Ghost Ship - Chapter 2

"Are you hurt?" Montross asked.

"No," the officer said. He looked up at them, his eyes wide. "I'm scared as hell."

"At least you're honest," Ronin spit out, managing a hard smile.

A sudden thumping from behind the wall warranted the attention of all three.

"What is that?" Montross asked, cocking his rifle.

"Sounds like an e-web," Ronin whispered.

"It is." The young officer wiped something dark and wet from his face. "We're all barricaded up in there." He pointed fearfully at the door, as if it were the den of some fabled monstrosity.

"You mean you've got a group of survivors in there?" Ronin asked, standing up.

The officer nodded in return. He flinched as another burst of shots rang out.

Ronin and Montross sprung out from their hiding place and keyed the access panel to open the door. At last, they had found what they were looking for - a safe haven against an unstoppable onslaught.

Hopes for Camelot disintegrated as they walked into the fortified mess hall. The air was thick with the acrid smoke of spent blaster cartridges. Camelot's floor was slicked over with drying blood. Shouts and screams added to the panoramic scene of a small hell. The wounded and dying lay in a small corner, coughing and writhing. The medic was among those no longer mortal.

The few clones left alive were embunkered behind barricades of boxes and tables, firing wildly at the endless enemy. In the center of it all stood the only fully-armored trooper Montross had seen since the start of the battle.

He stood erect among the smoke and chaos like a warrior of old. He held his massive blaster rifle single-handedly, firing bursts that never failed to find their mark; his striped armor, antennae-like rangefinder, and shredded, stained Mandalorian hunting kama revealed his rank.

"You two! Defend that position! Now!" The ARC trooper pointed to a barricade, currently being assaulted by fat, hunched-over Trandoshan slavers.

Relieved to be under some sort of leadership, Montross and Ronin rushed to it, their eyes running right through their weapon's sights. Trandos were just outside the threshold, fighting point-blank with the remaining defenders. Montross was soon using his rifle's butt-stock more and more as the mercs closed in.

An ugly Trandoshan slaver vaulted the barricade and unsheathed his ryyk blades. The metal rang through the air like a crisp harbinger of death. The Trando lunged for Montross, knocking him to the ground. He felt a pit settle in his stomach as the DC slid from between his fingers. It clattered across the floor, just outside his reach. The reptilian mercenary grinned a sharp-toothed smile and raised his blade.

The ARC trooper sprinted forward, firing a burst into the Trando's head. It exploded. Barely noticing the green gore, Montross shoved the headless body aside and picked up his rifle.

"Get that damn e-web over here, now!" the ARC shouted to the gun crew across the room.

The troopers hefted the gun, stand and all, and set it in front of the line of defense. The gunner was shooting before it was in place on the floor.

Chunk, chunk, chunk!

The e-web spit out blue bursts of armor-piercing rounds into a sudden, vicious charge by some dim-witted slavers. When the e-web ceased fire to cool, ten green bodies added to the barricade's defenses.

After the last hostile fell, all was silent.