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CPL BRIMSTONE posted by Aaron 12.20.99
She raises Anchor team on the comm. "Moore, I've got some bad news.
Vitelli's checked the ship's logs. To make a long story short, this
ship's under quarantine. And so are we."
SGT MOORE posted by Marton 12.20.99
"That's just great," he says, unofficially. He thinks long and hard,
trying to avoid eye contact with the rest of the squad. "Okay,
everybody. Keep your shirts on, we've got ourselves a change of
plans. Patwardhan, you can thaw out our mystery man, but I want him
sedated, and that cocoon sealed until we know more.
"Morrison, we'll continue with our sweep. We'll stay where it's
clear. Don't even think about opening any doors." He holds a hand to
his headset, listening in on Brimstone's additional instructions to
her squad. "They're sending some runners back to the APC. Fleming's
got the final word on this kind of thing. Let's cross our fingers
that he's going to send us home for a physical and nothing more.
"Come on, hot shot. Let's do what we can."
Sarge and Morrison move down the corridor slowly. Facing aft,
they can see a set of wide windows along the left hand side, near the
end. The two soldiers pass a couple of hatches on either side.
Another corridor branches off to the right, and looks clear. When
they reach the windows, they can see the interior of a medlab beyond.
The place is spotless, a pair of operating tables, instruments and
other gear stowed.
PFC BERLINER posted by Khan 12.21.99
Berliner continues to work his cigarette down to the butt, carelessly
resting his rifle on his knees as he sits and contemplates the
troubles of his universe. "We're going to be spending our leave time
in a hospital, I can just tell. All this quarantine talk just reminds
me why I should've retired years ago. You know I've got an
inheritance coming? My mother's got me put down for a few hundred
thousand from her Company pension. She worked in colony accounting
for thirty years. Salary like you wouldn't believe. I mean, I don't
know what the hell I'm doing here.
"You know what it is? It's Moore. Him and me joined the corps
together. He was always looking for a sergeant's commission. Me, I
was just looking for something to do with my time. I figured I'd
stick it out as long as he did. Didn't count on him wanting to stay
so long," he says with a chuckle. He tosses the butt away and stands
up to stretch.
"I could be captain by now, sitting behind a desk. Instead, I'm
sitting in a fucking ghost ship, with a dozen nutjobs and one guy
half frozen that we're not allowed to talk to. This shit is totally
out of control, you know? You listening to me, Doc?"
He looks over at the medtech, busy with her 'patient.' He can't help
but admire those fine lines. There's something irresistibly sexy
about a woman with a shotgun, especially one with Patwardhan's other-
worldly figure. He bites down on his libido, fishes out another
cigarette, and begins to blow smoke around the sterile-white cryo
chamber.
PFC MORRISON posted by Eamon 12.21.99
"Sergeant? If I might just say something? I have a feeling. I have a
disturbing and unwholesome feeling that my friends," he says, patting
his demolitions case. "My friends and I are gonna become real popular
real soon. Usually, I have no problem with that. I say 'usually'
because I think -- and I know no one asked me to think at any
specific moment, sir; these things just happen -- but I think that
this ship is very..." He searches for the right word. "UN-usual. And
I don't mean unique. I mean bad."
He realizes he's giving a speech, and coughs into the clean
air. "Just thought I'd share, Sarge. Thought I'd share."
A steady, almost insect-like buzz drones secretly from unseen
machines.
"Sarge? Permission to cover our asses." Morrison holds up a wad of
plastic and studies it as if it were a crystal ball: good for what
ails ye. He then cocks an eyebrow at Moore. "What do you think?"
SGT MOORE posted by Marton 12.21.99
"I think I'm going to send you back to Patwardhan to make sure you're
not running a fever," says the Sarge, half-joking. "Come on, let's
check out the rest of these halls. If we can't open any doors, at
least we can get an overview." He regrets not taking the tracker from
Berliner when he had the chance, but things seem quiet enough that
he's not too worried.
He turns down the corridor cutting across to the port side. When he
reaches the next hallway, he checks left and right before deciding
the next plan of action. "Stay on my ass, Morrison. Just in case we
run into anything bigger than a virus. Just try not to blow us both
up, okay?"
