Mason had faced many enemies in his time, and fought with both words and all manner of weapons, but he’d never been in a battle like this. 

“Take cover!” he bellowed the order, but it was unnecessary. The group behind him had already scattered, cramming themselves into the scant protection offered by the support struts of the corridors. They didn’t even have time to get to any of the doorways before the borg were on them. 

The borg… their own crew. 

Mason hissed and half-ducked as the three borg fired at them, picking off one of the group with RJ with laser-like precision. They were all junior officers, ensigns Howett, Riat-Venez, and Tovash. 

He grit his teeth, firing back. Tovash span in place and went down, his slide down the wall of the corridor marked by a red smear. 

“Fall back!” Mason shouted, still firing as the borg advanced. Howett had always been shit on the range, but now he was sharp as a sniper. 

Mason made sure to get himself between the borg and the fleeing crewmembers, making himself the biggest target. Which wasn’t difficult, given his size. 

But to his surprise, RJ appeared next to him, joining the fight against the borg with an efficiency Mason hadn’t expected. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, turning his shoulder and covering his head as the console next to him exploded. “Get back with the others!”

“Not happening!” RJ shot back, giving him a hard look that rocked Mason back on his heels. “You think I’m letting you take all the glory this time?” 

Mason blinked as RJ dropped the other two borg in quick succession. Damn, the guy could actually shoot. 

“Glory?” He looked at RJ, stunned. “You dropped half of a planet on me! I pissed blood for three days! You call that glory?!”

“Yeah, well,” RJ shrugged it off. “Come on, we need to keep moving.”

Mason shook his head as he turned and followed the other officer. He wasn’t even sure why Reese-Riggs was on his ship in the first place, but when they turned the corner, he was grateful for the presence of another capable command officer. 

It was carnage. 

At least ten bodies were scattered on the floor between them and the next intersection. Raan paused and swallowed, hard, the group around him doing the same. 

He looked from one to the next, noting their names silently. The nearest was… shit, he stopped, the wind taken out of his sails. 

His number one, Burton, was slumped against the wall, his phase rifle on the floor by his thigh like he’d just sat down for a quick nap. The burnt uniform and blood across his chest said that nape was permanent. Next to him was Gunnar, the Resolute’s chief security officer. It looked like the two men had set up a forward line to try and hold the borg back.

It hadn’t worked.

Burton. Gunnar. Taylor. Chatesham… The list went on.

“Hey, big guy,” RJ murmured in a low voice, catching his attention. Raan yanked his head around, meeting blue eyes. “We can’t do anything for them now. Lock and load. We deal now, then drink and fall apart later.”

Mason took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll hold you to that drink. Come on, let’s move. If we can make it to the shuttlebay, we can try and get clear of the ship.”