By SCSPIEKER - Dec. 31, 1969 Holcomb tries to get the final word, drawing upon all that he has heard. "I want you to bring the science team back and seal up the passage, Miss Healy. Do it as quickly as you can, and be very careful. I think Mister Schabowski is right. For now, only authorized security personnel will carry firearms." Demonstrably he sets the heavy revolver down and immediately thinks better of it. He hands it directly back to Healy. "Be careful," he repeats, then points a finger. "Schabowski, I want you to go with them. You know this place better than any of us. And you can warn them where not to shoot. I truly hope it doesn't come to that. Now, good luck." He extends his warmest politician's smile to the diminished assembly around the blueprint-display table. There's far too many people in here, many more than are needed or wanted. Glowing monitors, sweat, chattering voices, indecision alley. Somebody spilled a Coke in the center walkway. Naturally, the operations center is powerless to summon a janitor to mop it up, leaving everyone's sneakers tacky, studded with cigarette filters. Throughout much of human history during periods of disasters, caffeine, tobacco and other recreational drugs are referred to for a soothing respite. History also shows that the intake of chemicals hasn't any significant effect on the outcome either way. Nature seems to do what it wants without concern for the human element. Ethics, compassion, empathy: these are the things that define the ideals of humanity. What are these to a whirling typhoon, a volcano forging a rift in the earth, a stampede of beasts? Gonzales steps out the elevator to Booths' grinning face and pulse- rifle muzzle playfully pointed in his direction. He joins the small group waiting there. Gonzales looks ridiculous, military-armored over a red jumpsuit. His eyes are fix on something else, on the open corridor hallway leading up to the Korea. It's an open artery to those things. At the moment, it's quiet, and now that everybody's arrived there's no reason to stand around. They're going back. Waving the incinerator's nozzle side to side as she takes the lead into the long hallway, right off Patwardhan suggests something that clearly means more than just bringing back the science team. "We could get the sentry guns from the APC. There's ammo in there. And detonation satchels, right?" Booths and Gonzales both nod, almost caught up in her excitement. Going through their mental inventories, thinking about something real in all this madness like the standard outfitting for a recon regiment's personnel carrier brings them a step closer to getting a hold on their fear. Patwardhan's pre- operation duties included the maintenance and loading of the sentry gun units. They're heavy. Takes two civilians to carry one, or a trained marine. Conscript the science boys and you've got yourself a small battery of rapid-fire auto-detecting armor-destroying melta- motherf-ckers to protect a hallway just like this one. Pat's still expounding theories, adding to the risks, and the greater rewards. "If we can get to the APC, we can drive it up to the dropship! Fatman and Little Boy are in there, Booths! We're talking about two f-cking nukes, Bootsy!" She laughs, smacks his armor hard, embraces, kisses him. All fear is forgotten, for at least the two of them. [Sato] Sato stays quiet as the group enters the umbilicus and makes sure the airlock to the anchor is secure before continuing with the others. He attempts a manual override on the airlock which will allow him to regain some authority of its operation before going through. Sato switches on the motion sensor as he strides towards the Korea and joins the back of the group. As Sato walks, his eyes shift periodically from the motion sensor to the surrounding area. Sato's face darkens visibly as he hears Booths, Patwardhan and Gonzales talking about making a run for the APC. Overkill, christ, now they were talking about picking up demolition packs and some thermonuclear weapons. Sato risked a glance at Schabowski and silently counted the seconds before the head engineer blew his top again. Sato figured the smart thing for him to do would be to shut up since the military types had the control anyway. Then he realized if he was smart he probably wouldn't have volunteered to go on a ship full of killer xenos. Sato moved past some of the others and near Patwardhian before speaking. "If these xenos are half as bad as you describe then our science team will be eaten by the time you make your shopping run.", Sato says flatly, hoping the tone will come off as professional. "My suggestion is to stick to the original plan and get them off the Korea first. If you still want to pick up some weaponry we can discuss another trip with Holcomb later. Those guns aren't going anywhere.". [Booths] "Life's a bitch tech-boy." Booths smiled unpleasantly. He lifted the M41A, and gave it a little shake. "This is just a toy gun compared to something that's waiting for me at the APC, and I'd rather face those alien motherfuckers with something