Sean-Michael Argo - Carrion Duty

The defense channel had become a cacophony of Fiat Lux fighters calling out tactical maneuvers, or calling for help, as the Grotto soldiers began to make landfall and penetrate the commune. It was clear in an instant that there would be no quarter given, as the marines appeared to be killing anyone they encountered, regardless of whether they fought back or surrendered. They were Red List after all, though Sokol, what more could they expect?

In disgust, he shut off his communications link just as he reached the hangar bay, not wishing to hear the last words of so many ravagers who at the very end of it all revealed themselves to be as weak as any other scavenger or capitalist slave.

Now it was just he and Ogre One, man and mech communing to become a Coyote class war machine.

So much for death to the false idols of currency, scoffed Sokol as he ejected his spent ammo drums and backed up to the small reloaded rack they’d installed in the hangar bay. It only took a few seconds to slot more ammunition into his weapons, but he had to power down while he did so, exposing him for a few critical moments.

As he waited, the outer hatch of the hangar bay slid open and the bay began to rapidly decompress. Most of the rest of the commune had been emptied of atmosphere, either by marines intentionally punching holes in key airlocks or just the messy result of such brutal close quarters combat.

Even though only a third of his load-out was completed, Sokol disengaged and slowly sped up his grindcore to full power, having kept it at a low growl to preserve the mech’s energy reserves.

Four marines rushed into the bay, their mag-clamps engaged, and immediately began to fire on Ogre One. Sokol cursed his luck and turned his cockpit away from their assault as he pushed the machine as hard as he could to flee for cover as it continued to struggle to reach full power.

Another marine with a heavy machine gun, this one sporting a wicked face mask, seemed to have some experience fighting mechs, and pinpointed his shots against Sokol’s mag-cannon.

Sokol disappeared behind one of the half-chopped ships just as Ogre One hit full power. He leapt from the ground and sailed through the near zero gravity to dig his claws into the gangplanks above. Had he simply remained in his perch from before, Sokol knew he could have wiped out the entire boarding party, yet he had let his bloodlust drive him into fighting elsewhere.

What did it matter though? Fiat Lux was gone either way. All that remained was taking as many of these capitalists with him when he died. He had a good start already, though without his mag-cannon the mech was at a disadvantage. These Reapers knew their work, and as the heavy machine gunner continued to punish Ogre One with fire the others set about flanking him from below.

Sokol scampered across the ceiling of the bay to avoid the machine gunner. Ogre One’s right leg suddenly wasn’t working quite properly and now that he was paying attention it looked like his breathing apparatus was damaged too, the incorrect mixture of chemicals giving him a euphoric sensation that he knew would increase over time until he asphyxiated. Determined not to die gasping, the pilot reversed his body position and pushed himself off the ceiling with his arms.

As he descended Sokol activated his auto-cannon so that he could strafe the enemy position. His ammunition was low, and it was a wide arc of fire and thus far less accurate, though he was rewarded by two of the marines going down. One of them he was sure had died from the way the marine’s helmet exploded from the impact. The rest of the marines and bounty scrappers had leapt for cover, and three of the scrappers had rushed up the open ramp and into the belly of the Tasca ship.

Sokol kept firing with his auto-cannon as he rushed for the tunnel access point, positive that if his ammunition held out until he reached it that he could still make a few more good kills before meeting his end. Without ammunition and Ogre One already damaged he would be foolish to attempt to continue to engage an experienced and aggressive group of enemies. Sokol figured that if he could reach the tunnels, perhaps he could ambush a few more marines and tear them apart with his claws before the damaged breathing apparatus finished him off or someone got in a lucky shot.

Ogre One’s grindcore roared with effort as it worked against its damaged gears, but it got its pilot to the tunnels before the auto-cannon went dry.

The tunnel was in low light mode, the main power having been shut down at some point, likely from marines seizing systems control.

The war machine stalked into the darkness in search of prey.

Rhett sprinted into the darkness after the mech warrior, ignoring the shouts from his comrades, certain this was the bastard that had killed Andromeda. The bounty scrapper coughed and spat up blood into the bottom of his helmet, knowing that all of the physical exertion had torn open the poorly mended wound in his midsection. The auto-doc wasn’t even giving off warning chimes any longer, he’d shut those off, it still struggled to keep him going, but he had grown tired of its insistent wail for him to stop. It didn’t help that he’d taken a round in the left shoulder from the beast’s auto-cannon when it shot its way out of the hangar bay.

Thankfully, they’d interrupted it during a powered down reload, had the thing been fully operational and at max ammo it could have cut them all down. As it was the marine named Takeda had ripped into it with heavy machine gun fire, and it was leaking both blood from the pilot and hydraulics from the machine. Rhett ignited his body lights and gun lamp, making the trail of glittering liquid easier to follow.

Eventually, the trail led Rhett into a large transit hub, and what he saw there made him nearly drop his rifle.

At least a dozen bodies, men, women, and children lay in ragged heaps throughout the chamber. Bullet holes riddled the walls, and Rhett could make out the armored corpse of a salvage marine. The mech warrior stood near the far wall and was in the process of eviscerating another salvage marine, the beast’s metal claws making short work of the Grotto man’s armor.

Rhett snapped his rifle to his shoulder and strode towards the mech as he fired round after round at the war machine. He’d seen how both the twins and the Reapers had pinpointed their fire on the mech’s vital systems and joints, so he did the same. It took every ounce of discipline Rhett had in him to avoid going full-auto, but images of Andromeda in his mind allowed him to focus. With every round he hurled against the mech warrior he thought of her, of the station, and soon of the Dunhills.

His rifle clicked empty and with the speed of a lifetime at war he swapped out the spent magazine for a fresh one and continued punishing the mech with rounds. The beast stumbled under the sustained fire, and as Rhett fired his last round the monstrosity collapsed against the wall and sank to the floor plating.

Rhett fell to the floor himself, dropping his rifle as he struggled to stay upright. The bounty scrapper spits up more blood as he slid his pistol from its holster and pushed himself to his feet. He staggered forward until he reached the fallen mech warrior.

The cockpit was already cracked from so many impacts, from rifles, pistols, and heavy machine gun rounds. Rhett raised his pistol and fired once, causing the cracks to spider, then a second time, and a third. It was the fourth shot that shattered the cockpit, though Rhett did not stop shooting until his magazine was empty, ten rounds later.

He turned and began to walk back, stopping at the center of the hub. Rhett looked around him, taking in the details of the bodies of the red listers that surrounded him. They weren’t the Dunhills and he wasn’t cor-sec, but the difference seemed to him, one of semantics.