OK part 2 /RP March 22nd 3012 AD
Day 197 Thinking about Spiegel's visit yesterday really got my mind going again. Someone, somewhere knew what was going to happen, I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time (another clich├®, hope no one publishes this) and I was the one who got stitched up. Some many questions; who knew about the registration code; why did my guns fail; hell, why was I the only survivor? There were half a dozen interceptors out there as well as 3 ┬┤cruisers; I was alone and defenceless, yet they failed to take me out. Pretty darn good flying on my part if I do say so myself, but still. It was set up that I would take the blame, but for who? No one else survived, or did they? -Come on Rebrov, get off that lazy, treacherous arse and get out here before I stick you in with Badegan for a night-
It was Stark, one of the more unpleasant screws. Rebrov looked over to his left where Badegan was just emerging his cell, grinning stupidly. -Hello Alexei sweetie - -Piss off Badegan, came anywhere near me and I'll tear your nuts off.-
Rebrov was in no need for this right now. - Ooh, promises promises -
Badegan grinned stupidly again. -Knock it off lover boys, plenty of time for that later. Right now we have a most rewarding day trip for our honoured guests, a pleasant little Sulphur mine on Io -
Stark's sarcasm was devastating.
-You'll need full EP gear and we leave in twenty minutes.-
He walked off down the cellblock. Environmental Protection or EP suits were heavy, suffocatingly hot and poorly maintained. Many an inmate had died within minutes of entering a hostile environment, mainly due to punctures or blocked airlines. Rumour had it that the more disruptive cons were given sabotaged suits, just to get rid of them quietly. -Great, another chance on the EP lottery, buy your ticket here -
Badegan sounded genuinely irritated this time. -For once, I agree with you Badegan. You never know, you might get the winning number. At least you'll be out of here - -Won't you miss me Alexei? - -Hmm, tough question. Let me think. Um, No.-
They walked off to the staging area accompanied by the rest of the cellblock and three armed screws. The inmates were all Terran; common criminals, Insurgents, Raiders and such like. No Gammulans. They were kept in a separate section of the facility to avoid any trouble. Their work details were also separated; the Overseer tried to keep Terrans and Gammulans apart as much as possible. The EP suits were waiting for them at the launch bay. They pulled them on, accompanied by the usual complaints and profanities and marched slowly into the shuttle.
Once they were seated, Rebrov could hear the pilot going through the final launch check before the shuttle lifted gently, a short jolt and the craft was out of the launch bay. The journey to Io would take several minutes, too short for any form of restful sleep, so Rebrov decided to take in the view. The density and turbulence of Titan?s atmosphere made the first few minutes pretty dicey, a couple of guys threw up, the sickly sweet smell reached Rebrov's nostrils, nearly causing him to do the same. He swallowed it down and watched the bland atmosphere of Titan quickly recede away from the shuttle. He couldn't see the surface of Saturn itself as he was on the opposite side, but the rings were majestic. Too far away to pick out individual objects, they were simply flat, almost solid bands. A multitude of shades, colours and densities. Once they were clear of the rings, they would make the short jump to Jupiter. Rebrov settled back into his seat and the shuttle lurched slightly as the hyperdrive was engaged. He took a glance round his fellow inmates; Badegan was asleep, his hand resting on his neighbour's knee, a nervous-looking Insurgent by the name of Dacourt, barely out of his teens and one of Badegan's favourites. Next to him were a couple of Raiders, Mason and Petri-something, a Polish or Czech sounding name, Rebrov couldn't remember exactly. They had tried to strike up a friendship when he first arrived, but he had told them in no uncertain terms where to go. They had ignored him since. On Rebrov's right was Jackal, he didn't know his real name, but he was also a Raider who arrived just after he had. Rebrov actually liked him because he kept himself to himself and didn't say much. Mason and his pal seemed scared of him. To Rebrov's left was another Insurgent who arrived only two days before, he looked terrified and was one of those who had secreted his breakfast on the deck floor.
