[HoaS] Ninth Session Log!

[pyrephox]

Kuznetsov sits by the edge of the hole, PML in his hand, starting up the Drone. "Well, shall we try to reduce the number of Things To Deal With, Commander?"
The Drone, looking like a Frankenstein tank with the flamethrower attached to the front, boots up smoothly, the camera feed appearing in a small window on Kuznetsov's PML.

Anderson looks up from paying attention to the hole in the floor, "What did you have in mind?"

Kuznetsov points to his drone in the hole. "I send the drone after the thing that took Ampte. It blows him up. We possibly have to patch a hole in the ceiling of the supply room."

The medbay is, of course, a godawful mess. Morris volunteers to take the floor level stuff, so Rice doesn't have to bend over as much, and Paravada is trying to right and clean some of the more delicate equipment.

Rice gets out a few cleaning items and tries to take care of the walls and counters, limping slightly. But, hey, at least the pain meds are starting to kick in, which is always fun.

Anderson nods slowly, an expression of thought on his face, "Kronos, has the creature exited the ventilation ducts into the supply room?"

The walls and counters have lots of blood spatter on them, likely from when the creature was floating about in zero gravity. The entire room smells like a slaughterhouse, with an undercurrent of stale metal.

Kronos replies, "No, Commander. The shipsuit remains in the ventilation ducts, although its position places it between two supply rooms. It is not currently moving."

Anderson curses under his breath, "Ok, send the drone in after it and see how much damage you can do. See if we can't force it into a supply room where we can corner it. Douse it with enough coagulant and flame, we might just kill this one."

Kuznetsov nods his head. "If we got more coagulant, I could probably jury-rig a sprayer of some kind, rather like the flamethrowers."

Anderson looks back towards MedBay, "I don't know if we have enough of a supply for that kind of a sprayer. Though I was thinking we might use them as a grenade type of weapon. Just hit the smaller containers with the concussion guns to cause them to explode."

Kuznetsov frowns, and nods. "That would... work, yes. Will it be enough, though? How much of this will it take?"

Anderson shrugs, "Your guess is as good as mine. We haven't had time to do any extensive test to see how much is required to affect these things. Our only option might be overkill."

As Rice is scrubbing the metal countertops, he can see small grooves and waves in the surface, almost as if it were rock that water had been working on for a long, long time.

Kuznetsov shakes his head. "The problem is that I do not know what constitutes /overkill/ here. We don't even know how big the thing IS in there."

Rice wrinkles his nose at the countertop. "You know, I always thought that whole thing with aliens with acidic blood was just...bad movies. Look at what this did to the metal."

Morris stands up, his joints popping. He ambles over to look at what the other man indicates and whistles softly. "Huh." His finger reaches out to trace one of the shallow dips. "That's...pretty bizarre. It doesn't quite look like acid, though. You'd expect that to make little tiny channels as it runs. This looks almost like erosion or something."

Rice nods, and frowns. "How does that work, for doing erosion-looking channels so fast? Just...a lot of pressure, or what?"

Anderson furrows his brow and looks back into the Medbay, "What's that Rice?" He heads into the Medbay to examine what Morris and Rice are looking at, "It's like it's taking pieces of the ship from a microscopic standpoint."

Anderson looks fairly closely at the tiny grooves in the countertop.

Kuznetsov frowns, and moves his drone away, getting another one set to go in, with a camera, at least. "Time for reconnaissance."

Morris shrugs, looks about to say something, then stiffens as the Commander enters the med bay. "Yessir. Or scraping at it, or something." The countertop has a series of...not exactly grooves, but whorls and shallow shelves, like the way water washes along the beach.

"If this thing is eating at the ship as it moves around," Anderson looks up from the whorls in front of him and down the counter, "That might explain why the floor collapsed. Perhaps that's where those silvery tendrils are getting their mass from, it's shaving off microscopic layers of the walls and floors as it goes."

The camera drone drops into the whole with a tremendous BANG, landing with its 'nose' pointed towards the supply rooms. The camera, a multidirectional lens in a bubble on the top, swirls around, measuring the confinement, then orients towards the nose.

"Creepy," Rice observes, in a rather calm voice.

