Part the tweleth
Meanwhile, back on the job, Steve and Jacinta are having one of their ‘discussions’.
“It is here, these are the co-ordinates that Bl... that came on the BPN card. You’re not reading it right.”
“Jacinta, I don’t see anything on the scope. I don’t see anything on my HUD. I don’t see anything with IR or UV. I’d bet you if I took this helmet off I couldn’t see anything with my bare fucking eyes. There’s nothing there.”
Sleet interjects, “Removing air filtration would be inadvisable, Steven. Our current atmosphere would prove unpleasant even for your species’ underdeveloped sense of smell. Also: I have one hostile, bearing 001, range 300. Pig. It hasn’t noticed me yet . Switching to 30-30. Will advise. Expedite your solution.”
Jacinta mutters something that might be “You miss a lot of things, Steve” before grabbing the Nav map from her squad mate and punching in the co-ordinates from the BPN card that Blake had handed her that morning. She smacks the rugged little device a couple of times before tossing it back to Steve, who nearly fumbles it into the crappy soup currently lapping at his shins.
“Sleet. Hoszzztile count four. No, five. All pig. All headed this way.”
“Mel here... fzzz... “One potential hostilzzz range 400 bearing fzzz hasn’t noticed me yet either. Heading this way though. Sleet you found any other ways out of this shit hole?”
“Negative, only through a pack of pigzzs who are... ffzzgggathering.”
Bonky can hear something slightly puzzled in this last transmission from Sleet.
“Wazzszsup?” he transmits
“Do pigs gather?” The Wraith asks, before going silent and thumbing his sniper icon. His HUD chibi goes into a crouch, tiny weapon held unwavering before him.
Meanwhile the debate has grown between Jacinta and Steve has grown a little heated.
“.. you’re not going to fzzsstand up to him then somebody else willlll”
“What’s that zzzssupposed to mean?”
“He’s put us in another situation where we’re fzzssng exposed“
“But this isn’t about the job is it fzzzsteve? Is it?”
“We should... we’re... I mean”
“What? What do you mean? What exaggggly is it that you do mean Steve?”
“I... we’re squad matezzzfts. We shouldn’t stand for this, not against one of our own, someone we.. I”
“Lovebirds, I hate to break to communal communication vibe but we are currently fish in a barrel that’s fzz getting smaller as we zzz zzpeak. I count six hostiles, ambling this way. The might take another route in 25 metre’s time but after that we have a situation that might require some hot Bonky zzzfaction. You getting this, B?”
“I copy, Mel.” Bonky likes saying this. It makes him feel important. For some reason or other, what Sleet said before in the cab comes back to him again: he pushes it aside for now, tries to focus. He tells himself that there will be plenty of time for thinking about things later, when things have calmed down slightly.
Jacinta comes online again, sounding a little flustered. Bonky feels as if maybe her earlier cool has deserted her somewhat.
“OK OK, it seems as though there has been some sort of… mix up here fzzzzt think we should go topside and try and contact Station Analysis ASAP to get some sort of an update. There doesn’t seem to beeeefft any sort offffzzzt blockage here. Bonky, get your ass over to where Mel is at and give her some support. zzzsleet this map shows a flow control gate a hunnnnddred metres from your position. Scope it up and relay the map ref. Szzteve, go and find it. The Wraith and I will cover. Gggo!”
Bonky turns off his suit lights completely and backtracks to where they just came from, to find Mel knelt down in the slimy goo of a hundred thousand Mort residents: she motions urgently for him to get down as well. He does so. She tight beams him to switch to IR and he flicks the switch inside his gauntlet: he is rewarded by a mesmerically shifting picture of heat. Lots of heat. Lots of targets. A target rich environment, no less. The only other time Bonky has seen one of these is on the vid, and that was in an episode of Captain Contract. As he recalls, the Shaktar sidekick had to valiantly charge in and save the day, receiving grievous wounds and a medal for grievous wounds along the way. Bonky snorts to himself. The Captain should get a Stormer sidekick. That way the wounds wouldn’t matter because they’d all be healed up and they could go for coffee that much sooner. Maybe with the Captain’s attractive Ebon friend, MaiLee.
