A Space Odyssey Chapter 16

Notebread:

1. The time scale of this particular universe does not follow the calendar of Faerun. It follows a Standard Calendar and as such has its own months. There is a reference here to the month of Dekarn, which is the equivalent of our October.

2. Notebread is fun.

Recap:
After rescuing one Mazzy Fentan and escaping numerous ambushes, the crew of the Gorion finally reached the airlock where they had docked. However, their ship was no longer present and the access gantry torn away. With the zombies in hard pursuit, the crew finds themselves trapped between hard vacuum and the undead. Hard decisions are ahead.

Our story continues..... NOW

 
Imoen Varnas finished her last weld on the ancient blast door and snapped off her plasma torch. Pointing to the still glowing seam, she flashed a triumphant smile at the dark skinned navigator who still labored with his final seal. “V, it’s sad, but you just cannot compete with the greatness that is her Imperial Cuteness, Imoen Varnas.”

Not even bothering to look up from his last seam, the navigator replied quietly, “Your Highness, I would never dare. I take too much pride in doing my job effectively to try and compare my welds to your stunning work.”

“Oh, you think you’re the best welder, Mr. Sulky Pants?” Imoen replied, debating whether or not to level a kick at his shins. “I’ll have you know that Nalia said that I wield a plasma torch with the most amazing level of skill she’s ever seen.”

“I believe she meant that its amazing that with your skills you haven’t managed to blow yourself up or burn off a few fingers,” said Valygar calmly as he deactivated his own plasma torch.

A kick to the shins was too good for him now, Imoen wagered. Fixing him with one of her patented stares, she fired back, “Well, when we get back on board, you ask Nalia and we’ll let her decide which of us is the best. And when she does, you’re gonna…”

“That’s one question that won’t be settled soon,” interrupted a voice as lifeless as the Helios’s crew.

Imoen, Valygar and Minsc all whirled to face the speaker. Comments died on lips as they caught sight of him. It was their captain, one hand resting on the heavy inner door of the airlock. His Bladesinger hung limply from his right hand and his shoulders were slumped. But what had stilled their tongues was their captain’s pale face and the three pale faces behind him.

Imoen, ever the quick witted, was the first to recover. Confusion sounding in her voice, she asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Strangely, it was the worried expression on his sister’s face that steadied the captain. Straightening slightly, he remembered he was still their captain, even if he was short a ship. If he let himself be beaten, his crew would be. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he replied, “I mean that Nalia won’t be able to settle this dispute for a while. The Gorion isn’t here.”

“What the hells is that supposed to mean?” demanded Imoen. “How can a DS-52C Star Runner just not be here? It’s a bloody heavy cargo ship!”

“I’m not sure why its not here, but the Gorion is missing and I can’t get Nalia on the comms.”

“Perhaps she was forced to undock,” offered Valygar. Looking at the captain and the others, he then added, “But its more than the Gorion not being here, is it?”

“You’re right,” he admitted. “The ship just isn’t here, but part of the gantry is.”

Both navigator and infiltrator swallowed hard as Minsc asked, “How can the gantry be here if little Nalia and the mighty Gorion are not?”

“It looks like some of our favorite undead friends found a way to breach the gantry security systems and force entry through the apron and past at least the first lock. After the first lock the gantry is vented, and from the look of it, by a full speed breakaway maneuver. I’m hoping that Nalia realized that the gantry was breached and tore out of here. But I can’t confirm that as I can’t reach her or the ship.”

There was silence in the staging chamber as the other members of the crew absorbed what Bran, Jaheira, Fentan and the doctor already knew. Imoen broke the silence first again, saying, “And we’re trapped in here too. Valygar and I just finished sealing the door. Not that it’s much of a way out.”

To emphasize her point, the sound of blaster bolts slamming into the other side of the hatch filled the chamber. Staring at the sealed hatch and then at his sensor readings, Bran said, “No, not so much. There are a few too many of our special friends outside that door. We’re going to need another way out of here.”

