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Yeah, so...Fade brought it to my attention that I'd never put this log up. For I am dumb. But here it is now, and all of the logs are in my Memories, for easy perusal!
Logfile from SamingaMU.
Kuznetsov moves away from his panels, to begin looking around inside the armory itself.
Rice sets himself up in guard-the-rear position with spraybottle at hand, since other people are going to have their hands full with carrying someone shortly.
Paravada moves to pick up Montague.
Anderson moves with Kuznetsov to examine the contents of the armoury.
The armory has the arms and ammunition to supply the better part of 10 percent of the total ship's contingent with ways to kill each other for a good long time. There are concussion guns of various sizes, there are force grenades, smoke grenades, and updated versions of that old favorite: the fragmentary grenade. There are also lockers filled with mines, electric fence posts of lethal strength, and other tactical weaponry.
Everything is arranged in seven wide aisles...like the storage rooms, these are clearly meant to be drone-friendly.
Kuznetsov nods approvingly and looks to Cdr. Anderson. "Does this revise the plan, commander?"
Anderson looks around the armoury, an odd gleam in his eye and a smile on his face, "Alright, now we need to figure out how to take care of the rest of those things in Cargo Bay 1." He nods to Kuznetsov, "Indeed, or at least relegates the previous plan back to backup. We need determine what we can use here against those things. Getting to Main Medbay is the next priority."
The three crewmembers heading up pass by the skeleton again. It seems reassuringly dead. Other than that, it's an awkward, but untroubled trip.
Paravada situates Montague on a bed, and sets him up with a nutrient drip and a sedative.
Montague twitches and moans a little as he's set down on the cool bed, but doesn't awaken. As the sedative takes hold, his restless movements become quieter, but his face never loses the pinched, haunted expression.
Paravada nods to Rice and Morris. "Let's go back."
Morris glances over at the three unconscious crew members, and shudders. "No objections here, Doc."
Rice nods quickly. He's ready to follow people back to the land of the living. Well. The conscious and presumably uninfected.
Paravada hurries back to the others, then.
As the three head out of the medbay, and begin to make their way toward the service shafts, the ship's lights--both in the hallway and down in Engineering--flash a scarlet warning, and the blare of electronic horns sounds. Kronos' calm voice comes to all, "Warning. Exterior hull under assault. Warning. Cargo Bay 1 exterior integrity falling. Warning. Environmental suit configuration suggested. Warning."
Kuznetsov's eyes go very, very wide and he looks around for his helmet. "Suit up, Commander," he says, voice even tenser than normal.
Kuznetsov pages: I knew that Fear was going to come up sooner or later.
Down in Engineering, holographic monitors suddenly blaze with lights and flashing nodes.
Anderson nods sharply and double checks all of his suit seals, "You too Kuznetsov."
Paravada fastens her helmet and hurries faster toward Engineering.
Kuznetsov is already heading for his helmet, checking the seals -- it's a clumsier process, and his fingers are perhaps just a bit shaking (from concern? exhaustion? frustration? all of the above?). He's muttering a string of epithets, more like a mantra.
Rice says to Paravada as he follows behind, "What about the patients? Should we try to suit them?"
As Anderson checks his seals and such, he finds several holes in the suit that are not going to be patched any time soon. He strides over to a spares locker and proceeds to change out his shipsuit for a fresh one.
Paravada stops short. "... /yes/. Yes we should. We need spares, from Engineering."
The lights of the Engineering displays whirl. Unprompted, they nevertheless begin displaying a simulation of the damage to the exterior Cargo Bay hull. It appears to be coming from /inside/, a strange, damage stain spreading over the metal, light yellow right now, but slowly shading darker.
Rice nods, fastening his own helmet back on. "Right on it, sir," he says, and hurries along towards helmet spares in Engineering.
Morris struggles into his own helmet, his breath briefly fogging up the polymer shield as he hurries along behind.
"Kronos, register a change in shipsuit." Anderson calls as he finishes sealing up the suit and moves to examine the engineering displays.
Kuznetsov begins moving his hand over the displays. "Kronos, verify the E-M locks holding Cargo Bay 1 to the ship. Are they still apparently functional? What about the redundancies?" Even while asking that, he's bringing up on a separate display the status of the engine.
Anderson casts his eyes over all the displays, assessing what he can without getting in Kuznetsov's way, "Looks like that backup plan might not be so back up unless we can come up with a new solution quickly."
Kronos replies, "Registered, Commander. And yes, Lt. Commander Kuznetsov, the locks are reporting one hundred percent functionality. The seals, likewise." He pauses. "My sensors are reading a significant rise in the abnormal life signs coming from Cargo Bay 1."
Rice scampers to collect three helmets for the patients back in the Med Bay.
Anderson starts at the last note from Kronos, "Kronos, confirm the number of normal life signs still present in Cargo Bay 1."
Paravada takes one of the helmets from Rice, for ease of carrying, and immediately heads back toward medbay, gesturing for him to follow.
Morris scampers to collect a new suit for himself, unbashfully stripping and hopping his way to the spares locker to get redressed.
Kronos answers the Commander, "The number of normal life signs remaining in Cargo Bay 1 is 112,341."
Kuznetsov chews heavily on his upper lip as he continues to work the controls. "Less than fifty percent," he says, to himself. He looks up from his displays. "Commander, I think I have a solution. We detach the bay, like we would've once we land. We knock it loose, we accelerate, Kronos turns the ship so that the engine discharges directly onto the Bay... sterilizing it."
Kuznetsov works through some cold-hearted calculations to ensure there's sufficient fuel for that, versus the reduced mass of the ship, and to still successfully arrive at the destination and decelerate and achieve orbit.
Morris seals his new suit, grabbing another for Paravada. He stops at Kuznetsov's words, though, his eyes wide behind the face plate. "Kill over a hundred thousand of our people? Sir!?" His eyes turn to one of the glaring monitors, and he shivers. "My god."
The calculations race across the display without moral judgment. There is indeed, enough fuel for that.
Kuznetsov replies, tonelessly, "Unless there is another solution which can be implemented quickly..." He taps fingers on the console. "Kronos, please display a line graph of the rate at which the life signs in Cargo Bay One have been changing."
Meanwhile, Rice and Paravada make it back to the Medbay into record time. The three patients remain where they have been.
