War Fleet: Resistance, стр. 31
She’d deployed another four fire-shields, placed strategically: two at the center front and two at the rear sides, to protect the entrance to the CIC. Turgin and Riley had the front shields manned, while Kota and Redrock took the rear.
The Arstans had dislodged the shields from further down the ship, and also carried them for protection. This made it very hard for either side to get purchase, and it was only a matter of time before the enemy got close enough to spear the four humans alive.
Dammit, Kota had no choice. Especially since Redrock and Riley were running out of ammo.
“We’re going to have to use explosives,” she said. They might end up punching a hole in the bulkhead, but fortunately, they were nowhere near the hull walls.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Riley said. He took out his high-intensity grenade.
“No,” Kota said. “No high-intensity. Just standard-issue.”
She ducked out from under cover and threw a grenade right at the enemy shields. It landed in front of the foremost one and exploded, stopping an Arstan in its tracks. Riley and Turgin also used the opportunity to throw out some grenades, but the Arstans skillfully maneuvered their shields to deflect the grenades off them. As soon as they exploded, they used the shields to push away the flames and charge forwards.
“Shit,” Kota said. “Fall back. Form a defensive perimeter inside the CIC.”
They couldn’t take shields into the CIC, and so hopefully the entrance would create a bottleneck. She and Redrock entered the massive room first, followed by Riley and Turgin. Before the Arstans moved forward, they tried letting off a grenade, but Turgin saw it in time and kicked it back between the shields.
In a previous life, Turgin had wanted to be a professional soccer player. Now, he had scored a goal. The explosion blossomed, creating a brilliant flash of light, roaring out in both directions before dying down.
Behind the doors, two juniors joined in with pistols, which in all honesty wouldn’t do much against these Arstans. Kota checked over her shoulder to make sure the rest of them were still alive. Everyone was there, and Kota caught sight of Olsen for a brief second, his eyes wide but his jaw set. She didn’t look at him long before turning her attention back to the wall of smoke between the shields.
The first Arstan emerged, and she let off a burst of fire. But her shots went wide, and her rifle clicked to indicate she’d also run out of ammo. That was her last clip. Turgin’s shots hit true and took down the Arstan, but shortly after, his rifle also sputtered dry.
“That’s it,” Kota said. “We’re out.” She took the pistol offered to her by one of the juniors. Better than nothing, she thought.
Shortly afterwards, there came a bleeping sound from behind.
“Sir,” Cadinouche said to Olsen. “The rear admiral is hailing us again.”
The captain’s sigh was so loud, it echoed around the room. “Put him on screen.”
A few more shots from Kota’s pistol depleted it, so she put down her weapon and watched the Arstans approach out of the corner of her eye, backing towards the center of the room with her crew. She turned to the screen as she did. The rear admiral of the Arstan fleet came up on it.
“Aarsh,” Olsen said.
The Arstan didn’t hesitate getting to his point. “It’s clear now, Captain Olsen, that you’ve lost your battle. Now it’s time to make your choice. Will you surrender your crew, or will you forfeit their lives?”
35
Aarsh had given Olsen two options, but he was only interested in an unspoken third one: buy time.
Olsen had checked the cameras, and Chang was still down in the engine room, working away at the FTL-warp engine. If they warped, and he turned the magnetic flooring low enough, he could maybe knock their Arstan captors off balance, giving his crew time to react.
Of course, Olsen couldn’t alert anyone to the plan, which meant it would be a complete gamble whether it worked. But there was nothing new there.
Olsen looked up at Aarsh. “You have to understand, Rear Admiral Aarsh” — now, it was probably wise to use his honorific — “this is a tough decision, and I need time to discuss it with my crew.”
“I haven’t time for your games, Captain Olsen,” Aarsh replied, as his massive nostrils flared out. “Either you make your decision now, or I’ll make it for you.”
Meanwhile, at the door, Olsen noticed the Arstans were so well clustered together that they could easily be dispersed by a stray grenade. Olsen rested his right hand and his watch on the armrest and tapped away with his fingers.
He wanted the Arstan to think he was nervous. But he also had another plan.
“Rear Admiral Aarsh,” he said, “it seems the best option for the both of us is our surrender. But it only makes sense if we make it conditional. My crew is to be given fair treatment, and not, for example, sent to work in any asteroid mines.”
He could almost hear the shock amongst his crew. How could our captain hand us away to the Arstans? he knew they were thinking. He could also see the anger in Aarsh’s eyes. He could hear the chittering voice in his mind: How dare he make demands of me in such a situation?
Yet no crew member uttered a word, and the Arstan only nodded his head and said, “Very well.”
Olsen knew Aarsh wouldn’t keep his word. He felt his wristwatch vibrate, and focused on the sensation for a moment. He paused for a while, again tapping rhythmically with his fingers. After a moment, he stood up slowly.
“That’s that, then,” he said. “One by one, I want you to file out and