And I'm finally done. Woo.
Upper Earth orbit
September, 2196
46 hours after destruction of orbital bombardment platform Vigilance
"It's one of those Silencers!"
When he woke up, the Silencer realized he was tired. It was a sensation he was not entirely used to. Months with the Resistance had gotten him used to bad sleeping conditions--he doubted anything softer than a box spring would be suitable for him to sleep on anymore.
"He's not moving, either."
Even so, almost two days of nonstop physical activity, and then almost two days stuck in a cramped crash couch, was a new low. He couldn't have gotten more than fifteen minutes of REM sleep?disturbing dreams already skittering away from his memory kept him from staying so deep?and with over thirty straight hours of catnapping his circadian rhythm seemed to be stuck in "drowsy".
"Notify Control; they'll want to know about this one."
Unbeknownst to the person whose voice had woken him, his eyes were already open; he saw a thin man, face obscured by goggles and an industrial headset, in a white tech's uniform, standing over him. He heard someone?not the person in front of him?mention medical personnel.
He did not need a medic. He needed some real sleep, a decent meal, and even a shower would be nice, but as he wouldn't be getting any of that, venting frustration would do.
"I don't think medics are gonna help this one."
There was no need to waste a bullet. His left hand lashed out with stiff, armored fingers, crushing the man's trachea.
A brief flash of...pity?...slowed him. But a second look showed the man was armed, if only with a pistol he probably didn't know how to use. Anyone with a weapon was a threat.
Movement visible in the corner of his eye brought a second tech, screaming for help into the intercom, to his attention. "...requesting immediate assistance!" In one shaking hand was a pistol. A burst from the Silencer's assault rifle, and the sidearm dropped from suddenly powerless fingers.
One pair of bay doors opened. Two men in the armored uniform of the Lunar Mining Cartel's Guard Corps charged through, firing streams of bullets their instructors would have found lamentable if they had cared enough to give them proper instruction in the first place.
The Resistance had heard the WEC was starting to upgrade its guardsmen, but that the program was not yet widespread; primarily it was restricted to the LMC and those few high-grade SecCart bases where mere guards were allowed. He'd never encountered them in person before. When a pair of three-round bursts were enough to take care of the both of them, he felt disappointed.
Alarms were flashing. That cool feminine voice he'd become so familiar with in recent months was alerting anyone in the vicinity, with bland calmness, that there was an intruder on level 1.
What was it Andrews had told him, all those months ago? Ah, yes. Think positive. He began with the fact that now he knew where he was: locked in a cargo bay aboard the first level?So cost-efficient, to not pay to have the voice altered to say "deck", he mused?of an LMC freighter. It was also noteworthy
Tactics. First priority: escape. Remaining here could be hazardous--if the outer doors opened and the magcon field was switched off, he would find himself floating home. The nearest door had closed again. As was fitting, it was a full blast door. Even if he'd been able to keep heavier weapons like his grenade launcher before boarding the lifepod, he wouldn't have been able to punch through it.
Luckily, he didn't have to. Whether through luck or some instinct of the Captain's--even he couldn't predict how his mind would work sometimes--one of the guards he'd killed had fallen so that the bay doors would not close properly. They had attempted to, but could not reduce the guard's three dimensions to two, and so a crack, however slim, was there to be exploited.
His arms were already sore. They would be more so when he was done.
Anyone who had seen Silencers in entertainment holovids would have anticipated a primal scream used to focus his mind on the apparently superhuman task ahead of him, as he dug his fingers into the crack. They would not have expected eerie silence, even as he forced the doors open wide enough for him to pass through. It wasn't much--he certainly couldn't put up any major resistance to the hydraulics himself--but more a forcing of his armor into the crack, then wriggling through. The real trick was in getting his pack past unscathed.
When he was finally through, he kicked the mangled guard's body to the other side, allowing the door to close again. A guard on the other side was staring at him like an idiot. He recovered fairly quickly, and even got a burst off, his rifle's strap slung over one shoulder but the gun itself held ready at his hip, and already pointing in the Silencer's general direction. It did no good. One of his shots was deflected off of the Captain's ionic shield, and the others went wide. The Silencer's return fire put two holes in his heart and one in his left lung.
He glanced at a tech whose hands seemed to be trying to touch the ceiling, then gave the room a scan. It seemed there were as many as three ways out, but his best bet was probably the lift. The sleep was already clearing from his eyes. He thought about that for a moment. He?d never considered the possibility of being bored before. Being in the Resistance had made it possible for him to be bored. This was an unusual state of being for a Silencer. In a soldier, boredom led to inattentiveness led to death.
A remedy was needed. He decided to raise his heart rate.