Anderson raises an eyebrow, "A little more than sterilizing it Lt. Cmdr, and sacrificing over a hundred thousand lives in the process." He sighs heavily and examines the displays again, "While I can't disagree with the efficiency of your plan, as Commander of this vessel I'm not sure there's enough greater good to save without those lives."
Paravada begins to work the unconscious patients into the suits.
Rice helps Paravada with the dressing, on the principle that it's better to have a few people entirely suited when it becomes necessary that more people partially there.
The line graph flashes on the console, rotating through three dimensions so that all can see it. The decline started when the trouble did, and progressed slowly until only about three minutes ago, when the extermination rate spiked, subsided, spiked, then skyrocketed. The line continues to scroll upward as the men watch.
The bodies in medbay are pliable, like dolls, as the two dress them, only the grievous wounds, and the occasional soft groan of pain to remind the two that these are living people.
Kuznetsov says, "Projection until the remaining life signs cease to maintain normality?"
"Assuming continuation of present course," Kronos says neutrally, "all normal life signs will cease in eighteen minutes."
Kuznetsov nods. "Bring up the camera feeds of Cargo Bay One," he says.
Paravada seals the suits, and gives a cursory check to the life-sign monitors, before shrugging, helplessly, and beginning to make her way back to engineering.
Two of the monitors flicker, then project two-dimensional screens. Emergency lighting has kicked on in the Bay, giving the entire thing a hellish red glow. The light gleams and slides like blood off slime-encrusted stars, stars made from upwards of a dozen cyrotubes each, fastened and held by a pulsating center of silver-pink goo. The goos are extending thick, wet appendages, sliding them along the outer bay wall. Where the appendages pass, the metal looks shined, scoured.
Rice follows Paravada, with one last uncertain look to the crew members they're leaving alone in the Med Bay.
Anderson pounds a fist down on the corner of the console, "Kronos, report status on quarantine seal of Cargo Bay 1."
The lifesigns of the crew in the Bay remain stable, with only a few spikes throughout the procedure. It is worth noting that those who die in space are placed in their ship suits for their ceremonies...assuming a body can be found.
Kronos says, "Quarantine status of Cargo Bay 1: secure. Interior seals are secure. Interior hull integrity: 99.13 percent."
Anderson looks to Kuznetsov, "How long until the thing gets through the outer hull?"
Anderson sighs heavily, "Well, at this rate we've got less than 15 min to do /something/ to save a small number of colonists, or just cut them loose." He shakes his head slowly, then turns to pace about the room slowly, "The only thing we have that /might/ work is that bio weapon, but even it is a shot in the dark."
Kuznetsov nods his head in his helmet. "And someone will have to take it in there and detonate it," he says. Gesturing towards the video display, "I am not certain I have a good plan on how to get INTO the bay without giving the creature access OUT of it..." He pauses. "EVA?"
Paravada blinks at Kuznetsov and Anderson, and is quiet, listening.
Anderson shrugs, "That, or it's possible to just let the thing loose in the whole ship. With us all suited up I don't think it'd be a problem, but once again, it's still a shot in the dark. We don't know what effect this bioweapon will have on suit seals or cyrotube seals."
Rice keeps his mouth shut, having come in halfway through the discussion. He moves over towards Morris in hopes of getting a discreet summary of what's going to happen now.
Morris hands Paravada a new suit, then glances over at Rice. "They're trying to decide if there's a way to get rid of that thing /aside/ from dumping all the colonists and toasty-frying it."
Paravada dresses, quickly.
Rice blanches, and says, quietly, "And our next best option is the bioweapon? That's not full of bright futures."
Anderson turns to Rice, a hard look in his eye and snaps, "We've got less than 15 min to start saving a hundred thousand people. Other suggestions are welcome."
Rice is too tired to take it personally. "If I think of anything, I'll let you know," he says.
Morris shrinks away from the Commander, even though the glare isn't even directed at him. "W-w-what about the coagulant? That seems to work...um...I mean, with the smaller ones..."
Anderson holds his glare on Rice a moment before deflating visibly and looking at Morris, "If I thought we could get enough into Cargo Bay 1 to deal enough damage to what's in there," He waves a hand at the monitors displaying the CB1 cameras, "That would be an option."
Kuznetsov grimaces and seems about to agree with Anderson, when he stops. "Maybe we could." He looks at Kronos. "How much do coagulant do we have in stocks?"
The cameras continue their calm witnessing of the events unfurling. In the distance of one's view, three cyro-tubes are wrenched from their moorings, their bright green lights going red as a new globule engulfs them. Kronos says, "Total supply at launching: 5500 liters. During the voyage, approximately four liters have been consumed, lost, or are no longer accounted for. 5496 liters remaining."
Anderson looks to Kuznetsov, "What do you have in mind Lt. Commander? You have a way to get a large quantity of the coagulant into Cargo Bay 1 and dispersed?"
Paravada considers. "If we rigged explosives to spread the coagulant," she suggests, "and brought the bioweapon along on the EVA in case it didn't work..."
Kuznetsov pauses, after everyone has laid out theories and plans. "I vote for vapor, if the intent is to actually save any of the colonists," he says simply.
Anderson nods slowly as the options are thrown out, "I have to agree with you on that Kuznetsov. If we remain suited, we can still potentially blow the Cargo Bay loose and torch it as a last resort."
Kuznetsov frowns. "With your consent, Commander, I would like to begin dissolving the chemical redundancy seals on Cargo Bay, leaving only the electro-magnetic seals, if both vaporous coagulant and the bioweapon fail."
Rice asks, carefully, "So if we do release the bioweapon... do we have any way of neutralizing it again afterward, for wherever it's been released? Or does that part of the ship just need to be sealed off permanently? Do we know?"
Anderson ponders for a moment, "Ok, Do it. Let's get the coagulant set up for spraying into the Cargo Bay then. Can we use the fire suppression system and can we do it quickly enough?"
<> Kuznetsov says "Do we have answers to these questions, GM? :)"
<> GM says "Yes and yes. The fire suppression system has its main node here. You can replace the chemical foam with coagulant in about eight minutes, if you only do the shunt going to the Cargo Bay. If you want to release the bioweapon...do you want to add it to the coagulant mixture, or release it separately?""
