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IC: Rodina, Council Chamber
Booths tuned the voices out. Plans this, plans that. The craving for
a cigarette increased, and his face went pale as he clenched his fists
and jaw both, to stave off the craving he despised in himself.
"We could use your help," he says. "You've been onboard already.
We're going to employ Healy's plan to move through the crew section,
establish a base zone. Then move systematically through the ship. If
we're lucky, we'll find something. But if there's anything to worry
about on that ship, we want to make sure we're ready for it." He
leans in and whispers to the corpsmen.
"So we could use whatever you can, ah, spare. My men will be in
position in thirty minutes. How quickly can you get us something
heavier than our shotguns?"
His mind tuned in again after Burnette finished his we're-all-in-it-
together bullshit. The only way that Booths would give Burnette
anything is with the barrel pointed his way and a 10mm parcel of
death grinning at his chest.
Patwardhan almost pulled him of his crutches, but he had to smile
anyway. He hobbled his way along, and then quietly, out of the corner
of his mouth, he whispers "Patty, you're my kinda girl." He grinned
crookedly, but that glimmer, that definitely homicidal spark, lit his
eyes at the thought of some mayhem.He looked over his
shoulder. "Leon, you coming?" Then continued on like a man possessed.
USS Gaines, Transport Corvette, 108th USMC, 'The Fighting Tigers'
As soon as the lock cycled them through to the Gaines, Booths felt it.
Death stalked the hallways and corridors of the ship that was a home
away from home. He undid the saftey strap on his holster, the button
making a dull thuk-like noise. His crutches continued on, beating a
stoccata rythm, and the sharps steps of his shoes played
accompaniment. He wondered if Death knew that pain was on the way.
Then he began to hear the hoarse breathing, the srabbling of carapace
on stell decking, the hiss of the... His crutches increased their
beat, and is hand reached down to clear the
pistol from its holster. His biceps and shoulder kept the crutch
steady as he hastened his way along. Unholy light shone in his eyes,
and then he grinned as he got into the cargo hold.
USS Gaines, Cargo hold
He steadied himself on the crutches, even as the others began their
fusillade of death. The creatures carapace glistened slickly.
Electrical impulses run down his spine, the central-nervous system
reacts, and his trigger finger pumps as his loathing, hate and fear
discharges itself in a primal scream. The sharp, multiple rapports
from the smaller calibre Military service pistols are interspersed
with the heavy thunder of the ugly revolver in Healy's hand. His lips
draw back in disgust as the creatures blood begins eating through the
flooring. She stops for a moment to give the two marines a 'do you
know how?' look before putting her radio away.
Booths shrugs, and crutched forward.
Healy spots the technician in the robotic frame, "Gonzales! Is that
you? Quick, shut the inner airlock door and get out of that thing,
we're going to need your help fast. I don't want this bay depressurizing if that shit eats through the outer door."
Healy stops barking orders for a few moments to gain control of her
nerves, "One second! Gonzales, stay in there once you've closed the
door, I have an idea." She turns to the two marines for her next
question, "I've never been on one of these military ships before, can
that thing (she indicates to the powerloader) fit in the corridors
between here and the armory and then all the way back to the umbilical hatch?"
Malevolent eyes settle on Healy as Booths swivels at her orders."Yes, they do fit as far as the armoury, but you've just come from the
umbilical. No way in hell."
He turned his back on her.
"You, Gonzales, or whatever your name is, secure the locks, and then
stand down. Patty, we'll need something heavier than these pea-
shooters." He gives the 9mm automatic in his hand a wave/shake.
His gaze travels down to the violated corpse not too far away now. He
raises his gaze to the techie. "You see anymore of these?" His gun
waves negligently at the rapidly dissolving carcass of the alien.
"Booths, perhaps you can guide our guests to the armory," Patwardhan
says with an almost imperceptable nod to her squadmate. "I'm going to
check with Brother to make sure that everything's ship shape. I don't
trust the civie techs to know how to deal with a military vessel."
Anticipating questioning glances wondering how a medtech might come
to know better, Patwardhan gives a sly smile. She holds her sidearm
between her thighs to allow her to slap in a new clip with her good
hand. "I'm completely qualified for comtech, I just happend to
speciallize in medicine." "Oh, grab me an incinerator and a bunch of
fuel tanks. If we do need some firepower, I want something I can
easily handle with my broken wing." She waves her bandaged forearm
for emphasis. "Yes, I'm checked out on those too," she says with
another sly smile. Gun in hand, just in case, Patwardhan starts off
for the computer core.
Alex let out a sigh of relief when the bullets came, desroying the
alien that was coming towards him. After the people new to the cargo
bay spoke up, the exoskeleton flared to life, an ironic bit that made
Alex laugh, even through the pain caused by his
chipped teeth.
It was a rueful laugh, and Alex keyed in the sequence to close the
inner airlock doors that were open in the bay. He stayed right where
he was, though.
"I haven't seen any other of those things," Alex told the Marine who
addressed him. "But that one killed the insurance rep. She's over
there," indicated Alex with a jerk of his head in the direction of
the crates, near where the rep had been torn to shreds.
"Healy, you want I should stay here or what?" he said, with some
exasperation in his voice at her conflicting requests. "Oh, no.
Shit." he says as something flitted into his mind, "Jimmy's in here
somewhere," he said, loud enough for Healy to hear. "I left him next
to the pipe we were fixing. I left to go find the company rep," he
said.
He moved towards the group a bit, still staying in the exoskeleton,
wanting to believe that he was more inclined to live if he stayed
put. Whirr-clunk, whirr-clunk, went the feet of the powerloader as he
moved a few steps away from its start up position. "So are we gonna
find him or what?"
Healy cracks open her revolver and fumbles in her belt pouch to
produce some loose bullets. She begins replacing the spent cartridges
one by one. "Yeah, I don't want to leave anyone behind...". She snaps
the cylinder back into the gun and holsters it again.
She turns to Patwardan, hoping to stop her before she leaves. "Just a
sec... do you people have communications headsets or something in or
near the armoury? I've only got my radio, if we're going to split up
in here, we should stay in contact. We could go to the armoury, get
the gear, you can go up to the brain bank while Private Booths and
Gonzales start taking stuff from the armoury back to the Rodina,
meanwhile I'll go find Adams."
"Hey," called Gonzales from his perch in the loader. "Not to step on
your toes, sarge, but do you know your way around a crate like this
one? Spent some time in the Corp myself. I may be a little rusty, but
I might be a better person to lug a pulse rifle than one of these
others," he said, releasing the left control stick to point at the
two Marines collectively. "And I'm not sure you'd want to be alone
against one of those," he concluded, indicating the still sizzling
alien corpse.
Before she completely dissapears on her own, Patwardhan snaps open a
small locker bolted to one of the bulkheads and grabs herself a
comset and tosses one to Booths. "Keep in touch, Boothsy," she says
and turns again to head off to Brother's computer core.
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