Semo and Hugh engage the Turai from straight on while Angel runs between islands for a clear shot. Semo's Mk.48 perforates the lab. Chemicals spray across counters, glass disintegrates, equipment explodes. The heavy composite table covering the Turai chips and shreds.
Angel leans out from a substantial piece of expensive lab equipment. The invader's trying to pull himself up enough to move, but he's slipping in his own blood. In Angel's mind, he sees the corporal from level 6 coughing and retching, pleading for his life with faceless killers. Angel fires and the bullets knock the xenohuman flat. Semo's thunder ceases, then the Turai suddenly sits up again! There's a single gunshot and a red burst from the alien helmet - Hugh had a split-second and he made the most of it. The Turai drops back to the floor.
The Exotic Materials lab is part shop class, part nerd herd, and part firing range. New composites, alloys, and polymers are created and put to the test on this level. In an ironic twist, several of the projects here are distant ancestors of the Turai armor. Chameleonic cloth. The next generation of lightweight armor. Material for climate-controlling fatigues.
The distress call came from a vault-like chamber labeled "HEAT STRESS - DANGER". There's a ragged hole in the 8-inch door where the locking mechanism used to be. Molten metal splatter, now immortalized in steel teardrops, indicates the invaders used quite a bit of firepower to breach this room. All for what turns out to be one unarmed technician. His nametag reads "Wassyl, Henry R."
There are two more corpses on this level, lying in a mess of blood-flecked vomit and spilled coffee.
Hugh eyes the chaos with obvious distaste, but the events of the last few hours have hardened his disposition. He pops a fresh magazine into his SCAR, then motions for the team to move on.
"Six left," he says, almost like a mantra. "Six to kill."
It doesn't take long to take down the other Other. Still, this one was tough, absorbing quite a bit of mayhem before Hugh's shot puts him down.
The lab is a mess, pure and simple. It will take a fair bit of work to get it functional again. They find the body of the tech. It's a bit surprising that the aliens went to so much trouble for one unarmed guy. It does indicate that they're not concerned about running out of ammo.
Semo nods to the captain. "Yes, sir. Let's go." Turning, he waves Angel to lead them on. As before, he takes up the rear, keeping a constant eye on their six.
The white block letters announcing Hugh and Co.'s arrival at sublevel 4 gleam in the flickering flourescent lighting. The elevators and stairwells both open into the same room, in which there is an armored lexan security booth and a keypad/card reader to pass through to the cross-facility corridor.
The security window is spattered with blood. Inside the booth floats one of the chrome attack drones. It floats up into view as the stairwell door opens.
*I have you on camera, Captain,* Andy radios. A camera swivels towards Hugh as the trio enter the foyer. *Contact! There's one of those orbs in the booth!*
The sphere sits there, hovering and watching.
---
In the Pit, the Gateway glyphs glimmer a dull amber. No portal engages, but the cross-portal communications in the control room go haywire. Ear-splitting static pulses through the room, then an inquisitive and authoritative voice crackles through the control room audio via the Gateway itself. Max hasn't had time to deal with the language barrier, but he's picking up bits and pieces by sheer necessity.
*Query regarding communication? No portal equates with underestimates of barbarian intelligence. Imperium seeks Homeworld. Imperium finds Homeworld. Imperium not negated/denied. Barter: Unblock Gate for continued existence.*
Semo takes a glance at the attack orb. "Damn, that thing's creepy; watchin' us that way. Captain, we gotta take it out before it summons reinforcements."
He makes a quick ammo check in case he has to carve his way through the lexan to get to the floating sphere.
*Query regarding communication? No portal equates with underestimates of barbarian intelligence. Imperium seeks Homeworld. Imperium finds Homeworld. Imperium not negated/denied. Barter: Unblock Gate for continued existence.*
Max grins, knowing full-well if the Turai -could- get through the Gate they wouldn't be talking them down right now.
"We're sorry, the Gate address you dialed: (says Gate address)...is unavailable."
The radio cuts out for a moment, then: *Renegotiation of barter: Homeworlder captive for unblock Gate.*
*I thought... I thought I was dead, top,* Greene's voice comes through. *I ain't told 'em nothin - they've been tryin' but I ain't told 'em noth-*
The audio switches back. *Your taunts are paid for with captive flesh.* Greene screams in the background.
"Kilgore!" Taylor shouts. "Tell those cocksuckers I'll do their big man right now!" He levels his SCAR at Hethna Varos.