Anderson nods, "A Drone can bring that down here and we'll hook it up to the main suppression system node. You get to work on those seals."
Anderson pages: Would my daily operations skill cover drone piloting?
You paged Anderson with 'It would, for basic operations. If things get hairy, though, you're likely to take a penalty to the skill.'.
Kuznetsov turns back to his panels and begins issuing the commands to dissolve the seals on Cargo Bay 1.
Kronos asks Kuznetsov and Anderson on private lines, "An order has been given to dissolve the chemical seals on Cargo Bay 1. This order may reduce the structural integrity of the ship. Confirm command?"
Kuznetsov quietly responds, "Confirm, Kronos. Let the log reflect the command given at..." He looks at a ship's clock and gives the time.
Anderson responds quitely as well, "Command confirmed."
Kronos says, "Command confirmed. Solvent released." Nothing else changes...except for one of the monitors revealing a countdown.
Kuznetsov nods his head and moves towards the controls for the fire suppression system.
Anderson takes control of the present cargo drones and sends them off to the main Medbay to fetch a couple of the large containers of coagulant.
The drones trundle off, able to rely on internal programming for much of the trip. Perhaps they're even happy, somewhere in their circuitry, that they are doing what they are created for.
Kuznetsov looks at the fire suppression system. "Ensign Morris, Ensign Rice, if you both would be so kind?" He gestures. "I will need extra hands." His face twists in a gallows-humor grimace behind his helmet.
Morris jumps to, his eyes moving to the empty space where Kuznetsov's other arm /should/ be, before dancing guiltily away.
Rice stands up straighter from his developing slump-against-the-wall posture, and moves over to lend a...hand.
The fire suppression system ducts and reserves are in a tucked away part of the Engineering deck, which Kronos lights up as the three approach. Meanwhile, the first of the drones begin to arrive, their platforms stacked high with greyish-silver boxes of coagulant.
Anderson directs the drones to follow after Kuznetsov and the others, following along behind himself.
Kuznetsov sets to work, directing Morris and Rice tersely. "Open that." "Lift there, pour into that slot."
Rice follows instructions quietly and as quickly as he can manage, though he's lagging slightly behind Morris in this respect.
Morris follows directions meekly. In its concentrated form, the coagulant is a syrupy clear liquid, but it begins to turn yellow as it slides into the slots.
Paravada says "Someone should retrieve the bioweapon."
Anderson nods shortly, "I'll take care of it." He turns on his heel and heads out of the room at a light run.
Seconds tick by as the syrup pours down, and the Commander runs through the corridors, back up to the Med Bay. The small package with the RESTRICTED markings is on the counter where the group left it, the patients are unconscious. The Captain rests uneasily, her arms twitching and shuddering as he enters.
Kuznetsov continues his terse direction. "Mr. Rice..." He pauses, closing his eyes. "A little higher, please," he directs. He looks at the line graph as it continues on whatever screen it is. "Do you ..." He cuts himself short. "Time is of the essence," he finally says after a moment.
Rice glances over in Kuznetsov's direction warily, but continues doing as he's told without interrupting.
Anderson takes the bioweapon container in hand, the coagulant spray in the other. He gives a general order for a security drone from Engineering to meet him at the crew quarters before setting off there himself.
In Engineering, not far from the group, one of the security drones suddenly powers up with a whine, rumbling from its berth like a hound on a scent. It ignores the humans and trundles towards the service shafts at a quick clip.
Kuznetsov snaps his head around. "Kronos, what is that drone doing?" He's already moving towards one of his armed drones.
Kronos says, "Commander Anderson has requested its presence on the crew deck."
Paravada half-draws her concussion pistol, at the tone of Kuznetov's voice, and then relaxes again.
Kuznetsov exhales, and toggles his comm unit. "Commander, if you would be so kind... if you need a drone, please alert us first, hm? Surprises are ... unwelcome." A pause. "Sir."
Anderson stops mid-stride, a foot hanging in the air a moment before keying his own comm unit, "Duly noted Lt. Commander." With a somewhat self-indulgent chuckle and feeling a little lighter he continues on his way.
The sounds of the drone retreats into the distance for those in Engineering, but by the time Anderson gets to the appointed meeting place, the door has opened, and the drone is trundling out to meet him. Meanwhile, the last of the syrup is emptied into the fire suppression system.
Kuznetsov exhales heavily, and shakes his head, looking back towards the fire suppression system. "Very good, gentlemen," he says, and begins moving back towards his panels, priming the system.
Lights flash and the computer makes studious humming noises, a display of the fire suppression systems coming online. The ducts leading to CB1 are currently labeled 'DISABLED' due to the quarantine.
Anderson sets the security drone up with the bio weapon in place and ready to deploy. After completing that, he cautiously starts to head past the crew section and towards the CB1 doors.
Kuznetsov says, into the comm, "Ready at your command, sir." He leans on his panels, and looks towards the screens showing the death toll and the interior of the cargo bay with a morbid curiosity.
The drone follows at Anderson's heels, a hulking metal Doberman with a /very/ nasty case of rabies in its jaws. They enter the service tunnels to CB1, and move down, past the twists and turns, to the airlock. Before the airlock, a desiccated corpse rests, coated in what appears to be silver powder.
Anderson keys his comm to send to all of the mobile crew specifically, "Just working my way to the Bay door. I want to make sure the drone gets there without being tampered with. The Bioweapon is mounted to the drone and primed to go, so everyone make sure your suit is sealed just to be safe." As he approaches the corpse, he gives it a careful shot with the spray bottle just to be sure.
Rice double-checks all the seals on his suit.
The death toll continues its steady rise. The total mark of active life signs now rests at 87,291...no, 290. 289. And so forth. The creatures displayed in the cameras continue their hungry feast, cancerous tumors the size of tanks spreading, growing, seeking out the walls as they reach their greater sizes.
Paravada checks her own suit, with the speed and intensity of a paranoiac.
The corpse and powder fails to react to the coagulant...or to the presence of such close, warm meat.
Kuznetsov goes through the ritual of checking his suit, watching the screens.
Anderson nods quickly, double checking the drone is set up right, then takes off at a dead run away from CB1. He opens a comm channel while checking his own suit integrity on the run, "Ok, bioweapon and drone are set up. Kronos, release quarentine on Cargo Bay 1 only, but leave all vents and doors closed."