"Very creepy," Morris echoes, and glances at the Commander.

Anderson signs heavily, "Well, this could get interesting. If this thing is eating the ship out from under us we could have a structural integrity problem sooner or later. Good find gentlemen, but for right now I want you to gather up all the units of that coagulant you can find."

Morris nods, glances at Rice. "I guess we're on...uh, coagulant detail," he says with a shrug, then heads over to ask the doctor where they are. She points at a cabinet.

Anderson heads back out into the corridor with Kuznetsov, "You look like a man who's had an epiphany." He looks down into the hole then back to Kuznetsov with a quizzical expression.

Rice begins collecting appropriately labeled containers from the cabinet. "Gotta love the painkillers," he murmurs to Morris, in a low voice. "They make everything else a lot easier to deal with. Or maybe it's just the shock."

Morris chuckles low. "You think I could get the doc to give me some of those?" he asks, in only a semi-joking tone. The bottles clink and clatter in their hands as they're collected, the liquid inside too closely filled to slosh.

Kuznetsov nods. "First, I want to get a good look at the Thing in the Vents. If we can get a better feel for how big it is, maybe we can get a better idea of how much is Overkill. Meanwhile... I am thinking about those security drones down on Engineering deck. And if all that we have down on Engineering is one angry pair of legs..."

"Freak out at a bad moment and run into a hole," Rice replies, straight-faced. "Works every time."

Morris snickers. "I'll keep that in mind for next time." He gathers an armful, shifting them into a most stable configuration, then heads out to the officers to deliver them.

"Speaking of angry legs." Anderson half smiles, "Kronos, can you locate Mobano's shipsuit in the ventilation ducts right now?"

"Certainly, Commander," Kronos replies. The screen in the hallway flickers on with the blueprint of the ship. A small blue dot labeled 'Mobano' can be seen creeping along one of the vents leading out from the Engineering Deck. It appears to be angling towards Cargo Bay 2.

Kuznetsov looks at the screen. "Oh, that's not good. That's DEFINITELY not good."

"Kronos," Anderson's voice is tinged with concern, "Verify that the quarantine seal on CB2 is still in effect, and that Mobano's authorization has been revoked."

"Verified," Kronos says, immediately.

Kuznetsov nods. "Unless he intends to... damn it. The thing in the vents has to wait, we have to stop that."

Anderson looks a little calmer now, "Confirm that there is no activity of any kind in CB2, no anomalous life signs or movement inside."

"Confirmed," Kronos replies again. "All life signs in the colonist tubes read as normal, no anomalies detected."

Kuznetsov is already tracing a path along the vents, trying to figure out how to get the fire drone to intercept Mobano before he reaches either CB2 or the Vehicle Bay.

Anderson turns to Kuznetsov, "Unless he's packing some kind of heavier firepower than he did when he left, I don't think he'll be able to get in there. Mobano wasn't aware that we sealed CB2, and the creature hasn't been over there yet either it seems."

Kuznetsov shakes his head. "If he can't break into Bay 2, he may be trying for the vehicle bay. Do YOU want to see something like that thing from the medbay, but made out of the tank and three light trucks?"

The blueprints show several ways to possibly intercept the moving dot that is Mobano. It seems to be slowed down by its current legless state, which means the drone would have a good chance to reach it at a certain intersection...that intersection is fairly close to the vents reaching the crew supply rooms, however.

Rice waits, arms full of coagulant bottles, for more instructions.

Morris waits beside him, feigning patience, but listening avidly.

Anderson looks suddenly stricken, "That's definitely not part of the plan. Kronos, scan for any anomalous life signs on the vehicle deck."

"Scanning," there's a pause, then Kronos says, "No anomalies detected." Meanwhile, the little blue dot creeps ever further down the ducts.

Kuznetsov begins punching commands to his drones, dispatching them to get in the way of Mobanothing. "One way or another, we have to do SOMETHING," he mutters.
The drones whine as they power up and trundle off down the vents, the floor beneath the four crewmen rumbling slightly as they pass underneath. Morris shifts uncomfortably, his bottle clinking. The camera-drone's feed is still going to Kuznetsov's PML.

