*Smudge wiggled the small pistol in his right hand at Joey*
"This is all I gots, and it shoots bullets, not lazers and plasmas and all that jazz. Heh, lets just try and not shoot any windows out.... hey, that could be a good tactic..."
"No no no Smudge. We're not shooting any windows out. Not today." "Awwww... So here it comes then." "Yep." "I wonder what it is." "Sounds mechanical." "Yep" "....It's taking a while." "Sure is. Maybe it's AI is playing up and it's walking into a wall." "Or maybe some mystical being can't be asked to write a combat scene." "That could well be."
Terrwyn dived into the lobby, blasting a droid on the way in. There were two droids inside the lobby, easy prey for the AA-12. The buckshot tore into the droids, rending them into scrap. She headed down the stairs to the hangar floor. It was quiet down there...
Too quiet.
Rounding the corner, she saw a droid. It turned round, ready to EMP her.
"Not again..." muttered Terrwyn.
The droid's head exploded and the thing fell down, dead. Standing behind it was a dark-haired woman, about Terrwyn's natural size, armed with a Bretonian-made L303 sniper rifle. The rifle was still zeroed, ready to remove Terrwyn's face at a moment's notice.
"Stop! Don't shoot!" said Terrwyn, dropping her shotgun.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" replied the woman, lowering her rifle.
"Cadet Terrwyn Gower, Cerberus," said Terrwyn.
"Ah. You. Leah Enfield, station security,"
The two shook hands.
"What are you doing up here? We can't get any ships out,"
"I'm trying to get to the dorms. My power pack's been blown, so I can't do any fancy tricks. I've just got my wits and a shotgun," replied Terrwyn.
"We'll need to get through the hangar," said Enfield, "And I'm not sure if I've got enough ammo. There should be some .338 slugs in ammo storage,"
"There first, then to the dorms?" replied Terrwyn.
"Good idea,"
After they'd got the ammo, the two entered the hanger. Terrwyn started blasting droids with her shotgun and Enfield took out some with her rifle.
"There's too many!" shouted Terrwyn as a horde of droids started coming up from the floor.
"Just run!"
It was a mad dash to the corridor that connected the hangar to the dorms. The door sealed behind them.
In front of Terrwyn was a cluster of several droids. Enfield disabled them with a grenade, clearing the way.
Terrwyn's dorm was cluttered with boxes of robotic components.
"How are we gonna find that power pack with all this rubbish?" asked Enfield.
"It's under the bed. I'll take a look there,"
Terrwyn ducked down and started rummaging under the bed. Eventually she emerged with a power pack. It was a small cylinder, about the size of a beer can.
"Is that it?" asked Enfield.
"Yep. I'll turn around so you can put it in," Enfield could see where the old one was. There was a big hole in it and battery acid was starting to burn holes in Terrwyn's shirt.
"How does it look?" asked Terrwyn.
"Well," said Enfield, "It looks like you'll have to take your shirt off so I can get to the power pack,"
"Can't you do it?"
"This is not a good time for that,"
"Is that your only objection?"
"Well, for one, we've only just met and secondly, you're not really my type,"
"What do you mean? The hair? The body?"
"Neither. I'm not a lesbian,"
"Not yet," Terrwyn smiled.
"Shut up,"
Terrwyn chuckled and removed her shirt. The power pack was clearly visible. Enfield disconnected it and threw it in the waste disposal, despite the clear warning not to do so and connected the new one.
"Much better," said Terrwyn.
*The pair descended down the staircase, brandishing their weapons in case of any more random encounters. The number on the wall indicated they were now on level 2, one step closer to the bar. Across the counter a security terminal stood, glowing red. Smudge disacknowledged it, he found them creepy and no one had given him an access account.*
Smudge paused, "The bars right from here, let's get going I guess."
Kian coughed and spluttered as his voice seemed to trail off to nothing. He lent down against the door still in a light headed daze, when he felt a faint breath of air against his cheek. The door was ever so slightly open. In his daze of blood loss and blurry vision he must have missed it. He pulled the knife from his pocket and fitted it into the gap. He used it to pull with what little strength he had left, and pull back the powerless door. He slid through the small gap he had made, and fell sprawled on the floor of the bar. This was not his best day ever, but as he looked up at the alcohol on display, he could think of worse places to be at the moment.
He raised himself wearily and stumbled and hobbled towards the bar, his blurry vision doubling everything. However his vision did not obscure one terrible fact .... rows upon rows of Liberty Ale. What had he done to deserve this.