Morris also moves over to watch the screens, his face pale and sweaty behind the faceplate.
Kuznetsov opens the necessary tubes, and begins spraying the coagulant over the cargo bay, watching the screen with a desperate hope.
Rice is slumped against a wall, steadfastly not watching the screens.
Anderson hauls tuckus back to Engineering.
"Order received," Kronos says, and Anderson, so close to the airlock, hears a faint hissing from around the door. The sign DISABLED flashes off, and immediately Kuznetsov's workings take effect. The cameras show a fine, fine mist being pushed through the airless expanse from the fire suppression systems. Inertia moves it slowly, but eventually it reaches the first of the malevolent stars.
Unlike almost all creatures before now, THESE have a voice...it's unclear what unholy organ creates it, but the sensors capture the eerie, agonized wailing as it rises. It is a sound of curious innocence; as if these things have never before felt pain, and only now learn, as their flesh burns and hardens and whatever ichor passes for blood stops in its tracks.
Kuznetsov clenches his fist, and slams it against the bulkhead next to the monitor. "That's it, you bastard ... thing. Die for me." His voice is suddenly hoarse.
Paravada stares at the monitors, her face draining of color. Abruptly she begins to cry, shaking.
Rice has been staring at the ground, trying not to watch what's going on. At the sound, he simply drops to the ground, pressing his face against his knees.
Morris suddenly wails, the pitch and timbre of the sound almost reaching that of the creature themselves; his voice spirals upward, past them, higher, hoarse and painful, and then he launches himself at the nearest control panel, smashing and clawing at it with his bare hands.
Kuznetsov turns at the sound, and curses a blue streak in four languages as he lunges at Morris, trying to tackle the ensign to the deck.
As he runs, Anderson calls out, "Kronos, report on the decline of normal life readings in CB1."
The engineer slams the Ensign into the deck, and Morris turns on Kuznetsov like a trapped animal, his pupils blown wide until only the faintest ring of blue can be seen around them. He screams and claws, kicks and bites, against Kuznetsov's hold.
Kronos reports, "Rate of progression of life signs lost has decreased 87 percent and falling."
On the screen, the stars are falling apart, the creatures propelling themselves by unknown means through the vacuum, reaching up with mindless fury and pain towards the fire suppression vents, trying to dissolve and tear at them. They do damage, eating the metal away as if with acid, but the mist only pours the faster, and they stiffen, dull, and drift away, cold and possibly dead.
Kuznetsov leans on Morris, using his body weight to pin Morris -- the easiest method, given his one arm. He continues the litany of vulgarity, now referencing Morris's intelligence, sanity, and ancestry.
Morris slams his helmet into Kuznetsov's, now weeping even as he's screaming, his body writhing beneath the engineer. As the creatures on screen die or are forced dormant, their screams also dwindle and fade into an awful, blessed silence. As it does, Morris himself quiets, finally lying passive on the ground, panting hard enough to fog the faceplate of his helmet.
Rice has his arms wrapped around his knees, covering up his ears in an attempt to not hear that sound quite so much.
As the sound dies away, Paravada slowly ceases to cry, regaining some control of herself.
Anderson nearly slides to a halt just as he enters Engineering, his eyes taking in the sight around the room, "Uhhh.. Kuznetsov," he pauses a moment as if unsure of what to say, "Report?"
Kuznetsov waits a moment, then stands up, stepping off of Morris. "Coagulant released." He gestures towards the screens. "It seems to have at least temporarily neutralized the creature."
Morris just lies there, stunned either by his own reaction, or possibly by being tackled by a fairly large, muscular man.
Rice pulls his arms away from his ears, and lifts his head slightly, now that the noise has died down. But he's not standing up yet.
Anderson doesn't say anything for a moment, still taking stock of the crew’s different states of apparent distress. "Good work," He finally says, moving farther into the room and looking at the display showing the interior of CB1.
Kuznetsov turns towards the screen, and joins Anderson. "Kronos, let's see if we can't fit another chart up -- how do the life signs look in Bay One?"
Rice chokes out a hysterical little giggle, and breaks off as quickly as he started.
Paravada says nothing, just staring around, overwhelmed.
It looks like a starship wrecked in there. Hunks of lifeless metallic substance float through the air at various speeds, partially obscured by a fog of coagulant. As they collide, the cyrotubes embedded in each one sometimes crack and break, leaking globules of fluid from their interiors. The chart, however, looks much better. The progression of destruction has come to a near total halt.
Anderson breathes a sigh of relief as the camera pans around the cargo bay, "Kronos, current normal life sign count in Cargo Bay 1."
Kronos replies promptly, "Eighty-four thousand, four hundred and sixty nine."
Kuznetsov inclines his head. "We should get those still-good tubes out of there... and inspect them just in case."
Paravada gets back up on her feet. "...yes. We have to make sure."
Rice rests his chin on his knees, and watches people make decisions. He doesn't seem particularly inclined to move until someone remembers he's there.
Anderson hangs his head a moment as Kronos' count comes in, speaking without raising his head, "Two-thirds lost to this thing." He takes a deep breath, carefully controlling his voice, "Kuznetsov is right," Anderson looks up again, "We need to get this stuff off the ship. It's likely still alive under a coating of hardened material just like the thing in the corridor."
Morris slowly climbs to his feet from the floor. He moves very carefully, like an old, decrepit man.
Kuznetsov nods his head. "We can send in the drones to move the cryobeds out," he says. "Relocate them... the Living Deck, probably." He sighs. "As for getting it off the ship... we could set the drones to doing that, as well? Tearing chunks free and throwing them out the lock?"
"Agreed," Anderson turns from the console to face the rest of the crew, "I think as little contact with that stuff on our part is best."
Rice sits on the floor in a manner that suggests he's rather hoping he'll be overlooked while down there.
Sadly not. Or perhaps not so sadly, as it's Morris who sidles around the command staff, to find his fellow ensign and sit slowly down beside him. He doesn't say anything, makes no move to touch Rice. Just...shares personal space.
Kuznetsov nods his head, and reaches for his PML to begin preparing drones of various kinds to be removing things; probably including a few Security Drones with some form of bulkhead breaching axes or somesuch, if tools like that exist to fit to them.
Rice is quiet for a moment, then sighs, and says quietly, "So, I didn't run into any holes this time. I figure that's a step in the right direction."