“Given the circumstances, there is only one feasible option,” sounded a clear voice from behind the captain. It was Mazzy, her face grim. “You and your crew should exit out the lock of your old gantry. The zombies cannot follow you into vacuum without environmental suits, and you may be able to reach your ship or at least reach another lock.”

“There is a flaw with your plan, Captain Fentan. You lack an environmental suit as well,” Jaheira pointed out.

“Indeed. I would remain and hold the staging chamber,” she replied, a look of grim determination on her face. “It is the least I can do after unwittingly being the bait in the trap that snared you. Plus I have some debts to settle.”

Bran looked at the Yolandan, standing there so resolute, her hands gripped around her salvaged neutron blaster. She voiced the plan that he had been thinking but couldn’t bring himself to suggest. Knowing she was a liability, she just volunteered to sacrifice herself to allow them to escape. That fact, that she was willing to lay down her life for people she normally would call enemy, grated on his psyche. Old wounds flared to life as the temptation of simply agreeing warred against his conscience.

Jaheira looked over at her lover’s face and saw the battle raging behind Bran’s brow. Stepping in, she waved her hands dismissively and said, “Captain Fentan, while that is a noble offer, we would no more leave you to certain death than we would any other member of our crew. It would be inhuman.”

Bran blinked as Jaheira forced the decision on him. He could have been angry, but he knew it was the right answer, even if it wasn’t the one he preferred or was the most tactically sound. Trying to manage a half smile, Bran echoed, “My X.O. is spot on Fentan. I’m not going to leave anyone to those monsters. We don’t leave people behind.”

Mazzy replied quickly, her eyes never leaving the hatch that was all that held back the zombies, “I will not have you risking your crew’s life on my part. It is unnecessary and unwanted. Take your crew and get out of here.”

“Fentan, I don’t know what happened to you here, but we bloody well rescued you and I’m not going to let you commit suicide now. We’ll find another way.”

Fentan lowered her neutron blaster, “This way is the easier.”

Bran shrugged and smiled, “Ask any of the rest of my crew. I’ve never been one to take the easy way. The stupid, the pig headed, yes. The easy, not so much.”

“Very well,” answered Mazzy, shoulders slumping in relief as the others chuckled.

The pounding on the corridor hatch grew louder. “Of course, now we’re going to need a new plan. One that doesn’t involve forcing Fentan to evolve the ability to breath vacuum.”

“Minsc says we blow the door and charge! We crush the evil zombies and wipe the decks clean of their evil!!” boomed the enthusiastic gunner.

“Oooh! Great plan! I love it! Let’s rock and roll!” echoed his homicidal disruptor cannon. “My kill count is nowhere near high enough to leave anyway.”

“While your plan possesses all the elements of a good holovid, Minsc, I don’t think we have screenwriters onboard to help keep our butts from getting shot off,” quipped Imoen.

Minsc blinked and cocked his head. “Boo says that little Imoen may have a point.”

“I’d say she does big guy,” said Bran. “Of course, we wait long enough, we’re gonna have to run your play.” Looking at Imoen, he asked, “How much longer can that door last?”

“Provided they don’t get any serious heavy weaponry up here, three to five minutes. Maybe less.”

“Not much time.”

“What about cutting through one of the walls and circling around the main force?” suggested Valygar.

“A bit impractical, this deck is crawling with these unnatural creatures,” answered Jaheira. “All we would do is substitute one bottleneck for another.”

“If through and around are out, that leaves over and under. We can go down easier than we can go up,” Bran stated. “One deck down we’ll be able to maneuver again.”

“Sounds practical,” replied Jaheira. “Of course it would help if we had a direction in mind beyond simply down.”

“One thing at a time. Right now, I want to get away from the welcoming committee. Then we figure out where to go next,” replied Bran. “So the plan is this. Imoen, you and Minsc are going to reinforce that hatch. And once it’s done, why don’t you two use those evil minds of yours and cook up some nice parting gifts.” Seeing the two smiles, he quickly added, “But nothing that is going to breach the hull.”

“Aww come on. That’s no fun,” pouted Imoen.

“Sorry kiddo. You can have fun later. The rest of you, follow me.”

