58We barely have time to dive for cover before the enemy appears in the entranceway, weapons blazing.

I hit the deck, pressing myself low to the floor as stunfire rains out over my head in short, sharp bursts. Tzee, tzee, tzee, tzee! Elbows digging into the tiles, I frantically crawl toward a nearby stack of canisters, tucking myself behind the cargo as energy beams continue to drill through the hold, pinging off of racks and searing into crates. Something shatters, bursting in a cacophony of liquid and shards that sounds suspiciously like an exploding canister of Sinesensu. A low voice barks something I can’t quite make out, and the fire abruptly ceases.

Heart pounding, I listen through the silence to the noises underneath—the swish of fabric, the shuffle of feet, the murmur of voices—analyzing each and every sound in an attempt to get a read on the enemy. Moments pass, but when the shooting doesn’t restart, I dare to poke my head out. Swatches of white flash between the racks, resolving into figures awkwardly grouped near the other end of the bay. I up the magnification on my lenses and try to get a count—perhaps eight or nine of them against the four of us. Not great odds.

Leaning out a little farther, I scan for my team. Ri is a few meters away, pressed up behind a rack of canisters, and Hegit has taken refuge on the other side of the entrance hatch—I can just see the olive green of her shirt between some barrels. I’ve just managed to locate Gavin when more stun blasts suddenly ring out.

Slag!

Out of sheer reflex, I throw myself back behind the canisters, only belatedly realizing as the fire continues to pepper the wall two meters to my right that it isn’t directed at me, or any of us, as far as I can tell. If it is, their aim is appallingly bad. I frown, trying to figure out what they’re up to. It occurs to me that their shots may be just a distraction, a way to keep us occupied while they close in on our positions, and yet a quick glance out shows me that their movements are tentative at best.

They don’t know where we are, I suddenly realize. They know we’re in the cargo bay, but beyond that, they don’t know.

A silent laugh huffs through my chest as I suddenly put all the pieces together. The poor aim, the lack of any obvious strategy, the flashes of white I saw—not uniforms, but lab coats. These aren’t security or guards, as I’d initially assumed; they’re scientists! If this were a military ship and they were soldiers, they could track us using the infrared in their combat lenses or the ship’s sensors, but they’re not. This is a simple cargo hauler, and these squatters are merely a group of inept scientists clumsily trying to defend their transport. Some of them have probably never even held a stunner before! They still outnumber us—besides the eight or nine I counted, there’s no telling how many more could be aboard—but at least we have a fighting chance.

Renewed determination flows through me as the odds suddenly shift in our favor. I take another quick glance out. The main pack has split apart, and now the enemy is creeping through the bay in ones and twos. Though it’s clear they have little experience in soldiering, I don’t make the mistake of underestimating them. Not only do they have the numbers, but the myriad racks, crates, and canisters provide them with lots of natural cover, making for difficult shots. On the other hand, we have one big advantage: We can see them, but they can’t see us.

Queuing up my chit, I silently text the others their instructions. I wait until a trio of affirmatives comes back. Then, slipping a new energy cartridge into my stunner, I zero in on my first target.

It’s time to go hunting.

Adrenaline spikes in my blood as I begin working my way down the bay, pounding through my veins in a rapid pulse that’s strangely at odds with my snaillike pace. Anticipation claws at my insides, but though I want nothing more than to rush, I force myself to take it slow, slinking low to the ground so the tall stacks of cargo will hide me from view. Closer and closer I inch, pausing now and then to glance out and reassess my position, making sure my target’s view is blocked before leapfrogging from one rack of cargo to the next.

A soft whine comes from the other side of the bay, followed by a quiet thud. I pause, waiting. Moments later, a text scrawls across my hand.

One down.

Before I can text back, distant footsteps race across the deck, drawn by the thud, only to be cut short a moment later. A second body hits the deck, and a slow smile curls over my lips. Make that two.

