Excerpt from The Silver Affinity Chronicles V: Brink of Extinction / Chapter Nine - Unrelenting Response ------------------------------------------ Professor Natasha had managed to escape from the caved-in and crushed walls of the mercurial flagship’s brig. Frantically searching the remains of the cells for any of the other Sabre members, her heart fell heavy as she laid eyes on the gruesome corpses of the team; the crash had taken its toll on the further parts of the brig, collapsing inward and burying the three men alive. Knowing she couldn’t stay here, she forced herself to move back toward the airlock doors. The electronics had been knocked out during the crash, but with Vivian transforming herself into the proto stages of a hivemind structure, power had been resupplied back to the ship, although sporadically yet. The airlock doors to the brig had been jammed halfway shut, leaving just enough room for the professor to squeeze through. Only a fraction of the lights were actually lit – the result of the fluorescent bulbs shattering upon the ship’s impact with the surface, creating an eerie sputtering darkness about the ship’s rickety and creaking corridors. Natasha herself hadn’t escaped the crash without injuries; she’d braced herself in the front corner of her cell, gripping the bars of the door for extra support. When the ship had dug its bow into the ground it kicked everything around inside – enough force to twist and bend steel. Support beams had collapsed through the ceiling breaking the steel bars of her cell door and nearly crushing her in the process. The right portion of her forehead had also suffered a nasty gash as the outcome of the crash lifting her up off the bench she was perched on and slamming her back down onto the concrete floor head first. Blood was dripping down her cheek from the swelling wound but there was nothing she could do about it. Up ahead of the twisting corridor, she spotted another body lying crumpled on the ground. Noticing it was a clone that’d been scorched by an exploding steam line, she quickly gathered up its assault rifle and secondary handgun, pocketing all ammunition. She needed to find a way out of the ship and to friendly forces, if any existed. At this point, she wasn’t certain who was friend and who was foe. All she understood was that she had to get as far away from this ship as possible. Having uncomfortably stuffed the handgun into the side of her right boot, she shouldered the assault rifle and peered down the holographic scope, preparing for anything as she continued her venture. She hadn’t fired a gun for self-defense purposes in a very long time, but she’d been an average shot in the firing range back during her time serving onboard the Sovereign Night under Captain Josef Gluconi. Recalling those old skills, she forged ahead searching for an escape route. Ahead around a left turn was the golden hint of sunlight. Cautiously traversing the rest of the corridor, she peaked around the corner to notice an empty hall, with a partially collapsed ceiling with steel support beams bent downward. Climbing up to the next deck, she found out what’d caused the hole to form – when the ship had landed hard on the surface, it overloaded the deck support structure in this particular area to the point of catastrophic failure. Pockets in the floor of the deck she’d climbed up onto fell down to the next level, dislodging the beam supports from the sidewalls of the hull sheering the metal off outside the welded areas leaving gaping holes leading directly outside. This is where the sunlight was shining from. Natasha’s slender figure was just barely small enough to fit through the hole; the assault rifle was too awkward to fit it through along with her, so she left it lying on the floor so she could grab it once outside. She’d climbed up onto the deck just above the lowest starboard cannon bay. The hole in the armor plating exited her out onto the small ledge of the armor encompassing the cannonry bay. Nearly four stories up in the air, the wind whipped her greasy blonde ponytail across her cheeks stinging her over and over, but she refused to go back now. The wind was so fierce in fact, that she couldn’t even balance herself while wielding the assault rifle. With no other choice, she had to ditch the larger weapon over the side so she could use both her hands in guiding her along the outside of the hull. She still possessed the handgun in her boot, so she still had a defensive posture she could take in the instance she encountered resistance. If she were to drop from here, it would surely shatter her ankles and possibly break her legs; in other words, suicide. Clinging for life to the armor plating of the hull as she shuffled along the edge, Natasha was determined to live this day. She refused to be a slave to the mercurial agenda, and would do her best to escape to friendly forces so that she could continue her work against the mercury by looking into the SM-DMT compound. The ledge encompassing the cannon bay stopped abruptly, leaving Natasha with no other way up or down. She was effectively trapped. There was now no other choice but to crawl down the face of the cannonry outlet, placing herself in the path of the broadside hatches. Scaling it downward like a rock climber, she made sure to double check her footing before trusting to put her entire weight where she stepped and continue down. One wrong step however, caused her to slip and lose her gripping, tumbling over the edge to plummet down to the surface nearly thirty feet below. She landed in the soft upturned ridge of soil and clay from the starship’s massive hull slicing through the surface as it crashed, decreasing the amount of injuries she could’ve sustained. Landing back-first and sinking down nearly two feet, it knocked the wind right out of her lungs forcing her to writhe in silent agony for several minutes before she could finally cough and force her body to breathe in oxygen before she suffocated. Desperately pleading for her lungs to expand and fill with air so she could begin to breathe normally, she lay in the fetal position on the top of the black dirt with tears streaking down her cheeks. After what seemed hours of painful spasms, her body returned to normal. Meekly, she got to her feet and made sure no one had seen her. Not sure which direction was which, she remained in the shadow of the hull as she traveled toward the bow. If she could run the length of the flat plateau to take cover in the nearby rocky hills, she could await for signs of other humans. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was better than sticking around the crash site to be recaptured by mercury forces. Limping within sight of the side viewport glass of the bridge command center, Natasha ensured she was kept in the dark by the ship’s shadow – the longer she could maintain secrecy, the greater her odds would remain. Taking the handgun out of her boot to slide the safety off, she checked the magazine; full with sixteen shots. In her pockets she carried several extra clips. Dumping the ammunition for the assault rifle as she walked, it would only weigh her down without the rifle. Stretching her legs, the professor would warm up her muscles in a quick spurt of exercise. Deeming it sufficient after a couple of minutes, it was do or die; starting into a slow jog, Natasha knew she couldn’t go back at this point. She needed to find a hiding spot and stay there for as long as possible to evade mercury patrols that would surely be sent out to find her. Breaking into a full sprint, Natasha let loose all the energy she had. She made it nearly halfway across the plateau before she felt a sharp and extreme pain in her lower left shin that caused her to collapse into the dry, sandy dirt. Looking down, she noticed a spatter of red – she’d been shot by a clone sniper onboard the ship. Cursing the outcome, she tried her best to fight the searing pain and crawl forward. She could hear the sound of motorized vehicles approaching from behind; mercury soldiers coming to reclaim her. She ignored the agonizing pain and pushed on. Another sound was drowning out the vehicles… a deafening roar ahead of her, growing louder and louder until she couldn’t even hear herself think. Rushing over the rocky hill and keeping low to the surface, a squadron of Russian attack tilt-rotor Vertical-Takeoff and Landing (VTOL) jet powered helicopters barreled overhead and targeted the incoming mercurial troops; their four maneuverable blazing engines all firing horizontal for as much as speed as possible in addition to the twin main blade rotors on the top. The top rotors were mainly for old-style aesthetic design, but they did aid stability in certain high-speed maneuvers tilting to the left or right. While the VTOLs flew low overhead, a wave of armored Humvees crested the hill, rolling down to meet Natasha as she fell exhausted to the ground. A Russian sergeant picked her limp body from the sand and dirt, holding her inside the vehicle as it bounced over the rocky terrain back towards the base. From what little she could communicate through dehydrated lips, the professor explained that she held knowledge applicable to the fight against the mercurial forces. This was all the men needed to hear; their number one priority now was getting her back into human-controlled areas.
Posted on: Fri, 07 Nov 2014 02:32:00 +0000
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