Morris smiles slightly behind his helmet. "That's a good start. And, hey, I won't tell if you don't."
"In the documentary," Rice says, "we're all going to be amazingly cool-headed about everything. It's the joy of editing."
Logfile from SamingaMU.
Kuznetsov moves away from his panels, to begin looking around inside the armory itself.
Rice sets himself up in guard-the-rear position with spraybottle at hand, since other people are going to have their hands full with carrying someone shortly.
Paravada moves to pick up Montague.
Anderson moves with Kuznetsov to examine the contents of the armoury.
The armory has the arms and ammunition to supply the better part of 10 percent of the total ship's contingent with ways to kill each other for a good long time. There are concussion guns of various sizes, there are force grenades, smoke grenades, and updated versions of that old favorite: the fragmentary grenade. There are also lockers filled with mines, electric fence posts of lethal strength, and other tactical weaponry.
Everything is arranged in seven wide aisles...like the storage rooms, these are clearly meant to be drone-friendly.
Kuznetsov nods approvingly and looks to Cdr. Anderson. "Does this revise the plan, commander?"
Anderson looks around the armoury, an odd gleam in his eye and a smile on his face, "Alright, now we need to figure out how to take care of the rest of those things in Cargo Bay 1." He nods to Kuznetsov, "Indeed, or at least relegates the previous plan back to backup. We need determine what we can use here against those things. Getting to Main Medbay is the next priority."
The three crewmembers heading up pass by the skeleton again. It seems reassuringly dead. Other than that, it's an awkward, but untroubled trip.
Paravada situates Montague on a bed, and sets him up with a nutrient drip and a sedative.
Montague twitches and moans a little as he's set down on the cool bed, but doesn't awaken. As the sedative takes hold, his restless movements become quieter, but his face never loses the pinched, haunted expression.
Paravada nods to Rice and Morris. "Let's go back."
Morris glances over at the three unconscious crew members, and shudders. "No objections here, Doc."
Rice nods quickly. He's ready to follow people back to the land of the living. Well. The conscious and presumably uninfected.
Paravada hurries back to the others, then.
As the three head out of the medbay, and begin to make their way toward the service shafts, the ship's lights--both in the hallway and down in Engineering--flash a scarlet warning, and the blare of electronic horns sounds. Kronos' calm voice comes to all, "Warning. Exterior hull under assault. Warning. Cargo Bay 1 exterior integrity falling. Warning. Environmental suit configuration suggested. Warning."
Kuznetsov's eyes go very, very wide and he looks around for his helmet. "Suit up, Commander," he says, voice even tenser than normal.
Kuznetsov pages: I knew that Fear was going to come up sooner or later.
Down in Engineering, holographic monitors suddenly blaze with lights and flashing nodes.
Anderson nods sharply and double checks all of his suit seals, "You too Kuznetsov."
Paravada fastens her helmet and hurries faster toward Engineering.
Kuznetsov is already heading for his helmet, checking the seals -- it's a clumsier process, and his fingers are perhaps just a bit shaking (from concern? exhaustion? frustration? all of the above?). He's muttering a string of epithets, more like a mantra.
Rice says to Paravada as he follows behind, "What about the patients? Should we try to suit them?"
As Anderson checks his seals and such, he finds several holes in the suit that are not going to be patched any time soon. He strides over to a spares locker and proceeds to change out his shipsuit for a fresh one.
Paravada stops short. "... /yes/. Yes we should. We need spares, from Engineering."
The lights of the Engineering displays whirl. Unprompted, they nevertheless begin displaying a simulation of the damage to the exterior Cargo Bay hull. It appears to be coming from /inside/, a strange, damage stain spreading over the metal, light yellow right now, but slowly shading darker.
Rice nods, fastening his own helmet back on. "Right on it, sir," he says, and hurries along towards helmet spares in Engineering.
Morris struggles into his own helmet, his breath briefly fogging up the polymer shield as he hurries along behind.
"Kronos, register a change in shipsuit." Anderson calls as he finishes sealing up the suit and moves to examine the engineering displays.
Kuznetsov begins moving his hand over the displays. "Kronos, verify the E-M locks holding Cargo Bay 1 to the ship. Are they still apparently functional? What about the redundancies?" Even while asking that, he's bringing up on a separate display the status of the engine.
Anderson casts his eyes over all the displays, assessing what he can without getting in Kuznetsov's way, "Looks like that backup plan might not be so back up unless we can come up with a new solution quickly."
Kronos replies, "Registered, Commander. And yes, Lt. Commander Kuznetsov, the locks are reporting one hundred percent functionality. The seals, likewise." He pauses. "My sensors are reading a significant rise in the abnormal life signs coming from Cargo Bay 1."
Rice scampers to collect three helmets for the patients back in the Med Bay.
Anderson starts at the last note from Kronos, "Kronos, confirm the number of normal life signs still present in Cargo Bay 1."
Paravada takes one of the helmets from Rice, for ease of carrying, and immediately heads back toward medbay, gesturing for him to follow.
Morris scampers to collect a new suit for himself, unbashfully stripping and hopping his way to the spares locker to get redressed.
Kronos answers the Commander, "The number of normal life signs remaining in Cargo Bay 1 is 112,341."
Kuznetsov chews heavily on his upper lip as he continues to work the controls. "Less than fifty percent," he says, to himself. He looks up from his displays. "Commander, I think I have a solution. We detach the bay, like we would've once we land. We knock it loose, we accelerate, Kronos turns the ship so that the engine discharges directly onto the Bay... sterilizing it."
Kuznetsov works through some cold-hearted calculations to ensure there's sufficient fuel for that, versus the reduced mass of the ship, and to still successfully arrive at the destination and decelerate and achieve orbit.
Morris seals his new suit, grabbing another for Paravada. He stops at Kuznetsov's words, though, his eyes wide behind the face plate. "Kill over a hundred thousand of our people? Sir!?" His eyes turn to one of the glaring monitors, and he shivers. "My god."
The calculations race across the display without moral judgment. There is indeed, enough fuel for that.
Kuznetsov replies, tonelessly, "Unless there is another solution which can be implemented quickly..." He taps fingers on the console. "Kronos, please display a line graph of the rate at which the life signs in Cargo Bay One have been changing."
