>>5550741>>5551767Indecision paralyses you, your fight or flight response settling on a more primal response - freeze. Maybe whatever survived that blast was still too stunned to hear your clumsy approach. Going <span class="mu-b">By the Book</span>, the most prudent thing to do in these situations is to avoid drawing attention and wait for backup to arrive.
You continue to hear the occasional sound of shifting debris all around and more rhythmic sounds coming from directly ahead. Unfortunately, you still can’t get a visual - the smoke stubbornly refusing to dissipate. Some of the crates must have caught fire in the blast and are continuing to smoulder.
The worst case scenario is that a Spiker survived and is actively hunting you… But then again, the rustling, scraping noise you can hear ahead could be your injured friends in dire need of assistance. Hating that you have to choose between your own life and that of your crew, you settle for silently raising yourself from your prone position into a low crouch. Coen should be here any moment, then you can deal with the situation properly. Until then, you’ll have to be ready for anything.
Carefully you activate your comm, attempting to reach your crew once more.
“Kiro? Cleo?” You whisper into your helmet mic, “Do you copy?”
Static fills the channel, louder than before. Curiously, the volume seems to flutter slightly as you move your head side to side, attempting to make out anything through the dense black smoke.
“La’afette?” You attempt to reach your Tactical officer, again in a hushed tone, “What’s your ETA, something is moving in here.”
There is no reply. Only the loud, shifting static fills your ears.
You decide to switch off the comm, the overpowering noise was masking the subtle scratching you were tracking earlier and listening to your surroundings takes precedence over more sullen than usual crewmates.
With a small click, the static shuts off leaving only silence in its wake. Deafening silence.
Fear chills you to your core as you realise that you’ve lost track of your enemy. Either that or you missed the last desperate moments of… NO!
Unthinkable.
You tense every muscle in your body, ready to spring at the first sign or sound of trouble. Maybe if you’re quick enough you can dodge out of the way of a spike volley. They were only subsonic projectiles after all, right?
<span class="mu-i">Wishful thinking</span>, you chide yourself.
Crack. A sound, to your 8 o’clock.
Whirling and prepare to fight or fly a figure appears from the smoke. Tall, humanoid, green tinged skin and slightly pointed ears visible through his visor. You sigh in relief, backup has finally arrived.
Through the gloom, you can see the man rhythmically sweeping his helmet side to side - like a marine checking his corners obsessively. He holds his pistol at the ready, the barrel slowly drifting in your direction but strangely his eyes are shut.