Anderson nods, "Agreed. The thing that Mobano was should be dealt with one way or another. Kronos, quarantine seal the vehicle deck, my and Lt. Commander Kuznetsov's authorization only."

"Done," Kronos replies promptly.

Kuznetsov gestures towards one of the hallway screens. "Split-screen, Kronos, camera feeds from both drones in the vents. Also show their locations, picture-in-picture..."

Kronos complies, the screen dissolving and reforming with Kuznetsov's request. For now, the camera-drone shows...mostly darkness, while the fire drone has a lovely view of the first drone's posterior. They trundle quickly along the vents, their positions, marked in bright green, swiftly approaching the intercept point.

Morris sighs, slightly, and finally kneels down to put down his vials. He waves for Rice to do the same, then flexes his arms to get the kinks out.

Rice follows Morris's lead, and slides down to sit on the floor in a wholly unprofessional manner to give his leg a break.

Anderson hears the vials being set down, having forgotten all about the Ensigns. He turns back to address them, "Grab a couple of satchels or something for those. Make sure your sidearms are ready to go."

Rice scrambles back to his feet. "Yes, sir," he says, and goes looking.

Morris rises a bit slower, and trundles off after Rice.

Anderson returns to watching Kuznetsov squeeze Mobanothing for a moment before speaking, "Kronos, has Ampte's shipsuit moved from it's position in the vents?"
"Not currently, Commander," Kronos replies. "Its position is stable."

Kuznetsov is thumbing commands into the PML, watching the screen intently. You might think he's just playing a game of some sort.

The dots continue to creep along to their inevitable meeting. The camera-drone starts picking up other things in its view...the metal here shows signs of wear, and there are clinging patches of slick goo.

Kuznetsov grimaces.

Anderson winces at the picture, "Depending on fuel, we might want to torch those walls on the way back."

Some of the goo patches seem to distort as the camera approaches, and then 'seem' becomes 'do', as the goo reaches out for the drone. It appears to be able to trundle on past them, however. The firebug drone turns onto Mobano's trail, and immediately picks up signs of blood and goo, as well.

Kuznetsov nods, and sighs. "There will be a LOT of work to do to clean up every last drop of this," he says with a heavy sigh.

"We still have that killer virus at our disposal," Anderson comments while watching intently, "We can't be certain how effective it'll be but it's a shot at least."

The dots come closer, and closer. The audio sensors on the drones start to pick up some thumping, like someone worming their way along metal.

In the medbay, Paravada is quietly muttering to herself as she tries to reconstruct one of the machines.

Kuznetsov nods his head. "We may yet be doing that," he murmurs, watching. "Come on, little minions..."

Rice shoves bottles into bags. His face twitches at what the commander says, but he doesn't comment on it.

Morris looks like he might be about to ask the doctor about something, but thinks better of it, and helps Rice with the bottle-shoving. "Hope they fry that thing," he mutters.

The camera drone reaches the intersection and orients down the long shaft, it picking up just a faint gleam of light on slick metal...too high to be the floor. The Mobano thing continues to approach, its eyes gleaming...the outer edges of them have wire filaments poking through and waving around, touching the edges of the walls like a cat's whiskers.

"Better than the alternative. Any of the alternatives," Rice replies, quietly.

"Damned right about that, friend," Morris says with a shake of his head, and picks up a filled bag. Suddenly, he smiles. "Hey, right now? We've got more firepower against this thing than anybody." He leans close and whispers, playfully, "Want to go hunting?"

Rice chuckles. "If hunting's a sport, I'd rather be the sports newscaster. But given the options..."

Morris snickers. "Okay, you can comment, and I'll toss fastballs at the thing..."

The firebug drone continues to trundle, and for the first time, its lights gleam off of the severed stumps of Mobano's legs.

Anderson watches intently now that Mobanothing is in sight of the drones.

Kuznetsov moves to keep the drone just out of Mobano's reach. Then, as the firebug gets closer, he triggers the flamethrower, and slams the cameradrone forward to try to smash Mobanothing at the same time.

"I'm good at commentary," Rice says, picking up the second bag. "I'll even make it complimentary, just for you."

