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A Space Odyssey Chapter 11


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#1 Guest_VigaHrolf_*

Posted 07 July 2004 - 04:18 PM

Author's Note: The crew of Gorion and the rescued Yolandan prisoner, Mazzy Fentan have finally broken free of the trap of the derelict Helios's Detention Center. The learned from one of the fallen guards that their intent had been to keep the Gorion crew occupied so that the ship itself could be seized. And upon exiting, Bran's attempts to raise Nalia onboard failed. Our story continues... now!

Disclaimers: Bad jokes and some violence

 
The crew of the Gorion’s march back to the gangway was unopposed. There was no movement on their suit sensors, no signs of more of the undead crew of the Helios. Still, vigilance was their watchword. When they reached the gangway hatch, the crew dropped into defensive positions, watching both the corridor and the hatch itself.

After a quick scan, Imoen set about working on the hatch controls. As she did, Bran, with his Bladesinger still trained on the sealed hatch, switched to the common band and announced, “I can’t raise Nalia. I’m just getting static.”

“Nothing?” asked Jaheira, concern evident in her tone.

“Nothing.”

“Then speed is kinda important,” added Imoen. Looking back from her work, she asked, “Are you sure you’re getting through and not getting jammed?”

Bran looked down at his wrist comp and studied the display. “I’m not showing any jamming, but I also can’t confirm that the Gorion is actually receiving. It could be some localized jammers, something the corpses set up so they can try to break in.” Looking over at where the disheveled Yolandan Fentan crouched, he activated his suit speakers and asked, “Fentan, did the corpses use jammers on you and your crew?”

“They used something that interfered with communications,” she replied. “But none of us were ever able to actually identify what it was. It’s akin to jamming but it didn’t show up as any sort of interference on our comm units. Why do you ask? Can you not raise your ship?”

“No. No I can’t,” replied Bran. “But I’m not getting any acknowledgment from the ship’s comm system either. That’s why I asked about the jamming. So what you’re saying is that they may be somehow blocking our signal?”

“Yes captain. That is what they did to us. It did not work well against short range transmissions, but long range could be disrupted.”

“So, either they’re jamming us somehow or they’ve gotten to Nalia. Bloody wonderful,” Bran cursed, rubbing a gauntleted hand over his helmet. Looking over at Fentan, he realized something. Snapping his fingers, he said, “And we need to get you on comms.” Turning to his navigator, he said, “Valygar, give Fentan a spare tac set, would you? And, when we hit the stairs, I want you to keep on trying the Gorion. Let me know immediately if you get through.”

Valygar nodded and unlimbered his pack. The dark skinned navigator rifled through his spare gear, quickly retrieving a spare tactical comm set. He handed it to the Yolandan and gave her the short version of the equipment briefing. Fentan nodded along as she fitted the headset and flipped it on. A couple of quick tests confirmed she was linked into the commnet.

As they worked, Bran turned his attention back to his sister and the hatch. “We good to go sis?”

“On your word, bro.” Imoen wrapped one hand around her gauss rifle and placed the other on the door panel.

“Alright everybody, four flights to G Deck and freedom. Minsc, safe Lilracor, he won’t be much use to us on the stairs.”

Minsc secured the Lilracor 900 to its harness and pulled out his backup weapon, a short barreled neutron blaster and boomed, “Minsc and Boo can still crush Evil even without Larry! We are ready for EVIL!”

Once the others acknowledged, Bran nodded to Imoen. “Do it.”

Imoen pressed the open button and the hatch slid open. Bladesinger ready, Bran charged forward, sweeping one side of the landing, followed by Imoen who covered the other side and staircases with her Krobler gauss rifle. There was no movement, no sound other than the sound of their own boots. Bran flattened himself up against the far wall, training his rifle on the stairwell to J Deck while Imoen swept the staircase down to L Deck. Both were empty.

“Clear!” called the Varnas siblings.

The rest of the crew filed onto the landing and Jaheira, still covering the rear, sealed the access hatch to K Deck. As she did, Bran and Imoen switched places, Imoen and her suit snoopers hunting for signs of undead crewers while Bran bent over the hatch controls that would seal off access from L Deck. A quick set of commands and the airtight doors slid shut, minimizing the chances they would be surprised from below.

