A running countdown snapped me back on-task. I checked the gun’s load, switched the safeties off and settled it into the crook of my arm.

The boarding craft slammed against the hull of the freighter, instantly forming a seal against the airlock. The lock, detecting pressure on both sides, acquiesced to the override codes and opened both doors at once.

The restraints unlocked and we were up and out, shouting for the crew to surrender themselves into our custody. It was, however, a futile exercise – I barely got a glance at the end of the corridor before gunfire erupted.

I was hit twice, red boxes showing damage to left thigh and right shoulder plates. Medical traces flatlined for two of the boarding team. Targeting boxes blinked into existence. Muzzle flare erupted from a gun that snapped into position like an old friend.

Heavy automatic fire leapt the length of the corridor, explosive airburst rounds splattering human remains across the floor and ceiling. There was no doubt in my mind now. No room for it.