Encounter
Inside the control room, the atmosphere was electric with tension. The crew's eyes darted across the glowing sensor panels, tracking the enemy's relentless approach. Every ping and beep seemed louder than the last, amplifying the urgency in the air.
"Sir, the enemy ships are closing in! Our flak guns can't hit them accurately at their speed!" one of the crew reported, his voice strained as he glanced back at the captain.
"Carry on with warding them off," Captain Michel ordered, his tone resolute. "If we can destroy at least two of their ships, the rest will likely withdraw. They won't risk their entire fleet for a measly contraband."
The second mate, a wiry man with piercing eyes, scoffed. "I believe you're far too confident, Captain. You clearly underestimate the Dumayar."
Michel's gaze flicked to his second mate, his expression hardening. "You sound like you know more about them than you've let on."
The second mate straightened. "I've seen their ruthlessness firsthand. The Dumayar don't play games. They're relentless, and they'll take any risk to achieve their goals."
Michel leaned forward, his jaw tightening. "I'm taking my chances, then. We'll make it out of this alive."
"Such optimism," the second mate muttered, shaking his head. "I don't share your sentiment."
Before Michel could reply, the land wagon shuddered violently as a light cannon shot grazed its hull. The Dumayar vessels had begun their bombardment, though their shots were imprecise at the current range. The crew steadied themselves, gripping consoles and railings as the vehicle rocked.
"Captain," a voice crackled over the wireless transmitter. It was Milena, the squad leader stationed on the lower decks.
Michel grabbed the transmitter. "What is it?"
"Sir, is there a change of orders?" Milena's voice was calm but tinged with urgency.
"No. Proceed to the cargo hold. Investigate the area and delegate someone to coordinate the defense on the deck. We need to hold them off at all costs."
"Understood, sir." The transmission ended with a faint click.
----
The land wagon continued to shake intermittently as Dumayar cannon fire landed nearby, each impact reverberating through its reinforced structure. Milena, unbothered by the tremors, strode purposefully through the corridors. Her boots clanked against the metal flooring as she led her squad deeper into the heart of the vehicle.Descending several levels, Milena and her team navigated the intricate maze of passageways that led to the cargo hold. The air grew cooler, and the hum of machinery filled the silence between footsteps. As they approached their destination, faint echoes of gunfire reached their ears.
Milena raised a hand, signaling her squad to proceed with caution. The team spread out, their weapons drawn, as they moved closer to the source of the commotion. When they reached the open door of the cargo hold, Milena peeked inside.
What she saw made her heart race. Cloaked figures, their faces obscured, were exchanging gunfire with someone hidden among the stacked crates. The acrid smell of smoke and gunpowder hung heavy in the air. Milena's sharp eyes caught sight of one of the attackers reloading, his movements hurried but practiced.
She ducked back behind the doorframe and whispered to her team, "Hostiles in the cargo hold. Cloaked figures. Be ready."
The gunfire abruptly ceased, replaced by tense silence. Milena chanced another look and noticed a man in the center of the room, holding a device that resembled a detonator. His voice boomed, laced with anger and desperation. "You wouldn't dare!"
Milena's mind raced. If the detonator controlled explosives in the cargo hold, the entire operation could be jeopardized. She needed to act decisively.
"Everyone, hands up!" Milena shouted as she burst into the room, her squad fanning out behind her. Their weapons were trained on the cloaked figures. "Press that button, and I won't hesitate to shoot every last one of you!"
The man with the detonator froze, his eyes darting between Milena and her squad. The cloaked figures hesitated, their hands hovering near their weapons. Tension thickened the air, and for a moment, no one moved.
Milena's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Drop your weapons. Now."
One of the cloaked figures sneered. "You think you can stop us? You have no idea what's at stake."
"Try me," Milena replied, her tone icy. Her finger tightened on the trigger of her rifle. "I'm not here to negotiate."
The man with the detonator seemed to waver, his grip loosening slightly. One of Milena's squad members stepped forward, his voice steady. "Sir, the charges won't matter if you're dead. Put it down."
----
Back in the control room, Michel monitored the situation with growing unease. The flak cannons continued their relentless barrage, but the Dumayar ships were adapting, their movements becoming more coordinated. Reports from the deck indicated that the enemy was preparing to deploy ground forces."Captain," one of the crew called out, "we've detected dropships launching from the enemy vessels. They're heading our way."
Michel cursed under his breath. "Prepare the outer defenses. We'll hold them off as long as we can. Contact Milena and get an update on the cargo hold."
The transmitter crackled to life moments later. "Captain, this is Milena. We are at the cargo hold, we see several hostiles at gunpoint!"
Michel's grip tightened on the transmitter. "I see... Lieutenant, make sure to apprehend them and take them for questioning!"
"Roger that, sir!" Milena replied and ended the transmission.
As the Dumayar dropships descended, the flak cannons adjusted their aim, spitting fire into the sky. The land wagon's crew braced themselves for the next phase of the battle, their resolve steeled. The stakes were higher than ever, but they were determined to survive—no matter the cost.