Join Date: Sep 2012
Location: Deepest, darkest Buckinghamshire...
Zenaya Markov was at a loss. The pool of blood on the floor was extremely disconcerting, and she suspected the worst – that it belonged to one of Churian’s team. The quantity of blood suggested that whoever spilt it was dead already. She had tried raising Churian on the vox, but there was nothing.
“What do we do, Markov?” quavered the voice of Yannick, the burly mechanic. Usually the first one up for a fight, Yannick was uncharacteristically fearful. They all were. She pondered for a moment, before coming to a decision.
“We move forward,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Our crew mates are in there somewhere, and we have a job to do.” She looked over at Mavidenko as he worked on the wiring at the control terminal.
“How close are you to getting that door open?” she asked.
As if in response there was a whirring sound as the power cells came back on line, and the big door began to slowly move downwards with an ear-splitting screaching sound. The four crew members dropped into defensive postures, two of them aiming their weapons down the corridor behind them, whilst Markov and Yannick raised theirs to point at the door. Once it slammed home in the floor recess, Markov spoke again.
“Let’s go.” And the four cautiously walked through the wide opening that yawned before them.