Morris laughs. "And then you can write my eulogy," he says, suddenly morose again.

Mobano seems oblivious to the drone backing up from him, as if not seeing it as a threat as he continues to wiggle along down the duct. It only reacts when it hears the engine whine higher, reaching out one hand to the drone in front of it...as a wash of fire engulfs Mobano from behind. There's a hideous, inhuman shrieking sound, both cameras momentarily obscured by the bright flames, then as the flames die down, a writhing, mewling thing caught between them and the camera drone bearing down...the audio records a sickening, meaty crunch, and the camera drone's feed wobbles. The firebug records the sight of the treads holding up the half-ton drone grinding over the still twitching and flailing flesh, a partially melted cybernetic hand scrabbling at the drone's side...

On the screen, the convulsing remains of the Mobano thing gradually begins to burn down and quiet. Silver streams from the corpse, pooling on the metal underneath, moving sluggishly, with about half its pools blackened and crispy as fire still finds something tasty in the goo.

Morris just stops and stares, open mouthed, at the scene, the bag dangling loosely from one hand.

Rice grabs for Morris's bag, in case the other ensign's about to drop it.
Morris jumps as Rice grabs the bag, giving the other man a startled look. His hand tightens on it as he swallows hard. "No, no...I'm okay...did we get it? Did we kill that fucking thing?"

Anderson stares, transfixed as Mobanothing gets roasted, then run over. Swallowing audibly he says, "Well, so much for that. Here's hoping we have that much luck with the other thing in the vents."

Kuznetsov nods, a grim smile fixed on his face. In Russian, he murmurs a prayer for Mobano's soul.

Morris laughs, shakily, and gives Rice a bright...although possibly not entirely 'all there' grin. "Not bad. Not bad at all." He turns back to the officers. "When do we roast the other?"

Kuznetsov just keeps smiling. "Now is good." He begins moving the drones around towards Ampte's shipsuit. "If my plan /works/..."

Rice mutters, under his breath, "And we all /really/ hope it will..."

Morris nods enthusiastically.

Anderson nods and turns away from the displays, "If you don't need the Ensigns, I'll take them to the supply rooms and make sure that if it backs out of the vents we can corner it with the coagulant"

Kuznetsov nods towards Anderson. "Aye, Commander."

Morris looks...not terribly enthused about this new aspect of the Plan.

Anderson nods to the two Ensigns, "Let's go gentlemen." He turns and strides in the direction of the supply rooms.

Morris glves Rice a Look, but follows obediently behind.

Rice follows along with the other two. Hey, he's in the biggest group of conscious people! That's...probably a plus.

The drones trundle forward, with the camera drone in the lead, even as the Commander and two Ensigns head along through the hallways. From below, the supply room hallway seems quiet and peaceful, but for the broken ceiling tile. Then, in the distance, there's a faint metallic sound as the camera drone turns the corner to the corresponding duct. Kronos widecasts to all, "The shipsuit of Lt. Ampte is moving..." And a new dot pops up on Kuznetsov's screen, showing a purple AMPTE dot moving towards the drone.

Anderson quickly moves to the nearest display, "Kronos, display location of Ampte's shipsuit."

The only screen on the supply room hallway flickers on, and shows the schematic, with the Ampte dot moving down the hallway, away from Anderson, Rice, and Morris' position.

Kuznetsov backs up the drones, trying to get the firebug in front, now that the bad thing is moving towards him.

Kuznetsov is lucky; there's a shallow offshoot of the duct not far away, and he can slide the camera drone in there, and have the other move forward, /just/ as the Thing in the Vents comes around the corner...it's a solid wall of oncoming flesh, parts, and silver mesh.

Kuznetsov crosses his fingers, utters a prayer, and triggers the flamethrower, hoping to set off the flamethrower Ampte was carrying into the thing...

Anderson examines the display, then turns to the Ensigns, "Ok, break out those vials. I hope your throwing arm is good. If we're lucky the vials will break on contact, if not we'll have to shoot them to break the containers."

Rice opens the mouth of his bag, and nods quickly, looking a touch dubious.

