Free Salvage Marines (Necrospace Book 1) by Sean-Michael Argo Page B

clear signal with his lightstick, “Okay, then, salvage marines, let’s saddle up and get this done!”
    Samuel loaded in next to last, with Ben bringing up the rear. The heavy machine gunner was unable to bring his standard issue weapon on a mission such as this due to the possibility of causing critical internal damage to the hulk during combat. Though the entire hulk would eventually be scrapped, it would be counterproductive for an errant armor piercing round to strike a fuel line or gas pocket deep within the hulk. Secondary explosions, as they were informed by Mag, were the second leading cause of death for boarding parties entering combat on unknown vessels. The first leading cause of death was being gunned down during the blistering first few seconds of combat when the assault team made shipside.
    As a counter measure, Ben, in addition to the other heavy gunners in the salvage marine boarding force, had been required to trade out his machine gun for a breaching shield and assault shotgun. The shield, when held at a ninety-degree angle out from the chest, would cover Ben from mid-shin to the top of his head. The shield was strong enough to repel most small arms fire, so as long as the enemy wasn’t packing anything bigger than a combat rifle Ben had a reasonable expectation of pushing through any possible hail of fire. There was a small bulletproof viewing slot at eye level, which, while not nearly as strong as the metal of the shield, could certainly still deflect all but the most accurate and direct impacts. Just above chest level was a gun port through which Ben would be able to point his shotgun, which would rest on a small gun mount in the port that allowed him to re-cock the shotgun simply by pushing forward and letting the shield rack the slide.
    Standard tactical boarding procedure was for the shield bearer to exit the assault craft as soon as the blast doors opened, then as the marine pushed forward, he or she would rapid fire the twenty-round shotgun magazine. Once the shield bearer had drawn enemy fire and begun to engage, the rest of the squad would fall in to support until resistance was quelled and a beachhead established.
    “You ready for this, brother?” asked Ben as he sat down next to Samuel and began to strap in while he rested the giant shield against the nearby wall.
    “I should be asking you, Ben, this is going to be intense,” Samuel responded as he double-checked his straps, and then gripped the handle of the boarding knife affixed to his forearm. “Since when do they issue us extra close quarters weapons?”
    “Yeah, boys, this is gonna get nasty,” added Oliver, who sat opposite of Samuel, “These boarding knives aren’t part of standard issue kit because typically we don’t end up getting close enough to use bladed weapons. Well, except for maybe Prybar over here.”
    The seven or so members of Tango Platoon who heard Oliver’s joke laughed, even if their voices were tinged with nervousness. Mag sat in grim silence, but nodded just the same. The nickname ‘Prybar’ had stuck with Samuel ever since the sweep and clear on M5597. Samuel laughed with his comrades, as he figured that it was pretty good as far as nicknames went, and after all, he had earned it.
    “Lots of times these kind of ship-to-ship assaults can throw some close quarters fights at you. A ship doesn’t seem all that complicated until you’re engaging hostiles, maybe in zero gravity, on an unfamiliar boat with lots of hidden corners, narrow hallways, and who knows what else in there,” said Oliver as he slid the nine inch blade from the sheath on his forearm. “Some space pirates don’t even bother with guns on board ship, just body armor and these beauties.”
    “Putin, that’s enough,” ordered Marsters as he went down the line of his squad checking their harnesses and helping Harold slot his breaching shield into its fixed position on the flat edge of the man’s seat, “You’re scaring the rest of