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Plan
Onboard the Argo , inside the Gehenna's Bridge Jump-Gate
July 14, 2200; 21:42, GST
"What on Earth am I looking at, Royster?" Clemens ducked, as laser fire singed past his face.
"A little busy!" Royster screeched, tucking back into the maintenance alcove, clutching the borrowed rifle.
"I can't do this computer stuff, Nerd," Clemens growled from his seat on the cold floor. "Tell me what I'm doing, or we're gonna die here!" Clemens stared at the manual hatch lever, slagged to the door. He eyed the patch job snaking from the communicator in his hand to the door controls.
"Just tell it we're the admin. It'll open," Royster spouted back over his shoulder, then squealed as another bolt hissed by.
"What's an admin?" Clemens shot back.
"Ad-min-i-stra-tor!" Royster emphasized each syllable, bracing the gun against his shoulder. "Boss, leader, overlord, whatever you want to call it."
"I know what 'administrator' means," Clemens growled back. "I just don't speak computer like you and your buddies down in the lab. How do I tell it I'm its boss? Give me some air support here, Nerd."
"Just open the command line." Royster squeezed off another shot.
"The what?"
"It's –" Royster yelped again as the wall two inches from his head blackened and the acrid tang of smoke filled the alcove. "Just find it!"
Clemens clenched his one good fist as his broken right arm ached. His legs stung with multiple char-marks, and the dried blood on his neck tugged at his skin with every twitch.
"How do I get this thing to stop kicking back so hard when I fire it?" Royster rubbed his shoulder.
"It's called 'recoil' for a reason, Nerd," Clemens snapped, concentrating on the com screen.
Royster sucked in a shaky breath and struggled to heft the weapon again.
Clemens shot a glance back at Royster, whose sweaty hands kept slipping on the rifle grip.
The scientist adjusted his skewed glasses before ducking out and sending another rain of fire into the band of enemies.
Tapping several promising options and finding nothing, Clemens hissed at the device. Menus he'd never seen before popped up. "I can't find it. Get over here and get whatever-you-said-before up, so I can use it!" Clemens demanded, slamming his fist into the wall.
Royster whirled around, startled, his finger stuttering on the rifle trigger.
Clemens yelped as an energy bolt whizzed by his face. The door controls sizzled and sparked as the com screen flashed blue and winked out, replaced by the reboot symbol.
"Are you trying to kill us? What'd you shoot the door for?" Clemens kicked the wall. "Now I can't get into it at all." He let the communicator clatter to the deck plates between his shot-up legs. "It's more fried than a squirrel in a lightning storm." He pointed at the smoking control panel.
"Why'd you punch the bulkhead?" Royster retorted, hunkering down on the floor behind the wall lip.
An enemy soldier barreled into the alcove.
"Watch out!" Clemens shoved Royster out of the way as a flurry of bolts whizzed by.
July 14, 2200 21:12, GST – thirty minutes earlier
Matthew Clemens kept a good grip on his rifle as he patrolled his section. The rest of the security team was spread through the ship, keeping an eye out for anything unusual during the Gate crossing.
He sighed. Every time they went through one of these giant holes in space, he hated it. They were almost home – back to Earth. He didn't want to endure another unsettling crossing, but it was the only way to get back home in time.
The deck shook. More turbulence. Usually, the rocking was accompanied by a warning.
"The worst Gate in the network," was what their source called this place.
An alarm blared through the halls. "All hands to battle stations. Prepare to repel boarders."
"Gamilons," Clemens growled. "Just let them try to take this ship again." He hefted his rifle and pulled out his communicator. Alerts were coming in from all sections, but the thickest group of enemies was on the other side of the ship. He took off toward the engine room instead.
Two minutes later he ground to a halt, spotting a group of engineers pinned down in the hall, taking heavy fire from a dozen blue-skinned enemies.
One of the panels, pried up from inside the engine room sheltered the men, but several of them were wounded, and only two of them still had their weapons.
Clemens sprinted for the crewmen, diving into their shelter as he took aim and downed the closest enemy.
A cheer erupted around him.
"Stay down," he instructed. "Get the wounded out of here. I'll cover you."
Clemens took out two more assailants as one of the engineers hit a third.
"Go!" Clemens urged as the last man lingered, gun in hand. "Get to a secure area." Clemens laid down cover fire as he and the last engineer backpedaled down the hall.
At the smell of charred wiring and the snap-hiss of melted metal, Clemens' hand flew to his pocket, snuffing out the smolder eating at his uniform. He set his jaw. His com was fused to his pocket, hit by a stray bolt.
