* * * *
There was a brief burst of gunfire fire followed by the percussive force of several grenades detonating at once. “That’s the last of them we’ve secured the route to recreation room, but the doors are sealed.”
“Good work Mendez, get them open any way you can and get our people back to the ship, double time. Reynolds what you status?” Viqaas had relocated to bridge and was pacing nervously up and down.
There was a heavy burst of gunfire intermingled with static. “We’ve taken out the turrets, but have a mobile heavy sentinel unit blocking the way to the crew quarters.”
“Hold on.” Viqaas pulled out the schematic and looked for a work around. “If you trip the emergency bulkhead seals in sector C5, you should be able to trap it and get to the crew quarters via the sick bay.”
“Roger that. I’m going trip the O2 sensors with an explosive decompression and seal the bastard in.” replied Reynolds. “Everyone else fall back behind the airtight door in B5.”
He took his last three grenades, taped them to the outer bulkhead and joined the pins together with a length of string. Paying it out past the emergency bulkhead and taking cover behind a cargo crate. Then he emptied a rifle clip into the corridor to get its attention, reloaded, and waited as the rumble of its caterpillar treads drew closer and closer.
“Fire in the hole!” he yelled pulling the string.
The grenades detonated simultaneously. The blast blew him backwards, dazed and with his ears ringing he looked up to see the sentinel unit rumbling towards him through the smoke. A few meters more and it would be past the emergency bulkhead seals. He grabbed his rifle and fired wildly towards it, bullets ricocheting in all directions off its armoured shell.
Before the sentinel could return fire a klaxon sound and the sickening sound of buckling twisting metal filled the rapidly escaping air. The outer section of the bulkhead he’d weakened gave way, blowing debris out into the cold, empty, vacuum of space. Slowly the emergency bulkheads began to close as the sentinel unit lost traction and he felt the irresistible force of decompression sucking him towards the void. Desperately he rolled over and wedged his rifle between two structural struts and prayed that neither it nor his grip on it would give way. Bullets pinged off the heavy bulkhead door as the sentinel unit, unable to maintain its traction, fired wildly as it was lifted up, spun round, and sucked out into the cold emptiness of space. Seconds later the bulkhead seals fell into place and he dropped to the deck gasping for air.
There was a loud cheer as his comrade’s rushed forward to his aid. “He's spaced the bastard!”
“Good work men, keep me updated. How's Reynolds?”
“Breathless sir.” came the reply, followed by a burst of laughter.
Franklin arrived on the bridge and saluted. “My men are suited up, in place, and ready to blow the docking clamps on your orders sir.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Good work, lets pray they make it back afterwards.”
“This is Mendez s reporting in sir, we’ve secured the recreation room, everyone’s alive. A little cold and a bit hypoxic, but alive. The computer sealed them all in and shut down the environmental controls, good job we got here when we did.”
“Good work now fallback and double time it back to the ship, we’re ready to blow the docking clamps.”