Meanwhile, Rice and Paravada make it back to the Medbay into record time. The three patients remain where they have been.
Anderson raises an eyebrow, "A little more than sterilizing it Lt. Cmdr, and sacrificing over a hundred thousand lives in the process." He sighs heavily and examines the displays again, "While I can't disagree with the efficiency of your plan, as Commander of this vessel I'm not sure there's enough greater good to save without those lives."
Paravada begins to work the unconscious patients into the suits.
Rice helps Paravada with the dressing, on the principle that it's better to have a few people entirely suited when it becomes necessary that more people partially there.
The line graph flashes on the console, rotating through three dimensions so that all can see it. The decline started when the trouble did, and progressed slowly until only about three minutes ago, when the extermination rate spiked, subsided, spiked, then skyrocketed. The line continues to scroll upward as the men watch.
The bodies in medbay are pliable, like dolls, as the two dress them, only the grievous wounds, and the occasional soft groan of pain to remind the two that these are living people.
Kuznetsov says, "Projection until the remaining life signs cease to maintain normality?"
"Assuming continuation of present course," Kronos says neutrally, "all normal life signs will cease in eighteen minutes."
Kuznetsov nods. "Bring up the camera feeds of Cargo Bay One," he says.
Paravada seals the suits, and gives a cursory check to the life-sign monitors, before shrugging, helplessly, and beginning to make her way back to engineering.
Two of the monitors flicker, then project two-dimensional screens. Emergency lighting has kicked on in the Bay, giving the entire thing a hellish red glow. The light gleams and slides like blood off slime-encrusted stars, stars made from upwards of a dozen cyrotubes each, fastened and held by a pulsating center of silver-pink goo. The goos are extending thick, wet appendages, sliding them along the outer bay wall. Where the appendages pass, the metal looks shined, scoured.
Rice follows Paravada, with one last uncertain look to the crew members they're leaving alone in the Med Bay.
Anderson pounds a fist down on the corner of the console, "Kronos, report status on quarantine seal of Cargo Bay 1."
The lifesigns of the crew in the Bay remain stable, with only a few spikes throughout the procedure. It is worth noting that those who die in space are placed in their ship suits for their ceremonies...assuming a body can be found.
Kronos says, "Quarantine status of Cargo Bay 1: secure. Interior seals are secure. Interior hull integrity: 99.13 percent."
Anderson looks to Kuznetsov, "How long until the thing gets through the outer hull?"
Anderson sighs heavily, "Well, at this rate we've got less than 15 min to do /something/ to save a small number of colonists, or just cut them loose." He shakes his head slowly, then turns to pace about the room slowly, "The only thing we have that /might/ work is that bio weapon, but even it is a shot in the dark."
Kuznetsov nods his head in his helmet. "And someone will have to take it in there and detonate it," he says. Gesturing towards the video display, "I am not certain I have a good plan on how to get INTO the bay without giving the creature access OUT of it..." He pauses. "EVA?"
Paravada blinks at Kuznetsov and Anderson, and is quiet, listening.
Anderson shrugs, "That, or it's possible to just let the thing loose in the whole ship. With us all suited up I don't think it'd be a problem, but once again, it's still a shot in the dark. We don't know what effect this bioweapon will have on suit seals or cyrotube seals."
Rice keeps his mouth shut, having come in halfway through the discussion. He moves over towards Morris in hopes of getting a discreet summary of what's going to happen now.
Morris hands Paravada a new suit, then glances over at Rice. "They're trying to decide if there's a way to get rid of that thing /aside/ from dumping all the colonists and toasty-frying it."
Paravada dresses, quickly.
Rice blanches, and says, quietly, "And our next best option is the bioweapon? That's not full of bright futures."
Anderson turns to Rice, a hard look in his eye and snaps, "We've got less than 15 min to start saving a hundred thousand people. Other suggestions are welcome."
Rice is too tired to take it personally. "If I think of anything, I'll let you know," he says.
Morris shrinks away from the Commander, even though the glare isn't even directed at him. "W-w-what about the coagulant? That seems to work...um...I mean, with the smaller ones..."
Anderson holds his glare on Rice a moment before deflating visibly and looking at Morris, "If I thought we could get enough into Cargo Bay 1 to deal enough damage to what's in there," He waves a hand at the monitors displaying the CB1 cameras, "That would be an option."
Kuznetsov grimaces and seems about to agree with Anderson, when he stops. "Maybe we could." He looks at Kronos. "How much do coagulant do we have in stocks?"
The cameras continue their calm witnessing of the events unfurling. In the distance of one's view, three cyro-tubes are wrenched from their moorings, their bright green lights going red as a new globule engulfs them. Kronos says, "Total supply at launching: 5500 liters. During the voyage, approximately four liters have been consumed, lost, or are no longer accounted for. 5496 liters remaining."
Anderson looks to Kuznetsov, "What do you have in mind Lt. Commander? You have a way to get a large quantity of the coagulant into Cargo Bay 1 and dispersed?"
Paravada considers. "If we rigged explosives to spread the coagulant," she suggests, "and brought the bioweapon along on the EVA in case it didn't work..."
Kuznetsov pauses, after everyone has laid out theories and plans. "I vote for vapor, if the intent is to actually save any of the colonists," he says simply.
Anderson nods slowly as the options are thrown out, "I have to agree with you on that Kuznetsov. If we remain suited, we can still potentially blow the Cargo Bay loose and torch it as a last resort."
Kuznetsov frowns. "With your consent, Commander, I would like to begin dissolving the chemical redundancy seals on Cargo Bay, leaving only the electro-magnetic seals, if both vaporous coagulant and the bioweapon fail."
Rice asks, carefully, "So if we do release the bioweapon... do we have any way of neutralizing it again afterward, for wherever it's been released? Or does that part of the ship just need to be sealed off permanently? Do we know?"
Anderson ponders for a moment, "Ok, Do it. Let's get the coagulant set up for spraying into the Cargo Bay then. Can we use the fire suppression system and can we do it quickly enough?"
<
<
Anderson nods, "A Drone can bring that down here and we'll hook it up to the main suppression system node. You get to work on those seals."
Anderson pages: Would my daily operations skill cover drone piloting?
You paged Anderson with 'It would, for basic operations. If things get hairy, though, you're likely to take a penalty to the skill.'.
