FIC: GoG: Mother of Exiles, Part Three
Aug. 31st, 2007 04:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalPosting this here since the Terinu forums seem to be down.
1300 hours (twenty minutes earlier)
“Are you all ri—“ his twin started to ask again.
“Fine,” Rufus snapped. “I’m perfectly fine.” Actually he wasn’t fine at all, perfectly or imperfectly. Realizing that it might be his last chance before he found himself surrounded by a mob of nearly thirty hairless, sweating humans, he’d taken the opportunity when his twin’s back was turned to inject himself with a hit of Juno to calm his nerves. Except that the Juno didn’t seem to be working. The shakes had stopped but that hadn’t prevented his mind from racing as the sheer insanity of this operation began to make itself clear to him.
We’re going to attempt a frontal assault on Bloody Chan, just to kidnap some alien and free a couple of others, he thought. And you let yourself be talked into going along, idiot Normal people avoided pirates, especially that one. Worse, there were apparently two of her now. With two crews. Two heavily armed crews.
He watched as the marines picked up the last of the stunned bodies of the warehouse’s employees and laid them in a row in the corner, while another marine pulled out the shipping crates that housed the containment magnets intended for the damaged pirate galleon. You don’t have to do this. It isn’t like they can force you to fight. The only thing really keeping here was the desire of his twin, who seemed to think that he’d be of some use. The sensible thing would have been to fly very quickly in the opposite direction from this place once they’d launched from the refueling station. So why didn’t you, fool?
That answer came easily. Because he honestly does think I might be of some use. For the life of him Rufus couldn’t figure out why. But it felt… I wish he hadn’t called Bethany. Damn him for making me feel ashamed.
It didn’t matter, none of it mattered. He’d help his twin get his friends out of here, then he’d fly the White Knight somewhere well out of Mavra Chan’s reach. There wasn’t any problem in the universe to big for him to fly away from, so long as he had his ship.
“Okay boys and girls, time to mount up!” Major Talbot called out. “First Platoon, go in the first truck with Lt. Freeman. Your assignment will be the spike the intact galleon’s guns so they can’t fire on us. Second Platoon, you’ll be with me and our Freeman’s twin, while we infiltrate the interior of the damaged galleon and locate our targets. Clear?”
The marines made relatively quiet noises of assent, salutes were exchanged, and then Rufus squeezed between his twin and Freeman in the cargo box of one of the trucks.
“So exactly how much of a deathtrap is this going to be?” he asked rhetorically, as the ancient truck began rolling and bumping over the cracked surface of the tarmac, the heat in the cargo box rapidly rising to suffocating in the heat of the planet’s noonday sun.
Freeman gave him a cheery grin. “Oh nova, this’ll be buckets easier than a boarding action in space. No chance of getting your armour holed by a stray shot and your blood boiling off in the vacuum at least. Course we aren’t going to be wearing armour either.”
“What a cheery thought,” he replied. At a motion from the Major he quieted down, as the truck came to a halt in the shadow of one of the ships. Rufus held his breath as the marines around him tightened their grips on their weapons, as the driver spoke to the guard at the ship’s perimeter. Then the truck’s hydrogen motor roared to life again as it backed up to the open cargo lock of the ship. When it stopped, the Major raised his hand, and thirty marines, Rufus and his twin, all rose as one, facing the truck’s cargo door.
“Come on, you dregs,” he heard a female, nasal, Vulpine accented voice call out as the door was unlatched opened. “Help me get these containment rings back into Engineering before the Chief gives me any more—“ The door opened to reveal a vixen dressed in dirty coveralls, looking up in astonishment at the array of weapons pointed at her face. “Oh, fragg!”
The rifle of the nearest marine fired at point blank range, and her body dropped with a thud to the floor of the cargo bay, a neat, burned dot at the center of her forehead, steaming slightly as the interior of her brain cooked off. Three more shots took down her human and Creo helpers before they could call out an alarm, and a fourth killed the guard leaning up against the far hatch leading into the interior of the ship. Then the platoon was rushing forward, spreading out to the corners of the cargo bay, checking for any additional pirates that might hiding behind crates or stowed equipment. It seemed an eerily silent affair to Rufus. The shots from marines’ weapons had been near-inaudible, low powered laser shots, barely making a crackle as their superheated light ionized the air. At a motion from his twin, Rufus followed both him and Freeman as they stepped down lightly from the truck and ran up to the interior hatch. He spared a single glance back at the dead vixen, as the major and Freeman held a quick, whispered conference.
“Continue forward,” the Major ordered softly. “Keep them guessing about our movements for as long as you can.”
“Yessir,” Freeman agreed. “The cell block ought to be one level up and portside, about twenty five meters from the gangway.”
Talbot nodded. “Right. Sergeant Gant, the door if you please.”
A marine sergeant touched the hatch controls, as the rest of the platoon moved out of the line of sight of the passageway. It was barely open ten centimeters when two other marines tossed grenades inside. Rufus jumped as there was a loud double flash of light and twin BANGS, as the stun and EMP grenades went off simultaneously, disabling anyone in the hallway and frying watching cameras at the same time.
“Go, go, go!” Talbot ordered and the marines rushed forward. Rufus and his twin followed a moment later into a wide, empty intersection of two passageways. He clapped his hands to his ears as an alarm began to sound and a voice called over the comm system out “All hands! Ground assault in progress! Prepare to repel boarders!”
“Sergeant Gant! You, Phillips and Captain Brushtail here,” Talbot pointed to Rufus, “hold position and maintain control of this junction. We’ll move forward and take the main personnel hatch and continue the search for the target!”
“Yessir!” Gant answered, and the rest of the unit moved down the passageway. Rufus let a small sigh of relief as he realized that most of the potential fighting was going forward with them. He was safe, for now.