approaching even footing." "And your lab boys should be mince already, anyway." Booths remembered his oath, cursed himself mentally. These guilt trips were becomming too much of a scene for him. "Look, forget I said that. Focus on this techie," He took his left hand from the weapon, and extended the index finger, "on that APC is my Smartgun. And if you want to live past today, make this you top priority, We. Come. First." Booths focused back on tracking shadows, switching to his vision enhancers, just in case. "End of discussion." "Hey Gonzo, gimme a couple of spare boom-booms for this stick." [Gonzales] The cargo-handler gone Marine nodded and unslung the ammo satchel, shaking it open and holding it out towards Booths, unwilling to sling his rifle. Bad things could happen then, and it was just as easy for Booths to get the grenades out himself. "We could've kept those older smartgun mod's off your Corp ship, you know. Of course, twenty-twenty hindsight and all that shit. But I'm of the mind that we get the eggheads out pronto, then worry about getting more boom-booms if we all have our fingers and toes left." The party ventures into the docking anchor as Sato closes the hatch behind them. Anchor 7 is quickly sealed, effectively locking them out of Rodina. Next stop: Korea. Booths grabs a generous helping of M40 rifle grenades, loading them quickly into the launcher magazine. The extra grenades find their way into his pocket. Without breaking stride, Booths has just tripled his firepower. The tightly-packed group continues up the 100m docking anchor. Now the outer hatch is visible in the distance. It's open to the umbilicus corridor beyond, validating their fears. For a while now, there's been nothing standing between their station and the infested ship docked to it. Worse, there's no sign of the security team that was assigned to guard it. Now that she thinks of it, Healy never met up with the Gaines guards, either! She tries the radio, getting no response other than a voice from operations: "We're trying to contact them, too. No word yet. Everything okay down there?" [Gonzales] "Uhm," said Gonzales, breaking the silence of the team besides the clicking of Booths loading his grenade launcher. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't there guards here? Before, I mean. And am I the only one with the cold sweat running down my spine?" he said as he clutched his rifle a tad bit tighter than usual. [Booths] "Healy, Bod, bring up the rear and cover us from behind. Pay attention to the ceilings." Booths directs, trying to sound like the Sarge. One other thing he had learned. When people start loosing their heads, give 'em something to do. "Sato, keep an eye on that machine, Bowski, stay with him in the middle. Patty you're riding guard with the civvies. Gonzo, you an' me got point. Stay sharp. Above all, stay Iceworld guys." [Schabowski] "Yeah, sure, Boss" - Chris frowns, as he sees, that the soldiers won't mind blowing every inch of the station to kill the creatures, so any comments are useless. Instead he focuses on the machine - ~If we don't find some way, solution soon... only God may help us...~ - he thinks for a while, then says: "Oh, and, Gonzales, there should be some guards here, definitely. So far I can only think of one explanation of their disappearance. And you know, what it is..." - he scratches his jaw with anxiety in his gesture - "Another thing - the sounds of this place... changed. All the humms, buzzes, and stuff like that... vanished. Like in a big mortuary..." - he looks at the others, now with a new understanding of this sentence in his eyes. Then he nods, as if to himself, and starts staring at the machine, just to occupy his thoughts with other matters. Sato finds himself the center of attention. Or rather, the motion tracker in his hands becomes the focus for everyone save Booths and Gonzales, leading the way to the empty airlock at the end of the docking anchor. It clicks on dead air, sending back no signals. Past the suit lockers, air fill stations, finally into the airlock, wide open. They've come to the end of Rodina. Through the circular 2m hatch, the umbilicus corridor extends the long distance into the depths of Korea. To the untrained eye, it almost appears benign, even scrubbed clean. For Booths and Patwardhan it's a gate to hell. The tracker still reads negative. Already Sato's got the hang of it. He twists a knob, tries holding the thing away from his body for a clearer signal. Still nothing. Healy looks down the silent corridor, and around at the assembled would-be combatants... wondering if any of them are as scared as she is. She checks the rifle again to make sure it's ready to go, then looks expectantly towards booths, "This is your show Private, you know more about what we can expect then most of us... shall we do this?" [Mina] Although Mina she was a senior Federal Police Officer, she also knew that she was quite out of ~her~ depths. Virtually a desk jockey for the last few years, she had seen little in the way of action or arrests. Especially on Rodina. And