Agent Alaska
Artificial Intelligence: Beta (Instinct)
It was Beta who told her when to duck, ensuring a smattering of unsteadily aimed (but still lethal) bullets hit the wall behind her. Alaska would have time to thank him later –now she focused on taking out the things trying to kill her.
The grand majority were the small ones. The ones that could infect you, she recalled with vague alarm. She aimed her rifle fire at them and smirked as a large group burst apart. Wyoming and Texas used their more precise weapons to trim down the numbers of the actual Infected, prioritising the ones with weapons.
Wash kept up his fire while Alaska paused to reload –she did the same when he ran out.
Alaska glanced at the barricade in front of the infirmary’s doors. The people behind it must have heard the gunfire. She wondered if they could expect any help from that quarter, but kept her hopes down.
In any case, there wasn’t as much Flood as she’d expected here. It should be easy to take them out.
Too easy, too easy, too easy, Beta chanted into her mind. As much as she wanted to shove the AI’s advice to the side and simply declare this as evidence of how strong the team was, Beta had been right too often before to dismiss him right off the bat.
More enemies flooded in, and were mowed down by more fire. They were steadily advancing on the four Freelancers through sheer force of numbers. The team didn’t move an inch.
Texas used this to her advantage, her shotgun doing much more damage at the closer range. The bodies of the Infected piled up, creating a sort of obstacle course on the floor that slowed down the oncoming Flood, if only a little.
The enemies’numbers in front of them were dwindling, and the reinforcements from the two hallways ahead were becoming less and less frequent.
But still, too easy, too easy, too easy…
Alaska paused, knowing that excessive use of her enhancement could cause power problems with her armour later on. But they weren’t exactly in the best position for a battle. It would be good to have a little more information or advanced warning should anything go wrong…
Bee, take a look around.
Beta understood her request immediately, directing a sonar search away from the end of their current problems and back the way they had come. He didn’t bother blocking any of her HUD with a display of his findings –he would inform her if anything important could be found. He was still suspicious of the camera from earlier, she knew, but had enough faith to decide he wouldn’t let it distract him.
The stop at the armoury had replenished ammo, but they could only carry so much and the stream of enemies was again taking its toll. Considering the rate the Flood were arriving and thinning out, Alaska concluded that the hostiles would run out before the ammo did.
Ambush!
Scratch that.
Alaska spun around, ignoring Texas’s “Hey!”, and used her advanced warning to take out the infection forms that flung themselves around the corner, where they had just been. Wyoming left Texas to deal with the bigger enemies in the direction of the med-bay and helped Alaska fend off the new threat.
But God knew it wouldn’t be enough.
An increase in the amount of Flood coming from the med-bay direction confirmed it. They were far outnumbered, and even with their extra ammo, they’d run out before their enemy was gone. No help from the infirmary could be expected –the people in there were either injured or doctors, maybe a few simply trained guards.
Alaska found herself accepting the likelihood of her death. Strangely, she didn’t feel scared, keeping herself occupied with targeting, shooting, taking out as many as she could before they got too close. Taking as many with her as possible.
A few explosions from the infirmary’s direction made her glance to the side. Texas had run forward to face their enemy head-on, blazing a trail, and had stuck two spike grenades to a pair of larger Flood in her wake. Several fell, but more kept coming.
Beta was analysing the place –looking for potential escape routes, a way to win, maybe just a way to get back to the armoury stock up again and fight or hide… but he was coming up empty.
The poor situation seemed to get to Wash, whose aim became more erratic and whose breathing could now be heard getting faster and shallower. She sensed rather than saw Wyoming give him a slap across the head, order him to stay focused. Alaska didn’t hold it against Wash. He was what, 23? In the younger half of the agents, in any case. Dying probably wasn’t something he’d really thought about, even with his military background.
Texas had actually managed to clear a path (more or less) to the med-bay’s barricaded doors. With her at the convergence point, the Flood coming through from that direction became significantly less. From the aura surrounding her, Alaska got the feeling that when she ran out of ammo and grenades Texas would just start ripping them apart with her bare (well, armoured) hands.
And then move on to us.
Alaska didn’t reproach Beta for that comment. Nor did she entirely disagree.