With their only route now upwards, Imoen led off, scouting the way ahead while Bran trailed two risers behind, Bladesinger trained on hatchway above. Minsc and his neutron blaster followed a few steps behind, then Dr. Av’lina, then Fentan and Valygar, and finally Jaheira who walked backwards and covered the rear with her twin barreled blaster. They moved as quietly as they could in battle armor, but the metal risers of the stairwells made that a difficult proposition.

No undead greeted them on the landing for J Deck and as Imoen and Bran lead off for the stairwell to I Deck, Jaheira paused to lock down the access hatch for the stairwell they just exited. As the hatch doors slid shut, Jaheira rejoined the others, her blaster trained on the locked hatch to J Deck itself.

Meanwhile, Imoen was already halfway up the stairwell to I Deck, gauss rifle held tightly in her fists. Her suit’s snoopers reported nothing: no movement, no EM signatures, nothing. This lack of contacts was starting to make her nervous. If the corpses were planning on keeping them from the Gorion, these stairwells were the best place for an ambush. The hatchways themselves were easy enough to defend. Anyone on the stairs wouldn’t have a visual on anyone on the landing above until they reached last few steps and were fully in the sights of the defenders. Or they could be lurking on the stairwell up to the next deck, waiting for enough of them to come through the hatch. Neither was a pleasant prospect and she could feel the all too familiar sweats starting. Luckily, her biosuit whisked away the beads of sweat before they formed, but it did little for her nerves.

The I Deck landing held no threats however, as empty as it had been for the last five hundred years. “Halfway there,” she whispered into her mike as her eyes and sensors played over the desolate deck.

“Aye. Usually right about when the deck flies out from under you,” replied Bran as he trained his Bladesinger on the stairs up to H Deck. Despite the situation, he cracked a smile and softly called out the old training mantra from his spec ops days, “Sharp eyes.”

“Keen mind.” replied Imoen, breaking into the old chant as she carefully moved towards the H Deck stairs and trained her rifle on the open hatch above.

“Steady hands.” Came Valygar’s soft tone from the stairwell below as Imoen began to climb, rifle ready and eyes searching the risers.

“Stay alive.” Jaheira finished.

“Funny how sometimes this stuff is really fitting,” quipped Imoen who had come to a halt halfway up to H Deck.

“What’s that Im?” asked Bran, stopping himself and pressing himself against the far wall to get the best firing angle on the H Deck landing.

“Some left a little trapsie for our feetsies,” replied Imoen as she slung her rifle and crouched down. “Nothing too serious, just a simple tripwire tied to what looks like a fragger.” Imoen pulled her utility knife from her belt and knelt to disable the trip wire. With rock steady hands, she reached out to take hold of the tripwire. “Shouldn’t take me but a second…”

“Imoen, what you got?” asked Bran as his sister and scout’s words trailed off.

“Oh ho ho. Clever bastards. Figured we’d just snip snip then go boom. Bastards. This is going to take a bit longer,” she replied with a mixture of respect and annoyance. “It’s a frelling three stage trap. Tripwire, pressure pad on the riser above and a bloody deadman switch on the wire.” Anticipating the question, she answered, “I can get it, but it’s going to take me a second.”

Away went the knife as Imoen moved closer to where the explosive part of the trap had been secreted. After a moment’s study, the red haired scout reached down and flipped open her tool kit. Selecting the appropriate tools, she set to work disabling the trigger mechanisms. It only took her experienced hands a minute to liberate the two fragmentation grenades from both triggers and cradle. One eyebrow arched as she got a look at the design. Holding one out to her brother, she asked quietly, “Design look familiar?”

Not lowering his rifle, Bran looked down at the grenade. It did look familiar, but not in the manner he was expecting. He figured on something reminiscent of one of the artifacts at the Fleet museum, but instead found himself looking down at a Yolandan Mk VII fragmentation grenade. “Yes, yes it does Im. Fentan did mention at least a science officer, so she probably was with some other crewers. Looks like our undead friends liberated some of their gear.”

“Yup.” Imoen quickly hung the two explosive spheres off her belt. Giving them a pat, she said, “And I intend to return them to whoever dropped ‘em here. I hate messy people.”

“You? The queen of clutter?” teased Bran.

