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A Space Odyssey Chapter 18


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#1 Guest_VigaHrolf_*

Posted 31 May 2005 - 08:33 PM

Leaving behind the storage room and its long dead inhabitants, the crew of the Gorion continued their silent march through the radial corridor towards H Deck’s Broadway. Imoen, still walking point, noted the damage thinning out the further down the corridor they went. The corridor was still abandoned and poorly lit, but at least there were fewer pieces of debris hunting for her feet. And fewer places to hide booby traps.

The blast doors leading to Broadway loomed up ahead. Her suit lights strained to cut through the thick gloom of the corridor, slowly revealing the hatch doors themselves. The massive durasteel doors hung partially open with the deeper gloom of Broadway looming beyond. With the hatch now in sight, Imoen raised her fist to signal a halt.

“Alright, we’re almost to Broadway folks. Fentan, you’re the closest thing to a native guide we’ve got, so which way?” asked Bran as he drew up behind his sister.

“I’m not sure, Captain,” answered Fentan.

“I thought you said you knew where the tubes and maintenance shafts were, Fentan.”

“I do,” Mazzy replied matter of factly. “The problem is I don’t know exactly where we are. I need the corridor number.”

Bran fought down a pithy retort because the Yolandan unfortunately had a valid point. Flinging the question open to the others, he asked, “Anyone catch any corridor markings as we marched through?”

The captain’s question was answered with a chorus of nos. Not wanting to risk everyone by tromping out in the corridor without an idea of which direction they’d be heading, Bran went to his scout. “Imoen, I..”

“You need me to pop up ahead and find the corridor marker so that Short Round back there can actually figure out where the hell we are?” interrupted Imoen who managed to sound extremely put upon. “I mean other than well and thoroughly screwed.”

“Yeah, fully aware of that part, Lady Obvious,” Bran snorted. “And V-Man, watch her six.”

Imoen turned her head around and cocked an eyebrow. “And he means cover me, not just stare at my fantabulous ass.”

“I am more than aware of that, Imoen,” Valygar replied calmly. “Now shall we?”

“Right.”

Bran shook his head as the two of them headed forward, moving in a rhythm that spoke of long practice. Imoen glided silently forward while her dark shadow Valygar trailed just a few meters back, Katanas at the ready.

Imoen halted just a couple meters shy of the door itself. “Hey Bran?”

There was something odd about her voice, Bran thought. A slight tremor to it, but it could be just mike feedback. “Yeah, Imoen? You have the corridor number?”

“Yeah. Corridor H-A07. But I think you better come up here.” It definitely wasn’t mike feedback this time, something was wrong.

“What is it Im? We got a zombie patrol waiting outside the doors?” he asked.

“No, not that. Just come up here.”

Now both concerned and confused, Bran agreed. Being careful to remain as quiet as he could, he joined the two scouts by the hatch. Looking from face to face, he didn’t like the expression on either of them. Their eyes were too wide.

Cocking an eyebrow, he looked at both and asked, “Okay, you’ve got me up here. What’s up?”

Imoen swallowed hard and thumbed towards the door. “It’s the blast doors, bro. They were forced.”

“So, they were forced. What’s so noteworthy about…” Bran trailed off as he actually looked at the hatch doors himself.

The wreckage of the forced blast doors was frankly impressive. Dried pools of spilled hydraulic fluid caked the decking where overmatched pistons burst and spewed fountains of the sticky liquid. Deep scratches gouged the underlying door tracks and in places they bowed where the sheer pressure had deformed sturdy metal.

However, that wasn’t what had caught Bran’s words in his throat.

What did was the four evenly spaced matching indentations in the thick durasteel plate on each the doors. Even more disturbing were the gouges on their side of the door that matched up with the deep dents. His brain struggling with the image in front of him, Bran managed, “They look like…”

“Claw marks,” finished Valygar.

“But something to make claw marks like that would have to be..”

“Frelling huge and frelling strong.” This time it was Imoen who finished Bran’s sentence for him.