Unlike Mobano, the Thing seems to recognize potential danger when it sees it, and freezes as several oozing eyeballs orient towards the firebug drone. It proceeds, but cautiously, ropes of flesh and ooze creeping along the walls, floors, and ceiling. When Kuznetsov pulls the trigger, metaphorically speaking, another hot white wash of flame obscures the cameras, but those in the hallway can hear tremendous rumbling from the further end...then a rushing, galloping sensation like a flood of water...and a tide of burning, melting flesh and metal pours out of the hole, not splashing as it his the ground, but twisting and reforming around itself, trying desperately to extinguish the flames.

Anderson sets his concussion gun down near one of the bags, then reaches into the bag, grabs a vial in each hand, preparing to throw them at the now smoldering and writhing creature.

Morris also readies the bag between him and rice, grabbing vials with shaking hands.

Rice reaches into the bag as Morris is pulling it open, and yanks out a vial. He flings it at the Thing up ahead briskly.

The vial arcs high and wide, splashing up on one of the walls instead of on the creature. Still, the smoking column of flesh seems to notice it, and swirls around, eyes popping up (some bursting in the heat) to look at the three crewmen. It lunges for Anderson, a spear of flesh angling for his chest.

The fleshy protrusion, tipped with silver metallic Stuff, slams into the Commander, impaling the fleshy meat of his upper arm and trying to wrap around it and drag him closer.

With a grunt of pain, the expression on Anderson's face hardens as he slams the vial in his right hand down on the tentacle wrapped around his arm.

He slams the vial down...but it doesn't break, the column of flesh just sort of oozing around it, and clinging to the bottle while curious tendrils pop out to explore it.

Morris shrieks at the sight of the thing impaling the Commander. Yelling, "Oh, no you don't!" he throws himself at the arm of the Thing, slamming his vials into it with enraged power.

The Thing casually shakes the arm, tearing the hole wider in Anderson's arm, and sending the Ensign crashing to the floor.

"Not at /all/ like a baseball," Rice says, and hurls another vial at the thing.

This time, Rice's aim is dead on. His vial sails through the air, striking one of the eyeballs and rupturing both it and the bottle at the same time. Where the liquid splashes, the creature seems to wither and harden, like a rind in the sun. Although still silent but for the meaty, wet sounds of shifting flesh, the Thing's pain is obvious, and the next fleshy protrusion that spears outward heads straight for Rice.

The spear of flesh thrusts unerringly outward, striking Rice's chest and driving deep into the heart of his shoulder. Rice can actually /feel/ the tip of the metal within it scraping against his shoulderblade before the nerves catch up and the screaming agony makes itself known.

Anderson clamps his mouth shut with a snap to hold back the yelp of pain that tries to escape. Raising his free arm up, he tries to bring it down on the vial this thing took from him to smash it.

The Thing seems to sense Anderson's movements, for as he brings his hand down, a sinewy fiber reaches upwards and neatly bats his hand out of the way, jarring loose the vial and letting it fall to the side to shatter on the ground.

Morris staggers to his feet, and lunges again at the thing, vials still clenched in his hands.

And again, he's thrown to the ground, like an annoying flea.

This time, the vial is thrown weakly, and smashes to pieces almost a foot away from the thing. The Thing begins to pull and tug on its two speared enemies, pulling them closer to the central mass.

Anderson moves the other vial to his free hand, yelling, "Throw the vials at the central mass. Go for volume of fire." He throws the vial straight for the main mass of the creature.

Anderson's throw goes high, splashing on the wall right next to the Thing. The flesh recoils from the faint spray that reaches it, which is the movement Morris tries to exploit as he hurls his vial at the central mass of the creature.

Rice yanks another vial out of the bag, trying again. It's not like he was ever much good at /shooting/ this thing.

Rice's desperate throw lands on the floor, near his last one...the creature oozes forward, but refuses to cross the puddle, instead trying to drag its prey closer and closer.

Anderson grabs hold of the tentacle around his arm and heaves with all his strength to loosen it's grip on him.

He pulls, his fingers sinking into the meaty muscle of the things length, and his questing fingers find the vial just as his hand tightens, and the vial shatters in the center of the thing's flesh. If it had a mouth it would scream, the arm suddenly becoming brittle and dry around his hands. His second tug snaps it cleanly away from the main mass, freeing the Commander.

