Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Pass the Plot 3: Scene 8

Lieutenant Eloin felt a pop and a wrench somewhere midway between her chest and back. It didn't hurt afterwards but by the emptiness she knew Darrew had made one last error. She readjusted her weapon. His was one less loose end to tie off.

“How far do we have left?”

“We're making the last approach, so maybe three minutes.” The navigator was intent on the manual adjustments to bring the shuttle into a synchronous orbit.

Eloin smiled. Malkur was good but his sensors were old. This close to his ship, all he would be able to tell was that there were life forms aboard. Closing her eyes, Eloin gave the subvocal command that woke her second self. The air suddenly ran with flavors, nervous sweat from one of her seatmates, cabin air recycled too many times to be taken for fresh, and hints of hot metal coming from the propulsion devices.

Time unfolded as she fired her weapon, head shot after head shot. The navigator was the first to slump against the restraints, and by the time that the beige shirted security officer reached up for his comm link there was no signal coming from his brain to tell his mouth what to do next. Due to the decompression bullets, there wasn't much left of his mouth anyway.

The bodies were still warm as she checked each one, spitting into the ruined faces. Just enough to keep them warm and flexible, just enough that Malkur wouldn't know what was going on until it was too late. The navigator went back to adjusting the trajectories and velocities.

“How long do we have?”

“We're on a drift approach, Heiress.”

“Everyone check your gear. When we get over, I need two decoys; the rest come with me to the reactor chamber. Once there you will defend until the last.”

It had been so long since she had used the power, but the new drones moved just as they should. Her essence wouldn't last long but it would last long enough. Through the nav viewscreen, Eloin saw the landing tube extend. Anticipation prickled the skin at the back of her neck, driving away thoughts of the years that she had drifted from ship to ship, with each new assignment hoping that this would be the one.

Humans were useful and even fun sometimes, but nothing beat the thrill of the hunt. Malkur was one of the few left out here, dully fighting even though he had to understand that his age was turned to ashes behind her own people's rising phoenix. The shuttle jarred to a stop and the connectors met with a muted thump.

“Let's move out.”

1 comment:

Sarah Templeton said...

Muhahaha - beige is the new red. Suckerrrrs...

Lovely descriptions, Vert!