Mar. 29th, 2011

Pestle (8)

Mar. 29th, 2011 11:35 pm
Part Eight. Fighty fighty.

The breeze of the sphere decompressing became a strong wind, and then a typhoon. I reached a leg out of my side corridor and hooked it in the nearest ladder rung to stabilize myself. Lopez jerked past me, caught up in the wind; I grabbed him by the handle on his jetpack and hung on for dear life.

"We need to lay down a field of fire straight down the corridor!" I shouted into my comm.

"Why?" asked Gray Gretchen from somewhere back behind me. "We can't see anything!"

"This is our last chance to catch them unawares!" I shouted. "They can't delay coming inside because the sphere is going to roll over them! They're coming through now!" Practicing what I preached, I pulled my blaster rifle, steaded it on Lopez's shoulder, and started shooting down the hall.

"Hey! Cut it out!" shrieked Lopez, possibly upset at the amount of muzzle flash going on inches from his facemask. Nevertheless, to the credit of my Weasard engineer, he managed to pull his own blaster pistol and added to my field of fire. Streaks of orange shot down the hall from behind us as well, indicating Gray Gretchen had seen the sense of my suggestion, and a sustained white beam as thick as my arm lanced along the corridor as well.

"Wow," marveled Lopez, "Hoggrid has a maser. How did he get that into his encounter suit? And where's the power coming from?" Dammit, Lopez, I thought to myself; if curiosity doesn't kill you then I'm likely to.

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