Log:Follow the Science
Follow the Science
OOC Date: May 15, 2020
Location: Czerka Corporation Facility Besh, Corporate Sector
Participants: Kasia Ashkuri, Atrel Katah, Kryll Red, Nerys Arda, Ban Iskender, Netep Muri, Lokir, Merek, Kuolo, Lyra, Liz'diot, Greez, Barad, Aryn Cole
Facility Besh was situated on a gods-forsaken rusty colored rock that /literally/ had no name. Everyone was carted down from a safe control site, a security station in high orbit with highly modified shuttles to withstand the winds of the world.
Everyone landed fine, within the safe zone, and was permitted to walk into the bunker like facility to reach the depths of the labs, 'where the action happens' their guide so enthusiastically said.
Settled into a viewing room, they were given seats arranged like an auditorium, but smaller and more personable. Transparisteel separated them from a static free lab where suited individuals worked around HUUUUUUUUUUUGE vats which contained the subjects they were presenting today.
The presentation started fine, with Doctor Viner, the lead researcher, explaining the finer details of the subjects they dubbed "Grey Harvest' or simply Greys.
"You see, in our research, we were looking for the perfect soldiers. The dead are dead, after all, so why not give them a purpose beyond the rot. What if we could control them? Imagine a soldier that no longer felt pain, that no longer cowered at the impossible. They react to basic impulses, adapt, and can regenerate. Our research with these in the field is unparalleled and I have no doubt you will all feel something by the end of this demonstration. Without further delay, we give you.. a Grey."
A Grey had formally been something: bipedal, humanoid, but its skin was bubbled and rippled with unnatural muscle. Its head was the same as it had been in its previous life, with eyes as dark as night, and mouths that stayed shut save for its subtle mouth-breathing. At first, the Grey seemed alive, responsive, curious as it watched the scientists around it. That is until Dr. Viner primed a rapid-firing carbine and shot it!
For a moment, the Grey was blasted down, and did not rise. It took moments.. moments longer than Dr. Viner expected. "Just a moment folks.." He said nervously, looking back at the glass.
"They call this science. It's unethical. Czerka has had thousands of cycles to straighten their act up, and this is what we've come to see? Advancements? I see a monster.. capable of monstrous things.." Aryn complains from the back, standing as if to leave.
Kryll was also at the back, armored and armed to the teeth though instead of really paying attention to the sciencing, he was more focused on locating structural weaknesses for how to bring this building down. He looks to Aryn, whispering without the use of his helmet's vocalizer. "They do not know what they are dealing with. How do we cause an evacuation and destroy the building?" Kryll has seen this before, multiple times, and has been doing all the can to prepare for it whenever it got closer to 'home'. Now, it appears they have it on display like it is some kind of toy or tool to use. He does ask one question, his helmet augmenting the voice this time. <"Have you determined how to eradicate it? If this soldier does not feel pain, nor die, how do you stop it?">
Not so far from Doctor Cole, perhaps a little closer so she might see the atrocity, Atrel folds her arms and tilts her head, the white suit and jacket standing out against the others gathered. The Arkanian lifts up her chin and leans forward to study wht is going to happen next. The comment from behind and over her left shoulder brings her posture back straight however. There is not ready compliment or derision from the woman but rather she seems anxious to inspect.
Despite the fact that genetics and bioresearch was not strictly her field, Nerys Arda had accepted the invitation. Perhaps she came to offer her assistance as a recorder of history, perhaps she came as a scholar of the natural world. Perhaps she came as an anthropologist, to record this odd but no doubt new foray into evolution. Well, she was here and she watched and waiting, eyes curious as she listened to the presentation and watched the subject brought out for this little demonstration. <Or a entirely reusable military force. Though, it does make one wonder...if they do their best work after they are dead, why would anyone with this technology even bother to use them when they are alive?>
Ban Iskender is dressed in the manner of a noble gentleman attending an academic function: a fine, pale grey suit, with a rich green half cape draped over the left shoulder. An elaborate sword is sheathed at his side, to which a white gloved hand is touched to steady the lie of the scabbard as he rises from the seat beside Aryn's. Quietly, he notes to Doctor Cole, "Credits can multiply quickly in the absence of ethics, it seems. Pity."
So...there may have been a /small/ clerical error partially responsible for Netep's participation in this here shavit show called "Science".
Her mother is a fairly renown xeno-geneticist, who, as it happens, has a bit of a questionably colorful research history that - while the assumed misdeeds were never PROVEN - saw her disgraced in the eyes of colleagues and funding pulled, many, many years ago. Which makes her an ideal candidate for Czerka. Naunet Muri's name came up in the list of individuals sought after to offer some insight on this here experiment.
Naunet Muri remains unaware of this invitation, far away on Omwat. Her daughter, Netep Muri, on the otherhand, received the cryptic nerd lure due to what's simply a damn borkup. Naunet, Netep...s'almost the same. Also, Netep Muri WAS - by proxy of the Explorer's Guild - an increasingly familiar name in the scientific community's radar, after the Bimmifly incident. Her contributions have had jack-all to do with genetics, but she IS, much to her chagrin, familiar with the creepy bastard that evidently is genetically related to whatever the frell they have mucked with here, in this lab. Not because she's sequenced Mnggal Mnggal's biome, but because it tried to tear into her once and wear her for a suit.
Muri shouldn't be here. But she is. Because sometimes her problems are her own fault, like the Fizzpop says. Iollan DID warn her to leave the pursuit of that unanswered question alone, but of course she can't. So she didn't. A /tiny/ piece of her is deciding, much too late, that maybe she ought to have. No sweet dreams for Muri tonight.