Then the interesting thing happened. A grenade went off, far enough away from Texas to not cause her any damage but not thrown by her. Wash yelped in surprise and Wyoming angrily told him to get back to shooting before the damn Flood got too close. Alaska continued to methodically pepper the ground with bullets, preventing the Beach-Balls from getting close enough to launch themselves at them while keeping half an eye on the situation at Tex’s end.
The person who had thrown the grenade now stood on top of the barricade with two Magnums, in turquoise-y blue armour, especially battered on her left leg.
“My turn,”Carolina said quietly.
While Alaska was more than happy for the help, and mentally promised Carolina to not demand what took her so long, Tex snarled at the new arrival.
Carolina ignored the black-clad Freelancer though, leaping from her position to land in front of a two Flood-infected Marines, standing between them and Wash, and taking them out with a few shots from her Magnum. She was heavily favouring her right side, the damage done from the earlier fight in the biohazard zone not completely healed, but for the medical team who had allowed Maine to get back up and fight days after his really, really fatal looking injuries, a leg with a few bullets in it could be useable in hours.
“I believe it would be prudent to retreat,” Wyoming informed her. Alaska didn’t reply, but couldn’t help but agree. They’d been brought in to provide extra security to the area with their presence. They couldn’t do that if they died out here or used up all their ammo. Yeah Alaska had her knife, but there was no way she wanted to get close enough to one of those things to have to use it–
Alaska’s head suddenly became intimately acquainted with the wall. Hard. Twice.
Wyoming and Alaska, distracted by Carolina’s little show, had allowed Flood to get too close. Wash yelped as he was battered by a large infected Marine, and Wyoming struggled to keep a group of Beach-Balls away from his face.
Alaska noted all this with detached interest as her head exploded in pain before going rather unsettlingly numb.
Move!
Beta’s voice rang through her mind, piercing the numbness and prompting her to action. Carolina and Tex were yelling, but she didn’t care what they had to say –all she knew was that there was a clear path to the infirmary’s barricade and that she could climb up and over to the door. A grunt of exertion reminded her of the existence of the two men beside her.
Move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move
The AI’s voice won out, however, and she ran forward, unable to do anything but obey in her disorientated state. She dodged past the bodies scattered along the hall’s floor and made it to the barricade, where some low-rank trooper was already up and offering a hand. She grasped it and practically fell through the gap, landing on her face while a host of medical personnel and a few troops stared at her in surprise before one doctor stepped forward.
And then she blacked out.
***
Dawson wondered, not for the first time, how it had come to this. How the hell did he end up in the military again? How the hell did he end up working for a secret project again? How the hell did he end up aboard a ship with frightening monsters that came straight from a horror movie that wanted to kill him again?
He stumbled through the dark halls, hopelessly lost. He was pretty new on the Mother of Invention and hadn’t quite memorised the way around yet. The dark and… oh God, what was that?
A slimy, organic-looking substance coated the walls, floor and ceiling in some areas. There was more ahead, and it would be impossible not to step on. It looked…like it was made from the same stuff the creatures were.
So yes. The dark and… that were making navigation very difficult.
Dawson clutched the broken-off pipe closer to his chest like it could ward off demons and choked back a whimper when he realised the small noise might draw attention. Cautiously he tapped his foot against the slimy, sickly green ground as if it would jump up and bite him. It didn’t react, just made a nauseating wet squelching noise as he lifted his foot back up. He continued on.
He didn’t like walking on this stuff, and it was getting more and more common as he continued down the corridors. But he couldn’t turn back. He’d tried every way but this, and there was either those monsters or dead-ends. Every instinct in him told him to run, but to where? Running, throwing care and caution to the wind, could only land him in more trouble. Or that’s what he guessed.
Really, what did he know? He was a pilot. He didn’t take part in the close combat stuff. He was like… a chauffeur. Sure they’d given him basic training, but that had been a while ago…
Tears welled in his eyes as he thought of how hopeless his situation was. He had no idea where he was, the hallways were covered in stuff and the only thing that had kept him alive was being able to avoid those things when he came across them. Luck.