"Great," he hissed. "You." He jerked the last engineer to a stop as they rounded a corner. "Where's the closest fire-fight?"
The young man held up his com.
"Thanks. Now get out of here!" Clemens shooed him down the passageway, and then raced toward the next engagement.
Three sections away from the science labs, Clemens nearly barreled into a blue and white clad streak. "What're you doing down here, Nerd?" he scolded.
"Getting to my post," Neville Royster retorted, glaring up at Clemens as he adjusted his glasses.
"Right," Clemens rolled his eyes. "Fine. Go lock yourself in your lab." He shooed Royster off down the hall.
The moment the scientist started down the corridor, laser fire streaked toward them.
"Get down!" Clemens shouted, shoving Royster to the deck as enemy soldiers thundered down the hall. Clemens' right leg burned. He pushed the pain aside and took aim.
Royster scurried behind him.
Two enemies went down.
"Take another route," Clemens instructed, struggling to his feet. He eyed the burn mark on his pant-leg. "There's no way you're getting through here." He fired into the oncoming group, limping back the way he'd come, pushing Royster along.
No matter how many twists and turns they made, the enemy dogged them.
Clemens took three more hits, each added wound slowing him a little more as his shot-up legs started to give out. Despite his injuries, he took down two more pursuers, sending the remaining pair ducking for cover.
The moment Clemens stopped firing, both Gamilons rushed him. He got off several rounds, but they bounced harmlessly into the deck plates.
The two men slammed into Clemens. His lungs clenched, out of air. He crashed to the floor, gasping for breath and fighting to keep the enemy from getting a good hold on him. One of his assailants batted his rifle away and the gun went skittering down the hall.
Clemens managed a full breath and yelped, as the same man grabbed his arm and wrenched it to one side. The snap of crunching bone echoed in his ears. For a moment, he didn't feel anything, then white-hot agony seared into him.
He kicked, pain shooting through his leg as his boot cracked into the second attacker's nose. The Gamilon reeled backward, blood gushing over the front of his uniform.
His first assailant stayed on him, the man's narrowed eyes glaring into Clemens'.
The shing of unsheathing metal sang through the hall. A flash of grey sent Clemens' hand flying out. He grabbed his enemy's hand and pushed with all his might, forcing the glinting blade away from his face.
The soldier leaned in hard, his two hands slowly overpowering Clemens' single good one.
The blade inched closer to his throat, sinking toward him until Clemens felt the deadly kiss of cold metal on his skin. The blade bit into his neck, and blood trickled down onto his collar.
Memories of his days with his old squad flickered in Clemens' mind. "I might be the last one left, but I'm not going down this easily," he growled through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on the knife hand.
The trill of a single shot reverberated through the passage.
The Gamilon collapsed, his blade clattering to the floor. Clemens shoved off the limp corpse and looked up to see Royster, standing in the middle of the passage, shaking as he clutched the lost rifle.
Giving Royster a grudging nod, Clemens struggled to his feet, noting with chagrin how many blackened patches marred his legs. He took his rifle back and used it as a temporary walking stick.
Royster tried to help him as he struggled down the hall, but the scientist couldn't hold the bigger man up for long.
"We've got to find cover," Clemens said. "There's gonna be more of them."
"There's a maintenance hatch close by," Royster said, checking his com. "This way."
Clemens limped along until they made it to the alcove, and then he eased to the floor while Royster reached for the control panel.
"Emergency locks engaged," the ship computer announced the instant Royster touched the controls.
Royster frantically punched in a series of numbers. An error message blared, and the control panel flashed red. "It won't let me through," Royster wailed.
"Try it manually," Clemens instructed.
Royster pried open a panel beside the sealed door, revealing a lever. The scientist screeched and jumped back as a solid ten-count of laser fire pelted the handle, melting it to the wall.
Both men ducked into the narrow alcove lip as shots streamed past.
"We'll have to get into the door systems." Royster dug his com back out and fiddled with it, connecting some wires from the door panel to the device as he flipped through menus.
Clemens grabbed Royster's communicator and shoved his rifle in the young man's face. "Hold them off."
"But I've never used one of these before today," Royster squeaked. "This thing is as big as me!"
"You did just fine back in the hall, Nerd," Clemens retorted. "Just aim and shoot! We don't have another choice."
Royster took the rifle, muttering under his breath as he tugged the weapon tight against his shoulder, knuckles white. His hands shook as he swung the rifle barrel around the corner.