The shuttle lurched again as the hyperdrive was disengaged. -Twelve minutes to planetfall-
He heard the pilot say to Stark It's a moon, you dickhead, thought Rebrov. He glanced out of the window and saw the characteristic multiple volcanic plumes rising from the jagged surface. -OK, scumbags, there's been a lot of tectonic activity round the mine the last few days, so we're putting down about a click away from the entrance. It's a long walk, but you get to work an extra hour to make up the time. Don't we just treat you like royalty? -
Stark never ceased to delight in the misery of his charges. A voice came from the back of the shuttle.
-Screw you, fagot.- -You couldn't afford me-
was Stark's retort as he proceeded to lower the ramp.
-Come on girls, let's get to work - They donned their helmets and checked each other's seals and air supply. They might hate each other's guts, but this was a customary show of solidarity. The group proceeded through the hatch and down the ramp onto the surface. Io was the most volcanically active body in the Sol system, hence the need for caution with the shuttle. The surface changes completely every million years or so, a mere instant in geological terms.
There were twelve inmates in total, accompanied by five armed guards. Stark and two others stayed with the shuttle along with the pilot. The trek took the best part of half an hour, or more. The entrance to the mine was a hole carved out of the rock face, with two sets of rails disappearing into the darkness. Inmates were used for mining just to save costs; mining drones were more efficient but were reserved for more valuable resources like Radine and Uranium. Two guards remained at the entrance while the remaining three escorted the work detail into the hellhole. Even though his suit, Rebrov could smell the sulphurous odour. It made his eyes water. About ten minutes later they reached the deposit. There were an assortment of crude tools available; picks, shovels, disused drill-bits etc. Nothing mechanical, too much of a risk to the guards. They each selected a tool and began the laborious task of prising the yellow rock out of the seam and loading it onto the small trucks that stood waiting on the rails. Once one was full, it had to be manually pushed to the entrance and the load emptied into a hopper. It was hot, claustrophobic and bone-aching work. Then the rumbling started. The ground beneath their feet began to shake and dust fell from the cavern ceiling. One by one they stopped working. -What the f.... ? -
Rebrov was unable to finish his sentence as an explosion rocked the cavern, throwing them violently to the rapidly shifting floor. A shooting pain froze him as he tried to rise. Looking down, a splinter of wood about half-an-inch wide had imbedded itself in his left forearm, blood was beginning to seep out of the torn EP suit. The place was in complete disarray; he saw at least six lifeless bodies on the ground, one of which was a guard who had been at the far end of the seam where the explosion had taken place. Others were dazed, but standing, some were obviously alive, but unable to move. Most had obviously damaged EP suits and wouldn't last much longer. He was fortunate; he had been at the end of the seam nearest the mine entrance and furthest from the explosion. His only thought was to get out, the cavern was too unstable and could collapse any second. The dust and smoke brought visibility down to no more than a few inches; his only chance of getting out was to use the feel of the rails beneath his boots. He ran, walked, stumbled as fast as he could, the air began to clear the nearer he got to the entrance. The silhouettes of the two guards were visible, running in his direction. It's now or never, he thought. He took the closest guard in the chest with his right shoulder, sending a jarring pain down his injured left arm. The guard was knocked clean of his feet, winded. Before the startled second guard could react, Rebrov picked up the fallen ZS10 Assault rifle and jammed the butt into the facemask of the guard's EP suit. He then did the same to the winded guard; they wouldn't survive more than a few minutes without any oxygen he decided. No need to waste more energy or rounds. He relieved them both of their ammo, nutri and medi-packs, discarded the now damaged assault rifle and checked the other was functional. He stood up, breathing heavily and assessed his situation. Stark and the others wouldn't have heard the explosion above the ambient noise of the moon, but he couldn't rule out that one of the guards at the entrance had radioed to explain what had happened. With any luck, Stark and his buddies would be on their way. No one else had emerged from the mine, so he assumed no one else had survived. There were two options, wait