We all lined up in the bays, in our neat orderly rows. Like those would stay together once the reinforced doors ground open and all hell broke loose. Then came the jolt as the bays opened to vacuum and we hurtled down at a target we could barely see. Thats all you can see on something like this, the places where it blots out the stars. We shouldve had the lights to guide us but the Imps had the place running dark, probably for security. We slammed down on the riveted plating, praying our magnetic boots would hold. I never get used to it; it feels like youre about to bounce clean off. Ive seen that happen to too many men. Their boots dont hold, yknow? And our suits got no thrusters on them. If you bounce, youre gone. Just like that. We got lucky this time, and my squad landed in one piece. I motioned to Coleman, my heavy specialist, to set up his Buzzsaw. The TC-5 Buzzsaw was a nice piece of kit, eight hundred rounds per minute of tungsten-alloy rain on a magnetic tripod for zero-gee combat so you wouldnt blow yourself into vacuum with the recoil. Those first couple seconds are the worst. You know the Imps know youre there; the clanging of trooper colliding with plating tells them that even if their proximity sensors dont. And you know youre sitting ducks, one glancing blow from the void. Lots of recruits wash out their first time in zero-gee. Cant handle the vertigo, I guess. But there we were, sitting on the hull and wondering when the Imps would come out to play. They came swarming up from that half-done ship of theirs, like wasps from a broken nest. We started raking them with Armalites and Buzzsaws, and then they were on us. Theyre big, you know that? With that armor of theirs, call it one hundred eighty-odd kilos. Its like stopping a charging bear. One of em jumped on me, slamming me flat; the Imp bared his teeth in triumph behind his faceplate and then Coleman blew him off with the Buzzsaw in a shower of metal and ceramics. Adams was down and the medic Willcox was on him, frantically trying to plug the plasma-splattered hole in his suit. Bloods funny in zero-gee, the way it drifts in little globes. So that left me, Coleman, our marksman Walker and our demo tech Jensen to hold our precious little section of dented hull. We seemed to be holding up pretty well overall; Im no grand strategist but there were a lot more Imps drifting than there were khaki or gray suits. I pegged one of em through the faceplate with my Armalite and Walker took one mid-flight with his marksmans rifle and then orders came through from Command. We had to go in. Had to clear the labyrinth of twisted hallways and desperate Imperials hand-to-hand.

***The Imps have a different sense of organization than us, you know that? So their idea of a nice, simple layout is a hellhole. Twisting passages in all directions, and youve got to clear them all so some hidden Imp doesnt pop up behind you in a secure area and waste your squad. We were one of the point squads, or what was left of us. Coleman had to leave his Buzzsaw behind, and the medic Willcox couldnt save Adams; his suit vented before the sealing foam set. Walkers rifle wouldnt cut it in close-quarters and Jensen couldnt use his explosives in these confined spaces; he was none too happy about that. And every noise you make bounces around these tunnels, distorting distance. A couple of times, we heard other squads yelling for help so we ran ahead, sure they were around the corner. Nothing, just empty halls and glossy black surfaces, mocking us with their emptiness. The worst was when youd find squads, wiped out to a man. Plasma burns and blood covered the walls and floor like a grotesque patchwork carpet, and you never knew if the Imps that did it were waiting around the next corner. We stumbled onto one squad, they mustve been just as shocked as we were. We opened up at the same time and I tagged one in center mass with a nice burst from my Armalite. Walker had his service pistol out cause his rifle was too ungainly for these halls, but we managed to drop the Imps right where they stood. Felt good, then I looked around and saw Willcox bent over Coleman in a widening pool of blood and his suits hydraulic fluid, and Walker slumped against the wall with a plasma hole in his faceplate. Plasma from Imp weapons penetrates our powered armor with a solid shot; they tell me theres better armor in the works. Not that that does Walker much good. Or Adams. Its a real shocker, you know? Going from being planet-bound to interstellar travel in such a short time. Figuring out youre not at the top of the food chain anymore, youre not the apex predator, youre not the smartest or the fastest or the cleverest anymore.