Excitement temporarily over, I shift my attention back to my target. He’s on the move now, shuffling across the deck in my direction with hesitant footfalls. My adrenaline ratchets up tenfold, and against my will, my breath accelerates, shushing in and out in shallow pants. Still the squatter comes, close enough now that I don’t dare move lest the slightest motion give me away. Any closer and he might see me crouching behind the bins, and yet if I rise up to get the shot, he could take me down first. I need to get him to turn around.

I think for a quick moment, then digging in my pocket, I pull out an empty energy cartridge for my stunner. With a quick glance around the side of the bins, I eye a nearby metal rack, gauge the distance, and then gently lob the cartridge.

Ping.

The squatter whirls around, back to me as he searches for the source of the noise. Quick as a wink, I pop to my feet, rising just enough to clear the crates. Tzee, tzee! Two in the back, and the squatter drops without a clue, hitting the deck with a low thud. Even before the body falls, I’m crouching back down, anxious to get behind cover before anyone sees me, but it’s too late. Shots fly perilously close to my head. The crate directly in front of me shudders under the onslaught, but electric sensations in my shoulder and chest tell me a couple bolts still got through. The sound of running footsteps echoes across the deck.

Desperate to stall the oncoming rush, I throw myself to the side and squeeze out several bolts through the small gap between the crates. The shots miss by a mile, pinging wildly between the racks a good meter from my enemy, but it doesn’t matter. Spooked, the squatter leaps to the side, glancing around frantically before tucking herself between a barrel and the nearest rack. Stun beams fly as we exchange fire, searing the air in blazes of red and orange, but it soon becomes clear that neither of us is able to get a good shot. The squatter yells something, and suddenly more footsteps come rushing my way. Realizing I’m about to be completely overrun, I spring to my feet, ready to make my last stand.

Tzee! Tzee! Tzee!

The two closest squatters hit the floor before my finger can even tighten on the trigger. It’s my team, using the enemy’s rush toward me to get the drop on them! My eyes scan over the bay, taking in four squatters still standing, along with Ri, Gavin, and Hegit, all arrayed in various positions around the hold. It only takes a heartbeat for us to realize: We’re all completely exposed.

Sheer pandemonium breaks out as everyone begins shooting at once. Bolts fly and bodies fall as everyone seeks to shoot everyone else without being shot themselves. Stunner out, I hammer my finger over the trigger again and again, too intent on the enemy to even duck—not that it matters. Within seconds, it’s over. I watch the final squatter fall, dropped by a bolt to the back, then glance around for my team.

My eyes alight first on Ri, and then on Hegit a few meters to his left, visor flipped up as she wipes the sweat off her face. Of Gavin there’s no sign.

Realizing what I’m looking for, Hegit gives a short nod to a cluster of barrels a few meters from her. “Enemy got him at the last second.”

My heart sinks, but all I do is nod. Though I hate seeing any of my people down, I knew casualties would be unavoidable. At least, he was only stunned not killed, and the rest of us are still standing, courtesy of our armor and our shooting skills. I suddenly feel validated for every minute of stunner practice I forced on the others day after day, week after week, month after month.

Recalling our original mission, I eye the racks of Sinesensu. What we didn’t manage to destroy, the final firefight did. Only a couple of racks remain intact.

I nod to them. “Hegit, you want to take care of those while Ri and I grab Gav—”

A low grinding sound suddenly catches my attention. I whirl toward the back of the bay just in time to see the hatch drop open and the first black-clad figure come leaping through the portal.

Slag! More squatters!

“The hatch!” I scream. “Incoming!”

The first two guards go down within seconds, taken by a barrage of fire from three sides, but the other four make it in with room to spare, only catching a bolt or two before taking cover behind the cargo near the hatch. High-precision stun beams lance through the bay. Ri and I manage to duck in time, but Hegit goes down, shot in the forehead by a perfectly aimed pistol. Outnumbered and outgunned, there’s only one option left.

“Retreat!”

Suiting action to words, I lay a round of covering fire and make for the door while Ri does the same. Shots follow us, pinging against walls and ricocheting off racks, and then we’re out, dashing through the doorway into the corridor beyond. We pound down the hall, hearts thumping and legs burning as I try to remember the basic layout of the average cargo ship. Exit, exit! Where’s an exit? I’m still trying to figure it out when shots fly out from the doorway behind us, hitting me in the back. The enemy has caught up!