Upper Earth orbit
September, 2196
46 hours after destruction of orbital bombardment platform Vigilance
"It's one of those Silencers!"
When he woke up, the Silencer realized he was tired. It was a sensation he was not entirely used to. Months with the Resistance had gotten him used to bad sleeping conditions--he doubted anything softer than a box spring would be suitable for him to sleep on anymore.
"He's not moving, either."
Even so, almost two days of nonstop physical activity, and then almost two days stuck in a cramped crash couch, was a new low. He couldn't have gotten more than fifteen minutes of REM sleep?disturbing dreams already skittering away from his memory kept him from staying so deep?and with over thirty straight hours of catnapping his circadian rhythm seemed to be stuck in "drowsy".
"Notify Control; they'll want to know about this one."
Unbeknownst to the person whose voice had woken him, his eyes were already open; he saw a thin man, face obscured by goggles and an industrial headset, in a white tech's uniform, standing over him. He heard someone?not the person in front of him?mention medical personnel.
He did not need a medic. He needed some real sleep, a decent meal, and even a shower would be nice, but as he wouldn't be getting any of that, venting frustration would do.
"I don't think medics are gonna help this one."
There was no need to waste a bullet. His left hand lashed out with stiff, armored fingers, crushing the man's trachea.
A brief flash of...pity?...slowed him. But a second look showed the man was armed, if only with a pistol he probably didn't know how to use. Anyone with a weapon was a threat.
Movement visible in the corner of his eye brought a second tech, screaming for help into the intercom, to his attention. "...requesting immediate assistance!" In one shaking hand was a pistol. A burst from the Silencer's assault rifle, and the sidearm dropped from suddenly powerless fingers.
One pair of bay doors opened. Two men in the armored uniform of the Lunar Mining Cartel's Guard Corps charged through, firing streams of bullets their instructors would have found lamentable if they had cared enough to give them proper instruction in the first place.
The Resistance had heard the WEC was starting to upgrade its guardsmen, but that the program was not yet widespread; primarily it was restricted to the LMC and those few high-grade SecCart bases where mere guards were allowed. He'd never encountered them in person before. When a pair of three-round bursts were enough to take care of the both of them, he felt disappointed.
Alarms were flashing. That cool feminine voice he'd become so familiar with in recent months was alerting anyone in the vicinity, with bland calmness, that there was an intruder on level 1.
What was it Andrews had told him, all those months ago? Ah, yes. Think positive. He began with the fact that now he knew where he was: locked in a cargo bay aboard the first level?So cost-efficient, to not pay to have the voice altered to say "deck", he mused?of an LMC freighter. It was also noteworthy
Tactics. First priority: escape. Remaining here could be hazardous--if the outer doors opened and the magcon field was switched off, he would find himself floating home. The nearest door had closed again. As was fitting, it was a full blast door. Even if he'd been able to keep heavier weapons like his grenade launcher before boarding the lifepod, he wouldn't have been able to punch through it.
Luckily, he didn't have to. Whether through luck or some instinct of the Captain's--even he couldn't predict how his mind would work sometimes--one of the guards he'd killed had fallen so that the bay doors would not close properly. They had attempted to, but could not reduce the guard's three dimensions to two, and so a crack, however slim, was there to be exploited.
His arms were already sore. They would be more so when he was done.
Anyone who had seen Silencers in entertainment holovids would have anticipated a primal scream used to focus his mind on the apparently superhuman task ahead of him, as he dug his fingers into the crack. They would not have expected eerie silence, even as he forced the doors open wide enough for him to pass through. It wasn't much--he certainly couldn't put up any major resistance to the hydraulics himself--but more a forcing of his armor into the crack, then wriggling through. The real trick was in getting his pack past unscathed.
When he was finally through, he kicked the mangled guard's body to the other side, allowing the door to close again. A guard on the other side was staring at him like an idiot. He recovered fairly quickly, and even got a burst off, his rifle's strap slung over one shoulder but the gun itself held ready at his hip, and already pointing in the Silencer's general direction. It did no good. One of his shots was deflected off of the Captain's ionic shield, and the others went wide. The Silencer's return fire put two holes in his heart and one in his left lung.
He glanced at a tech whose hands seemed to be trying to touch the ceiling, then gave the room a scan. It seemed there were as many as three ways out, but his best bet was probably the lift. The sleep was already clearing from his eyes. He thought about that for a moment. He?d never considered the possibility of being bored before. Being in the Resistance had made it possible for him to be bored. This was an unusual state of being for a Silencer. In a soldier, boredom led to inattentiveness led to death.
A remedy was needed. He decided to raise his heart rate.