there was another thing. How the does one arrest a homicidally inclined alien that that looks, according to the descriptions, like the next evolutionary step of the cockroach. This was freaking her out and it was all she could do to stay in control of herself. The very anticipation of what was going to happen was killing her. You die, it hurts for a second, the anticipation, on the other hand... well that lingers with you for a long time. Healy seemed to be cool, and collected. The marines were both maniacs, Schabowski was being passive in regards to the maniacs and Sato was keeping his head down. Mina felt the desperate need for a smoke. Hands shaking slightly, she drew out her packet and lit up. That calmed the nerves a bit. it also made her feel the weight of responisibilty. Healy maybe an experienced beat cop, but Mina was supposed to be aswell. "Screw the APC." Her voice breaks, and a cloud of smoke exhales. "I think we need to check after the xeno boys and the guards squad first, even if they are safe and sound." The group has stopped at the airlock to check for any clues. The lockers contain only spacesuits, and they all seem to be accounted for. Patwardhan's been outvoted on the issue of the APC. Biting her lip, she takes a long last look up the anchor corridor back to the central hub. She swings her gaze up through the airlock and down the umbilicus to Korea. She knows what's in there. They're all going to die, and they're too stupid to know it, she thinks bitterly. Let them. I'm not going to be around when they push the button. "We can't stand around here," she says impatiently. "Let's do this thing, Bootsy." She shrugs the incinerator more securely over her shoulder and stalks toward the final hatch. Somehow he's been elected to lead this outing, and the others are all looking to Booths for answers. As if to let him off the hook, the radios in Healy's and Mina's belts squawk out, "Security Three to Security One, do you read me? This is Stewart. We're in operations? Where the hell are you guys?" OOC: Whoever takes the call will discover pretty quickly that the guards were called away from their posts by someone from the comm center-- they're still trying to find out who it was. It seems like a typical case of crossed wires, the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing, but thank God they're okay. You guys just missed each other. Post your actions and send in your rolls! [Sato] "Well, that's good news, at least we don't have to hunt down the security team.", says Sato as he takes readings from the motion detector. "I just wish I could pick up where the damn science team is. Has the comm center exhausted all means of trying to contact them?" Finished with his current scan, Sato looks at Booths to see what will go down next. It seems he has also assumed Booths to take the role as leader. [Gonzales] From their position, facing inward from the starboard lock, Booths and Patwardhan both know enough about this ship's layout to guess it's position. About twenty meters to their right, putting it near the fore of the ship. The group awaits wide-eyed to hear more details. "It's not moving," Sato says at last. Alex's senses kick into the next gear up as he feels the sudden rush of adrenaline start to wash away the effects of the cold surroundings. Licking his lips subconciously, he takes a tentative step in the direction that Sato and the two REAL Marines pointed out. Finger on trigger, he suddenly wishes for the vast brightness of his old huge xenon-bulbed portable spotlight, liking its huge light beam better than the two little lights on his Marine issue helmet. Damn. He really liked that flashlight, and now it was probably still shining away in the depths of the Gaines. "So what now? Do we become the wolves or the lambs, huh?" he says, directing his question more towards Booths and Patwardhan than anyone else. [Schabowski] Schabowski sneers and replies, not looking directly at Gonzales, but rather towards the exit - "Well, if we want to become the wolves, then the aliens will surely be lions" - he smiles again to his own joke. ~Aliens - yes, this is a good word to describe them. They're so... different from anything man had seen before. Any plans, strategies humans developed so far thru their modern history may fail against these organisms, their moves cannot be predicted by normal means...~ - he thinks for a while, then he adds - "Correction - a wolf againt a lion would definitely have better chances to survive, than we have" - this time there is no smile on his face. [Schabowski] Healy alternates her looks between the tracker signal, the faces of her companions, and the cold steel of the closed hatch. She turns to the two marines in the absence of structured command, "Well Privates... I guess the next thing to do is check this out... probably just one of the science team." The last part is said with no small degree of doubt, and as she says it, Healy's hands close a little tighter around the firearm in her hands. "Okay... let's get this hatch open, no point in standing around here all day."