The features of the ship were indistinguishable from the matter that coated them, and so Dawson didn’t notice the door until it slid open beside him. He gulped and shivered, pipe at the ready.
He poked his head through the opening, looked right nothing. He breathed a sigh of relief before realising there was another direction. Looked left…
…just in time to see a mutated club of an arm hurtling towards him.
He jumped away, avoiding the attack but stumbling straight into something solid and moving. He scrambled to get away, but was lifted off his feet.
Dawson struggled. He begged and pleaded and screamed and cried. But the creatures took no notice as they carried him to a destination known only to them.
There were those things everywhere now. But the little ones ignored him, and the larger ones cleared a path for the two escorting him.
One last door opened, and in the centre of what might once have been the cafeteria was a giant mass of whatever it was. Giant, pulsing, hungry.
Dawson froze and stared. The things carrying him steadily advanced towards that thing in the centre. As he got closer he saw what it was made of.
Bodies. Slowly being…digested or absorbed or assimilated into the green mass were at least half a dozen bodies. And that was only on the side he could see.
He realised with a jolt what his fate was. To join those bodies.
Two steps away the thing, the creature carrying him dropped him and shoved him forward.
He couldn’t stop himself. He fell face-first onto the mass with a disgusting wet smacking sound.
When the thing didn’t respond immediately, he rolled onto his back and tried to get up. Something stopped him.
Around his waist, little searching, probing appendages spread across his body and held him down. He tried to push himself up, but they wrapped around his arms. He watched, eyes wide, while the tips of the things pushed through his skin and crawled under his flesh.
Dawson screamed. And a few went in his mouth and crawled down his throat gagging him and choking him. All the while, he was slowly being pulled down into his grave.
It was only when one or two appendages neared his eyes that he lost his reason.
He flailed as much as his restraints would allow him (by this point, almost not at all) as a tiny little point plunged into his eye, travelled through the jelly and popped out the other side, slowly probing around the inside of his head.
A horrific buzzing noise filled his mind and steadily grew louder and louder until he couldn’t hear his own thoughts.
And that is how Dawson the Pilot became a part of a Proto-Gravemind.
Artificial Intelligence: Beta (Instinct)
It was Beta who told her when to duck, ensuring a smattering of unsteadily aimed (but still lethal) bullets hit the wall behind her. Alaska would have time to thank him later –now she focused on taking out the things trying to kill her.
The grand majority were the small ones. The ones that could infect you, she recalled with vague alarm. She aimed her rifle fire at them and smirked as a large group burst apart. Wyoming and Texas used their more precise weapons to trim down the numbers of the actual Infected, prioritising the ones with weapons.
Wash kept up his fire while Alaska paused to reload –she did the same when he ran out.
Alaska glanced at the barricade in front of the infirmary’s doors. The people behind it must have heard the gunfire. She wondered if they could expect any help from that quarter, but kept her hopes down.
In any case, there wasn’t as much Flood as she’d expected here. It should be easy to take them out.
Too easy, too easy, too easy, Beta chanted into her mind. As much as she wanted to shove the AI’s advice to the side and simply declare this as evidence of how strong the team was, Beta had been right too often before to dismiss him right off the bat.
More enemies flooded in, and were mowed down by more fire. They were steadily advancing on the four Freelancers through sheer force of numbers. The team didn’t move an inch.
Texas used this to her advantage, her shotgun doing much more damage at the closer range. The bodies of the Infected piled up, creating a sort of obstacle course on the floor that slowed down the oncoming Flood, if only a little.
The enemies’numbers in front of them were dwindling, and the reinforcements from the two hallways ahead were becoming less and less frequent.
But still, too easy, too easy, too easy…
Alaska paused, knowing that excessive use of her enhancement could cause power problems with her armour later on. But they weren’t exactly in the best position for a battle. It would be good to have a little more information or advanced warning should anything go wrong…
Bee, take a look around.
Beta understood her request immediately, directing a sonar search away from the end of their current problems and back the way they had come. He didn’t bother blocking any of her HUD with a display of his findings –he would inform her if anything important could be found. He was still suspicious of the camera from earlier, she knew, but had enough faith to decide he wouldn’t let it distract him.