Almost in the center of the junction of the two corridors, Moore
spots a section of the flooring that's been eaten away. It's a hole
wide and deep enough to fit both arms into. Looking up to the
ceiling, he finds that the hole is burned straight up through to B
deck. He shines his lamp down into the gap, past corroded pipes and a
half-eaten conduit. A couple of meters below, the hole tapers and
comes to an end. It looks like whatever ate through the decks didn't
quite make it to the hull. If there had been a little more of the
stuff spilled, it very well could have.
"Brimstone, did you see this? Stone, do you copy? Out of range
already, I guess. What do you make of this, Morrison? Molecular acid
could do this, but why the hell would they have that kind of stuff up
here on the crew deck?" He kneels to get a better look. "Looks
accidental. There's nothing strategic about it, that's for sure.
Doesn't look like anything important was damaged, but there's no way
to tell without running a complete diagnostic. " He mutters under his
breath, "Hurry the fuck up, Vitelli."
PFC MORRISON posted by Eamon 12.21.99
"What do I make of it, sir?" Morrison kneels to peer into the gaping
maw. "Ghost ship, quarantine, weird shit eating through the floors...
On the one hand -- and this is just speculation -- the crew, gone
whacked from whatever's put this area under quarantine, ran around
chasing each other with molecular acid until they all got bored and
jettisoned themselves into space. On the other hand, something else
did all this and we're not alone. And if so, we're in deep shit,
Sarge."
He glances up at Moore. "Are we done here?"
PFC PATWARDHAN posted by Max 12.22.99
Patwardhan is completely focused on making sure that the Korea crew
member has no problems waking up from cryo sleep, so she doesn't
really pay much attention to everything else going on. When Berliner
asks her if she's listening, she smiles sweetly and nods, even though
it's obvious that she isn't.
Finally, enough of the conversation around her sinks in and she
realizes that her input may be needed. "Wait a minute," she says
quickly. "Why was this ship quarantined?" She reaches into her medkit
and retrieves an instrument. She takes a few air samples, searching
for toxins, bacteria, or viruses.
It'll take the med computer a few minutes to analyze the samples
completely, but the initial returns look clean.
"Why were we even sent here if there was a quarantine in effect?!"
She hesitates for a moment. "Maybe we shouldn't revive the crew
member," she says, glancing down at the controls of the cryo
tube. "If we revive him, we may be exposing him to the source of the
quarantine. I think that I should set up shop in the medlab and start
doing some more tests. Hopefully, this ship is equipped with a little
bit more than a few band-aids and a can of anesthetic spray. My
equipment isn't exactly ideal for epidemiology."
PVT VITELLI posted by Nino 12.20.99
His eyes are bloodshot as he reads the ship's log. His fingers trace
the screen as unimportant information is read. Suddenly, his finger
stops at the quarantine override code. He leans back and scratches
his heavy five o'clock shadow. He wipes a drop of sweat that was
clinging to the tip of his nose as he ponders what could have
happened.
His train of thought is broken when Brimstone's voice comes through
the comm. "Yeah, I got something, all right. I broke into the mission log, and
there's something strange: a quarantine code I've never seen before,
in the system. It was during the distress beacon. I don't know what
to make of it. Maybe they had somebody, or worse, something living
that they were transporting and someone let it out, or something
along those lines. I don't know what to really make of this," Vitelli
says. He's up and walking around, slinging his rifle back over and
under his arm.
He goes over to McKenzie. "We're in some deep shit. Seems like
something is running around in here. I wonder what Anchor squad has
run into," he asks. He pulls out his zippo and starts playing with it
again.
The main reason Vitelli's never seen a quarantine code before is
because they're extremely rare. Rhinovirus doesn't qualify for
quarantine: it's got to be something highly infectious and
debilitating, or of a significant biological hazard to prompt the
quarantine. The automatic sensors picked something up and engaged the
quarantine, which was ignored by the crew. There's no further
explanation to be found in the ship's log.
CPL BRIMSTONE posted by Aaron 12.20.99
Brimstone stops dead in her tracks when she hears Vitelli's
report. "Could you repeat that, Vitelli? Did you say 'quarantine?'"
"Affirmative."
"Oh, shit," she says with a sinking feeling. She raises Anchor team
on the comm. "Moore, I've got some bad news. Vitelli's checked the
ship's logs. To make a long story short, this ship's under
quarantine. And so are we."
