The Sentinel (The Sentinel Trilogy Book 1) by Michael Wallace

Author:Michael Wallace [Wallace, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Balsalom Publishing
Published: 2016-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Captain Tolvern crouched behind a stack of crates in the main engineering bay. She had an assault rifle slung over her shoulder and wore a bandolier of grenades.

The hull vibrated, and the tang of burning plastic and oil filled the hangar. Every few seconds came a terrific screeching sound. That would be plating, pipes, and ducts being pulled away by whoever was cutting their way carefully inside. The enemy had had ample chance to destroy the ship and the crew, but was apparently trying to take both more or less intact.

Tolvern took in the others beside her. Capp, the former Royal Marine, checked her hand cannon, chomping on a huge wad of gum as she moved methodically through her ammo and weapons. Only the sweat glistening on her buzzed scalp betrayed emotion. Smythe fiddled with his hand computer, readying some surprises. Carvalho, loaded with guns, knives, and grenades, stood to one side, exposed away from the others. Hands on his hips, his muscles bulging from his T-shirt, he stared with disdain at the spot in the wall where the future breach would occur.

Other crew members were scattered around the engineering bay, taking position behind stacks of supplies, pieces of equipment, and in a bunker made out of tools and broken pieces of tyrillium armor.

“Why do I feel we’ve all been here before?” Tolvern said.

Smythe looked up from his computer. “You mean like when that pirate tried to steal our ship on San Pablo?”

Carvalho nodded. “Or those times on Hot Barsa? Second time was the worst—thought we’d never make it out of there alive.”

“How about Albion?” Capp said with a loud sigh. “All that silver, but no way to steal it. Who knew silver bars were so heavy?”

“It’s coming back to me,” Tolvern said. “We’ve faced a few enemies, haven’t we?”

“Right, Cap’n,” Capp said. “Nothing new. These ain’t the buzzards, just a bunch of funny talking humans. Should be easy enough to handle.”

Tolvern couldn’t afford to be so complacent, though at least she didn’t have to worry about her intestines being plucked out by an overgrown turkey. A few hours ago they’d been preparing to be boarded by Apex; this was almost a relief in comparison. It explained why she was facing none of the usual battle nerves, stupid as that was. She still might die, after all.

The sound of tearing and cutting was getting on Tolvern’s nerves. Get it over with already.

“Smythe, send that audio one more time,” she said. “Give them one more chance to avoid all this stupidity.”

He punched something on his computer to send the truce request/demand/threat. There was a pause as they waited for a response that had not come before and would apparently not come now, either. After a moment, he shook his head.

“They’re still jamming it. Want me to try something else?”

“Throw a few bombs against their station,” Capp said. “That will get their attention.” She blew a big bubble with her gum.

“Forget it,” Tolvern said. “A girl keeps sending the same message and she starts to look desperate, you know.

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