The stop at the armoury had replenished ammo, but they could only carry so much and the stream of enemies was again taking its toll. Considering the rate the Flood were arriving and thinning out, Alaska concluded that the hostiles would run out before the ammo did.
Ambush!
Scratch that.
Alaska spun around, ignoring Texas’s “Hey!”, and used her advanced warning to take out the infection forms that flung themselves around the corner, where they had just been. Wyoming left Texas to deal with the bigger enemies in the direction of the med-bay and helped Alaska fend off the new threat.
But God knew it wouldn’t be enough.
An increase in the amount of Flood coming from the med-bay direction confirmed it. They were far outnumbered, and even with their extra ammo, they’d run out before their enemy was gone. No help from the infirmary could be expected –the people in there were either injured or doctors, maybe a few simply trained guards.
Alaska found herself accepting the likelihood of her death. Strangely, she didn’t feel scared, keeping herself occupied with targeting, shooting, taking out as many as she could before they got too close. Taking as many with her as possible.
A few explosions from the infirmary’s direction made her glance to the side. Texas had run forward to face their enemy head-on, blazing a trail, and had stuck two spike grenades to a pair of larger Flood in her wake. Several fell, but more kept coming.
Beta was analysing the place –looking for potential escape routes, a way to win, maybe just a way to get back to the armoury stock up again and fight or hide… but he was coming up empty.
The poor situation seemed to get to Wash, whose aim became more erratic and whose breathing could now be heard getting faster and shallower. She sensed rather than saw Wyoming give him a slap across the head, order him to stay focused. Alaska didn’t hold it against Wash. He was what, 23? In the younger half of the agents, in any case. Dying probably wasn’t something he’d really thought about, even with his military background.
Texas had actually managed to clear a path (more or less) to the med-bay’s barricaded doors. With her at the convergence point, the Flood coming through from that direction became significantly less. From the aura surrounding her, Alaska got the feeling that when she ran out of ammo and grenades Texas would just start ripping them apart with her bare (well, armoured) hands.
And then move on to us.
Alaska didn’t reproach Beta for that comment. Nor did she entirely disagree.
Then the interesting thing happened. A grenade went off, far enough away from Texas to not cause her any damage but not thrown by her. Wash yelped in surprise and Wyoming angrily told him to get back to shooting before the damn Flood got too close. Alaska continued to methodically pepper the ground with bullets, preventing the Beach-Balls from getting close enough to launch themselves at them while keeping half an eye on the situation at Tex’s end.
The person who had thrown the grenade now stood on top of the barricade with two Magnums, in turquoise-y blue armour, especially battered on her left leg.
“My turn,”Carolina said quietly.
While Alaska was more than happy for the help, and mentally promised Carolina to not demand what took her so long, Tex snarled at the new arrival.
Carolina ignored the black-clad Freelancer though, leaping from her position to land in front of a two Flood-infected Marines, standing between them and Wash, and taking them out with a few shots from her Magnum. She was heavily favouring her right side, the damage done from the earlier fight in the biohazard zone not completely healed, but for the medical team who had allowed Maine to get back up and fight days after his really, really fatal looking injuries, a leg with a few bullets in it could be useable in hours.
“I believe it would be prudent to retreat,” Wyoming informed her. Alaska didn’t reply, but couldn’t help but agree. They’d been brought in to provide extra security to the area with their presence. They couldn’t do that if they died out here or used up all their ammo. Yeah Alaska had her knife, but there was no way she wanted to get close enough to one of those things to have to use it–
Alaska’s head suddenly became intimately acquainted with the wall. Hard. Twice.
Wyoming and Alaska, distracted by Carolina’s little show, had allowed Flood to get too close. Wash yelped as he was battered by a large infected Marine, and Wyoming struggled to keep a group of Beach-Balls away from his face.
Alaska noted all this with detached interest as her head exploded in pain before going rather unsettlingly numb.
Move!
Beta’s voice rang through her mind, piercing the numbness and prompting her to action. Carolina and Tex were yelling, but she didn’t care what they had to say –all she knew was that there was a clear path to the infirmary’s barricade and that she could climb up and over to the door. A grunt of exertion reminded her of the existence of the two men beside her.