She prevents Booths from moving to any of the other rooms. "That
changes the strategy a little bit." She makes a general
address. "Don't touch anything. I mean, not a fucking thing. We can't
risk opening any hatches until we know for certain what the source of
quarantine was."
Frustrated, feeling like her hands are tied, she openly swears, "God
damn it." Takes a deep breath. "Okay, Vitelli, McKenzie, belay that
order. I want you two to get to the Mind Bank. Anchor squad found one
on the starboard side up here. I'm authorizing you to get in there
and stay there. Find out everything you can.
"Booths, it's you and me, baby. We're gonna head back to the APC,
fill Fleming in on the situation. You keep that fuckin' smartgun hot,
okay?" She's visibly more tense than she was a minute ago, looser in
the tongue, sweating. "Shit. Could this get any worse? You first,"
she volunteers. "Watch your step. We'll go back exactly the way we
came in."
She pushes Booths into the lead, moving back along the port side
corridor. She keeps the tracker in one hand and her incinator in the
other.
The two soldiers make their way through the hatch back into the
cargo section, which is still shrouded in darkness, and icy cold.
Their breath plumes out before them. The cargo hold is as ominously
voiceless as ever, the echoes of the heavy boots more disturbing.
They're about halfway to the APC now, back to using the infrared
eyepieces, useless as ever. Just cold crates and stacks of sheet
metal.
They can both see, beneath the partially-opened cargo door, the
lights of the APC illuminating the area beyond. There's no movement.
Duarte and Sabo must be on the other side of the APC, or back inside.
They're close enough to use the comm. So far, they haven't heard
anything from Fleming.
PFC BOOTHS posted by Asmodean 12.20.99
"You got it, Stone." Minimum fuss. Booths feels Brimstone's palpable
anxiety. He tastes the sharp tang of fear in her sweat.
Don't go to rubble now, baby. Stick it out.
He lets the thought out to her, not that it will do much good. If it
is a virus, then they're dead one way or the other, no sense in
worrying about it. What really bugs Booths is that he'll have no way
to stick it to the little cells that might right now be invading him.
But why the blasts? Or the acid? A biologic, not a virus, but
something that caused the crew to stock up and shoot.
His boots scuff against the polished metal flooring, and his smartgun
tracks left and right, always in short controlled arcs. He lets his
eyes focus on the targeting readout of his comp, and lets Brimstone's
work on peripheral vision, as much as is available. Gods, it's still
so friggin' cold. His breath steams, makes fantastic shapes in the
air in front of his face, and fades away.
"Lieutenant, two friendlies incoming," Booths says into the mike the
moment he gets to the cargo doors. he stands by and lets Stone take
the crawl first, sweeping the gun to cover her. Then he back-crawls
his way through backwards, running the smartgun up, and using his
free hand to point the shotgun down the way they've come. He's
breathing heavily by the time he's squeezed through.
"Guys, you copy?" His voice echoes slightly in the cold air and
through the comm unit, broadcasting to any marine in the area.
Suspiciously, there's no response. The red emergency lighting is
cycling faster than it was before, but still leaves a dark gulf in
between flashes. The APC sits heavy and motionless in the center of
the section. As the red lighting comes up again, and Brimstone and
Booths cautiously make their way around to the transport's loading
door, they can see six sentry guns already set up, flanking the wide
corridor leading back toward the waiting dropship. The guns swivel on
their mounts in standard patterns, but there's no sign of Duarte or
Sabo.
The wide door to the APC is gaping open, and the soothing yellow
light within splashes out. Booths gives the vehicle a wide berth,
moving at an angle to get the best view without too close.
Brimstone's a step behind him, covering him. Something's not right.
Two sentry guns remain boxed just inside the door. Booths' blood runs
cold when he sees Fleming's command chair, empty, turned around and
facing outward. The soldiers carefully approach, ducking their heads
into the APC, calling out for the missing troops. There's no answer,
and no sign of where they might have gone to.
Looking down the long corridor, the dropship still sits, some two
hundred meters distant, with its standby lighting, just as they left
it.
The bank of monitors in the APC's command center is mostly static-
filled. Booths and Brimstone are treated to double-vision. Duarte,
Sabo, and Fleming weren't outfitted with helmet cams, nor would they
be wearing ubiquitous wrist locators like the combat troops. Unless
they walk right back up, they're not going to be easy to find.
