Take us Home as we go

[Toaster]

The first corridor was deserted, save for two men - one wounded, one treating the injury - crouching by the doorway. They wore the armbands denoting them as Cobra's men.

"Who the hell are you?" The injured soldier sputtered as the team of three stepped past them, plasma carbines trained down the hallway.

"Put more pressure on that wound," the trio's leader, Thorn, growled, ignoring the question. The soldier stared up at him for a moment, then followed the advice, pressing his bloodied hands against his equally bloodied abdomen. Thorn nodded at his two comrades. "Cowell, take point. Ibeh, take our six." Both men formed up around him. "Move out."

The three heavily armed and armored men started down the corridor, following the ship schematics projected onto their visors' heads-up displays. The sounds of combat echoed through the narrow hallways - weapons fire, explosions, shouts. The emergency lighting flickered with each detonation, casting dark, jumping shadows across the deck and bulkheads.

"ROE?" Cowell, the point man, asked over their helmets' closed frequency.

"Armbands are friendlies," Thorn answered. "Anyone else is a foe until identified otherwise."

The team kept advancing, steadily sweeping their weapons across the hallway. Ahead, an intersection came into view, hastily erected barricades blocking their way. Half a dozen bodies lay strewn about the makeshift position. Cowell raised a closed fist and the team froze.

"Movement?" Thorn asked. Cowell shook his head. "Ibeh, hold here. Cowell, with me." Cautiously, they approached the piles of crates and overturned carts, carefully moving around the corpses. Suddenly, a young man in a dirtied uniform jumped up from behind the barricades, a sidearm raised at the approaching men. Thorn and Cowell froze. The crewman's eyes were wide and his arms shook in near panic.

"Not another step!" He cried. "You're not-"

He was cut off by a bolt of plasma impacting his chest, then a second scorching his face. With a muffled thud, he collapsed to the deck. Cowell moved forward, glancing over the barricades. Three more bodies waited within.

"Clear."

Thorn stepped up beside him, scanning the intersection. Nothing moved. In the distance, the sound of battle raged on.

"I hope that wasn't a friendly," Ibeh remarked from behind.

"No armband," Thorn noted, inspecting the young crewman's partially burnt uniform. "Form up. Let's keep moving."

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Olivia Sable