Bran led the way into the abandoned armory while Minsc and Imoen started working on reinforcing the door. He set his suit sensors for highly localized scan, trying to locate power conduits, floor struts and the lay out of the deck below to pick the best place to begin cutting. The center of the armory floor appeared to be the best place to cut, with little other than grav plating and structural material between them and H Deck.

Pointing to the center of the deck, Bran said, “There is where we make our escape hatch. Right through there. Jaheira, you and Valygar will burn through with torches. Just watch out for the grav plating. Aerie, just sit tight. And Fentan..”

“Yes?” replied the Yolandan before Bran could finish.

“First, don’t interrupt me. Second, you’re going to tell me what you’re doing onboard this death trap and share what you know about her.”

“How I came aboard? Yes, I suppose that is a valid question, one I will admit I am surprised you haven’t asked before. Then again, the undead have not given us much chance for that,” answered the Yolandan captain, a momentary flash of pain swirling in her dark eyes.

“Not so much, no,” replied the dark haired captain as Valygar and Jaheira started to work on the deck plates. “But, we have a chance now.”

“Indeed. Indeed,” replied Fentan. Running one hand through her hair, she crouched down and stared at the deck, trying to decide where to begin. The harsh light of plasma torches cast a stark shadow on her face. From the other room, the sound of Minsc tearing away wall panels and Imoen’s torch hissing on metal melded with the sounds of the zombies beating against the hatch to create a cacophony of noise that threatened to drown out her thoughts. Finally, she gathered them and looked up at the expectant captain and asked flatly, “What day is it?”

“Day? It’s the 14th on the standard calendar.”

“What month?”

Bran blinked at the question as the realization of how long she could have been there set in. “Dekarn.”

It was Fentan’s turn to blink, “Dekarn? By the gods, it’s been that long now. It’s been nearly a month and a half since my ship sighted this blight.” She paused, staring up at the ceiling, “A month and a half… by the gods.”

She tugged at her battered environmental suit, trying to straighten it out, to make herself more presentable. Considering the situation, caring about her appearance seemed the most trivial of concerns, but looking just a bit neater, just a bit more controlled seemed of great importance. Feeling that she had done what she could to her appearance and that Bran had been patient enough with her, she began.

“My ship was the Peregrine, tasked with deep space exploration of this sector of unclaimed space to determine if there were systems or resources of value enough for my government to claim.”

“Your people looking to expand your sphere of control?” asked Bran in a voice Mazzy found strangely cold.

“Yes, much as your people or the Imperium, the Dohlmani, the Arachine or any number of other races,” she retorted. “Is that so wrong? Should my people be ringed in and forced to stay in what systems we now dwell? Should we be barred from exploring other systems?”

Bran swallowed his personal politics, as there were far more important things on the line than his feelings. Namely, the survival of his crew. Forcing himself to get the discussion back on track, he flatly replied, “No. It’s a free galaxy. And for your own personal edification, I don’t consider the Alliance my people, I’m an independent.”

Mazzy’s eyebrow inched up slightly but significantly. “Of course. I will remember that. But, since you are an independent, does anyone know you are out here? Will anyone try and mount a rescue if we cannot recover your ship?”

“Unfortunately… No,” admitted Bran.

“Good,” said Mazzy with obvious relief. “Then hopefully more ships will not come looking for you and fall prey to this trap,”

“That’s all good for them, but we still have our lives to save here,” chastised Bran. Looking around, he could see that Jaheira and Valygar had made good progress in slicing through the floor plates and from the evil chuckles coming from the main chamber, Minsc and Imoen were cooking up something delightfully nasty for the very insistent crewers on the other side of that hatch. Turning his attention back to Mazzy, he continued, “And we’re starting to run out of time to have our little chat that just might manage to that. So, why don’t you tell me how you got here, and when that info gets us off this hellship, we can toast our luck and spend all kinds of time getting to know each other.”

“Of course,” replied Mazzy with a slight nod of acknowledgement. “As I was saying, my crew and I were exploring the outer edges of this nebula, studying the birth of a new star when our sensors detected a large metallic object at the extreme edge of our sensor range. At first we thought it was nothing, perhaps some asteroid caught in the nebula. It didn’t seem to be particularly interesting, but my science officer, Patrick Took thought he detected some signs of refined metals and asked if we could alter course to investigate.”

