Tom Carson swore as a Marauder’s bullet drove a splinter of wood into his arm. Leaning over the window of the small wheelhouse he fired back. A fierce, savage grin flashed across his face as he saw the bastard he had been aiming at fall backwards with a cry. Blood splashed up the bulkhead behind him as the thug toppled over the side into the grey waters of the gulf of Mexico. 
Carson glanced around him; the three Marauder vessels that had jumped them were circling around their boat, sweeping the decks with small-arms fire. Even as he watched one of the Marauder boats swept alongside, her crew blazing away. As Carson ducked hastily back into cover, bullets cracking around him, he could only wonder how in the Hell things had gotten so screwed, so quickly.

He and his fellows had left Port Davis in a small civilian boat, the Betty-Sue, three days earlier. The mission had been simple enough. Land on the coast of Orleans with his small team and proceed to the city. Once there, begin extensive reconnaissance to assess the locals and their political, military, and social structure. When ordered, return to the coast for pickup. A task Carson had accomplished many times before. Granted, sometimes the task became difficult and complex before long, but most of the time he had managed to get to the Operational Area before the shooting started.

No such luck this time, though. As the Sue moved ever closer to the point where his team was to be put ashore with their equipment, three Marauder craft had appeared from behind a small island as suddenly as if they had been pulled from a magicians’ hat. Guardsman Kagney was decapitated by a heavy-calibre bullet before Carson and his men had a chance to react.

And now, Carson thought darkly as one of the Sue’s civilian crewmen staggered back with his chest blown open by a hail of MG rounds, we are in some serious and deep shit. 
“Jesus damn Christ!” Archer fell beside him. Blood pooled, sticky and horribly warm, under the two of them. 
“Frank!” Carson snapped, looking down at his comrade’s leg, which had a huge bullet wound just over his knee. The man looked up at him, eyes already glazing over. Bullet must have hit an artery, Carson thought as he set his AK-74 barrel on the edge of the wheelhouse. Drawing a bead on the Marauder ship that had just strafed them, Carson fired a tight three-round burst that threw one of the shooters into the Gulf of Mexico with half his head blown off. The enemy ship came in close again, bullets whining. Carson dropped again. “Frank, I’ve got to bind...” His voice trailed off. Frank Archer wouldn’t need anything ever again.
“Shit,” Carson growled. As the Marauder came alongside he stepped from cover, emptying his clip into the side of the ship. A sudden, violent explosion kicked the rear end of the Marauder vessel clear out of the water. 
“Eat that!” Carson roared as the ship began to sink. “Eat it, asshole!” He turned to see Oxley swing the minigun he had used to sink the first Marauder to the second ship, which had been preparing to begin it’s own attack. As bullets started flashing across the water from Oxley’s weapon Carson turned to Rufus, the captain. “Closer! You need to get us closer to shore!” 
“And run my boat aground?!” Rufus sounded like Carson had just dropped his Mother off a roof.
“If we stay in the water we’ll be feeding the fish!” Carson retorted. Rufus couldn’t argue with that. The boat was taking in one Hell of a lot of water, and her engine was failing. 
Carson ran to join Oxley, who was raking the rapidly-approaching Marauder vessel with murderous fire. 
“Where is Hartmann?” He demanded. 
“Gettin the Armour ready.” Oxley shouted over the roar of gunfire. 
Carson nodded. “Good.” The deck shifted under his feet as the Sue made straight for land. The second Marauder ship bored in, taking horrific punishment. Fire began to lick from a ruptured tank on the enemy ship. 
Then Oxley was hit. A laser bolt from a Synth crewman seared through his upper arm, causing him to drop the extremely heavy minigun. 

“Shit!” He swore, pulling out his pistol as Carson shredded the Synth with a burst of AK fire. Rufus returned fire as well with his heavy revolver.  Oxley threw himself into cover and snapped off a couple of quick shots at the looming Marauder ship. 
Moments later the pirates hove alongside the Betty-Sue, still blazing away. Carson spat a curse as four of the Marauder crewmen leapt onto their deck. Oxley put a bullet into the nearest guy's head seconds before the second man blasted him into oblivion with a stubby shotgun. Carson leaned around the corner and returned the compliment, slaying Oxley's killer with a tight three-round burst. But three more enemies leapt across onto the Betty-Sue seconds later. Rufus, the captain, yelped like a kicked dog as a Ghoul Marauder sent a round slicing through his left thigh. He staggered but didn't let go of the wheel. 
"Just keep us heading for land!" Carson shouted, firing at the Ghoul and missing. "Son of a Bitch." He growled as the Marauders moved towards him. 
Then Arthur Hartmann came onto the deck. His suit of T-60 power armour heaved itself from th e lower deck. The gattling laser he carried spat hardlight, sything down the Marauders on the Sue's deck like ripe wheat. Storming forward, Hartmann knocked the  remaining foe's plasma rifle aside and lifed him clear off the deck with one hand. The man struggled for a moment, legs kicking, before Hartmann's augmented strength snapped his neck. Carson pumped a fist in the air as his comrade tossed the corpse aside like it was an empty sack. 

