They dock without challenge in the one port still open.
That's not proper protocol anywhere, no matter how lax the security.
Everybody knows it. Everybody's on edge, the calm controlled sort of on-edge that you get coming into a battle. Weapons and gear are checked one last time, and then the door slides cautiously open.
Trowa, eyes scanning the corners, slips through the door first.
Protocol has very little to do with the situation, however. It's hardly a covert insertion if you trumpet your arrival by hailing the satellite for docking permission.
Sally still gets a bit excited by field work like this, the rush of adrenaline, the way her heart beats faster and everything suddenly seems clearer. It's a very controlled excitement, though. She slips through the door after Trowa, swiftly and silently.
The gravity is a bit off, less than that of earth but not such that it causes problems. She scans the corridor, then motions the remainder of their small entourage through. They're all silent and patient as they muster and await their instructions. Sally quickly checks their location, then points to Trowa to get his attention.
They're more likely to run into combatants on the ground than anyone a rifle would be useful against. The small group follows Trowa, alert but not overly reactive.
Suddenly, Sally touches Trowa on the shoulder with two fingers to get his attention - a firm touch, not a hasty or panicked one - and signals to the group:
The resource satellite is by its very nature an industrial place, and somewhere nearby some mechanical process has just started up. It's very likely just some sort of automatic response of a machine to a timer, but it's best to listen for a moment. Not to mention pay particularly close attention when they're on the move again, given that it's close enough to efficiently muffle the sound of approaching footsteps.
Comments 32
That's not proper protocol anywhere, no matter how lax the security.
Everybody knows it. Everybody's on edge, the calm controlled sort of on-edge that you get coming into a battle. Weapons and gear are checked one last time, and then the door slides cautiously open.
Trowa, eyes scanning the corners, slips through the door first.
Reply
Sally still gets a bit excited by field work like this, the rush of adrenaline, the way her heart beats faster and everything suddenly seems clearer. It's a very controlled excitement, though. She slips through the door after Trowa, swiftly and silently.
The gravity is a bit off, less than that of earth but not such that it causes problems. She scans the corridor, then motions the remainder of their small entourage through. They're all silent and patient as they muster and await their instructions. Sally quickly checks their location, then points to Trowa to get his attention.
Loosely translated.
Reply
One quick glance around the doorframe. Clear. He slips forward, gun at the ready, and sweeps a look right, left, up and down. Empty.
He motions to the rest: At the next corner, they repeat the process, and at the next.
So far everything's very . . . quiet. Deserted.
Reply
They're more likely to run into combatants on the ground than anyone a rifle would be useful against. The small group follows Trowa, alert but not overly reactive.
Suddenly, Sally touches Trowa on the shoulder with two fingers to get his attention - a firm touch, not a hasty or panicked one - and signals to the group:
The resource satellite is by its very nature an industrial place, and somewhere nearby some mechanical process has just started up. It's very likely just some sort of automatic response of a machine to a timer, but it's best to listen for a moment. Not to mention pay particularly close attention when they're on the move again, given that it's close enough to efficiently muffle the sound of approaching footsteps.
Reply
Leave a comment