Proving His Worth Part 2

Posted by hopalong on August 11, 2009

The cargo ship drifted slowly through space. It was a Gallente miner, one of the smaller ones, a Navitas class hull. The rear end, where the engines were, was leaking plasma into space, the tail almost completely sheared from the front. A pair of slick frigates circled the ship like a pair of sharks, blood flecking their golden armor. Their scanners showed five life signatures aboard, one in a capsule. The frigate pilot turned and smiled at the passenger behind him “We’re lucky; A capsuleer!”

The passenger blinked and smiled, turning to a nearby council and adjusting a dial as he spoke into the receiver piece “Hunter Two, we have scans indicating a capsuleer on board. Check back and confirm?”

There was a pause. The speakers on both men's helmets beeped “We have the same scan, hunter one. Moving to establish a sealed connection at link station one. You take three.”

Both ships moved in towards the Navitas, from opposite sides. The Navitas, registered as the “Georgia” to a Jason Halls, slowed as the two Amarrian vessels activated their lower power docking beams to slow it down. A set of specially designed weapons on the frigates sides fired off, slamming into the armor plating of the Gallente ship. They both began to move in closer to a pair of ports lining up with their own, using the primitive winches and the docking beams together to pull themselves in. The hull clanged as the first ship attached, and it was followed by another clang that resounded through the Navitas to the other hunters’ hull. The pilot gave a thumb up and flicked a switch, letting the automatic systems attempt to overrun the ship security, his twin doing the same on the other side of the hapless ship. He flicked another key.

“Boarding teams, the cattle are all in the forward part of the ship, including the capsule. We bring back a prize tonight brothers and sisters! Standard deployment in ten.” Spoke the captain of the first hunter. He adjusted something on his control board and counted off in his head, before slapping the “open airlock” button. There was a hiss further down in the frigate as the sealed doors opened up into the Navitas and the team of three armed raiders moved in, guns at ready. They fanned out quietly, checking corners. The Navitas was large for a frigate but had a small crew, most of the internals being twisting and confusing corridors set around mining stations.

The pilot of the first hunter looked down with satisfaction, watching the life signs of the boarding team move through the stationary ship towards the life signs of the crew. They were still at their stations. He hrmmed a bit but dismissed it as a desperation tactic to send out a call for help and man the automated turrets, which the boarding teams were now running into. He didn’t look up as the communications officer behind him gave a sigh, instead plotting a course. He too sighed, before slumping back in his seat, a delicate looking poniard sticking out of the base of his skull. Edthin slid the weapon out of the man’s skull and leaned over him, touching a few keys before slipping back towards his ship, moving for a brief moment into the engine room before heading back into the Georgia. The boarding teams were tied up with the guns, and he could hear the distant weapons fire from both sides. As a rule blood raiders tended to prefer stun weapons over the killing variety. Something about the purity of the blood being effected by death if the victim was killed before being drained. In this case, it was hampering their ability to deal with the automated turrets, but he knew that wouldn’t last long. They were professional and had dealt with this all before, though the amount of firepower being put out by the turrets was far above normal fair. Just the sort of thing a capsuleer would be concerned with.

Edthin smiled to himself as he slipped through the ship towards the other ship, resisting the urge to whistle. He heard the pilot and the communications officer of the second hunter chatting idly, even from the Navitas side of the airlock, and frowned to himself. If one stopped talking the other would become suspicious and turn. He slipped his hand down his side as he moved through the airlock and pulled out a simple pistol with an attached silencer. He approached the door of the cabin, pulling back the loading mechanism and clicking off the safety. He paused, waited three seconds, then moved through the door. The ship was an exact copy of its twin, and the communications officer was sitting in his chair exactly where he should be. He fired a single round into the man’s head before rotating his aim and firing at the other pilot, putting a round through his throat. The pilot gurgled and moved to reach for his own weapon, the other hand grabbing at his own throat, trying to stem the blood flow. Edthin strode forward and slapped the pilots’ release, grabbing the man by the back of his flight suit and pulling him bodily over the rear of the seat. He threw him against the wall and set the pistol into the man’s belly, firing once. There was a ping as the bullet passed through the man and into the wall. He dropped the pistol suddenly and pulled out the poniard again, ignoring the man’s gurgling as he slid it up the blood raiders nose and pushed, hard. The man gave a ‘grrk” noise as it pierced up into his brain, and Edthin quickly withdrew the needle like weapon before releasing the man.

He moved fast now, going to the pilots’ controls and sitting down.

- -

Lloyd poked the remains of the automated turret and sighed a bit, shaking his head “Capsuleers spend so much damn money on systems that probably won’t help them anyway…proof that greatness is bred, not made.”

Carlini gave a chuckle and nodded, then moved back into combat stance, moving forward. She made a motion with her hand, indicating the first life sign was in a small work room to their right, and slid to the far side of the door where they keypad was. Lloyd moved forward and crouched down next to the door, the third member of their party, a Gallentean named Jean, took position behind him. Carlini counted off quietly and then slapped the door panel, Lloyd sweeping the room as he moved in. The ship crewman was seated facing a console, and Lloyd fired a stunshot at him, the tiny device latching to the man and releasing enough current to bring down a normal sized person. He twitched a bit but gave no other movement.

“It’s clear” he called as he moved to rotate the chair around. Edthin was seated in the chair, eyes dead and dull, though his chest moved in and out as he breathed. Drool was running out of the corner of his mouth, and Lloyd blinked as the airlock door slammed shut, taking Jeans leg at the knee with it, the rest of him in the corridor. The Gallente fell down screaming, pulling the trigger of his weapon, sending a burst off at nothing. Carlini spun, having just gotten through the door, and slammed the butt of her weapon into it. There was no keypad on this side. A clicking noise sounded out, and panels at the top of the room opened up, ten balls falling down and dangling on strings. Lloyd looked at them in confusion before he noticed that they were covered in thousands of tiny needles. His eyes went wide.

