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jeriendhalLonger than usual this time, mostly because I've been writing for a couple of days without being able to post.
She found a float chair in a storage closet, which she used to move Marty down the corridor, away from Medical Section, conscious of the fact that at any moment Security could finish mopping up the “riot” and remember that they hadn’t heard anything from Captain Barloch for quite some time.
“We need to get to the dorm where the others are being held,” she told Marty as she pushed him along.
“No, they will come later. First we must hook up with the rioters,” he corrected.
“That’s where Security is right now, Marty. Don’t we want to avoid them?”
“Oh, no,” he said calmly. “Once they’re dealt with it isn’t like there’s going to be anyone else available to stop us.”
She opened her mouth to protest again, but shut it before she could say anything. Madness had gotten them this far, and if she died in the next five minutes, at least it be from something she’d decided to do, not just obeying the Wise Master’s orders. “What do we do when we get there, Marty?”
“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”
Then, feeling like an idiot, she asked, “What does the Holy Den Mother think is going to happen?”
“She thinks there’s going to be a miracle.”
* * *
As they approached the nexus of the fighting, they came to a knot of four security guards in light armor, holding heavy plasma rifles in their hands, evidentially maintaining a perimeter around the disturbance to prevent a breakout while closer units moved in with weapons that wouldn’t risk serious damage to the station’s systems. Their lieutenant glanced at them as they approached, looking more irritated than aggressive. “You there! Get back to your damned dormitory!”
“I’m trying,” Whitepelt whined, pushing Marty along. “Everybody I run into keeps saying I have to go someplace else!”
The creo lieutenant looked over Marty with mild alarm. “He looks injured, why isn’t he in the medical section?”
“I can’t get there! They told me Captain Barloch was in there and I wasn’t supposed to come near the place!”
“Wait, the captain is still in Medical? I thought he was just pulling a couple of prisoners out of there.”
“Apparently Captain Barloch is incapacitated,” Marty told them.
“I wasn’t informed of this!” the lieutenant said, looking worried. He turned to his sergeant. “Stay here and stop anyone from leaving. I’m going to find the captain and see what happened. You two…” He waved at Whitepelt and Marty in annoyance. “Go find a place to sit and wait for a medtech.” He stomped away, calling into his com for the late Captain Barloch, not knowing he was beyond answering.
“Incapacitated” Whitepelt hissed to Marty.
“Dead certainly qualifies as incapacitated,” he replied.
“Are you two fuzzies still here?” the sergeant asked. “You heard the lieutenant. Go find a waste trap to clean or something.” He turned his back to them to sight his rifle up the corridor. So he never knew what happened when Whitepelt pulled her pistol out from where she’d hidden it in a side pocket of Marty’s float chair and shot him in the back. The others turned, trying to bring their rifles around as she fired twice more, killing them both. The burned meat smell filled her nostrils again, and she swallowed down her gorge as she took the rifles from their dead hands and piled them in Marty’s lap.
“Does that ever get easier?” she asked.
“Only if you’re mad.”
She took up one of the rifles, leaving Marty behind as she trotted forward towards the riot. It was strangely quiet at the moment, as both sides remained under cover, waiting for the other to make a move. The air was thick with smoke and some sort of gas that made her nose twitch. Ahead she could see another squad of creo in security armor, carrying shields made of clear plastic, stunner pistols in their hands. One of them was saying, “…still haven’t heard anything from Captain Barloch. He said he was going to take care of something in Medical while he waited for the Wise Master’s go-ahead.”
“I still say we should just seal the doors and turn down their oxygen supply until they give up,” another replied. He turned around, spotting Whitepelt. “Hey you! What are you doing?” The security trooper raised his pistol. Instinctively, Whitepelt’s finger pressed down the trigger of her rifle, but nothing happened. She flattened onto her belly as the trooper fired over her head, and frantically clicked the selector switch from SAFE. In her haste, she clicked down twice, so when she fired, instead of a superheated plasma blast striking the trooper, a stubby cylindrical object was punted from the under-barrel launcher, bouncing off the deck to strike him in the chest. He staggered back a step as it fell to the floor, then cried out, “Gren--!”
The rest of his words were lost as the little cylinder exploded, the flash blinding Whitepelt as a wave of heat traveled up the corridor and the squad of security troopers disappeared in a cloud of flames. By the time she was able to see properly again the fire alarms were shrieking and the hallway had disappeared in a cloud of extinguisher gas. She grabbed a breather from an emergency cupboard set in the wall and stumbled forward through the haze. Her footpad slipped on something and she looked down to see blood was filling the corridor, dripping through the cracks and tears in the twisted and bent floor plates, spilling out from the perforated bodies of the Security troopers. Some distant part of her mind told her that these bodies hardly mattered, for hadn’t she killed six other people already, but all she knew is that she had to get away from them, get away from the blood, as quickly as she could.
She emerged from the smoke to be stopped short by a barrier made of overturned tables and cots in front of a dormitory entrance. A male vulpine stuck his head over the barrier, a stunner in his hand, pointing it at her head. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“My name is Whitepelt. We’re leaving,” she told him.
TBC
She found a float chair in a storage closet, which she used to move Marty down the corridor, away from Medical Section, conscious of the fact that at any moment Security could finish mopping up the “riot” and remember that they hadn’t heard anything from Captain Barloch for quite some time.
