rickitikitarr | 3. could be worse could be raining

3. could be worse could be raining

[Audio]

These things, they're coming through holes in the fabric of... well, space itself. Is there any way to close them?

[Is the technical explanation that Ricki stumbles for. It's only a seventies scifi explanation of a phenomenon he barely understands, but it's what he's got right now.]

It means that until they stop opening, any of the normal tactics- a perimeter, a systematic sweep- are totally useless. They can crawl right in behind us. Normally I'd suggest gathering everyone in the mess and working our way out, but if a tear opens up in the back, it has the potential to turn into a slaughter. We actually may be best keeping the vulnerable on their own, in their rooms, while everyone who can tries to clear down the halls.

[Then, silence, and finally two quick gun shots. The feed remains dead a little bit, as he gets his adrenaline down. His voice is still low, very level, when he can continue.]

But that means people may be trapped without food. It might be worthwhile to get volunteers to make runs for their neighbours. It'd be better to work in pairs to accomplish that.

Anyone game? [And, belatedly.] Anyone trapped?

[He'd do a better job of organizing this if it weren't on the fly. But as it is, he can hear something approaching. Heavy footsteps that may only just be captured by the feed. Then there is the sound that some residents will recognize as a gun being reloaded, before the feed cuts off.]

[Spam]

[Ammunition is scarce, but Ricki makes the most of what he has, hoarding it closely as he makes his perilous way through the halls of the ship, sometimes hunting, occasionally being hunted. The gun helps against the felhunters, and he isn't shy of shooting the succubi either, but on more than one memorable occasion he gets into it with a golem and ends up having to run for it, god damn it.

He'll help and need help, both in reasonably equal measure.]

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Piss off with your petty grudges, old man.

[Ricki is of the school of thought that sometimes what it takes is a slap in the face. It's what he needed, last time he found himself drinking.]

Are you going to do something about all this or not? Because I'm pinned down out here. Second level, back corner, starboard. I don't think I have long.

[Dead calm, and very certain.]

[It is a surprise. Most people give him a wide berth, for a variety of reasons. He can't actually remember the last time someone was that matter of fact with him--maybe back when he was an inmate, when it became clear he ignored yelling and turned violent when force was applied.]

...Fuck off, kid, you live long enough around here and you'll get a grudge of your own.

[He grumbles it at him but he's already gathering supplies: a small first aid kit, water, two hand-made and deplorably tasteless protein bars, along with the essentials like a torch and weapons.]

How many can you see?

There's something made of stone and fire in the stairwell behind me. It doesn't know I'm out here or I'm sure it'd be on me. There's a pack of those dogs at the other end of the hall, round the corner, between me and the other way out. I've got knives on me and a taser, and a precious few rounds, but there are enough of them that I don't think I can cut through. There's a door is between me and them, but it isn't going to last long if they keep trying at it.

I've emptied a clip into them, but I think they know they've got me pinned, and if they wait my ammunition out and rush me, more than one of them, I don't like my odds.

I don't figure much works on a stone-fire monster. Except maybe a water gun.

How much ammo you got left?

[The stairwell being blocked means he'll have to go the long way, and he doesn't like the idea of talking while he's running, so he needs to get relevant information now while he's still lacing his boots.]

Four shots. More in my quarters, but they're between me and it.

Keep the feed open but stay quiet, I'm heading your way.

[It needs to be on so that Ricki will know if something happens to Cain or, more hopefully, so Ricki will know if Cain manages to kill some of these things and clear the way.]

[He waits. The snarls and growls are getting louder, bit by bit.]

[He's seen odd things since coming to the Barge but some things never become normal. He's afraid to draw too much attention with too much noise, so he goes as stealthily as he can (which is very, even at his age) and only shoots when he's very close to danger.

He can hear his actions echoed through the feed, and gauges how close he is by it.]

Three left, come out fast-

'm out in three, two-

[And on one he's out the door, aiming fast, taking another of the beasts in the base of the skull. Pinned between two adversaries, they panic, thrash, but it also means Ricki and Cain have to be careful not to shoot one another.]

[Cain is a good shot but he's hungover and it's chaotic, so-]

Hold fire!

[Knives will work for this, a blade through the spine of one dog which he has to use as a shield when the other attacks]

[He holds. He also throws a knife, well clear of Cain, aiming for the eye of one of the remaining beasts- it misses the intended target, but slashes the thing badly nonetheless, makes it stagger, buys Cain a second.]

[He can't wrench the one knife free fast enough and has to grab a second. He manages to cut the thing's throat, but whatever it is, it keeps coming at them the full thirty seconds before it dies.]

Run-

[They need to find somewhere safer while the hallway is relatively clear]

[He runs.

He also grabs Cain by the elbow, doesn't trust his self-preservation instincts right now.]

[Wise move. It would be a flat out lie if he tried to claim he hadn't thought about handing the guns over and staying behind to "guard Ricki's retreat".

It's hard to say where might be safest, especially since he's been in his own cabin and away from all the action, so he follows Ricki.]

Where are we going?

Infirmary! They're having a hard time holding it down. We need a good shot stationed there.

[And Cain needs adult supervision right now, apparently.]

[At a corner he draws them up short so they can get a good few shots off before being seen.]

Who's left, who's at the infirmary?

['Left' is a stronger word than he'd have used if he wasn't still working liquor through his system. Intellectually he knows that no one is actually gone--yet--that they won't know real casualties until the Admiral names them.]

I don't know.

[He admits.]

I still don't have names linked to faces, yet, you'll have to be the one to tell me.

[He barks a laugh and looks at him]

I can hardly remember my own name right now. Come on, they ask we'll just fake amnesia.

Hell of a way to sober up.

[He admits, sympathetically.]

[Surprise registers, then fades with a smile]

Bet you've had a crazy day or two, huh?

Nah, it's not so bad. Nice to have an outlet.

[This sure beats sparring without intent to injure. He's needed badly to knife something or someone to death.]

Well, thanks for not shooting me in the leg back there.

[He hands him a fresh clip--the last one Cain has for a gun of that model, since he tried to dole out ammunition to the few people who walked away with his weapons.]

Any idea what the hell is going on?

Not a bloody clue. There are tears in the fabric of space, they can be sealed, but meanwhile these things leak through. We need to kill them in order to seal them back up.

[Is his explanation, as best he understands it.]

I picked a hell of a week to think about pacifism.

[He sighs; another blind corner]

Guess we'll just do our civic duty then. [Which is followed by another thought, something he ought to have asked sooner:] You hurt?

Nah, but I'm going to need water soon.

[He's exhausted.]

3. could be worse could be raining

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