Bran blinked and stared at the marks again, just to see if they were still there. When they didn’t disappear, he called out, “Jaheira, Doc, could you join us by the hatch. Minsc, you and Fentan too.”

The rest of the crew quickly joined the others around the hatch, all showing varying degrees of surprise at seeing the marks in the door. Other than Minsc, who seemed more impressed than surprised. Hands gripped tightly around his rifle, Bran asked, “Any idea what could have caused that?”

“Boo says it would have to be someone even stronger than Minsc!” Minsc boomed. Then, more quietly and surreptitiously, he added, “Minsc is not sure he likes this.”

“I don’t like it much either big man,” replied the captain honestly. “Now, does anyone care to elaborate on this further?”

Doctor Av’lina had her medscanners running even before Bran had asked. Her brow furrowed as she studied the results. Her brows remained knit as she looked up to answer the captain, “C..captain, I.. I.. I’m not sure what to make of these readings. They just don’t make any sense.”

Jaheira pulled her own hand unit from her belt and ran it over the apparent claw marks. She stood silent, the only noise from her armored fingers lightly tapping the unit’s buttons. She looked up from the display with one eyebrow arched. “Fascinating. Are you seeing what I am Aerie?”

Aerie pressed a quick key sequence on her wristcomp, uplinking her own scanners with Jaheira’s hand unit. After a moment’s study, the doctor looked up and said, “Y..yes. Yes I am.”

“Not to ruin this moment of scientific discovery but could you clue the rest of us in perhaps?” grumbled Bran.

“Of course,” answered Jaheira calmly. “You are certainly in need of a clue.”

Bran blinked. He could hear Imoen sniggering over the comms as he rallied from that point blank broadside. He shook his head to clear it and tried to summon up the appropriate comeback. But with her just staring at him with a completely neutral expression, not even betraying the slightest smirk, it was difficult. “Since I am in such dire need, my lady, would you deign to enlighten one such as I?”

One corner of Jaheira’s mouth tweaked upwards. “Well, when you ask so kindly.” The smile disappeared as her eyes flicked down to her scanner’s display. “The problem is Bran, neither Aerie or I can tell what made these claw marks. It certainly was something organic, but beyond that it is inconclusive.”

Aerie chimed in. “Jah..Jaheira is correct. I’m definitely reading some organic residue, especially on the outside of the door but I c..can’t pin down the source.”

“Alien?” asked Bran.

“I.. I’m not sure, sir,” Aerie replied tentatively. “I..it could be. B..but these biomarkers.. they look like.. like..”

“An amalgam of the biomaterial from a number of different races,” interjected Jaheira. “Biochemicals that could be Human, Seldarian, Khazadan, Yolandan... it doesn’t make sense.”

“So, you’re not sure what exactly it is, but it’s organic and it cracked a set of blast doors,” Bran stated, summing it up.

“W..without f..further analysis, yes captain,” answered the doctor.

“Well, whatever this thing is, let’s hope we don’t have to meet it. I doubt it would be a pleasant experience.”

“The way our luck has run, we should be seeing it shortly,” added Valygar darkly.

“Always such a well spring of hope and joy, aren’t you V?” piped in Imoen.

“With the saccharine sweetness that is yourself, o pink one, I have little choice.”

“Now now children, this is not the time to argue,” interrupted Bran. “But if you really have to, try being more original.”

“Aye Aye Captain Raisin Bran!” crowed Imoen.

“Just like that Imoen, just like that.” If any more sarcasm could have dripped from Bran’s voice, he would have drowned in it.

Of course, his sarcasm had no appreciable effect on his sister. She simply beamed. Inwardly groaning, he decided to abandon that battlefield and focus on a far more important battle. The task of getting to the Helios’s bridge. And so, he turned to his ‘native’ guide, the still silent Fentan. “Fentan? Do you know where you are now?”

At first she didn’t respond. Wondering why, he took a moment to study her face. The reason became quickly obvious. Her eyes were wide as saucers and fixed firmly on the claw marks.

“Fentan. Fentan!” Bran called, each syllable louder than the one before. “Fleet to Fentan, respond please!”