Morris whoops as he sees the remains of the arm flail about, and hurls his vial at the thing with renewed vigor.

His vial splashes high, but still in the central mass, and the whole creature shudders, shedding suddenly dry flesh and hard metal. A huge shudder passes all the way through it.

Rice scrambles backward, trying to tug the tendril out of him.

Rice's hand finds and yanks at the tendril, pulling it from his flesh. On the central body mass, the grey hardness is spreading, and as he tugs, it reaches the base of the tendril he's holding, and the entire thing seems to rot and freeze in his fingers. The creature quivers and shudders in agony, and begins to retreat down the hallway, leaving its severed limbs as it oozes away.

Anderson grabs a couple more vials with his good arm and with a few running steps, hurls them down the hallway at the retreating mass.

The vials sail through the air, and land with popping sounds on the creature's 'back'. Or at least the retreating end. The bottles break, spilling more of the coagulant all over its quivering flesh. The greyness spreads, faster, seeming to reach some sort of critical mass...covering the entire surface of the thing and leaving a mountain of apparently mummified flesh and outcroppings of silvery metal.

Rice slumps back against a wall. "That," he says, "kinda hurt. I'm just saying."

Morris stares at the fossilized thing for a moment, then scurries over to Rice, pulling a cloth out of a pocket and pushing it onto his wound.

Anderson collapses to his knees on the floor where his last running step left off, breathing in slow deep breaths, "Both Rice and I should have our wounds flushed with some of that coagulant just to be safe until the doctor can have a look at us."

"Yeah, yeah," Morris agrees, stuttering it out. He fumbles another vial out of the bags, and breaks the top off. He removes the cloth from Rice's shoulder just long enough to pour the liquid down into the wound, where it burns like fire. Then he dashes off to grab another vial and do the same with the Commander, while yelling into his comm, "Comm link, Kuznetsov, Paravada. Guys! We could use some assistance. The Commander and Rice are hurt!"

"Wasn't my fault this time," Rice says, and makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a giggle. "That's something. Ow."

Kuznetsov comes hurrying down the corridor, riding the last drone and carrying a pistol.

As the liquid pours in to the wound, Anderson clenches his teeth, a sound like a growl coming from his throat briefly as the pain washes over him, "Kuznetsov, if you've got any fuel left in that drone, get it down here and torch this thing. I doubt it's really dead."

The scene is a bit of a mess. Two withered offshoots and the thing itself, immobile, at least for the moment. Morris leaps to his feat as Paravada's cool voice comes over the comm, "Bring them to med bay. I'll have some tables cleared...our last two, so everyone else, /try/ to stay in one piece?"

Rice nods to Morris. "There you go," he says. "Official orders not to get hurt."
Kuznetsov nods, lowering the gravity to assist in the drone's safe floating down. If it needs refilling, he can probably concoct something from the supply rooms, now that there's no apparent immediate threat?

Morris gives a weak chuckle and nods, and then starts loading the wounded onto the drones, leaving Kuznetsov free to look for fuel. And, indeed, there /is/ some oil that will do in a pinch in one of the nearby rooms.

Kuznetsov refuels the flamer and sets to barbecuing the Thing.

Anderson gets loaded onto the drone for transport back to the Medbay, he's in no particular condition to argue or move under his own power now that the adrenalin has warn off.

The flames lick at the hard crispy shell, and then start burning it in earnest. As Anderson surmised, as it eats away at the shell, gooey, pink flesh shows underneath; then quickly blackens with heat. The entire mound quivers and shakes and shudders as the creature burns; the hallway fills with the stink of burning flesh. Finally, all that is left of the mound is a smoldering, mammoth sized pile of cinders and ash and burnt wire.

Kuznetsov directs the drone to collect the severed limbs and put them in cleaning bags, and bring them to Paravada for further experimentation.
The drone buzzes, almost as if happy to have something normal to do. Well, relatively normal, and begins to move around, picking up the severed limbs and sealing them in its cleaning bags.

Comments

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[(Anonymous)]

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