A slight tremble crept into the Yolandan woman’s voice, “If only I had decided not to indulge his curiosity. It would have so quickly disappeared, carried back into the dark depths of that nebula by the heavy stellar currents. But instead, I decided we had time in our schedule and decided we could go take a look. That was my first mistake.” She paused and stared down at the floor for a moment as she fought back a treacherous tear,.

Silent to this moment, the doctor moved closer to the shorter woman and rested one hand on her shoulder. Mazzy waved off her offered sympathy, set her jaw and plunged onwards. “Once we began our approach, it didn’t take long for the nature of the anomaly to be revealed. It was this damned ship. Needless to say, there was no turning back at that point. An abandoned, derelict battle cruiser? Who could resist that?”

“We certainly couldn’t,” admitted Bran.

“I find myself having to be thankful for that, despite how badly it turned out for you,” she admitted apologetically. Sighing, she continued, “But, neither could we. My people were understandably excited. So, I ordered us to approach. She was dead in space, no power or signs of life, but she was still intact. This battle cruiser presented an enigma, one I mistakenly tried to solve.”

“Once we determined that the hull had enough integrity left to board, we entered the nebula and docked with the Helios at F deck. I led the boarding party, along with my science officer Took, one of our engineers, Tasselhoff, our doctor, Dr. Proudfoot, and my ship’s security contingent. What we found was a dead ship. All power had failed, from environmental systems to lights and gravity. The decks were full of free floating flotsam and jetsam and we had to be careful picking our way through the mess.”

“Our first goal was the ship’s bridge, so we began working our way up the decks. On D deck we found our first bodies. Wreathed in frost they floated across the deck, drifting in some macabre dance. Men and women, Terran, Yolandan, Seldaran, all in uniform and armed, staring out at us lifelessly,” the Yolandan continued, this time not waving off Aerie’s comforting hand, too deep in her own retelling. “D deck was a ruin, the corridors torn apart by small arms fire. Far worse were the frozen wounds of the crew themselves, bodies simply torn apart. It truly looked like the crew had turned on each other, slaughtering each other.”

“We wondered what had happened. Did they mutiny and did loyalists and mutineers fight until the ship was dead and lost? Or was their some more sinister or dangerous cause, some strange space pathogen? Or perhaps simply space dementia, brought on for being out on patrol too long? Neither Patrick nor Dr. Proudfoot could find any source of infection or significant radiation damage, just some residual unusual radiation left in the brain tissues.”

“It was here I made my second mistake and far more grievous mistake. Dr. Proudfoot wanted to take one of the bodies back aboard for analysis. He assured me that he could guarantee quarantine and despite my own misgivings, I gave him the okay. The doctor took two of the corpses and four of my six troopers back to the Peregrine.” She stared right into Bran’s eyes, the shame and guilt of a failed leader writ in the darkness. “That would be the last time I would see any of them alive.” She laughed bitterly, “I still see the eager light in Aadon’s eyes as I gave him the okay, the smile and his assurances he’d have an answer in ‘a jiffy, or at most three jiffies.’”

“I’m so sorry,” said the doctor, her blue eyes clouded with the pain of the Yolandan captain.

His face softened as the specters of the men and women who died under his command swirled up from his subconscious. He understood her pain, the heavy burden of command. Banishing those images, he extended his own sympathies. “Captain, I understand. Few who have ever taken the center seat have ever been blessed enough to not lose people.”

Captain Fentan slumped. “Aye. But so few are so cursed as to make one mistake so utterly disastrous that it costs them their ship and their crew and actually manage to survive.”

“No,” Bran admitted as he stared into the face of one of the true horrors of command. Searching for something to bolster the shorter captain’s spirits, he added, “But even fewer have a chance at revenge afterwards.”

A little light came back to Mazzy’s cheeks. “Indeed. You are correct in this captain.”

“What happened with your ship and with the Helios’s bridge?” queried Bran of the now more confident captain.