The problem in hand is however somewhat more pressing, to Mel anyway, and Bonky can see her take something from a moulded pouch on her thigh. The IR gauge registers it as body temperature and Bonky can just about make out a pistol shaped device. Mel’s flintlock. Bonky knows she only uses it when she absolutely has to: she says she finds it stupid, using the Ebb in a “simplistic, brutally destructive” way. Bonky finds this objection somewhat amusing, given who and what he is, but he hadn’t said anything to Mel because she had seemed slightly upset when she had started talking about her ability. As per usual. Bonky for his part makes sure the GASH fist and Chainaxe telltales are all at nominal, then settles down for a bit of a wait. Over the ‘com he can follow the others’ progress as Steve tries to locate a control panel little bigger than his hand in pitch darkness. In any other situation, it might be amusing, however at the moment Bonky has a bad feeling somewhere in his stomach. Somehow the stakes seem to have been raised today and he is not sure how. It is making everyone jumpy, and jumpy people with guns, in his experience, are likely to do silly things.
“Steven, the panel is approximately five metres to your right. It is halfway up the wall. The switch is a bar running parallel to the wall and requires you to break some glass before pulling it down.”
Steve’s voice comes back hoarse and tense, trying to make as little detectable noise as possible.
“Sleet, this fucking thing was ‘approximately five metres’ away ten metreszzz ago. Are you sure that rifffle scope is set up right?”
“My hunting equipment is calibrated perfectly. There. Stop. Turn ninety degrees to your right. Jacinta, are you in position?”
“Yo. Bonky, Mel, if the lot down your side hear this going offzzt then be ready to hold them off whilzzzzst we make our way round. If you let them through then we’re all fffzzfucked. OK Steve, punch it on my mark. Sleet get ready to hit your szzzuit lights as well. Three. Two. One. Mark.”
Bonky hears a tiny crash and tinkle over the ‘com from Steve’s external mic, then the squealing, screaming noise starts. It is not pleasant and Bonky would rather that it wasn’t delivered with quite so much fidelity into his earpiece. It is so loud it starts to drown out the traffic from the others, making it difficult to hear what is going on around the corner.
“fffzzzzzzz-alfway closed, nnnnnnzzzzz manual override”
”That got their attention, adviszzzzzte hssst penetration with HP”
“Get out fzzzzzzzzzz Steve”
“Nearly… uuuuuuurgh”
CHUKUNG!
Bonky and Mel are knocked into the sewage by the impact of the stuck sewer control valve finally closing, and over the ‘com they can hear the frenzied screams of a pig that managed to dash its way through, and Steve’s increasingly frantic attempts to fight it off. The Stormer and Ebon have other things to worry about, however, as the pigs down their section of tunnel have also heard the impact of the heavy door and are now as frightened as twenty stone mutated carnivorous fighting animals ever are. Frightened pig equals pig ready for a fight, with whatever seems to be threatening it.
Bonky, to name one example.
Mel, to name another.
Both pick themselves up from the floor to find themselves confronted by six specimens of Mort’s thriving urban fauna, charging at them as fast as their itty bitty ickle trotters can carry them. More follow behind in a group that shows up as a shapeless mass on the IR. And behind them Bonky can see something sparking, a source of light fitfully illuminating the creatures like a strobe. There’s no time to process any more though as he needs to buy Mel some time to formulate her attack. Bonky charges, Chainaxe brandished double-handed before him, yelling something incoherent over the open ‘com channel. Mel is somewhat more precise.
“Enemy fzzzztgaged”
“Affirm, I’m on the way, Steve what’s… what’s your status?”
“zzssshhh uuhhhhlive. Just.”
“Sleet, to me. Hold tight Mel. The glovezzzzs are offttt, Bonky”
This is an agreed code to let Bonky do pretty much what he wants to whatever gets in his way. He doesn’t get to play like this very often, but when he does he knows that its important that he gives it his all: the other members of the team are depending on him.
Comments to e l l i o t