PVT VITELLI posted by Nino 12.21.99
Vitelli nods at what Brimstone is saying. It feels like his stomach's
turned inside out when he thinks of a virus that could be airborne.
He looks up at McKenzie and smiles a little. "Guess we better get
going," he says as he starts to gather his equipment. He reaches into
his breast pocket and pulls out his rumpled pack of cigarettes. He
takes a stick and lights it, inhaling the smoke to calm his nerves.
Vitelli offers one to McKenzie and packs up the rest of his gear.
Once ready, he stands behind McKenzie and pushes him forward. "You
first, partner. You got your M56 smartgun, which comes in this
stylish gunmetal black, complete with movement-assisting gyro mount
and your choice of ambient or infrared targeting. The M56: when you
care to kill with the best," Vitelli says in a sarcastic tone. "Now
maybe you'll finally get to use it." He pushes the rookiee forward.
GM: They move through the the starboard bridge hatch into a new
corridor. They can hear the comforting. They reach the door to the
Mind Bank, and Vitelli peeks through the window into the white room.
When activated, it will be a kaleidoscope of blinking white lights, a
Christmas tree of information. He should be able to find some answers
in there.
The door like is unlike the others they've encountered so far.
There's a slot for a security card, and a keypad for code sequencing.
Off to their left, through an open hatch, McKenzie spots the ladder
well leading down to C deck. Moore's voice drifts up to them,
slightly comforting to know they're not that far from one another.
Vitelli breaks out a special piece of electronics gear from a belt
pack and begins to dismantle the security panel. In about twenty
seconds, he's got the door open and moves inside.
A single padded chair faces a monitor set into the wall, surrounded
by an array of dead, black diodes. There's no sign of anything
unusual in here. He takes a seat, enjoying the luxury of the chair
for a moment while he taps out what he hopes will be recognized as a
startup sequence.
CPL BRIMSTONE posted by Aaron 12.21.99
"Fleming, sound off," says Brimstone, almost disappointed in the
lieutenant's absence. She looks around the APC quickly, paying
attention to the sentry guns in the distance. She looks back at the
two unopened guns in front of her.
"Booths, get in here and shut the door behind you." She climbs inside
and waits for her instructions to be carried out. She checks
Fleming's command chair for any sign of him, then moves toward the
driver's station to make sure nobody's hiding out up there.
Satisfied that the APC is empty, and that her commander is truly
missing, she moves back into the main section of the transport and
sits down in Fleming's chair. She swivels to face the camera
monitors. Even the life sign indicators for the rest of the troops
are inoperative, giving them no information. She bites her lip in
thought.
"Okay, maybe they heard something, or picked something up on the
tracker." She points to one of the monitors, showing a scan of the
area.
There's no movement detectible, except for the faint impressions
of the sentry guns as the swivel on their tripods.
But she knows the routine as well as anyone. Fleming wouldn't leave
the APC until the area was secure, and he hadn't been given the go-
ahead by the combat teams. Maybe they're just moving up the access
tunnel toward the crew section, trying to re-establish
communications, she thinks. Fleming wouldn't have to go out himself
to do that. He could've sent Sabo or Duarte. So where the fuck are
they? she wonders.
"We'll give them five minutes to show up, and then I'm going to
declare them MIA. I'll push Moore to abort this mission. We'll get
Leon to send in the 02 dropship, and we'll get out of here,
quarantine or no quarantine. But that's jumping to conclusions."
She tries to remain calm. At least the armored walls of the APC are
some comfort against the cold, the dark, and the unknown. She returns
her attention to the readout screens, looking for anything, anything
at all.
At about that time, she notices a light flashing on Fleming's
board: an incoming communique from USCMHQ. Officer's eyes only.
Warrant officer Leon's voice crackles over the comm, barely audible
from the safety of the Gaines.
WO LEON posted by Pepper 12.21.99
"Fleming, do you copy? Lieutenant, are you there?" Leon sounds
nervous, if an android can. He's been unable to raise the insertion
team for more than five minutes, and hasn't detected any course
correction in the Korea. Something must have gone wrong, he deduces.
He's not far from issuing a general distress signal himself, although
he knows the nearest help is days away.