With a curse, I duck into a cross-corridor, Ri on my heels. Together we zigzag through the ship, pistols blazing at anyone unlucky enough to get in our way as we sprint up and down corridors and barrel through holds, anything to lose our pursuers! But no matter which way we go, still they come, their heavy boots ringing out in a metal-tipped cadence that only gains on us the farther we go. My breath is coming in shallow pants, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep up this pace. I steal a glance at my armor’s wrist gauge. Slag! It’s taken all the hits it can absorb. One more shot, and I’m done! Desperate for a way out, I turn down another corridor, and a very familiar-looking symbol jumps off the door before me.

The bridge!

We burst into the cockpit like a couple of bats out of hell. Inside sits a single pilot, madly working the controls as she tries to drain the water and get the engines going. She barely has time to react before a blast to the head sends her to dreamland. I follow it up with several shots to the control panel for good measure, blitzing the panel until it’s a smoking pile of slag.

“Got one!”

At the triumphant exclamation, I steal a quick glance behind me. Ri is tucked against the door frame shooting rapid-fire down the corridor. Tzee, tzee, tzee! He pauses, eyeing his enemy, then leans out slightly, takes aim—

His entire body jerks as the stun beam slices him along the neck. Down he goes, body hitting the floor with a massive thump. I whirl around just as the squatter appears in the doorway. We both shoot.

For a split second, we just stare at each other . . .

 . . . then he goes down, and I stay up.

I glance down at my chest, unable to believe he could’ve missed at such close range. A perfect hole the size of my pinkie has been burned through my armor. I look down the neckline, scanning my chest for the burn that should accompany it, but the skin underneath is untouched. I let out a shaky laugh as I realize what happened.

He didn’t miss; his cartridge ran out of power.

Footsteps ring out in the distance. The other guard! Desperate to get out, I throw myself at the exit, fumbling with the controls for several seconds before they finally give. I stumble out of the ship, slamming the door shut and shooting out the control panel behind me. Only then, when I have a second to breathe, do I take a quick glance around and gasp.

Everything is chaos. With the element of surprise used up, my perfectly orchestrated plan has fallen apart. Fighting has broken out across the platform, and everywhere I turn, students and squatters are going at it, blazing away with stunners and swinging at each other hand-to-hand. Though I don’t know about the enemy, it’s clear that our side’s ammo is running out. Trey is fighting with a pair of stun batons, while Megumi has been reduced to lobbing pieces of debris at the approaching enemy. Xylla is crouched on the wing of a shuttle, using her sharpshooter skills to make every shot count. As I watch, she nails a guard hot on Vida’s tail, dropping him with a single shot just in the nick of time. With a brief wave to her companion, Vida drops to the platform, grabs the guy’s pistol, and immediately shoots a white-coated scientist grappling with Amilee.

I scan the battle, trying to determine which way the tide is turning, but it’s impossible to tell who’s winning. Bodies from both sides litter the platform with more falling every minute, and still the enemy keeps coming. I shake my head in despair. There’s just so many of them!

The snarl of a nearby engine breaks me from my spell. I whirl toward the noise—just in time to see a ship rise up from the ground.

Panic seizes me at the sight of my escaping enemy. With the net down, there’s nothing to stop them from getting away with their terrible cargo. My entire body goes cold. The spaceport, the squatters, the shooting—everything falls from my mind in an instant, eclipsed by a single thought:

They’re getting away!

In desperation, I go for the only thing that could possibly stop the ship, yanking the straps of the Z-launcher over my head even as the shuttle continues to rise rapidly through the air. Dropping to my knees, I swing the barrel up and sweep the sky for my target. By the time the shuttle appears in my targeting sensor, my arms are shaking with anticipation. Knowing I’ll only get one chance, I hold position, finger twitching lightly against the trigger as I wait for the targeting brackets to slide into position.

The sensor lights up as the launcher acquires a perfect lock.

Now or never.

Eyes never leaving the ship, I let out my breath, take aim, and fire.