Tugging at her environmental suit to straighten it once more and setting her shoulders, she threw herself back into her story. “First the shorter answer. The bridge we never reached. All accesses up from C deck were sealed and welded shut, even lift tubes. And B deck is completely vented to space.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, tying to straighten it. “As to my ship… Doctor Proudfoot’s experimental subjects are what happened to my ship. At least that is what I assume. I never did find out. I assume they woke up once they thawed and then took the doctor. He had the knowledge necessary to incapacitate and then take over the crew.”

“What do you mean by ‘took the doctor’? And how would they use his knowledge,” Bran asked, dreading the answer he already suspected.

Mazzy answered him, her voice bitter. “That is the most insidious part of our enemies. The fallen join their ranks. All the undead have to do is touch them and they rise to join the army of the cursed, complete with all of the knowledge and skills they had in life. You end up not just fighting an undead beast, but one with every bit of ability of the friend you just lost.”

Gasps echoed throughout the comm system as the others who had kept an ear to the conversation broke their cover. Bran blinked as his mind bent around that piece of information. His thoughts went immediately to his missing chief engineer. If she had been taken, if she was one of them, the thought of the systems she controlled just made him shiver. “By the gods,” he whispered.

His eyes met the flat, emotionless eyes of the Yolandan captain. He saw his fears writ large on her azure eyes. “Yes,” she replied. “The math is absolutely frightening. I saw the results as the undead overrode our systems and security. The doctor had access to the environmental controls. It’s the only way my crew could have been overcome so easily.”

He nodded and flipped open the cover to his wristcomp. As he punched up the security functions of his suit, he said quickly, “Everybody, first, switch comms to Emergency Gamma band and encoding.” He watched as his command display registered the frequency shift change to the one comm channel whose encryption Nalia hadn’t designed. Once complete, he continued, “Even with this switch, we have to assume our communications are completely compromised. Also, I seriously suggest switching the security and computer master codes for your suits, just to be extra safe.”

“You don’t actually think they got her, do you bro?” asked Imoen from the other room.

“No. This is just a safety procedure. You know.”

“It better be all that it is, or those undead bastards are gonna get a whole lot deader,” Imoen replied, her voice hard as diamonds.

“I’ll be right there with ya sis,” Bran replied. Turning back to Mazzy, he asked, “How did you find out? That you’re ship had been taken? And what brought the power back on?”

“We brought the power back on. Picking our way through the Helios with no artificial gravity and all the free floating debris was taking far too long. We made our way to main engineering and after making some minor repairs, I ordered my X.O. to start transferring power to the ship. We powered up basic environmental systems and artificial gravity. It did make things easier, that is until the ambient temperature came up enough to thaw our friends outside.”

“So, you got power on here, what about your ship?” asked Bran.

“That took awhile. We were examining the status of the ship’s engines, hoping we might be able to fly her back to Yolandan space for complete analysis when we lost contact with our ship. Patrick thought it was simply background radiation from the nebula temporarily disrupting communication. When we couldn’t raise the ship on any channel for over a half hour, I decided we better go back and see if there was a way to rig something to penetrate the radiation.”

“By the time we got back, the ship had been completely taken over. They had my entire crew, they even responded to hails once we were close enough. We waltzed onboard, expecting no trouble and once we were aboard and unarmed, they attacked.”

“Patrick and I were attacked on the bridge, assaulted by my murdered bridge crew. We managed to fight our way free, only to be confronted by the undead members of the rest of my crew. We were forced to flee, pressed by our fallen crewmates. The only other survivor was Tasselhoff, who managed to survive the ambush laid for him in engineering. The three of us escaped back to the relative safety of the Helios.”

“From this cursed vessel, we watched the Peregrine undock and start to pull away. Apparently, the remaining zombies aboard didn’t want us launching an attempt to retake the ship. Cut off from my vessel and not wanting those bastards to escape, I did the only thing left to me. I pulled out my comm unit and sent the destruct codes.”

Mazzy looked down at the deck, her voice sepulchral. “It worked. I watched my command go up in a burst of light and flame.”

