Horror on a Spaceship! Log, it's log...

[pyrephox]

Kuznetsov responds, simply, "Acknowledged. Distracted here. Out."

"Kronos," Paravada says, "flood the medbay with fire retardant foam."

Anderson looks back at Paravada, then back to the Medbay door, his expression a little uncertain. He takes a deep breath, "Kronos, activate the fire supression equipment in the Medbay."

"Affirmative, sir." Kronos' voice is concurrent with the slight change in the background hum of the ships engines that indicate the order is being followed. The window of the medbay abruptly fogs over, and in the display screen, the creature pauses in its industry, the three heads rotating around and snapping at the billowing chemical clouds. It retreats momentarily from the door, waving the arms bearing the laser scalpels at the jets, as if trying to cut them.

Turning back towards the wall monitor, Anderson watches the fog fill the room, fidgeting a little as he waits, "Kronos, switch to thermal on the security camera."

"Maybe it'll keep itself busy trying to cut foam," Paravada says, without much hope.

The display screen blanks out for fraction of second, then returns in shades of cool, neutral blues, without much definition. The laser blades are glowing crimson slashes, but most everything else in the room appears to be room temperature.

Paravada says "Remarkable. It's not warm-blooded."

Anderson visably falters as the laser scalpel shows up on the screen, "It's not working...." he mumbles, still staring at the screen.

Paravada sighs. "No. It was a long shot, anyhow."

It's hard to make out the creature's movements on this view, but after a few more sweeps of the blade, the red slashes marking the scalpels move closer to the door, and there's a hiss from the glass as they go back to work.

Anderson falls forward, his head hitting the wall next to the monitor with a dull thud. Turning his head to look at Paravada without coming away from the wall he says with a touch of panic in his voice, "So, what now? Hope Kuznetsov gets back before that thing gets through the window?"

Paravada presses her fingertips to her forehead. "Unless you have a better plan."

Anderson slowly pulls away from the wall, looking back at the Medbay door. His hand rests on the grip of his concussion gun, flexing mechanically.

"So if it's not warm blooded, doesn't seem to need Oxygen since it's still mobile after getting doused with fire retardant chemical, what else could it need to live on that we can take away?" Anderson turns back to Paravada, his hand still fingering the grip of his weapon.

"Light, jet fuel, nitrogen, gravity, magnetic fields...?" Paravada reels off.

<> GM rolls 1d100 <12> for 12 total.
<> GM rolls 1d100 <8> for 8 total.

The laser scalpels reverse direction, the faint, barely-audible noise of their operations shifting as well. The cut the creature is making appears to be angling back /up/ to the edge of the window, seemingly with the effect of eventually cutting a small, triangle-shaped hole in the glass.

Anderson turns as the noise changes, his grip on his weapon becoming a little more solid and less tentative, "If we're going to do something, we should do it quickly Doctor."

Paravada nods. "Kronos. Chill the medbay to -10 degrees Centigrade, kill the lights, and turn off the gravity." She shrugs. "All or nothing."

Anderson smiles weakly as Paravada orders Kronos to throw the kitchen sink of environment controls at the creature.

"Commander, please confirm gravity disengagement for this sector of the deck?" Kronos asks, even as the lights in the medbay abruptly shut off, and the screen starts to show darker blues creeping in at the edges.

And just like that, the officers' come unmoored from the deck, starting to drift in a vaguely upper left direction. From the direction of the medbay, and down both hall directions, there are the sounds of clatters and thumps.

Paravada grabs on to the nearest wall-handhold designed for such situations.
The lights of the scalpels again disappear from the med bay window, the screen showing the bright red streaks floating lazily through the air.

Anderson follows Paravada's example and grabs hold of the nearest handhold, watching the results in the Medbay with interest, "Well, at least we slowed it down if nothing else."

