Clearing her throat, she rasped out a yell.

"SPACE CONSUME ALL THE SAINTS AND MARTYRS, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ARMSWORTH!?"

Armsworth lifted his head in her general direction, his eyes swimming groggily, and managed a wisp of a smile at her shouted question. He worked his jaw, trying to pop his ears, and eventually gave it up as a bad job and shouted his own reply.

"SOMEONE LANDED A LUCKY SHOT ON BRUTUS. THE REACTOR WENT INTO A CASCADING OVERLOAD."

His shouted response had to travel far longer than the distance between them. McNamara managed to catch enough words to understand the gist of it, however. Somehow, during the firefight that erupted as they had at last gained the spaceport, Brutus had gone belly-up. It must have been one hell of a shot, because Brutus had multiple redundancies in place to prevent exactly that sort of thing. Not to mention some hefty armor and the protection of Armsworth's body.

Then again, the designers of the weapon hadn't counted on nearly six hours of continual up-time, all while spitting out dozens upon dozens of shots with each new engagement. One or more of the fail-safes must've fried.

"WELL IT'S A GOOD THING THAT YOU WEre able to throw it as far as you did then."

Her ears came back online mid-sentence, and she dialed back the statement from a parade ground roar to a more sedate shout. She tried to stand up, but decided after a few shaky moments trying to sit upright that the floor would be best for now. She fumbled at her belt and after a few tries her hand lifted out the desired object.

She spun up the tight-wave communicator and input her clearance, and despite the inherent risks she called up Captain Walsh of the ISF Hidalgo.