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Bakamono · (This post was last modified: 02-01-2011, 10:06 PM by Bakamono.)

Sophie crawled from the vent, unmindful of the sweaty stench she emitted: gratefully breathing in a cool lungful of the precious air, she stretched out her petite limbs. Someone gingerly patted her shoulder and assured her 'Good work technician, you are safe now. Go stretch your legs before we're wanted over in the west wing.' She looked to the assistant co-ordinator in acknowledgement as she sipped thirstily at a bottle of water, and ambled off towards the main distribution hub.

Wide eyed, Sophie stared at the coughing bodies that wandered as she passed, feeling a little disconnected but glad to regain freedom of movement. Reasoning that she could grab a heat wrap from the nearest med station she wandered deeper into the milling populace of the sick, until she arrived at a crowded dead-end.
An apparently distraught passenger gripped a young-lady by the neck: an old-fashioned firearm pointed at her temple. The man was barking at the civilians who kept a fearful distance 'Stay back! No-one comes any closer or she dies!' he fired into the ceiling, pieces of plas-steel and ceramics scattered down. The crazed, suited man swept the weapon across the now-kneeling crowd 'I won't stay cooped up in here like a dog! She and I are leaving! Don't anyone try to stop us!'

Sophie stood, still numb from her ministrations, she staggered toward the scene as a member of the congregation rushed the man. Another shot rang out a Sophie found herself lying face-up '...funny I don't remember lying down' she spluttered through a mouthful of her own blood. Her whole left side felt numb and warm, wincing with effort she gently touched the area with her right hand and lifted it only to see it come away slick and red.
'Co-co'¦ordinator'¦I've been'¦shot s-s-sir' faces now appeared gathering round her 'I'm dying' she tried to tell them. Their faces wore fear but they spoke reassuringly, it didn't matter: their voices were so far away now. Sophie didn't want to go, she could feel herself getting colder as the people rushed about her, she began weeping. Her brain starved of oxygen, Sophie spoke to the man clutching her 'I am'¦the tiny horseman'¦in your mind' and the cold grip of death brought darkness.

***

Pilgrim visibly winced as the co-ordinators' voice resounded from his communicator, a passer-by might casually categorise the flinching man as being assailed by invisible opponents. 'Y_yes Sir: I'¦I understand' he managed to apologetically choke out through his upset, unaware that the co-ordinator had already moved on.
Almost immediately another alert came through from a sub-coordinator 'Pilgrim! You have been re-assigned'¦the scouring team in elevator shaft five, deck eight require your help. They should also have a new I.D for you Quinary assistant technician: I'm sure you will find plentiful and varied opportunities at this'¦diminished position, Happy detailing.' Pilgrim cursed himself at his stupid mistake: in his overly eager attempt to impress the Co-ordinator, he had only angered the executive, and gotten himself severely demoted and assigned to tedious, exhaustive task in the process. Taking out his wallet, he opened it to gaze forlornly at the portrait of Felix Cabulb which he kept there. He Sighed, stroking one finger across the picture as he shuffled along, mourning his ambitions of getting close to the Co-ordinator.

***

At the floor of the elevator shaft, amidst the grime of industrial lubricants and years of fungal growth, Pilgrim recalibrated the electron-scanner for the twentieth time and began assessing the shaft surface for aberrations. Here in the bowels of the ship the small crew of five waddled to and fro: ungainly in their safety gear.

Scanning every inch of the elevator maintenance bay, scooping up the viscous goo, and 'scrubbing' meticulously using targeted bombardments of radiation: this crew were definitely one of the more miserable among the Cryer staff onboard. After swapping stories on how they ended up here, the fives' chatter extended no further than a staccato flurry of verbose profanities. Pilgrim Carlson had drawn the short straw and was on his knees at the floor of the elevator chute, scanning a seemingly pristine surface for any sign of spores. 'spetching, crenverters must be screwy - Hugo! Pass me another micro-scanner would ya?'

'Sure thing pilgrim, right with you' Hugo replied, heaving another backpack and hand-viewer across the dark metal room. Pilgrim saw Hugos' face turn white as the elevator indicator light reflected in his face mask. Pilgrim barely had time to look up as the high-speed elevator hurtled downward with sickening speed. He had time for one last expletive, before the lifts lower workings tore into and through his body. The limp mess of limbs that was Pilgrim exploded under the crushing impact of the machine: turning him into a wet, red, paste, coating the elevator shaft floor and his four remaining colleagues.

***

Julian made his way to Deck two and the conference room whilst barking his final orders at the team attending to plumbing systems ''¦yes Luigi co-ordinate with the team at pump three and have them run a parallel consistency test...I have to go, I have an important meeting'¦ Yes I'll see what I can do about getting Daisy re-assigned: Houshmenzada out!' Entering the lift and straightening his tie, Julian regained his composure and poked at the old-fashioned elevator control. The cabin remained motionless and Julian cursed as he noticed the red light indicating that a lock had been established on this panel. Impatiently he jabbed his fingers repeatedly at the pad, punching in a random combination.

Eventually the red-light disappeared and the cabin lurched downward into movement, Julian looked to the panel again to see the basement floor button and deck two lit, 'Fek' he vocalised 'nothing's working today! Now I have to wait an extra three seconds before deck two! Are you shetting me lift!?' his affront lasted a moment before the panel indicated upward movement again, taking a bottle from his pocket he quickly unscrewed the cap and popped a capsule before stepping confidently from the cabin, his demeanour significantly calmer.

Julian passed his hand over the door-panel to the conference room in courtesy, announcing his arrival. A moment later the portal opened and Julian stepped through, mentally assessing Andrew Ross as he bowed, inclining the respectful three inches, before straightening and offering his hand 'Doctor Ross I presume: and this must be 'Sam'? How tiny and'¦uhm'¦rodent-y. I'm sorry about the bio-scan mix-up: some people might anticipate your feeling like a fugitive; but I don't think that Captain Frial or anyone else is interested in prosecution here. '

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