***

Rice jerks back as Something leaps from the vent onto his face, grabbing on with a multitude of sticky fingers and obscuring his vision. Morris is entirely unable to hold him under these circumstances, and falls backwards with a yelp that's audible all the way down the hall, tumbling both men to the ground. The sample jar hits the ground and bounces away from Rice's grip. To the Engineers, Kronos says, "Visual on intruder from ceiling. Ensigns Rice and Morris are under attack."

Kuznetsov drops whatever he's got onto the drone, and, pulling his gun, begins hurrying out. "Not QUITE the advance warning I had hoped," he mutters, as he heads for the hallway...

Rice scrapes at his face. "Getitoff!"

Rice's hand impacts something soft, almost rubbery, as he flails away at the thing on his face. He feels blunt, probing motions against his face, moving towards his mouth...it looks like whatever this is is going to try and force itself between his lips.


A fingerlike projection forces itself between the ensign's teeth, probing into its mouth. It tastes like steel and old blood. And 'fingerlike' is exactly the right word for it, as Kuznetsov arrives to see the two men in a heap under the vent, a disconnected hand, the tendons and muscle fragments standing up and waving like antennae, appears to be climbing inside Rice's mouth.

Kuznetsov curses, loudly, in Russian, runs forward, trying to rip the hand out of Rice's mouth.

Ampte pounds down the hallway as Kuznetsov swats desperately at the hand...it actually manages to scuttle out the way without losing its one finger hook on Rice's mouth. "Ohcrapohcrapohcrap," shouts Ampte in one continuous breath...but it doesn't stop him, or even slow him down as he runs to make a football-style PUNT at the hand.

And stumbles past, his foot flying way too close to Rice's ear for comfort; the ensign can even feel the slightest brush of the boot ruffling a lock of hair. Diotrephes arrives on the scene herself, but she looks around, then jumps on one of the waiting drones, the machine whirring to life, and small, dexterous looking hands appearing from its front. The machine trundles into 'battle'.

Rice yanks at the thing on his face. And would be shouting something very rude right now if he didn't have...something he's really trying not to think about...in his mouth.

He gropes at the thing, then /yanks/...and it comes free enough for him to see what has actually been attacking him. The hand writhes and struggles, small metallic claws suddenly sprouting from the fingertips. The finger joints break with a wet and horrible sound, as the hand tries to stab into the hand holding it.

Kuznetsov reaches forward, trying to grab the Hand and pull it further from Rice. He uses his left hand. Let it stab him with sharp metal fingers!

The hand appears to sense the grab attempt, somehow, and flattens, pressing itself up against Rice's hand like a cowering animal, and Kuznetsov's grip misses. Ampte spins, shudders, and pulls his gun. "Throw it, Rice!" he shouts. The drone trundles closer, directed by a narrowed-eyed Diotrephes. She operates the controls as one of the arms suddenly stabs forward, trying to grab the thing.

The steel claw of the maintenance drone clutches hard around the hand, crushing it until the bones snap and the skin splits. It does not bleed, and she starts reversing the drone, growling out, "Let it go. I've got the bastard.'

Rice is /more/ than happy to let go of the creature, shoving it away from him and scrambling backwards across the floor. Well. Across the floor once he's off Morris again.

Morris groans at the scramble, appearing a bit dazed and confused about everything. He just sort of lies there as the machine retreats, the hand writhing with an almost palpable anger in its grip. Ampte's gun tracks it, the barrel trembling as his eyes bulge and his finger finds the trigger.

Kuznetsov steps back, panting. He raises his hands towards Ampte. "Belay that. We have a sample." He eyes the hand, seeing if it looks likely to be able to escape from the drone's grip.

Rice grabs the sample jar from the floor. Climbs to his feet unsteadily. "Sorry, sir," he says, waving the jar vaguely. "Didn't quite manage to get the sample like you asked. If you want someone to try sticking it in the jar again, I'm going to have a sudden religious objection. Sir."