TBC
1300 hours (twenty minutes earlier)
“Are you all ri—“ his twin started to ask again.
“Fine,” Rufus snapped. “I’m perfectly fine.” Actually he wasn’t fine at all, perfectly or imperfectly. Realizing that it might be his last chance before he found himself surrounded by a mob of nearly thirty hairless, sweating humans, he’d taken the opportunity when his twin’s back was turned to inject himself with a hit of Juno to calm his nerves. Except that the Juno didn’t seem to be working. The shakes had stopped but that hadn’t prevented his mind from racing as the sheer insanity of this operation began to make itself clear to him.
We’re going to attempt a frontal assault on Bloody Chan, just to kidnap some alien and free a couple of others, he thought. And you let yourself be talked into going along, idiot Normal people avoided pirates, especially that one. Worse, there were apparently two of her now. With two crews. Two heavily armed crews.
He watched as the marines picked up the last of the stunned bodies of the warehouse’s employees and laid them in a row in the corner, while another marine pulled out the shipping crates that housed the containment magnets intended for the damaged pirate galleon. You don’t have to do this. It isn’t like they can force you to fight. The only thing really keeping here was the desire of his twin, who seemed to think that he’d be of some use. The sensible thing would have been to fly very quickly in the opposite direction from this place once they’d launched from the refueling station. So why didn’t you, fool?
That answer came easily. Because he honestly does think I might be of some use. For the life of him Rufus couldn’t figure out why. But it felt… I wish he hadn’t called Bethany. Damn him for making me feel ashamed.
It didn’t matter, none of it mattered. He’d help his twin get his friends out of here, then he’d fly the White Knight somewhere well out of Mavra Chan’s reach. There wasn’t any problem in the universe to big for him to fly away from, so long as he had his ship.
“Okay boys and girls, time to mount up!” Major Talbot called out. “First Platoon, go in the first truck with Lt. Freeman. Your assignment will be the spike the intact galleon’s guns so they can’t fire on us. Second Platoon, you’ll be with me and our Freeman’s twin, while we infiltrate the interior of the damaged galleon and locate our targets. Clear?”
The marines made relatively quiet noises of assent, salutes were exchanged, and then Rufus squeezed between his twin and Freeman in the cargo box of one of the trucks.
“So exactly how much of a deathtrap is this going to be?” he asked rhetorically, as the ancient truck began rolling and bumping over the cracked surface of the tarmac, the heat in the cargo box rapidly rising to suffocating in the heat of the planet’s noonday sun.
Freeman gave him a cheery grin. “Oh nova, this’ll be buckets easier than a boarding action in space. No chance of getting your armour holed by a stray shot and your blood boiling off in the vacuum at least. Course we aren’t going to be wearing armour either.”
“What a cheery thought,” he replied. At a motion from the Major he quieted down, as the truck came to a halt in the shadow of one of the ships. Rufus held his breath as the marines around him tightened their grips on their weapons, as the driver spoke to the guard at the ship’s perimeter. Then the truck’s hydrogen motor roared to life again as it backed up to the open cargo lock of the ship. When it stopped, the Major raised his hand, and thirty marines, Rufus and his twin, all rose as one, facing the truck’s cargo door.
“Come on, you dregs,” he heard a female, nasal, Vulpine accented voice call out as the door was unlatched opened. “Help me get these containment rings back into Engineering before the Chief gives me any more—“ The door opened to reveal a vixen dressed in dirty coveralls, looking up in astonishment at the array of weapons pointed at her face. “Oh, fragg!”
The rifle of the nearest marine fired at point blank range, and her body dropped with a thud to the floor of the cargo bay, a neat, burned dot at the center of her forehead, steaming slightly as the interior of her brain cooked off. Three more shots took down her human and Creo helpers before they could call out an alarm, and a fourth killed the guard leaning up against the far hatch leading into the interior of the ship. Then the platoon was rushing forward, spreading out to the corners of the cargo bay, checking for any additional pirates that might hiding behind crates or stowed equipment. It seemed an eerily silent affair to Rufus. The shots from marines’ weapons had been near-inaudible, low powered laser shots, barely making a crackle as their superheated light ionized the air. At a motion from his twin, Rufus followed both him and Freeman as they stepped down lightly from the truck and ran up to the interior hatch. He spared a single glance back at the dead vixen, as the major and Freeman held a quick, whispered conference.
“Continue forward,” the Major ordered softly. “Keep them guessing about our movements for as long as you can.”
“Yessir,” Freeman agreed. “The cell block ought to be one level up and portside, about twenty five meters from the gangway.”
Talbot nodded. “Right. Sergeant Gant, the door if you please.”
A marine sergeant touched the hatch controls, as the rest of the platoon moved out of the line of sight of the passageway. It was barely open ten centimeters when two other marines tossed grenades inside. Rufus jumped as there was a loud double flash of light and twin BANGS, as the stun and EMP grenades went off simultaneously, disabling anyone in the hallway and frying watching cameras at the same time.
“Go, go, go!” Talbot ordered and the marines rushed forward. Rufus and his twin followed a moment later into a wide, empty intersection of two passageways. He clapped his hands to his ears as an alarm began to sound and a voice called over the comm system out “All hands! Ground assault in progress! Prepare to repel boarders!”
“Sergeant Gant! You, Phillips and Captain Brushtail here,” Talbot pointed to Rufus, “hold position and maintain control of this junction. We’ll move forward and take the main personnel hatch and continue the search for the target!”
“Yessir!” Gant answered, and the rest of the unit moved down the passageway. Rufus let a small sigh of relief as he realized that most of the potential fighting was going forward with them. He was safe, for now.
TBC