“Hey, I don’t make messes. I’m just order-impaired, so it’s okay. Anyone else, nuh uh. They’re slobs.” Imoen replied with a cheery smile.

“I’ll remind you of that next time you can’t find something.” Bran said with a half smile. Pointing to the landing above, he then added, “Now why don’t you get your order-impaired butt in gear so that the corpses don’t have time to leave us anymore messes?”

Imoen snapped off the worst salute in the history of salutes. “Aye aye captain sir!”

Bran groaned then gently prodded Imoen in the butt with one armored boot, earning him a raspberry from Imoen. After the impish flash, Imoen returned to business, scanning the way ahead. If there was one clever trap, there could be more and she would be damned if some five hundred year old dead guy got the drop on her.

With deliberate care and precision, she slowly ascended the rest of the way to the H Deck landing, gauss rifle held at the ready and eyes hunting for more traps. None appeared and the H Deck landing was as deserted as the previous landings. If it wasn’t for the trap she’d just found she’d be counting her lucky stars, but the trap proved at least one of the undead crewers had entered this gangway. And that one could have brought friends.

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as she got closer to the staircase to G Deck. The sensor display in her helmet showed no movement and no EM signatures but something just didn’t feel right. She heard Bran’s feet hit the H Deck landing and knew he was covering the upper reaches of the stairwell while she looked for traps. On instinct, she cast a glance up at the stairs herself and caught the slightest glint of metal where it should not have been.

Whirling, she shouted, “Cover! Cover!” and dashed for the dubious protection underneath the stairs. As soon as she turned, the air exploded with the sounds of weapon fire. Projectiles rained down from the stairwell above and Imoen’s motion sensors flared to life with multiple contacts on the stairs. She saw Bran take three silvery projectiles in the shoulder and back as he dove for cover under the stairs. Squeezing off a wild shot, she leapt in after him.

Slamming into Bran as she slid under cover, her hands fumbled for his back. “Bran? Bran you okay?”

Trying to disentangle himself from his sister as more projectiles rained down from above, he gave her a quizzical look. “Other than taking a sister in the shoulder and getting shot at again, I’m fine. Why?”

“Cause I saw you take a hit!” Her hand found one of the projectiles sticking out of Bran’s shoulder plate. A thin silver projectile came loose in her hand and she quickly held it out. “Needles. At least one of those bastards has a needler!”

“A five hundred year old one Im. I didn’t even feel them hit and my suit integrity indicators all read green. They never pierced the armor. Doubt they could, armor’s changed a hell of a lot.” A flechette round tore a gouge in the deck plate close to their hiding spot. “Course, those could,” he deadpanned.

Turning his attention from a relieved Imoen to the situation, he saw flashes of yellow and violet erupting from the hatch down to I Deck. The rest of the Gorion’s crew, or at least Minsc and Valygar were returning fire on their aggressors. Checking the heads up display statuses on his helmet screen and called out, “Jaheira, report.”

“All clear down here on I Deck but the undead have us pinned down on the stairs. We can’t get past the deck hatch to get up to you without running into a hail of gunfire,” replied Jaheira. “But we can give you cover fire to get out of there.”

“No good. We still need to get up to G Deck.”

“Any ideas then, captain my captain?” came Jaheira’s reply.

“I’m working on it,” replied Bran, cringing as another flechette round burrowed into the deck just inches away. Checking his sensor display, he could see that there were four figures on the stairs above. And now there were EM signatures outside the H Deck hatch. Multiple signatures of energy weapons. “And it just got a lot harder, we’ve got more corpses coming in on H Deck. Hang on.”

Turning to Imoen, he asked hurriedly, “Can you seal the hatch on this deck because we’re about to have visitors.”

“From here? Branny, I may be a tech wizard, but I can’t do magic. That panel is 7 meters through a hail of gunfire.” Imoen sassed back. “Plus, it’s too late.”

The pressure doors leading onto H Deck proper began to roll back. Shouldering his Bladesinger, Bran took aim on the hatch and while Imoen dropped prone and followed suit with her Krobler Mk 90 gauss rifle. The two Varnas siblings kept their weapons trained on the opening door as coherent energy and projectiles shredded the air around them, tearing new gouges and holes in ancient metal.




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