carbine, pointing one finger straight up the conduit.
Time to climb.
Climbing in the hazmat suits proved every bit as awkward as moving in them, and then some. That one of them might lose their grip and fall was first and foremost among their minds, but none of them did. The stakes were simply too high.
Level after level they climbed. Hand over hand, foot after foot. Roon had a great view of Fenton’s shapeless ass in the oversized suit when she chose to look up, but mostly she just concentrated on not looking down at the ever elongating drop below them.
Hand over hand, foot after foot.
After ten-plus levels, Roon was sweltering. Beneath the suit she was slicked with sweat. Her odor had long since fused with that of the previous wearer, creating a sickly sweet cocktail her stomach was increasingly on the verge of rejecting. A few minutes more and she wasn’t sure she would be able to contain the rising tide of bile in her gullet.
Two things happened in the next few moments, both of which proved to be nothing short of minor miracles, at least so far as Roon was concerned.
The first was a sudden shift in status as M-H Tau stood down from green alert. “Attention, all personnel,” the voice of Lieutenant Commander Harlan Garrity proclaimed over the public address. “Be advised that the previously declared alert has officially been revised. Return to normal duties. Repeat, return to normal duties.”
The second was the end of their long and laborious climb. The three of them emerged into the central junction linking the cargo bay, the staging bay, the standard landing bay, and the executive landing bay. Of the four of them, the executive landing bay was the smallest, large enough to accommodate up to three courier command vehicles.
Xenecia emerged first, immediately setting aside her bandolier and carbine to strip out of her suit now that it was no longer needed. Fenton and Roon gladly followed suit, Roon in particular. “Quickly, quickly,” the huntrex encouraged them. “We don’t have a moment to spare.”
“But they revised the warning,” Roon said before sussing out the devil in the details. “Oh. Revised, not canceled.”
“Precisely. They know we have Fenton and they know we are attempting to escape. Which means—”
“Spare it. Let’s go already.”
The executive landing bay was all but deserted. The lone exception was a woman in a Morgenthau-Hale pilots’ uniform skimming a flexpad. She started as the trio charged in, led by the huntrex and the carbine she held before her.
“Oh, god! Don’t shoot! Please, please…” The flexpad clattered to the floor by her feet as she brought her arms together in front of her face, her body folding in on itself.
Despite the woman’s instinctive attempt to become as small and harmless a target as possible, Roon recognized her immediately.
“Ensign Cassel?!”
12 • OVERCOM
Xenecia scowled as the mousy advocate woman interposed herself between the end of her carbine and the cowering pilot. “I gather you know this one.”
“Yes!” Roon exclaimed. “She escorted me to the station. She’s an excellent pilot. She can help us.”
She eyed Ensign Cassel coolly, her mirrored lenses betraying nothing of her disposition. A tense beat passed before she lifted the carbine. “Good. It so happens we could use one of those about now.” She gestured to the Commander’s yacht. “That one. Quickly, please.”
Cassel straightened, emerging from her cage of limbs once it became clear she was not in imminent danger of being shot in the face. Still, she held close to herself even as she spared a quick glance toward the Commander’s yacht. “I-I-I can’t,” she protested limply. “I’m not stationed here; I don’t have the voice authorization. I was just about to depart when you three stormed in.”
“You are very quickly outliving your usefulness, Ensign Cassel…”
“Do not hurt her,” Roon warned.
“Stand aside. I have no
Time to climb.
Climbing in the hazmat suits proved every bit as awkward as moving in them, and then some. That one of them might lose their grip and fall was first and foremost among their minds, but none of them did. The stakes were simply too high.
Level after level they climbed. Hand over hand, foot after foot. Roon had a great view of Fenton’s shapeless ass in the oversized suit when she chose to look up, but mostly she just concentrated on not looking down at the ever elongating drop below them.
Hand over hand, foot after foot.
After ten-plus levels, Roon was sweltering. Beneath the suit she was slicked with sweat. Her odor had long since fused with that of the previous wearer, creating a sickly sweet cocktail her stomach was increasingly on the verge of rejecting. A few minutes more and she wasn’t sure she would be able to contain the rising tide of bile in her gullet.
Two things happened in the next few moments, both of which proved to be nothing short of minor miracles, at least so far as Roon was concerned.
The first was a sudden shift in status as M-H Tau stood down from green alert. “Attention, all personnel,” the voice of Lieutenant Commander Harlan Garrity proclaimed over the public address. “Be advised that the previously declared alert has officially been revised. Return to normal duties. Repeat, return to normal duties.”
The second was the end of their long and laborious climb. The three of them emerged into the central junction linking the cargo bay, the staging bay, the standard landing bay, and the executive landing bay. Of the four of them, the executive landing bay was the smallest, large enough to accommodate up to three courier command vehicles.
Xenecia emerged first, immediately setting aside her bandolier and carbine to strip out of her suit now that it was no longer needed. Fenton and Roon gladly followed suit, Roon in particular. “Quickly, quickly,” the huntrex encouraged them. “We don’t have a moment to spare.”
“But they revised the warning,” Roon said before sussing out the devil in the details. “Oh. Revised, not canceled.”
“Precisely. They know we have Fenton and they know we are attempting to escape. Which means—”
“Spare it. Let’s go already.”
The executive landing bay was all but deserted. The lone exception was a woman in a Morgenthau-Hale pilots’ uniform skimming a flexpad. She started as the trio charged in, led by the huntrex and the carbine she held before her.
“Oh, god! Don’t shoot! Please, please…” The flexpad clattered to the floor by her feet as she brought her arms together in front of her face, her body folding in on itself.
Despite the woman’s instinctive attempt to become as small and harmless a target as possible, Roon recognized her immediately.
“Ensign Cassel?!”
12 • OVERCOM
Xenecia scowled as the mousy advocate woman interposed herself between the end of her carbine and the cowering pilot. “I gather you know this one.”
“Yes!” Roon exclaimed. “She escorted me to the station. She’s an excellent pilot. She can help us.”
She eyed Ensign Cassel coolly, her mirrored lenses betraying nothing of her disposition. A tense beat passed before she lifted the carbine. “Good. It so happens we could use one of those about now.” She gestured to the Commander’s yacht. “That one. Quickly, please.”
Cassel straightened, emerging from her cage of limbs once it became clear she was not in imminent danger of being shot in the face. Still, she held close to herself even as she spared a quick glance toward the Commander’s yacht. “I-I-I can’t,” she protested limply. “I’m not stationed here; I don’t have the voice authorization. I was just about to depart when you three stormed in.”
“You are very quickly outliving your usefulness, Ensign Cassel…”
“Do not hurt her,” Roon warned.
“Stand aside. I have no
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