CHAPTER 23
STONE'S PIRATES ON THE LOOSE
Stone took his time. Stone always took his time, it was a philosophy. The last to a battle took the least losses and most loot. Almost at a crawl his transport docked well behind the battle. His men ran out yelling and shooting weapons into empty corridors and halls.
Now cut loose they were a rabble. They stole valuables and stuffed treasures in pouches and belts. They fired their heavy weapons at any person they saw. They found liquor and began to become a drunken mob. Stone's men were out of control and killed civilians, defenders and allied pirates without regard. The mass of their numbers was unstoppable. They swept through the ship like a race; turning back whenever they met any real fight and surged up another hall or corridor.
Whitey’s men were stalled by fierce fighting in a large street like corridor. They crouched behind a barricade made of furniture and equipment where they held their ground against the best of the defenders- trained police and space navy. Even in the hard battle Whitey sensed victory.
“We've been flanked” One of his men shouted.
Whitey turned to see a group he didn't recognize charging at his men from behind with weapons sparkling as they fired wildly. His disciplined men held their ground waiting for orders.
“Team B. Return fire to rear, go hot with hard shell. Team A. charge forward!” The roar of weaponry filled the chamber. It lasted only a few seconds. The defenders seeing what looked like a two waved charge turned and ran. The attackers at the rear fell in layers under the precise shooting of team B. Their fallen and wounded making a wall the followers struggled to climb over in their escape from the Raiders.
“Halt! Cease fire!” Whitey’s men were instantly under his control. Those who charged the defenders went to one knee or hugged the wall in groups of three and four facing the foe they forced away, weapons pointing forward ready for a counter attack. Their training had become instinctive long ago.
“Holy crap. That might have done us.” Whitey said to no one. “Well done men. Form up.” As the men regrouped into their units, Whitey stalked up the corridor to the mass of dead and dying who attacked his rear. Information. Battles were won by information, the more the better; that is how you stayed alive. He would see who they were that came upon his back. Stopping and looking down at the bodies at his feet he shook his head. “What a stupid waste.” On the collars of the black uniforms were the skull and crossbones. “Brainless.” He turned and walked back.
“Where they civilians?” Bill asked.
“No, the poor butt brains were some of Stone's mob." Whitey and his team leader exchanged a knowing glance.
“We’re in this deep aren't we?”
“We have to capture the command center, if we do we are done, we’ll use it to leverage a deal with the Supreme Commander to draw our pay and leave the revolution behind. We'll go and buy a little moon somewhere and set up a few gambling casinos and live like kings. Eh?”
The team leader nodded. “Yeah, but these defenders are fighting pretty hard.”
“We're getting the better of them each time. We have a good chance of capturing the command center."
Whitey’s men began a trot up the hall after the fleeing defenders. His fight was far from over.
(c) Adron
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