Actual.txt

Beams of red and white cracked through the air, lighting the ship’s interior, and slammed into surrounding debris. The squad stayed low. A storm of gunfire mauled at their cover, and one shot narrowly missed Zara.

Commander Marcus yelled, “Our position’s been overrun, fallback!”

They alternated covering fire, gaining space to retreat. They inched their way from the tangled mess of the cargo deck, back to a narrow, dim lit hallway. The squad of six lined up against each side. The four at the bulkhead kept firing until it sealed. Their tactician interfaced with a wall panel, and secured the door, locking it.

“Smart move, that will buy us some time,” Commander Marcus said.

As he finished speaking, an enemy soldier clad in black rounded the corner at the other end of the hallway. Zara’s hands moved faster than she could think. She squeezed the trigger, and the rifle kicked back against her shoulder. The bullet carved into the soldier’s gut, and he stumbled backwards, slamming into the wall. The squad unleashed a volley of rounds his way. His body hit the ground. Zara unfurled and stretched her fingers to release tension.

The tactician turned to Zara. “Those were some impressive reaction times.”

Isabella sneered, her rifle drawn to her chest. “Well, at least she’s got something going for her.”

Marcus rounded and cleared the soldier’s corner. He glanced at the corpse. “Might be quick, but your aim needs work, Zara.”

“According to you, everything needs work,” she said. Marcus raised his eyebrows with a subtle nod to one side. His silence spoke for him.

They made their way through the length of corridors. Where they arrived at an open canteen. The air was filled with the acrid scent of corroded metal and rancid food. It was dark, with flickering lights casting eerie shadows on the walls. The tables and chairs were scattered haphazardly around the room, some overturned and broken, while others were covered in dust and rubble.

Zara halted the group—something was off. “We should hold our position here; set up an ambush.”

Marcus looked around the room. Their tactician, Ethan, said, “This space is too open, and there are too many entrances to cover.”

Marcus nodded as he moved to check a side door. “Best we—”

An explosion rocked the room, and threw Zara into a clump of chairs, knocking her to the ground.

***

Amidst the smoke and the sound of agonised groans swirling through the room, Zara struggled to regain her bearings. She laboured to move, as a sharp pain seared through her side, where a jagged piece of shrapnel had pierced her armour. She gritted her teeth and pressed her hand against the wound, feeling the warmth of her own blood seeping through her fingers.

The wave of smoke assaulted her eyes, and she coughed and gasped for clean air. Squinting, she scanned the chaos in search of her team. Their shadows moved swiftly, working to clear the area.

The medic, Olivia, scrambled through the haze to examine her. “You still with us?”

“Yeah,” Zara winced as she strained to her feet, “I’m good. I’ll be fine.”

Zara nudged Olivia aside, revealing Alex lying motionless on the ground. After a quick survey of the room, she rushed to his side. To rouse him, she gently shook his shoulder and patted his face. “Hey, Alex—Alex. Wake up.”

Olivia knelt beside him and urged Zara away. “He’ll be okay. I’ve got him covered; go help the others.”

Zara reluctantly tore herself away from him and stumbled towards Marcus and the others, who had fortified their position near a door. The bitter scent of scorched metal permeated the air, while the twisted, blackened remnants surrounding them marked the epicentre of the blast.

Shielding herself, she leaned against a wall. “This is one hell of a ship inspection. Who the hell are these guys?”

Marcus kept his sight on the open doorway. “You know that soldier we took down? He had Red Nova colours. I figure they’ve boarded and taken the ship as their own.”

“Pirates?” Zara said, “What made them so brave?”

“It’s a bold move operating in the inner sector,” he said.

Marcus regarded Alex as he approached with Olivia’s support. “How is he?”

“A bit roughed up, but he’ll be fine,” she said, as she set him down.

Alex grunted his approval. “What’s the plan?”

“Well, before moving on,” Olivia said, the corner of her mouth clamped around a bandage roll as she tended to Zara's injury. “I’d like to patch up our star player.”

Without warning, the medic yanked the shrapnel from her side. A sharp pain sliced through her nerves, swiftly replaced by a dull throb—almost soothing in comparison. Olivia wet a piece of gauze and applied pressure as she dressed the wound; the blood stained the cloth and her hands a deep red.