There was a scream and a crumpling sound of low powered explosives, and then silence, except for the sound of Jean slowly pulling him-self down the corridor, sobbing in pain and leaving a widening trail of blood behind him.

- -

On the other side of the ship, moving up a parallel corridor, Horace paused and tilted his head. He held up a hand and then turned on the microphone on his hat with a flick of his tongue “Team two, report.” He said quietly.

His frown deepened and he waved the two other raiders to defensive positions in the corridor. They looked at him in concern and then moved, covering their angles professionally. These were veterans who had served together for some time (in the relative idea of “some” in a job that usually got you killed within a month). Horace felt a faint surge of pride even as he clicked the communications device over to a different channel.

“Hunter One, come in, no response from team two. Hunter one?” he said, heart dropping. He looked at the other two and motioned for them to begin to move back the way they had come, and the three began to fan back down the corridor, quite a bit more alert now. He switched channels again “Hunter one, come in…hunter one?”

His earpiece crackled to life “Help…Me…” he heard Jean say “Trap…leg gone…others dead…” the voice was weak.

He scowled. Normally such sloppiness and failure were dealt with badly but, he needed to know what happened. His sense of honor, such as he had, demanded that. He moved through the corridors with his team, covering the angles, by the book, moving swiftly and professionally. He held up his hand as he saw Jean in the corridor, still pulling himself along. He had gotten about thirty feet, though he seemed to be weakening swiftly.

Chartine moved forward after a moment, kneeling down and checking the bleeding mans wounds. She looked up at Horace and shook her head “He wont last long…”

Horace breathed out angrily and moved forward, grabbing the dying man and turning him over “What the hell happened here newbie!?” He demanded. He managed to shout a whisper, a skill very useful to squad leaders.

“Trap…Down the hall…Follow blood…the others…dunno what happened…” gasped the Gallente, and then fell back as Horace released him. Chartine looked at him carefully, raising her weapon. Horace shook his head and they moved down the hall, leaving the Gallente to sob quietly as he died to the rhythm of his heart beat.

Chartine paused in front of the door where the blood trail started, and looked at Horace. He took up position on the other side of the door, and Chartine pressed the open button. Horace brought his gun up and around, pointing it into the room as he moved to sweep into it, and slipped on the blood and other mess on the inside. He yelped as he felt fire run up his back and scrambled out. The inside of the room was a carnal house of blood and bone and other putrid fluids that come with death.

Robert opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by his head exploding in a spray, and Cartine yelped in pain as a pellet from the scattergun hit her shoulder, causing her to spin. Horace bought up his rifle and opened fire down the hall past the falling body of his comrade as Cartine crawled for cover, ducking behind a service duct. Horace ducked in to the room where the remains of team two and one of the crewmen were, and listened to the silence. He heard the last of Roberts heart pumps from the blood squirt out of the neck of the man, and closed his eyes briefly. Whoever this was would pay, dearly. He would clone him and kill him again and again, he swore it. He ejected the clip from his rifle and inserted another, listening to the silence still. There was nothing but the hum of the ship and the distant warning alarms near the engine.

He turned his head as something moved in the room behind him, and had just enough time to curse as a bullet pierced his temple from a vent hidden beneath the desk.

- -

Chartine heard the shot and closed her eyes, praying. She was wounded and everyone else was dead. She picked up her rifle and peaked around the corner of the vent, blinking through the tears. They were being hunted. She was being hunted, since she was the only one left. She stood and sprinted as fast as she could down the hallway, moving from side to side and trying to keep sense of the hallways.

She was almost at the frigate when a simple piece of pipe swung from around a corner, smashing into her knee with a terrible crack. She screamed as she fell, trying to bring her gun upright. A boot smashed into her wrist, crushing it. She swooned from shock, gasping. She began to try and crawl away, sobbing, and then screamed again as whomever her attacker was fired the scattergun into the back of her good knee. She slumped forward, dull from shock. She felt the barrels of the weapon press against the back of her skull and then she felt nothing.

- -

Ed shoved the corpse of the pilot of the second hunter through the airlock, looking over the carefully arranged scene again. One of his clones, now dead with a double shot to the chest from the raider pilots pistol, was sprawled out on the ground, his own simple silenced weapon next to the body. He moved over to the communications officer, checking him over, and nodded a bit before looking at the wall where he had shot the pilot, and the chair. Two shots, then.

He sat with his back against the wall and picked up his discarded weapon, turning it on himself. He first placed it against his shoulder, and pulled the trigger, closing his eyes and gasping in pain. He dropped the weapon and swallowed, panting hard as he picked it up again and set it against his stomach. He carefully ran it over his stomach, and pulled the trigger again, yelling in pain. He tossed the gun off to the side, pale and shaking, and removed the metal plate from behind his back, now with two bullets lodged in it. He slowly pulled himself up, gasping with effort, and moved to the door, tossing it through into the other ship, holding his stomach with his free hand.

He crawled back over to the place he had shot himself and dragged himself, gasping in pain the whole time, to the pilots’ chair, where he sat down. He flicked on the emergency beacon and broke off from the Navitas, activating the explosives onboard it and the first hunter.

The Amarrian Blood Raider raised his microphone to his mouth, speaking weakly ‘Hunter Two…need…Help…” he gasped as he flicked on the emergency beacon, slumping back into unconsciousness.