For a moment, it looks like Ampte may disobey the order, his hand tightening on the weapon. Then, the gun drops, and the Lt. holsters it with a shudder. He edges towards Rice and Morris, offering the latter a hand up.

Diotrephes leaps from the drone, giving it a dog-like pat, before stalking over to look at the killer hand. "This...is disgusting," she proclaims...and about that time, the gravity goes out, and everything starts to float gently up and to the left.

Kuznetsov nods his head. "If ever there was a time to find God, ensign, this may be -- what?"

Above them, something scrabbles in the vents.

Rice goes for a handhold on the wall. "Kronos? Was that supposed to happen?"

Kronos replies serenely, "Please be careful. We are currently experiencing an authorized disengagement of the gravity systems. We apologize for the inconvenience."

"Oh," Rice says, faintly. "Good to know. Thanks."

Diotrephes grabs onto the drone and a grav bar, and barks out, "Kronos, enable magnetic tracks on drone fleet." She pushes the one with the hand back to the ground, where it sticks. The others continue to serenely float until their tracks strike floors or walls.

Kuznetsov looks over what has been collected. "This seems like just about everything." He frowns, and looks at Rice. "Ensign, will you be all right to move?"

There's another scrabbling sound from above them, like a cat trying to find purchase on a stainless steel roof.

Rice is already edging back towards where they left everywhere else, so far as one can edge in zero G. "I'm just /great/ with moving, sir, so long as it's away from here."

Kuznetsov nods. "Morris?"

Morris clings to his bar, looking a little queasy and green in the face. "Fine," he says, anyway, "just...let's get out of here, sir. There usually isn't just one hand..."

Kuznetsov looks back up towards the hole in the ceiling. "No, there is not..." He begins gesturing for everyone to head back.

His orders are followed by his subordinates without hesitation, with Ampte and Diotrephes grabbing onto the drone and letting it haul them down the corridor, the hand waving and twisting out in front like some odd trophy. Small protrusions of silvery metal frequently appear, striking at the metal of the drone's hand, then falling back, stymied. Morris pulls himself awkwardly along the grav bar, clearly not used to zero-G at all. All of them give the open vent frequent glances back.

Kuznetsov trails behind, watching.

Those of the crew outside the med bay can hear the rumble of an approaching drone.

Paravada says "/Good/. They're here. ... I hope."

The drone trundles around the corner with two engineers stuck to the sides, a hand waving in front...which considering that it's amputated from any /body/, could be considered rather strange, and the rest of the crew pulling themselves along on grav bars.

Anderson floats comfortably, hanging off of a hand hold on the wall, "Welcome back, I hope you got everything you need. The creature in the Medbay seems to of been delayed in it's attempt to..." It's about this time that he spots the hand hanging off the front of the drone, "What in gods name is that?!" He points with no small amount of horror.

"And why did you /bring it along/?" Paravada adds.

"It tastes dreadful, sir," Rice deadpans. And shrugs, with a trace of a grin. "Just in case the data's useful."

Diotrephes can't help but snicker, although at least she does try to keep it under her breath. Ampte gives her a warning look, which she entirely ignores.

Paravada mutters. "Ingesting the mobile body parts is not good procedure."

Rice nods solemnly. "I'll try not to do it again."

Rice . o O ( Possibly by duct-taping my own mouth shut, if necessary. I'm open to suggestions. )

Morris glances at Rice with a look both disturbed and perversely fascinated. "What did it taste like?"

Kuznetsov drifts along behind the rest of the group. "We wanted a sample. One more bit of data to analyze so that we can identify what these things are and kill them without resorting to a fusion drive overload." He lets go of a grav bar, and grimaces. "Ah, the joys of working in zero-gee. At least we are not wearing our helmets and gloves," he says, suddenly entirely too cheerful. He flexes his metal hand. "Lieutenant Ampte? Ensign Diotrephes? Shall we begin?" He reaches for the wiring.