for Stark to get here and pick them off one by one, or get back to the shuttle without being detected, kill anybody there and steal it. That would mean leaving three guards on the moon's surface, although their chance of survival was not good, he couldn't afford the risk. He decided to wait, choosing a good vantage point about twenty yards to the side of the mine entrance. If they knew what had happened, they would be there in about twenty minutes, the guards' suits were lighter and more flexible than his were and they would be able to move a lot faster. He settled down to wait and meditated on his situation; taking out the guards would be no problem, he had the element of surprise and was an expert shot; taking the shuttle would be easy, only one pilot with a wrist laser and the thing was a piece of cake to fly. But then what happens? Where would he go? Would he be hunted? There would be no one left here to tell what had happened, there would be a missing shuttle, but that could have been caught in the explosion, no one would know. They would send out a search party, but once the situation was clear they wouldn't bother to recover the bodies of a few convicts and guards. The problem would be avoiding Galcom patrols. The registration number of the shuttle was on a central database; if it was logged as destroyed or missing and then he appeared on a patrol's radar, there would be way too much explaining to do. He would have to head for the Indy stations, Zenin or Centron perhaps, anywhere away from Galcom jurisdiction, but did he have enough fuel to get there though? That was another question altogether. His train of though was broken by voices over to his right. He sneaked a peak over his cover. Two guards. Damn! Where was the third? He scanned behind the others towards the direction of the shuttle, but could see no-one. Then he caught a flash of something glinting in the cave entrance. It was Stark's suit! He cursed himself for not paying attention; Stark must have hurried on ahead and would see the bodies of his colleagues within a few seconds. As they were separated, it would be tough to take out all three quickly, but not impossible. He lined his sites on the back of Stark's head and pulled the trigger. - Goodbye, shithead -
he said as Stark's helmet disappeared in a red blur. The shot alerted the other two, but one didn't have time to react before his chest erupted. The second squeezed off a couple of wild shots and dived for cover. Rebrov would have to get him before he radioed the pilot. The guard's cover was fairly good, but one of his feet was visible. Rebrov took aim and fired. The screams echoed round the canyon as the lower half of his leg disintegrated, but they too wouldn't last long. At least he wouldn't be in any fit state to radio anyone before he died. Rebrov lifted his gear, plundered what he could from the dead and dying guards and headed towards the location of the shuttle. Hopefully, the pilot wouldn't try and contact Stark for a while yet, if he did and received no answer, he might just take off. Rebrov picked up the pace and was soon within a hundred metres or so. Fortunately, the cockpit was facing away from him so the pilot was oblivious to his approach. The problem was trying to lure him out of the ship; maybe some kind of distraction would do it. Then it occurred to him; -You idiot, Alexei Rebrov -
he said aloud to himself
-The communicator, use the damned communicator! - He located the device he had scavenged from Stark's headless corpse and flicked it on;
-Hey, flyboy, you there? ?
He shouted into the small grey box, trying to make his voice as indistinct as possible - Wha?. What? Yes, who is this? ?
came the startled reply. - It's me, Stark, you dipshit. We got big problems here. We need medipacs like now! - -What happened, more explosions? - -Yes, and I've got two men down. Hurry man!-
Not far off the truth, thought Rebrov. - On my way Stark - Rebrov replaced the communicator and shouldered the rifle. Seconds later, the rear hatch opened and the pilot emerged laden with medipacs. In an instant he had gone the way of the guards. Rebrov climbed inside and dumped his gear. He could afford to rest as they weren't due back on Titan for another six hours at least and there was no one left here to give him any trouble. He waited for the pumps to vent the air then extricated himself from his EP suit. The place still stank of puke, but he could live with it. His arm wasn't as bad as he'd first thought and he was able to patch it up pretty well with what he had.
He climbed into the pilot seat, set it in the recline position and closed his eyes.
/RP Next episode after the weekend, going home to Mummy and Daddy with my youngest for a few days. [ 10-03-2001: Message edited by: Paddy Gregory ]