“You destroyed your ship? Just like that?” demanded Bran.

“What choice did I have?” Fentan fired back. “It was the one system that couldn’t be overridden. Everything else could be. And I didn’t know what they would do with her. What if they took her to an inhabited world? Imagine that plague spreading across a world, getting into the travel lanes!”

Bran had no response. She was right, her assessment of the situation couldn’t be disputed. And now his ship could be crawling with the undead and unlike Mazzy, he couldn’t do a thing about it. Shaking his head, he replied, “You had little choice.”

“No, I did not. And even though I destroyed her, her death throes are what forced this ship free of its nebular prison. The blast was enough to kick her free, to send her on her rendezvous with you and yours.”

“We just get all the luck,” replied Bran sarcastically. He looked down and saw that Jaheira and Valygar were nearly finished. “So, there were three of you, what happened to the others?”

“Escape was our first thought, but the Helios’s crew left us no way to flee. The launch bays were empty and depressurized, the EVA suit lockers destroyed and even all of the lifeboats jettisoned. It appears as thought the remainder of the crew sabotaged the ship so the zombies couldn’t escape, even if it trapped them here with them.

Once escape was ruled out, we looked for some way to summon rescue, but the ship’s systems were savaged as well. Communications and main drives were completely destroyed, even the main computer, what we could access was useless. Strangely, the Mectrix drive seems intact, as does the reactor powering the ship now, but that is about it.”

“Then ambient temperatures finally thawed the zombies. We fought, but three against thousands were hopeless odds. Armed with only what we’d managed to escape the Peregrine with, we managed to evade and fight for a few days, maybe even a week, but eventually we were run to ground. We were bottled up on O Deck near one of the cargo bays. We fought as long as we could, until our weapons ran dry. Tasselhoff died in the fighting, cut down by a blaster bolt. A stun grenade knocked out Patrick and I. When we woke up, we found ourselves in that cell. For some reason we were kept alive. About two weeks ago, they took Patrick away, for what I do not know.” Mazzy went silent for a moment, then finished, “From them on, I was alone until you opened my cell.”

“And now we’re in the same situation,” said Bran. “Cut off, outnumbered and surrounded.”

“It would seem so,” admitted Mazzy.

“I do have one last question. Did you ever make another attempt at the bridge?” asked Bran, an idea brewing in his head.

“No, we didn’t have any EVA gear. And there was none to be found onboard.”

“So, the bridge was intentionally cut off. Which would mean that the zombos can’t survive vacuum, and that some part of the crew held out there, fell back to it like a castle’s defenders retreating to the keep.”

“But we are short an EVA suit as well,” pointed out Jaheira as she finished removing the last of the grav plating and circuitry between the two decks.

“True, but because some us do have gear, we should be able to seal off some section of B Deck and build a pressure column to allow all of us into A Deck,” Bran replied. “Maybe we can find something useful there. It doesn’t seem that there is much else, according to Fentan here.”

“I suppose it is something. And it sounds better than just emptying our power packs into wave after wave of undead,” admitted Jaheira.

Bran turned towards Mazzy, the light of a plan gleaming in his eyes. “Fentan, how well did you get to know the layout of the ship? Think you can plot us a course from H to C decks with a minimum of fuss and muss?”

Mazzy eyed him warily, but nodded, “The maintenance tubes that run through the core sections of the ship should work. Either that or one of the lift tubes. Lifts are easy as they’re spread throughout the deck and I think I know where the H deck maintenance access is.”

A smile broke the captain’s face as Minsc and Imoen piled into the increasingly crowded room. Minsc closed the armory door, deadening some of the racket being made by the zombies who still labored to get through the main hatch. As Minsc activated the lock, Imoen gave her brother a very enthusiastic thumbs up. “Minscy and I cooked up a fun surprise for our new friends outside. But we’re gonna need to weld this door shut too.”

“Do I even want to know what you two rigged up?” asked Bran somewhat apprehensively.

“Boo says that Captain Bran should not worry too much. He was there to make sure we didn’t use too much explosive fun,” boomed Minsc in attempt to reassure the captain.