With a start, the Yolandan survivor broke free from her trance. Attempting to cover for it, she replied, “Y.. yes captain? How can I be of service?”

“We have the corridor number, which way now?”

She rubbed her free hand through her matted hair. “Let’s see. If I recall, there is a maintenance shaft access in this corridor. Should be… port side, seven meters from the hatch. Access panel, not a door.”

A quick hand gesture sent his still smirking scout off to search for the panel. To no one’s surprise, it took Imoen only a few seconds to identify the correct wall panel. Popping the panel proved to be a bit more of a challenge as Imoen couldn’t quite get the catches to release. She fiddled and yanked, but the aged panel refused to budge.

Seeing her distress, Minsc moved into action before anyone could say anything. He gently nudged Imoen aside before gripping both edges of the panel in his huge armored fists. Hold firm, he bent his knees and then jerked up, muscles and servos straining.

The metal never stood a chance. With a sudden and terrible screech, the panel ripped free of its supports. The rest of the crew cringed at the horrible sound but remonstrations remained unsaid once Minsc gently placed the now twisted piece of corridor down gently. Eyes downcast, Minsc said ruefully, “Minsc forgot how loud tearing metal could be. Sorry Captain Bran.”

It was hard to be angry at the big, earnest gunner. “It’s okay Minsc. Just remember to ask next time.”

Minsc actually saluted as his usual huge smile drove off the frown. “Of course Captain Bran!”

“Right,” replied Bran, smiling despite himself. “Now, we probably made enough noise to raise the dead…”

Groans filled the corridor but Bran’s grin only widened, his dark eyes twinkling. “So,” he said over the groans, “we should probably get moving. Imoen, if you would please?”

Imoen looked at the ladder revealed by Minsc’s handiwork and gripped, “Why me?”

“Because, it’s your job. You’re the scout, remember?”

“I don’t want to be the scout,” whined Imoen. “I want to be the captain.”

“I believe the phrase is ‘too damn bad,’ Now scoot!”

“Oh fine,” Imoen harrumphed as she walked into the alcove. The rungs for the ladder were separately bolted into the far wall. Access hatches stood sealed on both the floor and ceiling of the alcove, each one leading into the respective deck’s maintenance tubes.

Grabbing one of the rungs, she pulled herself up to the panel controls for the ceiling hatch. She punched the open button and all she received was a rather rude beep. Pressing it again yielded no better results. Fingers working the panel now, she called down, “It looks like it’s locked. I’m going to see if I can bypass, but it might take me a bit.”

Jaheira, who had moved to cover the crew’s rear, interjected. “Then I suggest you hurry. I’ve got movement behind us and coming up quickly. Six, possibly seven contacts. A little over three minutes out.”

Imoen yanked open an access panel and stared at the workings inside. “No dice,” she cursed. “The hatch is mechanically locked and the mechanism is totally frelled.”

“Then scrap it as a bad job,” ordered Bran as he glanced at the sensor display in his helmet. “I really don’t want to meet the welcoming committee.”

As Imoen scampered down the ladder, Bran looked over at Fentan and asked, “So, Fentan, which way to a lift shaft that will get us all the way to A Deck.”

“But sir, I told you, all the lift shafts are sealed between B and C Deck and B Deck is vented to vacuum!” argued Mazzy vehemently.

“I know,” replied Bran before flashing a big grin. “But I have a plan.”

On cue, Valygar groaned, “We’re all doomed.”

Imoen, Krobler now in hand, slapped him on the armored butt and quipped, “Aww come on, V, try not to be so cheerful.”

“I am.”

Imoen arched an eyebrow, but her comeback was cut off by Bran demanding, “Fentan? We’re running out of time here, so which bloody way?”

“Left. There is a pair of lift tubes about 35 meters from here.”

“Alright then, left it is. Imoen, lead us off. We’ve gotta move but let’s try not to make too much racket. I don’t want to run the risk of attracting whatever the hell ripped up that door.”

