With nowhere else to go, Harah begun a cautious walk down the emergency-lit corridor from Port-3. The Roux was gone, and so the only way off Folban Station was to find either another ship, or smaller launch. After the recent events, it was clear that either this station was experiencing the worst ever recorded incident of system control error, or something was very intent on killing him. He had no desire to find out which one.
The sound of his steps echoed dully, then the PA system cracked on: "...twelve-million dead in the Asovel, and the resignation of Frontier Marshall Reidt to his Majesty for the disgraceful defeat at the hands of the genocidal rebels."
"We weren't the only ones" Harah growled back in his mind, recalling what he had seen planet side on Asovel; aftermaths of civilian executions by Imperial forces as retribution for aiding the "rebels". That was one the images that kept him fighting. It was one of the reasons he did what he did, but no the entirety.
As he rounded a corner, he saw a sign for a station security office. Harah made his way over, not being so fast in the event of another piece of equipment trying to kill him again. He looked into the doorway, only entering after verifying it looked clear. Inside, he spied a station map on the bulkhead, which to his luck pointed out a nearby emergency launch location. Launches were basically larger escape pods that had greater life-support systems-- most deep-space facilities used them instead as there was nowhere for a smaller pod to land. Whether or not these launches were in working condition was a better question to ponder. A far more concerning sight was an empty suit bay for the Hoplite that would be posted there-- a large exosuit used by military, militia, security, and pirate alike, greatly enhancing combat ability and survivability. Harah had seen fights between suit pilots years ago, and hoped he never had to go toe-to-toe with one. The monitor on the desk suddenly flickered on, causing Harah to jump. He waited for a moment, then tip-toed over to inspect, seeing a text log of a conversation;
[Captain Col]: We can't disable the guns, and we can't hold the guns since we don't got enoug men. And with the civilians below, we can't destroy the guns--
[Lieutenant Hollis]: Yes, we can.
[Captain Col]: Lieutenant! What're you doing?!
[Lieutenant Hollis]: Winning.
[Captain Col]: Step away from the console, now!
Harah wore a grim expression on his face when he read the short transcription. He remembered that moment, and his anger. He tried to not think about it, when he heard a whine and grinding of metal-on-metal shook him. He knew that sound, it was the shriek of suit-rollers on metal deck plating. That missing Hoplite was out there alright. Harah swore in his breath. Even worse, it came from the only way forward, toward the launches.
He stepped back out into the corridor. At the end of it, he saw that it opened up into a larger compartment-- the tools and crates of what he could see showed it to be a warehouse or workshop, probably. The sound continues echoing as he slowly walks to the space, and suddenly stop when he is about to enter. Harah sighs greatly while staring at the floor before enters.
The space was littered with tools on the floor, like all the workers left in a hurry in the middle of work, and crates left filled and still open. Walkways snaked along the walls, and there appeared to be a few levels to the space. Harah, when he did eventually stepped, walked under the walkway to not be exposed from above. At this point, he was expecting a trap to spring at any time. A heavy metallic thudding could be heard somewhere above, and Harah had a few guesses as to what it was.
He made it to the far side, and to the continuing corridor, surprised to do so. He quick-stepped in, and could just make out the signage for the launches. The end in sight, he hurried as the PA piped up once again; "Our boys have retaken the Asovel system, liberating it from Imperial tyranny! United Congress delivered a standing ovation for the stalwart TDF men and women who fought so bravely and valiantly..." the voice began to taper off as Harah neared the launches, when a harsh digitized voice suddenly shrieked over the recording: "NO MATTER HOW FAR", and the doorway to the launches slammed shut. "Goddamnit!" Harah howled, before then turning, and seeing it. The shadowed frame of the suit, like tangible shadow against the neon red emergency lighting.
A loud clank, screech and whine, the Hoplite's large figure charged, "NO MATTER HOW LONG", the cracking digital voice cried. Harah tried to barrel out of the way, but was nowhere near fast enough. The suit grabbed him, slammed him against the bulkhead, and slowly at first began to grind him against it, rapidly gaining speed, grating Harah against. When they reached the end and were back in the warehouse, the Hoplite tossed Harah in, tumbling gracelessly before stopping near the center.
The rollers retract with a click, and the Hoplite lumbered over heavily, its normally porcelain white armor sanguine in the light. It loomed over Harah, and begun to bend over to pick him up again, when a flash of light and crack of magic blasted out, and the suit stumbled back a step. Harah scrambled to his feet and tried to flee, not knowing where to go, but determined to get there. After regaining its composure, the Hoplite lunged before Harah could make good on his chance. Harah tried again to blast his pursuer, but the Hoplite powered through, grabbing and lifting him by hid head with one arm. With the other, the suit savagely and mechanically slammed into Harah's chest, knocking the air out. With the last of his magic, Harah gave the suit one final blast with just enough force to make it drop him.
Harah fell to the floor briefly, and he again stumbled up, seeing a small door he missed earlier, and quickly limped in. It was a tool room for the warehouse, and Harah looked for anything he could use, when he spied a telemetry spike-gun. Normally, it would be used for ramming sensors into asteroids or probes, but it'd work just as well for what he needed. He hastily grabbed and loaded the tool, when the Hoplite again loomed in the doorway. Harah turned and fired, with a great pneumatic-sounding pop and crack, the spike tore into a joint. The suit pulled the long spike from itself, and retaliated by spearing Harah in the shoulder. Harah cried out, but he saw his chance-- his only chance now. He put the barrel of the tool against the center of the Hoplite torso plate, and fired. A crack, a screech, and the spike skewered the suit, stumbling back from the force.
Harah clumsily slipped past, and saw an unintended side-effect. He had pierced the power core for the suit-- its arcanite core. As swiftly as he could, he hobbled toward the corridor toward the launches, when the flash of light lit up the space when the core ruptured and exploded. An emergency shutter slammed shut just as Harah made it out of the warehouse, and he could feel the magic radiation, even behind the blast door. Harah spit out some blood, and then slowly limped toward the launches. The door was still closed. He played with the door pad, leaning against the bulkhead for a moment while his wounds bled. He eventually got the door open, and he shuffled in, making his way to the first launch, not even inspecting the craft. He fell into the single-compartment vessel, and begun the process to get underway. He looked around for a medical kit while the automated system did a few pre-flight checks, finding one and then cracking it open, using his good arm. As the launched rumbled out, he hears a soft voice crack over the radio "...no matter how long".
Comments
Post a Comment