CPL BRIMSTONE posted by Aaron 12.21.99
Brimstone picks up the comm in a flash. "Brimstone here," she says
breathlessly. "Fleming's gone, Sabo and Duarte, too." She quickly
explains the story to the android, leaving out the part about
quarantine for the time being. No reason to endanger their chance of
getting back to the Gaines. She asks Leon what he knows. After
discovering that he hasn't heard from Fleming for more than five
minutes, she asks what their last transmission was, and what the
communique from headquarters might be about.
WO LEON posted by Pepper 12.21.99
Leon's greatly relieved to hear Brimstone's voice, but he's still
concerned about Fleming's disappearance. "You're in trouble there.
Make sure you're secure in the APC. I don't know what's going on over
there, so I'll just play you back the last transmission I received
from Fleming."
A buzz comes over Brimstone's headset as Leon runs the
transmission through to her. There's a few seconds of white noise,
followed by Fleming's voice:
"Looking okay. Sentry guns 5 and 6 are set. Duarte? How's it coming?
Duarte? Sabo, can you hear me?" Silence. Something clicks. A couple
of tapping noises. "Leon, hang on a minute." Shuffling sound, badly
distorted by the transmission converted to recording, and transmitted
back. "I've... lost contact with Duarte and Sabo. Be away from my
station for a minute. I'll leave the omnidirectional on." Sound of
buckles rattling: Fleming getting up from his chair? Thump, thump:
footsteps? Fleming's raised voice, muted by distance from the voice
pickup: "Duarte? Sabo? Report! Report, now!" The last part is
fainter, as he moves further from the APC, or perhaps around the far
side.
The omnidirectional mike picks up the sound of the APC's own motion
trackers, suddenly alive and active with readings. Leon's recorded
voice: "Lieutenant, are you tracking something? Fleming, can you hear
me?" The unit commander must have been too far from the transport to
hear it at that point. Seconds later, there's a new sound at low
volume, unmistakable: Fleming screaming, at the top of his lungs, out
of his mind. The sound trails into white noise.
Leon lets the transmission run for a few seconds. "I'm standing by,"
he says, back in real time.
PVT MCKENZIE posted by Jody 12.21.99
McKenzie takes the cigarette Vitelli offers. "Great. What with this
and the quarantine, all I need now is a blindfold and I'm good to
go." He puts the cig behind his left ear and moves toward the
mainframe interface room.
After a few moments where Vitelli clearly illustrates why he's a
comtech, and why McKenzie mainly just tries to kill things, the door
to the room opens and allows them access. Vitelli quickly sits in the
comfy-looking chair in the center of the room and is instantly lost
to the mainframe and its files.
McKenzie briefly takes stock of the flashing lights and diodes, which
are almost meaningless to him. "Fucking nerd heaven in here. If the
goddamned thing tries to electrocute you or some shit, give a holler.
I'll be out in the hall." With that, he leaves the room, finding
himself a cozy piece of wall a few feet from the doorway and toward
the galley.
PVT VITELLI posted by Nino 12.21.99
Vitelli sinks into the chair. He once again removes his comm
equipment and unslings his pulse rifle. He places the rifle to the
side, against a bank of machinery, close enough to grab it in case of
an emergency.
"Brimstone," he says. "Vitelli here. McKenzie and I are in the Mind
Bank, and I'm going to see if I can get any more information on the
ship. Anything on Fleming and the others?" he asks as he starts up
the computers.
Nobody replies. They're too far out of range, probably already
back at the APC.
Once the machinery is running, Vitelli starts searching for any
special cargo they might have had, and if possible, search the ship
for a virus or anything along those lines. He keeps searching, hoping
to find something, anything.
Vitelli works to get the Mind Bank to recognize him. He's about
to damn the microchip back to the silicon hell from which it was
spawned when finally, Brother comes online. The screen flashes a few
words, welcoming him to the inquiry database. Fingers flash over the
keypad, and Brother begins to give him options. Computers don't like
to offer information, but rather force the user to ask the right
questions. Vitelli starts asking some tough ones, and Brother chews
on them for a few seconds.
Vitelli sits for a moment while Brother works on this one.
Next obvious question:
A brief pause. Brother almost seems reluctant. Vitelli waits in tense
silence as the lights flash around him.
WHERE'S THE LIFE FORM NOW?