Imoen gave the forced hatchway a sidelong look. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Then, with her trademark smirk, she slid forward to be able to peer around the ruined doors. Seeing nothing but ancient, abandoned corridor, she waved the others forward while slipping into the corridor proper itself.

---- ---- ----

Imoen picked as fast a pace as she could while still being able to maintain her stealth and scouting abilities. The column quickly ate up the distance, passing a set of still sealed hatches and meeting no resistance. Finally, they reached the point where the Broadway corridor widened slightly to accommodate the extra traffic from the lift tubes.

Without waiting for the order, Imoen motioned for Valygar to take the starboard side lift while she handled the port one. The control panel was completely black, no indicator lights at all, so she pulled out her tools and began working on the access panel.

“This tube’s controls are offline. I’m going to see if I can link right into the datalines themselves. How bout yours V?”

“Same here. No function, no power.”

“Imoen?” interjected Bran, “What exactly are you doing?”

Not looking up from the open access panel, she replied, “Trying to see if I can cajole these controls into functioning again and summoning us a lift.”

“Who said anything about taking a lift up to C Deck?” asked Bran with just a hint of amusement.

“Well, if you didn’t want to ride a lift up, then what are we doing at the lift tubes? We should hit a gangway before our special friends get here,” fired back Imoen, annoyed at her brother’s cryptic responses.

“Im, I never said anything about taking a lift car up, only the lift tubes,” Bran replied in what could only be called a gloat.

Imoen half turned from the panel, her face pale. “Tell me you’re kidding me. Please.”

“Nope.” Bran’s smile could only be defined as wicked.

“But.. but.. that’s zero G,” Imoen stammered. “Zero G makes my tummy twist.”

“Consider it an excellent chance to combat that particular deficiency,” quipped Jaheira.

“Just because you two luv zero G doesn’t give you the right to gloat. You guys are just plain mean,” she grumbled, shooting both of them icy looks before turning her attention back onto the door controls.

“Yeah, I’ll remind you of that kind of equity later,” replied Bran. “Now if you could crack that door and tell me where the lift car is, I’d really appreciate it. Same with you V.”

“I already checked while you tormented your sister, Bran,” replied Valygar flatly. “And the car is two decks up, locked into position.”

Eyebrow arched, Bran looked from his navigator and shrugged. “Alright, let’s hope tube number 2 is luckier because our new special friends are getting closer.”

With just a little bit of electronic trickery by Imoen, the second lift door slid open. She carefully looked through the open portal, trying to keep her head inside the gravity field while praying that the lift car would be above them. She must have been had some karma to burn off because it was six decks below their current position.

Inwardly swearing, she dutifully reported, “Branny, it’s six decks down. We can take this tube.”

“Excellent. Let’s hit it.”

“Perhaps I do not understand Captain,” interrupted the Yolandan survivor, “But do you intend to just float up the lift tube to C Deck?”

“No exactly, Fentan,” he said as he slung his Bladesinger. “I intend to hop up, not float.”

“Very well.” Imoen half expected her to complain about it, but instead the Yolandan woman smiled. “I’ve always enjoyed zero G work.”

Bran blinked. “Well, it’s nice to know someone else who actually likes bopping about in zero G. Now, if you’d lead us off Immy?”

Grumbling, the redheaded scout slung her Krobler and stepped to the lip of the open hatch. Beyond her lay the large, dark cylinder of the lift tube. The light from her suit lamps reflected brightly off of the magnetic shielding that lined the inside of the tube, casting odd shadows on the three dark rails that the cars rode up and down the tubes. There should have been a hum from the capacitors in the rails, but there was no power in the system now.

Taking a deep breath, Imoen leapt forward into the empty lift tube. As soon as she passed the hatch, the sickening feeling of her stomach floating free hit her with the force of plasma torpedo. Using what training she remembered, she tried to calm her mind and her stomach as she floated free in the negligible gravity of the tube.

She gripped one of the inert magnetic rails as she tried to compose herself, fighting back waves of nausea. Eyes screwed shut, she didn’t notice another figure drift over until a hand rested gently on her shoulder. Turning slightly but not releasing the rail, she saw the slim form of the doctor drifting right beside her.