Move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move, move
The AI’s voice won out, however, and she ran forward, unable to do anything but obey in her disorientated state. She dodged past the bodies scattered along the hall’s floor and made it to the barricade, where some low-rank trooper was already up and offering a hand. She grasped it and practically fell through the gap, landing on her face while a host of medical personnel and a few troops stared at her in surprise before one doctor stepped forward.
And then she blacked out.
***
Dawson wondered, not for the first time, how it had come to this. How the hell did he end up in the military again? How the hell did he end up working for a secret project again? How the hell did he end up aboard a ship with frightening monsters that came straight from a horror movie that wanted to kill him again?
He stumbled through the dark halls, hopelessly lost. He was pretty new on the Mother of Invention and hadn’t quite memorised the way around yet. The dark and… oh God, what was that?
A slimy, organic-looking substance coated the walls, floor and ceiling in some areas. There was more ahead, and it would be impossible not to step on. It looked…like it was made from the same stuff the creatures were.
So yes. The dark and… that were making navigation very difficult.
Dawson clutched the broken-off pipe closer to his chest like it could ward off demons and choked back a whimper when he realised the small noise might draw attention. Cautiously he tapped his foot against the slimy, sickly green ground as if it would jump up and bite him. It didn’t react, just made a nauseating wet squelching noise as he lifted his foot back up. He continued on.
He didn’t like walking on this stuff, and it was getting more and more common as he continued down the corridors. But he couldn’t turn back. He’d tried every way but this, and there was either those monsters or dead-ends. Every instinct in him told him to run, but to where? Running, throwing care and caution to the wind, could only land him in more trouble. Or that’s what he guessed.
Really, what did he know? He was a pilot. He didn’t take part in the close combat stuff. He was like… a chauffeur. Sure they’d given him basic training, but that had been a while ago…
Tears welled in his eyes as he thought of how hopeless his situation was. He had no idea where he was, the hallways were covered in stuff and the only thing that had kept him alive was being able to avoid those things when he came across them. Luck.
The features of the ship were indistinguishable from the matter that coated them, and so Dawson didn’t notice the door until it slid open beside him. He gulped and shivered, pipe at the ready.
He poked his head through the opening, looked right nothing. He breathed a sigh of relief before realising there was another direction. Looked left…
…just in time to see a mutated club of an arm hurtling towards him.
He jumped away, avoiding the attack but stumbling straight into something solid and moving. He scrambled to get away, but was lifted off his feet.
Dawson struggled. He begged and pleaded and screamed and cried. But the creatures took no notice as they carried him to a destination known only to them.
There were those things everywhere now. But the little ones ignored him, and the larger ones cleared a path for the two escorting him.
One last door opened, and in the centre of what might once have been the cafeteria was a giant mass of whatever it was. Giant, pulsing, hungry.
Dawson froze and stared. The things carrying him steadily advanced towards that thing in the centre. As he got closer he saw what it was made of.
Bodies. Slowly being…digested or absorbed or assimilated into the green mass were at least half a dozen bodies. And that was only on the side he could see.
He realised with a jolt what his fate was. To join those bodies.
Two steps away the thing, the creature carrying him dropped him and shoved him forward.
He couldn’t stop himself. He fell face-first onto the mass with a disgusting wet smacking sound.
When the thing didn’t respond immediately, he rolled onto his back and tried to get up. Something stopped him.
Around his waist, little searching, probing appendages spread across his body and held him down. He tried to push himself up, but they wrapped around his arms. He watched, eyes wide, while the tips of the things pushed through his skin and crawled under his flesh.
Dawson screamed. And a few went in his mouth and crawled down his throat gagging him and choking him. All the while, he was slowly being pulled down into his grave.
It was only when one or two appendages neared his eyes that he lost his reason.
He flailed as much as his restraints would allow him (by this point, almost not at all) as a tiny little point plunged into his eye, travelled through the jelly and popped out the other side, slowly probing around the inside of his head.
A horrific buzzing noise filled his mind and steadily grew louder and louder until he couldn’t hear his own thoughts.
And that is how Dawson the Pilot became a part of a Proto-Gravemind.