"You can't be serious!" Hayden pleaded with Lucius, desperation in his voice, as he watched Lucius equip himself with weapons and armor. Each check and adjustment were made with a precision that spoke of grim determination; Lucius wasn't preparing to escape, but to face the impending conflict head-on. Security personnel attempted to block his path toward the elevator, but Hayden positioned himself beside Lucius, joined by concerned staff from the operations room.
This visceral reaction came on the heels of the latest death countβmembers of the Crisis Suppression Unit included. Lucius, burdened with the responsibility of announcing each casualty and providing some semblance of reason or justification, found himself grappling with an unanswerable "why."
"We can, yeah, we can still get this under control," Hayden asserted, clinging to a flicker of hope.
"Control? There are corpses down there, some adrift, how do I explain this? For what cause!?" Lucius erupted, the weight of his words echoing in the tense atmosphere. "I left the service for change, and now we're back to men killing men, and nothing changes."
"Uh, sir, we're being hailed," interrupted one of the operation staff. Lucius paused, his gaze shifting to the staff member who had delivered the news.
"Hailed? By who? Play it," Lucius commanded.
"Deep Seventeen, this is Commander Paktu, of the Aschen Empire's Hastati cruiser Howling Wind, I have assistance inbound."
"Wait... Aschen?" Lucius questioned, a hint of disbelief coloring his tone. Murmurs rippled through the gathered staff.
"Mettatron station, send Friend-Foe data package, and open a docking bay, I have marine strike teams, and medical teams inbound hot."
"Well damn, God works in mysterious ways," Lucius muttered, his focus shifting. He walked over, unburdening himself of some weapons before taking control of the transmission.
"This is Lucius Lamech of Deep 17. Our docking bay was recently... purged in an effort to restrict hostiles. It is about as open as it gets, but there will be a vacuum. Sending data now," he informed, giving the go-ahead for the staff to transmit essential information. "We have multiple casualties, two security officers, and multiple non-combatants. The hostiles are posing as miners, and dressed accordingly. No idea on the cause of hostilities. Possibly a RAV. And... thank you."
He lied, but only a little. He knew there had to be something behind this attack, it was just that he couldn't figure that out what. Sure, he knew that people can just attack one another for any cause, even slight and petty, but he had only ever sought the best for everybody, at least, in service to Deep 17. To say the least, this wasn't his first time to wield a rifle.
ECLIPSE received the situational report just as Bashemath's proxy skillfully pulled his right leg outward before pushing in on his thigh with an audible pop. A wave of intense pain surged through him, his fists clenching tightly. Then, relief washed over him, and he slumped over in relief.
"Holy shi..! Yeah, okay, so you know they're going to ask for favors, yeah? Ah, what the hell, at least we're on their good side," ECLIPSE remarked, catching his breath. He began to test his right leg, moving it in and out. Stiff and somewhat cold, but at least it was mostly functional. "You've done this before?"
"Not really," Bashemath admitted, offering a nervous chuckle. ECLIPSE rose and made his way toward the blast door, grabbing a pressurized suit. "Wait, what are you doing? Aren't the Asc-"
"Bastards killed two of my officers... besides, somebody has to repressurize this mess," he declared, before starting the override for the blast door, and readying his rifle, his remaining officers getting on pressurized suits as well. "The hell you doing?"
"I dunno, our job?" Travis answered plainly.