The Avarielian doctor’s face was free of any sign of discomfort and her large blue eyes only shone with concern. And because of that, Imoen found herself hating a woman she usually called friend. Either not noticing the hostile glance or just choosing to ignore it, the doctor said, “I.. I can give you something for the discomfort.”

Swallowing hard, she waved Aerie away. “I’ll be fine in just a minute. It’s just..”

“L..low gravity plays havoc with your sense of b..balance. I know. That’s why they invented medicines to deal with that. N..now stop being so stubborn and let me heal you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Imoen replied as she pushed back the nausea to at least a bearable level. She even managed a pale smile.

“V.. very well then,” the doctor said understandingly. With one last affectionate pat, she kicked off and pirouetted away.

From behind her, she heard the hatch door close and Bran call out, “Alright, lets get moving. V, you take the lead, I’ll take the rear.”

“Aye,” replied the taciturn navigator as he pushed off up the tube, quickly followed by the others.

Stomach finally settling, Imoen let go of the rail. Turning, she found herself face to face with her brother. “You alright sis?” he asked, all signs of amusement from before gone.

“Yeah. I’ll be okay. But I’m going to make you pay for this.”

“We make it back to the Gorion, you got a deal,” he said with a kind smile. “Now, if you would care to bounce on up?”

“I’ll keep you to that,” she promised. With a swift kickoff, she propelled herself upward to be quickly followed by her brother.

In mid-flight between E and F Decks, a low thrum began to reverberate from her earpiece. Whacking her helmet, she called out, “I’m getting some sort of weird comm interference. Anybody else getting it?”

“I am,” came the crackled voice of Bran. “And it seems to be getting worse.”

“Same here,” called Valygar from the top of the column.

“Must be some sort of interference from the ship’s equipment. Perhaps a damaged power conduit,” posited Jaheira over the increasingly degrading comm channel.

“But we’re behind heavy shielding. It should cut out almost all EM radiation,” replied Imoen. “Unless..”

A loud clang sounded in the tube. Imoen looked over to see the needler she’d picked up off one of the dead crewers stuck to one of the rails in the tube. One of the magnetic rails. Realizing now what the hum was she called out, “The rails! Someone powered up the tube!”

She couldn’t tell if anyone could hear her, the comm channels nothing more than a roar of static as the rails continued to power up. Now other sounds boomed in the tube as loose equipment was dragged from belts and hands by the unyielding force of magnetism. She could see the others being dragged towards one or another rail, the metal in their armor pulling them in.

Minsc and mighty Lilarcor were trapped first, dragged in by the heavy metal harness that tied the two forces of destruction together. She watched the big man try to push away only to be pulled in tighter.

Over their howls of frustration, she heard her brother curse as the magnetic field dragged him in, legs first. She could barely hear him cursing over the distortions as he fought vainly to free himself. Up above, she watched Jaheira slam nearly face first into one rail while Aerie as dragged into another. Valygar must have seen the others getting drawn closer and grabbed onto the exterior of one of the hatches to the next deck, but his grip was already faltering.

Knowing she had a scant amount of time before the magnetic strength got to the point where even the small amount of metal in her suit would drag her up against one of the rails, Imoen dove for one of the access panels, fingers outstretched. She had to make it before the entire crew was pinned helplessly against the rails, easy pickings for the zombies that hunted them.

The panel drew tantalizingly close, but just by her increasingly declining trajectory, she knew she’d never make it. As she was reeled in, she tried to kick off the wall one last time, hoping to get the few extra meters she needed. All she managed was to thump against the rail a little harder with the access panel just barely out of reach.

Cursing the luck that stopped her just centimeters away from the panel, she tried to slide her way down the rail. Straining mightily, she managed to hump herself forward a whole centimeter before getting dragged back down to the rail. As she marshaled her strength for another push, she noticed something. Something that froze the blood in her veins.

The lift car was moving.

And it was headed right for them.




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