Anderson's eyes sweep across the group, stopping on Rice as he comments, then giving Kuznetsov a questioning look, "Very well. You might want to watch that window too, who knows when it'll figure out how to deal with Zero G and go back to cutting."

Ampte salutes, and hand-over-hands his way to start grabbing needed components. Diotrephes hesitates. "Er...sir? Should we maybe put that thing in a box first? I think...er...it's escaping..." And indeed, the hand is...collapsing, as if the bones were being dissolved from within, and starting to lose shape and melt.

Rice frowns. "Blood and metal," he says. "I mean, about what you'd expect someone else's bloody hand to taste like, plus about what it tastes like if you stick your tongue on a battery. Not that I've ever done that. Recently."

Kuznetsov curses, and waves his hand. "Get it in the jar, damn it!"

Paravada stares at the hand, entranced. "Self-disassembly. Autotrophism?"

Morris and Ampte both go for their guns, the former's aim dangerously unsteady as he tries to find a good way to stabilize himself in zero-g.

Rice waves the jar at Kuznetsov. "Here you go, sir!"

Kuznetsov gives Rice a /look/ as he kicks off from where he was to grab the jar and try and snag the blob.

The jar brushes against the edge of the hand, tearing the suddenly fragile skin. Rounded blobs of pinkish-silver matter drift out, silver threads strung from each one, holding them together.

Kuznetsov tries to recoil back, waving the jar at the thing in continued hopes of seizing it AND avoiding letting the silver blobs touch him.

This time Kuznetsov's sweep with the jar goes perfectly, the blobs splatting against the glass walls, then the rest of the hand scooped up as well, the skin dissolving even as the crew watches. When the lid is put on the jar, the stuff inside still moves, exploring its new environment restlessly.

You paged Kuznetsov with 'You feel a sudden twitch from your left arm, a burning sensation.'.

Kuznetsov pages: Does it pass down to the cybernetic portion?

Rice stares at the jar. "I think we should name it Marvin," he says.

Paravada blinks at Rice. "I think I would recommend you see Psych. If Psych were not currently one-third of a giant ambulatory monster."

Rice nods cheerfully to Paravada. "As soon as we have a live Psych again, you can rest assured I'll be getting myself a prompt appointment, sir."

You paged Kuznetsov with 'It seems to, for just a moment.'.

Anderson gives Rice /the/ look, "Rice, you are to monitor the window while Kuznetsov sets up his equipment."

"Yes, sir." Rice looks towards the monitor, and adds, hopefully, "Remotely?"

Kuznetsov shoves the jar towards Paravada. "Doctor, for your studies," he says, dryly, then flinches with his left arm, a grimace on his face as he turns back towards the group. "Now, let us get to work," he says, voice suddenly hard and stern. Reaching for some tools, he asks, "Diotrephes, get to work on the flamethrower. Ampte, help me lay down this wiring. Commander, when it is time for the trap, we WILL need gravity back. I did not expect to have to lay down wiring over the entirety of the deck floor, ceiling and walls."

Morris gives Rice a tentative pat on the shoulder, then looks to the engineers. "Can I help you guys out in any way. Sooner whatever-you're-doing is done, sooner I'll feel safer."

Rice . o O ( Does it count as being in denial if you /know/ you're in denial? )

Anderson shakes his head, "No, if the creature goes back to cutting and makes it through, someone will have to keep it from coming through. So you're to have your concussion weapon ready, and will fire into the hole if it manages to get through."

Paravada catches the jar, gingerly. Inspects it. Without opening it, mind.

Diotrephes and Ampte, perhaps sensing their superior's sudden mood shift, jump to without complaint, manuvering around to set up the equipment. In this, Ampte is actually more competent than Dio...

"Oh." Rice pulls out his concussion gun, and nods. "...will do, sir."

Anderson nods to Kuznetsov, "The loss of gravity was just to keep the creature from getting out. It seems to of done a decent job of that." He points to the wall monitor, "We can turn it back on once you're done your work."

