Part 22

    Kevin glanced over at Graves and noticed he was stiff as a board, with wide eyes and he had seemed to have lost some color from his normally mocha colored skin. He looked at least twice as scared as kevin felt, and that meant a lot.

    He took a deep breath to try and settle his nerves, and for the shortest moment it worked. And then he returned his view over the top of the copse of mushrooms and the feeling of borderline panic reintroduced itself to his psyche.

    'Alright, think.' He spoke internally, looking at the stretch of hall that terminated in the horde of creatures that wanted to kill him. A mass of fleshy, bony mushroom monsters with rows of gnashing teeth and claws that would rip him and the Rear Admiral to tiny pieces as they were - 'No, no. None of that. Focus on how to get past them.' Did he really need to get past? They could just leave it would be fine. 'No... It isn't. We need to warn Earth, regardless of whether or not I can escape afterwards.'

    Scanning the hall was less than encouraging. There were a few more patches of mushrooms - shorter than the ones he was hiding behind now, and a few that may have been incubators - along the walls and floor between them. Every couple of seconds a series of sparks would burst from one of the overhead lights in the corridor. Worst of all these details were the two dozen corpses - which were more still than the toothy fungus creatures, so easier to count - of the Tycho's crew.

    The shuttle broke atmosphere and Kevin looked out past the pilot as they raced toward the looming transfer station. Blanchard nudged him with her elbow " Never gets old does it?"

    "He glanced at her briefly, smiling. "No it does not."

    The large white and blue wheel of a station floating before them had nearly a dozen large starships connected to it at berths. As they approached, he watched one of the starships - the general size and shape of a sea-liner. This particular station - one of many like it in orbit around the planet - was their penultimate destination: just another waystation on their journey. The Tycho A-317 had not yet berthed, but he was sure that it was in close orbit nearby and would approach when it had its orders.

    Say one thing about the Systems Alliance, say that they have efficient docking procedures.

    As the shuttle approached, they were close enough to the station that it encompassed their entire field of view, and the view become boring. He turned away gathered his bag. The rest of what he needed would already be on the ship, but the items in here were personal and had value to him. 

    When the shuttle dropped them off - a quick action in which the shuttle never fully stopped - he stepped off behind Blanchard and twenty other various crew from any number of ships that were docked here.

    Some time later he walked stood on the deck of the Tycho a-317, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of people - a mix of his fellow soldiers, some engineers, various crewmen, and a majority of them scientists - moving from place to place. Most of the scientists moved in pairs, talking quickly about subjects that he was sure that even if he had caught the full conversations he wouldn't have understood. Most of the others moved alone, some all but running to their destinations, caught up in their own thoughts. He took it all in, standing out of the way near one of the large windows looking out on the star-speckled, inky black of space. Preparations were being made to start their voyage, and as de-facto security detail, he had no pressing matters currently. That is unless something went wrong.

    He had seen most all of these corpses when they had been alive and even knew a few by name. That body over there was Ariadne, the requisitions officer; that one was Ramone, one of the engineers; and that one over there was the ordinance specialist, a portly man named Eli. Eli had been a friendly sort, always quick with a joke or a smile. Unfortunately, Eli would have been hard pressed to tell a joke now, being that his head was sitting a foot away from his body.

    A glint near Eli's hand caught his eye as sparks rained from the ceiling once again. If his eyes weren't playing tricks - and he was sure they weren't - it was a Kass Fabrications Breaker rifle. A standard burst-fire rifle, the older models would overheat and need to vent after thirty or forty rounds depending on how quickly you pulled the trigger. The newer models, on the other hand, had ejectable heat sinks which would bypass the longer venting process.. He wasn't sure what type it was from here, but it didn't really matter since it would add to his arsenal. He could get to it.

    He could probably get to it.