Kuznetsov turns back to his panels and begins issuing the commands to dissolve the seals on Cargo Bay 1.
Kronos asks Kuznetsov and Anderson on private lines, "An order has been given to dissolve the chemical seals on Cargo Bay 1. This order may reduce the structural integrity of the ship. Confirm command?"
Kuznetsov quietly responds, "Confirm, Kronos. Let the log reflect the command given at..." He looks at a ship's clock and gives the time.
Anderson responds quitely as well, "Command confirmed."
Kronos says, "Command confirmed. Solvent released." Nothing else changes...except for one of the monitors revealing a countdown.
Kuznetsov nods his head and moves towards the controls for the fire suppression system.
Anderson takes control of the present cargo drones and sends them off to the main Medbay to fetch a couple of the large containers of coagulant.
The drones trundle off, able to rely on internal programming for much of the trip. Perhaps they're even happy, somewhere in their circuitry, that they are doing what they are created for.
Kuznetsov looks at the fire suppression system. "Ensign Morris, Ensign Rice, if you both would be so kind?" He gestures. "I will need extra hands." His face twists in a gallows-humor grimace behind his helmet.
Morris jumps to, his eyes moving to the empty space where Kuznetsov's other arm /should/ be, before dancing guiltily away.
Rice stands up straighter from his developing slump-against-the-wall posture, and moves over to lend a...hand.
The fire suppression system ducts and reserves are in a tucked away part of the Engineering deck, which Kronos lights up as the three approach. Meanwhile, the first of the drones begin to arrive, their platforms stacked high with greyish-silver boxes of coagulant.
Anderson directs the drones to follow after Kuznetsov and the others, following along behind himself.
Kuznetsov sets to work, directing Morris and Rice tersely. "Open that." "Lift there, pour into that slot."
Rice follows instructions quietly and as quickly as he can manage, though he's lagging slightly behind Morris in this respect.
Morris follows directions meekly. In its concentrated form, the coagulant is a syrupy clear liquid, but it begins to turn yellow as it slides into the slots.
Paravada says "Someone should retrieve the bioweapon."
Anderson nods shortly, "I'll take care of it." He turns on his heel and heads out of the room at a light run.
Seconds tick by as the syrup pours down, and the Commander runs through the corridors, back up to the Med Bay. The small package with the RESTRICTED markings is on the counter where the group left it, the patients are unconscious. The Captain rests uneasily, her arms twitching and shuddering as he enters.
Kuznetsov continues his terse direction. "Mr. Rice..." He pauses, closing his eyes. "A little higher, please," he directs. He looks at the line graph as it continues on whatever screen it is. "Do you ..." He cuts himself short. "Time is of the essence," he finally says after a moment.
Rice glances over in Kuznetsov's direction warily, but continues doing as he's told without interrupting.
Anderson takes the bioweapon container in hand, the coagulant spray in the other. He gives a general order for a security drone from Engineering to meet him at the crew quarters before setting off there himself.
In Engineering, not far from the group, one of the security drones suddenly powers up with a whine, rumbling from its berth like a hound on a scent. It ignores the humans and trundles towards the service shafts at a quick clip.
Kuznetsov snaps his head around. "Kronos, what is that drone doing?" He's already moving towards one of his armed drones.
Kronos says, "Commander Anderson has requested its presence on the crew deck."
Paravada half-draws her concussion pistol, at the tone of Kuznetov's voice, and then relaxes again.
Kuznetsov exhales, and toggles his comm unit. "Commander, if you would be so kind... if you need a drone, please alert us first, hm? Surprises are ... unwelcome." A pause. "Sir."
Anderson stops mid-stride, a foot hanging in the air a moment before keying his own comm unit, "Duly noted Lt. Commander." With a somewhat self-indulgent chuckle and feeling a little lighter he continues on his way.
The sounds of the drone retreats into the distance for those in Engineering, but by the time Anderson gets to the appointed meeting place, the door has opened, and the drone is trundling out to meet him. Meanwhile, the last of the syrup is emptied into the fire suppression system.
Kuznetsov exhales heavily, and shakes his head, looking back towards the fire suppression system. "Very good, gentlemen," he says, and begins moving back towards his panels, priming the system.
Lights flash and the computer makes studious humming noises, a display of the fire suppression systems coming online. The ducts leading to CB1 are currently labeled 'DISABLED' due to the quarantine.
Anderson sets the security drone up with the bio weapon in place and ready to deploy. After completing that, he cautiously starts to head past the crew section and towards the CB1 doors.
Kuznetsov says, into the comm, "Ready at your command, sir." He leans on his panels, and looks towards the screens showing the death toll and the interior of the cargo bay with a morbid curiosity.
The drone follows at Anderson's heels, a hulking metal Doberman with a /very/ nasty case of rabies in its jaws. They enter the service tunnels to CB1, and move down, past the twists and turns, to the airlock. Before the airlock, a desiccated corpse rests, coated in what appears to be silver powder.
Anderson keys his comm to send to all of the mobile crew specifically, "Just working my way to the Bay door. I want to make sure the drone gets there without being tampered with. The Bioweapon is mounted to the drone and primed to go, so everyone make sure your suit is sealed just to be safe." As he approaches the corpse, he gives it a careful shot with the spray bottle just to be sure.
Rice double-checks all the seals on his suit.
The death toll continues its steady rise. The total mark of active life signs now rests at 87,291...no, 290. 289. And so forth. The creatures displayed in the cameras continue their hungry feast, cancerous tumors the size of tanks spreading, growing, seeking out the walls as they reach their greater sizes.
Paravada checks her own suit, with the speed and intensity of a paranoiac.
The corpse and powder fails to react to the coagulant...or to the presence of such close, warm meat.
Kuznetsov goes through the ritual of checking his suit, watching the screens.
Anderson nods quickly, double checking the drone is set up right, then takes off at a dead run away from CB1. He opens a comm channel while checking his own suit integrity on the run, "Ok, bioweapon and drone are set up. Kronos, release quarentine on Cargo Bay 1 only, but leave all vents and doors closed."
Morris also moves over to watch the screens, his face pale and sweaty behind the faceplate.
Kuznetsov opens the necessary tubes, and begins spraying the coagulant over the cargo bay, watching the screen with a desperate hope.
Rice is slumped against a wall, steadfastly not watching the screens.