July 14, 2200; 21:43, GST – thirty-one minutes later
The Gamilon burst into the alcove, searching for a target.
Clemens grabbed for his knife.
The enemy soldier saw Royster and whirled, but the scientist was faster. With wild eyes and a terrified screech, Royster squeezed the trigger four times, hitting the Gamilon with every shot.
Clemens eased his hand away from his knife as the corpse crashed to the deck. "Concentrate on getting back to that lab of yours in one piece," he offered.
Royster gave a stuttered nod, his eyes clearing. "Get the distress beacon activated on my com."
"Okay. That I know how to do." Clemens fumbled with the device one-handed and activated the beacon.
A warning message flashed on the screen, "Your area is inaccessible to rescue teams. Please allow the emergency status in your section to clear."
Clemens hissed, gripping the com tighter as he ground his teeth."Throw me your pistol," he instructed.
"I don't have it," Royster replied. "It's still in my room."
"Great," Clemens muttered, staring down at the communicator. "We're sitting ducks in here! There's nothing else we can –" He sat up straight, eyes lighting up. "We've got one more card up our sleeve." He whipped out a multi-tool and attacked Royster's com, prying it apart.
"Hey! Don't do that! Use your own if you're gonna destroy one," Royster protested.
"Mine is fried – got hit in the crossfire a little while ago. I can't even get it out of my pocket." Clemens struggled with the device. "Should have done this in the first place," he grunted. "Keep 'em off me."
Royster took a deep breath and fired a thick barrage into the knot of enemies.
"Shut your eyes and cover your ears," Clemens instructed seconds later as he lobbed Royster's com into the thick of the enemy, immediately clapping his hand over one ear and mashing the other against the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut as a bone-rattling shriek pierced the air, and a blast of searing light sent spots drilling into his vision.
He heard four crashes as their attackers hit the floor, disoriented.
"Let's get outta here," Clemens instructed, struggling to his feet again with Royster's help.
"This way." Royster pointed down the hall. "There's another maintenance hatch we can get through." He looked back at the Gamilons fumbling around on the floor. "I don't think they'll follow us this time."
July 14, 2200; 23:16, GST – an hour and a half later
Clemens sat up in his bed. The unwieldy cast on his right arm was uncomfortable, and his legs, wrapped in multiple places, ached. His eye swelled, promising a shiner within a day or two, and he knew he'd be covered in bruises tomorrow.
The cut on his neck stung as he twisted his head.
Clemens sighed, looking up at the white ceiling. The beds all around him were occupied, their spaces separated by drawn curtains. The crewmen with the worst injuries were stationed in the rooms at the back of the medical bay.
He listened, hearing visitors talking to others about the boarding.
A woman in one of the nearby sections said, "When the boarders retreated, that Gamilon capitol ship fired on us, but the XO activated a reflective shield, and it sent the enemy's fire right back at them."
Clemens chuckled.
The curtain rustled. "Can I come in?" a timid voice asked.
"Yeah," Clemens replied absently.
Royster appeared, a small box in hand.
"What're you doing here?" Clemens asked. "Thought you'd be down in the lab talking about that fancy shield we just used against the Gamilons."
"Well, I was… but I wanted to come say… thanks. You got me out of a bad situation." Royster held out the box. "I think you might need this."
Clemens took the offering and slipped the top off the box. Inside lay a new communicator.
"I got one too." With a grin, Royster waved his shiny new device at Clemens. "Got all my data reloaded from the server – yours too. It's all set up and ready to use. I have to say, I didn't know you knew your way around electronics that well."
"Yeah. It was kinda like being on the bomb squad again – not the same of course, but it brought back some memories." Clemens turned the com on. "And what about you? I didn't know you had it in you to shoot anything bigger than an astro-automatic."
"Twenty years of first-person shooters, I guess," Royster mumbled.
"You shoot straighter than I thought." Clemens looked down at the home screen. A green dot glowed at the edge of one menu option – Personal Network. He tapped it. At the bottom of the short list was an item he hadn't seen before, NR-5p4c3n32d. "What's this?" Clemens pointed at the listing.
"That's… my video game server. If you ever want to join a game, just jump in. You can pick your name when you get there," Royster said.
Clemens nodded. "Maybe I'll sit in sometime." He slowly offered his unbroken arm. "Truce, Nerd – Neville?"
"How about comrades in arms?" Royster asked.
Clemens shook Royster's hand. "Sounds okay to me."
Runner-up for the WA Role Reversal Challenge on fanfiction.net
This story takes place during the Cure Seekers episode entitled "One Man's War."