The material in the jar is viscous, but it doesn't appear to stick to the sides or leave any of itself behind as it slips around the interior. It's a dark pinkish color, with silver strands forming and dissolving, occasionally giving it a little more structure.

Paravada is absolutely fascinated.
Paravada .oO(OMG, this is /so cool/.)

As if sensing that its time for escaping grows short, the thermal reading on the screen shows the bright red slashes moving closer to the door again, less stable than before, but clearly still functional. The whine of the laser scalpel can be heard again.

Kuznetsov nods towards Morris, a tight smile. "Indeed, Ensign. Come here, you may learn something..." As he begins to lay down the wiring, he's lecturing on the idea behind the whole process -- the copper wiring being hooked up from the energy packs, there, the insulation /there/, how when the creature sets foot on it it will suddenly hit a whole lot of current... and then the flamethrowers, there and THERE, will fire and hopefully finish the job.

Morris seems downright grateful to have something to focus on besides things trying to kill him, and grins with vicious satisfaction as the details of the contraption are explained to him. He sets to with a will.

Paravada takes her Jar-O-Dissolved-Hand and moves out of the way of the engineers.

Anderson stands back out of the way and watches Kuznetsov's contraption take form, while keeping a wary eye on the Medbay window too.

Paravada, well, /plays/ with the jar. She shakes it lightly. She taps on the sides to see if the goo runs away from her fingers. She holds it up to her face to see if the goo tries to attack her through the side of the glass.

The goo reacts to the jar being struck the most, recoiling briefly away from the impact, then sliding in exploration over the glass. It shows no reaction at all to her face, even if she gets right up next to the glass, although it /does/ seem to show interest in the lid.

Paravada keeps the lid /tightly/ shut. No escaping, goo.

The goo clusters up towards the top if allowed, and starts to form silver filaments, making a structure against the glass. The goo itself is gradually losing its pinkish tint, becoming more and more silver.

Back at the medlab, the lasering of the glass abruptly stops.

Rice raises his gun, just in case.

Paravada shakes the jar so that the goo settles at the bottom. "Invasive filaments," she says, as if she was dictating into a recording device. "Metallic in nature..."

You paged Rice with 'It's kind of hard to see, because it's dark in there, but...after a moment, you clearly see the Psych's eyes rising up, and peering through the glass at the construction going on outside.'.

Rice coughs. "Um. Sir? It's...watching you, I think."

Kuznetsov frowns. "What?"

Rice gestures towards the window. "Well, there's an eye, and there's a window, and I'm guessing it's not really looking at /me/, here."

The three assistants immediately look towards the door.

Rice . o O ( At least, I hope not. )

Kuznetsov looks towards the door.

Just barely, now that it's been pointed out, Kuznetsov can make out eyes peering through the smoky glass out of the dark room. They appear to be that of the Psych officer, bulging faintly from the sockets as they shift from left to right, watching the crew watching them.

The goo in the jar, jostled loose from the lid, patiently starts climbing towards it again, oblivious to other proceedings.

Paravada will shake it again when it gets too close. Is a cruel god to the goo-thing.

Kuznetsov pauses to flip off the creature with his real hand, and resumes the work. Maybe it's smart enough to figure out what's going on. Maybe not. He really hopes not.

Anderson looks at the window, "Think we should turn the gravity back on and throw it for a loop?" He smiles slightly, projecting more calm than he feels.

Diotrephes gives a weak chuckle at her superior's action, and goes back to work, thwapping Ampte and Morris on the shoulders to get their attention back to the job. Well...mostly back. They keep looking over at the window.

Kuznetsov nods to Anderson. "Gravity, lights... anything else in there?"

"Cold," adds Paravada.

"We turned the temperature down as well." Anderson notes as he makes sure he's got a grip on the handle and properly oriented.

The creature floats closer to the window, until one of its noses presses against the glass. The eyes roll in the sockets, with more range than human eyes normally have.