“Boo’s right Bran,” added Imoen with a dangerous smile. “We’ll be fine so long as we’re not too close.”

Bran’s eyebrows shot up, threatening to join his hairline. Still, getting all the details would just waste time. “Okay then. Weld that door up beacuse it sounds like we have a plan.”

Jaheira looked up from the hole they’d carved in the deck. She cocked one eyebrow and remarked, “This is not the most detailed plan you ever laid out, sneaking our way onto the bridge on the chance that there is something there we can use.”

“True enough.” Bran smiled, “But look at it this way, the odds are against us, we’re outnumbered, outgunned and we have no evac. So, its no different than your typical run of the mill Academy training scenario.”

“Excepting that in this case we are facing live fire from supposedly dead beings,” quipped Jaheira.

“Well, considering some of those drill instructors, its really not all THAT different,” added Imoen.

Bran’s grin widened. “See? Nothing different from training. We just sneak and peek our way up to the bridge, see if there are some answers there and hopefully get Nalia’s attention for pick up. Then we get the hell off this boat and blast this thing to kingdom come. Problem solved.”

“Why do I think that it will not be that easy?” asked Jaheira rhetorically.

“Because you’re a pessimist, Bran answered unbidden, flashing her a smile. “But you’re cute when you’re being one, so its okay. Now, how’s our impromptu hatch going?”

Jaheira’s eyes narrowed slightly, fixing her captain with one of her glares, but Bran’s smile did not wither or waver. Cocking an eyebrow, she answered, “We’re through the structural supports and the circuitry. The only thing left is the actual ceiling plate itself and we’ve already cut away the lock bolts. One solid kick will get us through.”

“Alright then. Let’s do this as I don’t imagine that door will hold too much longer and I really don’t want to know what surprises those two have for the zombies.” Unslinging his rifle, he pointed to the newborn hatchway. “Here’s how it will go. We go in soft. Jaheira and Valygar will move one of the ceiling panels enough from Imoen to get a microcamera down there. If it’s clear, Im, you go in first and get low. Minsc follows, then me. Doc, you’ll be next, then you, Captain Fentan. Valygar and Jaheira will follow. Any questions?”

There were none.

With a nod from Bran, Valygar and Jaheira reached down and gently moved the ceiling panel enough for Imoen to slide the lens from her optical microcamera into the gap. The young former infiltrator turned the camera in a full arc, scanning for sign of any opposition. The full circuit revealed nothing but an empty storage room. Retracting the camera, she gave her brother a smile. “We’re all clear.”

“You are go,” he replied.

At his command, Jaheira and Valygar lifted the panel clear and Imoen drew both her pistols. The panel clear, Imoen leapt into the gap, landing lightly on the deckplates below. She quickly scanned the room, confirming that the storage room was as abandoned as it had appeared on camera. Just behind her, the large form of Minsc and his disruptor lowered themselves into the abandoned room.

“All clear,” Imoen said quietly, a sentiment quickly echoed by Minsc.

With the room secure, the others quickly lowered themselves into the abandoned storage room. Once Jaheira dropped in, Bran ordered, “Let’s get a move on. Im, the door please.”

Before Imoen could respond, the ship rocked with the force of Imoen and Minsc’s booby trap detonating. The blast nearly knocked the Gorion’s crew off their feet, as darkness swallowing them as the few remaining operation light panels flickered and died, their circuits destroyed by the shockwave. Brushing bits of metal and debris from his shoulder plates, Bran asked, “So, that was you’re little surprise? It sounded like you blew out most of that deck.”

“Not most, big bro. Just a little section. But I bet we got all of those zombies,” she said with a smile that glowed in the suit lights. “Now, do you want to yell at me long enough for the reinforcements to arrive, or shall I pop this hatch so we can get on our way.”

“Im, just pop the hatch,” replied a slightly exasperated commander.

Imoen smiled again and made quick work of the hatch controls. Weapons ready, the crew passed through the now open hatch and into the next room, this one also abandoned. Picking their way past abandoned work stations, the Gorion crew headed for the corridor and the maintenance shafts that would lead them to C deck and then, hopefully the bridge.