---
Hugh, Semo, and Angel retreat behind the cover afforded by the stairwell door and Semo opens up on the security booth window. Ricochets spang off the concrete walls and floor. Most of the bullets shudder the ballistic polymer, then the window spiderwebs, then geysers of glass fragments spray from both sides. The chrome orb fires back, its whine completely overshadowed by Semo's weapon. The stairwell doorway suddenly poofs into a blinding cloud of concrete dust as the slivers go through the other side of the maimed booth window and scour the doorway. Faint tinkles of bouncing sliver fragments echo down the stairs.
The Turai drone drops low. The ballistic glass is holed and spiderwebbed - you could push it out of its frame with hardly any effort.
Semo checks his weapon. He's got 10, maybe 15 rounds left in the belt.
"Let Greene go or I'll shoot your man right in his fuckin' yamaka!" Taylor barks into his radio.
Hethna Varos shouts "No trade me for captive something gibberish!" Amo and the still-unnamed female captive trade anxious looks.
"No shoot me head!" Amo shouts. "I quit! I not ready to die!"
"Nawhetu!" the woman screams. She throws herself onto Amo, slamming her zip-tied hands into his face before trying to strangle him with the zip tie itself!
"Mellish! Stanhill! Control your prisoners!" Taylor shouts over the chaos. Mellish slides down the gantry ladder, ready to assist Luis.
Upstairs, the smoke and debris settle, leaving behind a bullet-riddled silent security room. The ballistic window would open to a booth which would then lead to a cross-level network of monitoring and communications stations. The security door itself leads to the cross-corridor, which passes through a series of security checkpoints for personnel heading between the two halves of the facility.
Semo's just glad he didn't get caught by any of the ricochets. Still, the orb appears to be functional, just laying low at the moment.
Noting the empty belt, Semo swaps it out for a new one as the smoke clears. Then, lifting the gun, he pokes the barrel through the hole he carved, points it at the orb and lets fly.
The sphere darts for the booth's internal door when Semo thrusts the Mk. 48 through the window. Semo chases the drone across the booth, walking fire through the room to finally nail the drone as it attempts to flee. The alien device explodes.
The ballistic window's had enough. It just falls into the booth like a heavy glass blanket.
The cowardly sphere tries to run, but the Mk 48 chases it to death. There's no running from this bad boy.
Watching the lexan crumble to the floor, Semo just nods. Mission accomplished.
"Think any of this shit still works, Captain?" Semo asks, glancing over at the boss.
Semo takes up a position watching the entrances. If has time, he'll work on weaving the partial belts together after loading a new one into the hopper.
We haven't tortured your people, but still they fear us. They are smart. We have three of yours, you have only one of ours. Our man is ready to die. Your people are not. By your every action, you have shown yourself to be a race of cowards. If you insult us again, we will return. More people, more guns. We will not stop. We will come at you until the Jade Imperium burns.
Luis secures his weapon and bites the cap off a sedative syringe with his teeth, moving in behind the berserk Turai under Mellish's cover. Luis sees Amo give his assailant a quick look right before Luis is about to stab the needle in and realizes he's just been taken in by the oldest prisoner escape trick in the book. She-Turai rolls off Amo as Luis brings the syringe down and manages to grab his forearm. Mellish instantly snaps into action, trying to grab the female prisoner and force her to the ground. Amo uses Mellish's split-second distraction to yank the Hebrew Hammer's Turai sword from his belt. Amo stabs upward and the blade comes away streaked with crimson. Mellish hits the ground, blood pouring from his abdomen. The female Turai throws a savage elbow strike towards Luis, but he gets his left arm up in a hasty block. Luis has size and position to his advantage, but Mellish has just gone down and Amo easily frees his wrists with his recovered blade.
Luis sheads into the struggle, intent on breaking it up before it causes a major problem. Only when he catches Amo's signifigant glance from him, to his "assailant" and back does he relise just how much trouble he's just walked into. Oh, shit, he thinks as it all goes cockeyed. Within seconds, it's pretty much layed out: Mellish wounded, bad; Amo free and armed with a sword, he and She-Turai struggling in hand to hand. He tries to recall all his hand-to-hand Delta Force Training to manuever the remarkably-still-intact syringe into a proper injection spot on the exposed skin area of his opponent. It's a bit of a long shot, but if he can pull it off, he'll only have to worry about Amo. If it doesn't, he's not too much worse off.
Admiral Duck Sauce