Kuznetsov nods. "Kronos, restore the medbay to default settings of gravity, temperature, and lighting."

"Affirmative," Kronos says, and gravity reasserts its hold. The creature's eyes drop with a crash...and /lots/ of crashes, as all the unsecured material in the medbay comes down with it. The helpers land with a thump, although everyone but Morris gets their feet under them on the way. The lights come up, shining through the window, and the thermal reading starts shading brighter.

Kuznetsov continues his work in regular gravity. "Morris, hold this wire. Ampte, is that secure? Diotrephos... that nozzle..." He trails off, lifting one eyebrow expectantly that she'll see the adjustment needed that he sees.

Kronos, switch security camera in the Medbay back to visable spectrum." Anderson turns back to see what the mess is like in the Medbay now.

The assistants scramble to follow his orders...Diotrephes does indeed see what he sees, and scowls as she makes the fine adjustment needed. On the visual display, the medlab is...a mess. Unsecured body-bits and equipment have floated everywhere. It looks like a whole festivals worth of death metal bands were using the place as their hotel room, complete with the blood smears and the hideous abomination with the laser scalpels who is picking itself off the floor.

Paravada winces at the state of the lab.

Anderson draw his concussion gun, "I suggest that we all take cover behind the drone and prepare to open fire on the creature just in case Kuznetsov's contraption doesn't work as advertised."

Kuznetsov makes the Orthodox sign of the cross, and steps back. "All clear, sir." He moves back to stand near Rice, lifting his weapon to the ready, nodding to Anderson. "I am certain it will hurt it. I can not guarantee we will not have to finish the job."

The assistants scramble backwards, drawing their guns as well, with Morris and Ampte clustering near Rice, as if he really /was/ a good luck token.

Paravada obeys the commander, moving behind the drone (with her new pet.)

On the display, the creature picks up the scalpels again, and stretches to raise hands to the window.

Rice has his gun out and ready, still. "I'm really, really hoping this will do the job, sir."

Kuznetsov says, voice soft, "On the count of three, Kronos, unseal the medbay door and open it." He looks towards Anderson. "If you would like to give the count, Commander?"

Anderson nods to Kuznetsov as he takes cover behind the drone himself, "On three....
One....
Two....
Three!"

The door opens silently, and the crew is face to faces with the creature of the medlab. As it sees them, all three mouths open to let out a hideous, hoarse scream, flaps of flesh waving as it somehow sucks in air without lungs. It leaps forward, skittering on all its limbs.

The creature touches the field that the engineers have set up, and there's a crackling explosion of electrical energy. The skin blackens and sparks jump and run up the flesh, its charge becoming a crazy, pained dance.

Immediately and without prompting, Diotrephes, Morris, and Ampte open fire on the thing, Ampte screaming back at it.

Kuznetsov fires as well.

Rice begins firing along with everyone else. It seems like the thing to do.

Anderson raises his weapon and opens fire with the others, his face a mask of concentration.

Paravada fires as well, shooting from the hip.

Shots barrel down the hallway, it almost impossible to see whose blast did what, but Kuznetsov can feel that he got a good solid body shot. As for the rest...their shots do not seem to have done anything major but irritate the creature. It lunges forward as the electric paralysis wears off, only to be caught in a crossfire of...fire. It shrieks again, the stench of burning flesh filling the hall.

Kuznetsov's concussion gun blasts away at the burning creature, tearing a hole through the flesh of one of the heads, leaving silver-streaked bone behind, which itself begins to char.

Morris pulls the trigger, trying to follow Kuznetsov's example, but the shot goes wide, the air splashing harmlessly against the corridor's wall.

Anderson takes aim and lets loose another shot from his concussion gun. (Same focus shift of 20, for a total chance of 42.)

The shot comes close enough to ruffle the burning hair on the head that used to belong to the /previous/ shift commander, and the creature swivels that way. It launches itself as Anderson, flaming hands wielding laser scalpels.