"We're getting close to shore!" Rufus yelled over the sound of gunfire and the Betty-Sue's labouring engine. As if to confirm several large flashes eruped from the shore. 
"The Order?" Carson shouted back at the captain.
"Yeah." Rufus confirmed. "Heavy guns that the King has been using to secure the coastline. I just hope that they don't-" 
Towers of water erupted around the battling ships. Another exploded just alonside, drenching Carson.
"Drop too close." Rufus finished, eyes still fixed on the rapidly-approaching coastline.
 Hartmann proceeded to walk his fire along the flank of the Marauder vessel, causing several explosions on the waterline. Another explosion, bigger than the last, kicked the Marauder vessel away from the Sue's side. 
Hartmann turned, face unreadable behind the T-60 helmet. 
"Killed those bastards." He said, voice harsh through the speakers. 
"Damn right." Carson answered, reloading his weapon. "You really-"
With that, the Betty-Sue exploded. A shell fired from the shoreside guns landed just on her stern, almost ripping the boat in half. Carson flew, sky, sea, and earth spinning in a wild kaleidoscope as he whirled threw the air. Then a large board, part of the ship's deck, smacked Carson in the side of the head, dropping a black curtain over his vision. 

"Major? can you hear me? I need you awake. Major!" 
Carson slowly opened his eyes. He was bumping along on someone's shoulder. His head lolled until he shook some of the cobwebs from it.
"Major?" The voice was Hartmann's. Carson lifted his head as his comrade set him down. They were in the shallows, Hartmann still wearing the Power Armour. Carson hissed in pain. 
"Bastards got me." It wasn't a question. 
Hartmann nodded. "Yeah. a fair-sized splinter in your thigh. I bandaged it up, but you need a proper doctor, Major. And soon."
Carson leaned against the stump of a dead tree. "We're not in the External Security Bureau now, Art. Don't use that title when we're in the field."
Hartmann said nothing, checking his T-60's sensors. "I dragged you out of the water when the boat went up. Thank God the ESB let us take Power Armour with us; we both would have been corpses otherwise."
Carson scanned his surroundings. He could see a pall of smoke rising above the skyline, and lights flickering closer. Looked like handheld torches. He said as much to Hartmann, who nodded. 

"The last Marauder wasn't hit, and dropped guys off along the coast. They're closing in on us." 
Carson shugged wearily. "Standard decoy doctrine, then?" He suggested. 
"I thought as much." Hartmann confirmed, checking the action on his plasma rifle. The gatling laser had been abandoned when the Sue had went up. He handed Carson his AK-74 and PPK. 
"I'll head inland." Hartmann said. "Once they are drawn away, head for the Order trading post on the peninsula. You'll find help there. Those bastards won't hang about, the Order troopers will be coming. Can you walk?"
Carson nodded. "I will have to. Contact protocol MB-88?"
"Understood." Hartmann turned to go. "Oh, right." The Power-Armoured operative said. "I recovered this for you." 
He handed Carson his cap. "Thank you." The ESB agent said feelingly. It was a Soviet officer's cap, hammer and sickle gleaming from it's front. Carson had taken the cap some years peviously as a momento of a particularly gruelling mission. He would have missed it. 

"All right. I'm moving." Hartmann said, readying his plasma rifle. Carson hauled himself upright, slinging his AK over his back and chambering a round into his PPK. He extended his hand. 
"Good luck." He said, shaking Hartmann's hand.
"And you." Hartmann turned and loped off into the gloom, T-60 whining as its' hydraulics pushed him along. 
Carson limped off in the opposite direction. Minutes later the shooting started, muzzle flashes and laser blasts flashing in the pre-dawn light. Carson didn't stop. He had to keep moving.