PFC BOOTHS posted by Asmodean 12.21.99
"Oh, fuck me." Booths' voice is quiet, solemn, and utterly drained of
emotion. "Stone, get Leon to run scans on the Korea. Damn this shit!"
He sits down, swipes the scrim cloth from his head. Despite the cold,
it's soaked with sweat. A quick glance at the monitors shows his own
heart rate and stress levels beginning to max out.
Calm it, he thinks. Iceworld, iceworld, iceworld.
Slowly, Booths tries to control his breathing, calming himself enough
to think clearly. "Damn it. No civvie gets the drop on the marines.
We need to get them back here and work on something!"
CPL BRIMSTONE posted by Aaron 12.22.99
Brimstone fights the chill running up her spine. She feels like she's
got a lot of options, but most of them involve getting out of the
APC, which is the last thing she wants to do. She looks at the two
remaining sentry guns with a glimmer of hope. She finally gives in to
her frustration, practically shouting into the receiver.
"Leon, what the fuck should we do?!"
She doesn't wait for an answer, because she already knows. They don't
have any options. "Booths, we're going back to the crew decks. We've
got to warn the others." Veins stand out on her forehead. She smashes
her fist into the command console. "Son of a bitch!"
That's when she notices the waiting message. Officer's eyes only,
huh? Their officer in charge is missing, maybe dead. "Leon, I want
access to this communique. Fuck the chain of command. I need to know
what it says. Have you read it?" Brimstone hurriedly grabs a satchel
while she awaits an answer. She loads up on pulse rifle magazines and
slings the sack over her shoulder.
PFC BOOTHS posted by Asmodean 12.23.99
A heavy thump. Booths unclasps his breastplate, and the smartgun
falls to the floor. The scrim joined it. In one pace, he reached
Brimstone, takes her by the shoulders, and spins her around to face
him. His shotgun still hangs by its strap.
He looks her straight in the eyes, and sees the fear in them. "Stone,
listen to me." Booths' voice is intense, and his stare more so. He's
had enough time to think.
"Whatever took Fleming and the other got past the guns and didn't
trip any sensors." He shakes her to emphasize his point. "Think! If
we run out there, we run the same risk. Here, we have a chance to
coordinate. Get Leon to run ultrasounds. Make a plan." He doesn't
soften his gaze or grip on her shoulders. Quite likely, Brimstone
could wipe the floor with him. Booths may be obsessed, but he's no
fool. Chances are that if they go out there, they're dead.
"If anything, let me go. You stay in touch with Leon." He lets his
hands drop, but not his steely gaze.
WO LEON posted by Pepper 12.23.99
Leon can hear the desperation in their voices, but doesn't have any
words to soothe them.
"Listen, about the communique: I haven't read it. And I wouldn't be
able to tell you if I had. I'm sorry, Brimstone. If Fleming's MIA,
only Moore is authorized to access that message." He can predict her
protests, but it is procedure, and he's programmed not to change his
mind about it.
"And I don't see what more I can learn about the Korea, Booths." The
android seems unnaturally calm. He is, after all, synthetic, and
hardly disturbed by the immediacy of the troops'
circumstances. "You've seen the scans. I can't pick up anything as
minute as an individual on these, anyway."
He checks the readouts on his own board and tries to find something
useful to give them. "Temperatures have a changed a little. You've
probably noticed. There seems to be more power routed to the life
support. The ship will do that automatically if it senses an intruder
coming through the cargo dock. It just took a little while to warm up
for you.
"Engine core temperatures are unchanged. The powerplant's holding,
actually heated up another half a degree since our arrival. At this
rate she'll hit critical thermals in 90 hours, well after your
nearest approach to Rodina.
"And about the sentry guns. I don't think they're armed. Fleming
would have had to give the order to set them on full-track status,
and I never heard him give such an order. They may very well have
tracked something, but they wouldn't have fired. At least, I've never
heard of anything that wouldn't show up on either infrared or
ambient."
Booths and Brimstone both realize he's correct. They also know,
from many set-ups and tear-downs of the sophisticated weapons, that
they're controlled from their own terminals. Each sentry gun case
comes equipped with its unique control device. It's used to arm or
disarm, to set for various tracking configurations. If the guns
aren't already armed, they can't be, not without their particular
terminals. And if Duarte or Sabo were carrying those terminals,
they're stuck with six useless sentry guns.
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