The lasers cut deep into Anderson's arms, biting into muscle and delivering screaming pain to his body.

Paravada takes aim at the creature, having discarded her jar of goo, and shoots at its back.

Paravada's attack strikes it a glancing blow, prompting one of the other heads--at this point, it's hard to tell who it once was--glances her way, angry silver sparks lighting up behind the pupil.

Rice stands steady next to Morris, and tries to aim at the center of the creature through all the fire and general incipient chaos.

The creature's inhuman, erratic movements make it hard to hit, and Rice's shot passes over its heads, blowing some of the fire around. Diotrephes and Ampte open fire as one creature, their guns coughing in unison.

Despite that, only one hits, apparently the younger engineer, her gun blowing a wound in the torso. Underneath the skin, it is nearly entirely pinkish-silver goo, which begins to leak and steam to the floor.

Again Kuznetsov's gun gives it a kiss, gentler this time, but still enough to stagger it, the body skidding to the side as the limbs flail for a moment. Morris takes the opportunity to open fire.

This also hits, blowing one of the heads clean off. The creature shudders, shakes, then turns, and skitters back towards the med lab, apparently planning to seek refuge inside.

Anderson manages to hold on to his weapon, he raises it and fires, calling out, "Kronos, disengage gravity, this section."

The gravity shuts off, Anderson's order the only warning, and the creature itself takes 'flight' its scramble becoming a mad flail as it tries to find purchase on air. The scramble makes it harder to hit.

Paravada aims at the fleeing creature and shoots again.

With the creature's flailing as it is, it's very hard to get a clear shot, and Paravada's gun whiffs through empty air.

Rice does his best to shoot while sliding through the air himself, grabbing at a wall handle with his free hand.

Diotrephes lets out a stream of Greek curses as she lifts from the ground, groping with one hand for the bar, and shooting with the other, as Ampte does likewise, trying to pin down the creature with duel fire.

Floating and cursing in a Russian-and-Japanese counterpoint to his ensign, Kuznetsov tries to keep shooting at the creature. He pauses in the litany of curses: "Kronos, close the medbay door!"

The medbay door slides closed, as the creature still seems to be floating in that direction. Morris narrows his eyes, and while spinning gently through the air, tries to take a two handed shot at the creature.

He hits, the concussion blast dissolving another portion of the creature. One head is gone, and another hangs by a thread of flesh. Silver filaments are emerging from it, snaking out into the zero-G air like streams of rats fleeing a sinking ship.

Anderson notices where the creature is, then coils himself against the solid drone and pushes off towards one of the flame throwers, intent on grabbing it and reaiming it back towards the still flailing monster.

The flamethrower is grabbed, and pulled up to track the creature. Which, as it happens, doesn't seem to notice as it bounces off the now-closed door. Its hands scrabble for purchase, find it...and then it starts to break apart, pink goo dripping and floating everywhere. Notably the silver filaments are separating from the goo, managing to seek each other out in zero-g and clump together.

"Kronos, turn the gravity back on!" Paravada commands.

Thump. Everyone crashes back to the ground...and Anderson suddenly finds that his flamethrower is a lot heavier than it had been a second ago.

...and, as the creature crashes back to the ground, the contacts on Kuznetzov's contraption manage to fire once again, and brief gouts of flame spurt outwards. The one Anderson is...uh, lying under, actually, fires a little low due to its list, but it's good enough. The ground and creature go up in flames, the creature spasming once, twice, then falling into a charred heap.

For their part, Morris, Diotrephes, and Ampte are just picking themselves off the ground...well, okay, Morris is crawling off to the side and voiding his stomach unhappily.

Paravada approaches the charred ... /thing/, warily.

Anderson groans and extricates himself from under the flamethrower, holding his bloody, cut up arms close to his body in obvious pain.

Rice sits on the ground, holding his gun unsteadily in front of him. "Morris? You okay?"

Comments

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The audience approves, and golf claps to cheer all the carnage. :)