Anderson hauls tuckus back to Engineering.
"Order received," Kronos says, and Anderson, so close to the airlock, hears a faint hissing from around the door. The sign DISABLED flashes off, and immediately Kuznetsov's workings take effect. The cameras show a fine, fine mist being pushed through the airless expanse from the fire suppression systems. Inertia moves it slowly, but eventually it reaches the first of the malevolent stars.
Unlike almost all creatures before now, THESE have a voice...it's unclear what unholy organ creates it, but the sensors capture the eerie, agonized wailing as it rises. It is a sound of curious innocence; as if these things have never before felt pain, and only now learn, as their flesh burns and hardens and whatever ichor passes for blood stops in its tracks.
Kuznetsov clenches his fist, and slams it against the bulkhead next to the monitor. "That's it, you bastard ... thing. Die for me." His voice is suddenly hoarse.
Paravada stares at the monitors, her face draining of color. Abruptly she begins to cry, shaking.
Rice has been staring at the ground, trying not to watch what's going on. At the sound, he simply drops to the ground, pressing his face against his knees.
Morris suddenly wails, the pitch and timbre of the sound almost reaching that of the creature themselves; his voice spirals upward, past them, higher, hoarse and painful, and then he launches himself at the nearest control panel, smashing and clawing at it with his bare hands.
Kuznetsov turns at the sound, and curses a blue streak in four languages as he lunges at Morris, trying to tackle the ensign to the deck.
As he runs, Anderson calls out, "Kronos, report on the decline of normal life readings in CB1."
The engineer slams the Ensign into the deck, and Morris turns on Kuznetsov like a trapped animal, his pupils blown wide until only the faintest ring of blue can be seen around them. He screams and claws, kicks and bites, against Kuznetsov's hold.
Kronos reports, "Rate of progression of life signs lost has decreased 87 percent and falling."
On the screen, the stars are falling apart, the creatures propelling themselves by unknown means through the vacuum, reaching up with mindless fury and pain towards the fire suppression vents, trying to dissolve and tear at them. They do damage, eating the metal away as if with acid, but the mist only pours the faster, and they stiffen, dull, and drift away, cold and possibly dead.
Kuznetsov leans on Morris, using his body weight to pin Morris -- the easiest method, given his one arm. He continues the litany of vulgarity, now referencing Morris's intelligence, sanity, and ancestry.
Morris slams his helmet into Kuznetsov's, now weeping even as he's screaming, his body writhing beneath the engineer. As the creatures on screen die or are forced dormant, their screams also dwindle and fade into an awful, blessed silence. As it does, Morris himself quiets, finally lying passive on the ground, panting hard enough to fog the faceplate of his helmet.
Rice has his arms wrapped around his knees, covering up his ears in an attempt to not hear that sound quite so much.
As the sound dies away, Paravada slowly ceases to cry, regaining some control of herself.
Anderson nearly slides to a halt just as he enters Engineering, his eyes taking in the sight around the room, "Uhhh.. Kuznetsov," he pauses a moment as if unsure of what to say, "Report?"
Kuznetsov waits a moment, then stands up, stepping off of Morris. "Coagulant released." He gestures towards the screens. "It seems to have at least temporarily neutralized the creature."
Morris just lies there, stunned either by his own reaction, or possibly by being tackled by a fairly large, muscular man.
Rice pulls his arms away from his ears, and lifts his head slightly, now that the noise has died down. But he's not standing up yet.
Anderson doesn't say anything for a moment, still taking stock of the crew’s different states of apparent distress. "Good work," He finally says, moving farther into the room and looking at the display showing the interior of CB1.
Kuznetsov turns towards the screen, and joins Anderson. "Kronos, let's see if we can't fit another chart up -- how do the life signs look in Bay One?"
Rice chokes out a hysterical little giggle, and breaks off as quickly as he started.
Paravada says nothing, just staring around, overwhelmed.
It looks like a starship wrecked in there. Hunks of lifeless metallic substance float through the air at various speeds, partially obscured by a fog of coagulant. As they collide, the cyrotubes embedded in each one sometimes crack and break, leaking globules of fluid from their interiors. The chart, however, looks much better. The progression of destruction has come to a near total halt.
Anderson breathes a sigh of relief as the camera pans around the cargo bay, "Kronos, current normal life sign count in Cargo Bay 1."
Kronos replies promptly, "Eighty-four thousand, four hundred and sixty nine."
Kuznetsov inclines his head. "We should get those still-good tubes out of there... and inspect them just in case."
Paravada gets back up on her feet. "...yes. We have to make sure."
Rice rests his chin on his knees, and watches people make decisions. He doesn't seem particularly inclined to move until someone remembers he's there.
Anderson hangs his head a moment as Kronos' count comes in, speaking without raising his head, "Two-thirds lost to this thing." He takes a deep breath, carefully controlling his voice, "Kuznetsov is right," Anderson looks up again, "We need to get this stuff off the ship. It's likely still alive under a coating of hardened material just like the thing in the corridor."
Morris slowly climbs to his feet from the floor. He moves very carefully, like an old, decrepit man.
Kuznetsov nods his head. "We can send in the drones to move the cryobeds out," he says. "Relocate them... the Living Deck, probably." He sighs. "As for getting it off the ship... we could set the drones to doing that, as well? Tearing chunks free and throwing them out the lock?"
"Agreed," Anderson turns from the console to face the rest of the crew, "I think as little contact with that stuff on our part is best."
Rice sits on the floor in a manner that suggests he's rather hoping he'll be overlooked while down there.
Sadly not. Or perhaps not so sadly, as it's Morris who sidles around the command staff, to find his fellow ensign and sit slowly down beside him. He doesn't say anything, makes no move to touch Rice. Just...shares personal space.
Kuznetsov nods his head, and reaches for his PML to begin preparing drones of various kinds to be removing things; probably including a few Security Drones with some form of bulkhead breaching axes or somesuch, if tools like that exist to fit to them.
Rice is quiet for a moment, then sighs, and says quietly, "So, I didn't run into any holes this time. I figure that's a step in the right direction."
Morris smiles slightly behind his helmet. "That's a good start. And, hey, I won't tell if you don't."
"In the documentary," Rice says, "we're all going to be amazingly cool-headed about everything. It's the joy of editing."
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