“We need to get to the dorm where the others are being held,” she told Marty as she pushed him along.
“No, they will come later. First we must hook up with the rioters,” he corrected.
“That’s where Security is right now, Marty. Don’t we want to avoid them?”
“Oh, no,” he said calmly. “Once they’re dealt with it isn’t like there’s going to be anyone else available to stop us.”
She opened her mouth to protest again, but shut it before she could say anything. Madness had gotten them this far, and if she died in the next five minutes, at least it be from something she’d decided to do, not just obeying the Wise Master’s orders. “What do we do when we get there, Marty?”
“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”
Then, feeling like an idiot, she asked, “What does the Holy Den Mother think is going to happen?”
“She thinks there’s going to be a miracle.”
* * *
As they approached the nexus of the fighting, they came to a knot of four security guards in light armor, holding heavy plasma rifles in their hands, evidentially maintaining a perimeter around the disturbance to prevent a breakout while closer units moved in with weapons that wouldn’t risk serious damage to the station’s systems. Their lieutenant glanced at them as they approached, looking more irritated than aggressive. “You there! Get back to your damned dormitory!”
“I’m trying,” Whitepelt whined, pushing Marty along. “Everybody I run into keeps saying I have to go someplace else!”
The creo lieutenant looked over Marty with mild alarm. “He looks injured, why isn’t he in the medical section?”
“I can’t get there! They told me Captain Barloch was in there and I wasn’t supposed to come near the place!”
“Wait, the captain is still in Medical? I thought he was just pulling a couple of prisoners out of there.”
“Apparently Captain Barloch is incapacitated,” Marty told them.
“I wasn’t informed of this!” the lieutenant said, looking worried. He turned to his sergeant. “Stay here and stop anyone from leaving. I’m going to find the captain and see what happened. You two…” He waved at Whitepelt and Marty in annoyance. “Go find a place to sit and wait for a medtech.” He stomped away, calling into his com for the late Captain Barloch, not knowing he was beyond answering.
“Incapacitated” Whitepelt hissed to Marty.
“Dead certainly qualifies as incapacitated,” he replied.
“Are you two fuzzies still here?” the sergeant asked. “You heard the lieutenant. Go find a waste trap to clean or something.” He turned his back to them to sight his rifle up the corridor. So he never knew what happened when Whitepelt pulled her pistol out from where she’d hidden it in a side pocket of Marty’s float chair and shot him in the back. The others turned, trying to bring their rifles around as she fired twice more, killing them both. The burned meat smell filled her nostrils again, and she swallowed down her gorge as she took the rifles from their dead hands and piled them in Marty’s lap.
“Does that ever get easier?” she asked.
“Only if you’re mad.”
She took up one of the rifles, leaving Marty behind as she trotted forward towards the riot. It was strangely quiet at the moment, as both sides remained under cover, waiting for the other to make a move. The air was thick with smoke and some sort of gas that made her nose twitch. Ahead she could see another squad of creo in security armor, carrying shields made of clear plastic, stunner pistols in their hands. One of them was saying, “…still haven’t heard anything from Captain Barloch. He said he was going to take care of something in Medical while he waited for the Wise Master’s go-ahead.”
“I still say we should just seal the doors and turn down their oxygen supply until they give up,” another replied. He turned around, spotting Whitepelt. “Hey you! What are you doing?” The security trooper raised his pistol. Instinctively, Whitepelt’s finger pressed down the trigger of her rifle, but nothing happened. She flattened onto her belly as the trooper fired over her head, and frantically clicked the selector switch from SAFE. In her haste, she clicked down twice, so when she fired, instead of a superheated plasma blast striking the trooper, a stubby cylindrical object was punted from the under-barrel launcher, bouncing off the deck to strike him in the chest. He staggered back a step as it fell to the floor, then cried out, “Gren--!”
The rest of his words were lost as the little cylinder exploded, the flash blinding Whitepelt as a wave of heat traveled up the corridor and the squad of security troopers disappeared in a cloud of flames. By the time she was able to see properly again the fire alarms were shrieking and the hallway had disappeared in a cloud of extinguisher gas. She grabbed a breather from an emergency cupboard set in the wall and stumbled forward through the haze. Her footpad slipped on something and she looked down to see blood was filling the corridor, dripping through the cracks and tears in the twisted and bent floor plates, spilling out from the perforated bodies of the Security troopers. Some distant part of her mind told her that these bodies hardly mattered, for hadn’t she killed six other people already, but all she knew is that she had to get away from them, get away from the blood, as quickly as she could.
She emerged from the smoke to be stopped short by a barrier made of overturned tables and cots in front of a dormitory entrance. A male vulpine stuck his head over the barrier, a stunner in his hand, pointing it at her head. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“My name is Whitepelt. We’re leaving,” she told him.
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-09-03 02:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-03 08:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-03 02:38 pm (UTC)Yeah, you need to do that definitely :)
and Royce meant
mjkj
no subject
Date: 2009-09-03 03:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-03 02:35 pm (UTC)...woah, a grenade-miracle ... or was that a miracle-grenade?
nice one - thank you =)
mjkj