After Aryn stands with a voice, Netep scoots less than discretely that way (green hair and all) and mutters to the assembling group of skeptics. "Hey, Doc. You think these bishwags have somethin ta do with that ship?" A thumb gestures casually at said 'bishwags' - those Czerka mad dogs. "Fire," she answers Kryll about its destruction, despite the whole lecture on regeneration.
Lokir eyes the demonstration from beneath his mirrored, sealed visor. His shock gloves, his loaded blaster pistols...none of it is a particular comfort. The sight of dead meat moving triggers deep-seated evolutionary revulsion. <There is a word in my language for cold prey--Labria. It is a highly offensive term.> Lokir is being paid well to be here and hunt facts. The planet is inhospitable. The residents are obviously worse. Lokir turns to the presenter. "How are these...soldiers...better than droids? Or clones? Are they equally capable of operating weaponry? Do they not have weaknesses?"
Merek had taken the time to put on his weave armor, which has been adjusted about him, while he wears a scarf with the headphones about them, then he slides on his mirrorshades, while he nods a bit to Cole, though he doesn't add a lot, he seems to be here for the Resistance, not that people would know, either way the man isn't here to create a political incident. "Couldn't use the tech to research biogenesis? You could've made your advancement in the medical field, not war."
Lord Kuolo--Silan Antilles, according to the Sienar-Jaemus badge that clipped neatly against an iron-creased lapel, followed along and remained silent. Rather than the usual robes he wore, the clean and snugly fitted uniform of a Sienar-Jaemus Executive were chosen. 'Director, Intelligent Systems' the badge also says. To the rabble, an eyebrow arches at their rousings.
Lyra comes in with the tiny Jawa that goes by the name of Greez and two translator droids, one inactive. She is wearing her armor today and is decked out in a variety of weapons. She's standing in the back not far from Kryll watching all this go down, just listening for the time being.
Kasia certainly wouldn't have been invited here today as a scientist, but she can certainly look the part of a potential client or investor, which is what she's here dressed as today. Her outfit is tailored to her, which in itself speaks of money, a fine suit with trousers and a jacket, and a silky looking blouse beneath. She has a bag with her, made up of some sleek looking leather that's a lot nicer than her usual adventure bag. "It does appear to be outside the bounds of what you might normally see," she agrees with Aryn in a low voice, glancing around at the others to see how they react.
"You havn't /shown/ me what they can do, fool!" Comes the voice of Liz'diot THE OMNISCIENT. A dimunitive crippled Bith confined to a hover chair. Said chair was complete with neon runners and a fancy spoiler at the end that actually did nothing for the aero-dynamics of the thing. "At least, nothing a Droid can't do... HUNTER!" His RHTC Droid, armed with an A280 steps forward and salutes. It's clear the thing had been put back together several times, many marred scorched marks on it's built on armor. "YASSSSS, Indeed." He wraps his finger tips against one another. HE didn't care if it was an atrocity or not, simply giving Aryn a side eye with those large black eyes, settled behind goggles. His attire and fake hair was equally ad obnoxious as his voice and personality. Horribly un trendy and loud.
Greez only came along because Lyra had asked; this is why there's a Jawa, in a flight suit, here today. But even the scavenger in her cannot agree to taking the corpses from one place, and turning them into... -This-. She shudders as she watches, and then turns away. Thankfully, her translator droid - tiny, and clipped to her flight suit - is there to help. The droid is set on 'literal', it seems, because the Jawa's speech comes out thusly. "sigh ak, hi eajalad? agyrh ma rhu. sigh hi uhefevus aewofevood <jiph>, yrh yfafepae. if ytugaghugh aedi sege! adorh farhiva thaa lopho az, ovi... atyfoo -sigh- eapeadaefa." Her manner of speech can be endearing, or overly simple, but either way... She clearly disagrees with how this is all playing out.
SR-7 (20429) repeats after Greez, "Take bodies, make soldiers? No let rest. This make for bad <untranslatable>, Greez know. And cost many credit! Hoped see droid rebuild self, not... What -this- is."
Barad's wrinkly forehead wrinkles up a bit more than usual. A clear indication of concern, and worry. Barad makes a note to Kryll and Atrel: "We've seen what's called the 'Mnngal-Mnngal' before, and, well, it gave me quite the shock! See, this is what I had been worried had gotten to the rats in the loading docks. So that is what I was up to with the vacuum hood and al the sample collecting. For weeks I was worrying, almost constantly, that Mnggal - Mnggal had gotten out to Nar Shad." Barad shudders briefly, imagining the awful carnage, and his big 'ole floopy ears kind of sway and waggle as he *shakes* off the memories. "And although that thankfully turned out to be just a case of bospridium poisoning that killed the rats ... well, here we are again: This sure -looks- like Mnggal - Mnggal ..." Barad's worry intensifies.
Dr. Viner's cheeks turn red when he hears the skeptics speaking through the speakers. "Please.. please just.. wait. I promise." Before Viner can answer the concerns of the folk behind the glass, his aid jumps back suddenly, screaming "DOCTOR-- LOOK!" Any reply Aryn had been on the verge of producing was silenced as she stared in concern when the body on the ground in the lab vanished. VANISHED!
"What is this?! We didn't give it this gene.. how--" And that was the last words of Viner, who was captured, seemingly by 'nothing' and carried toward the window from which everyone was watching, and repeatedly smashed against it. Transparisteel was capable of withstanding great stress. GREAT stress, so it simply thundered with each collision as the man was mangled beyond recognition and cast aside.
The aides in the lab began to hide, moving things in front of them to shield themselves from the unseen terror. One was lifted high, brought down in a sickening way to crack, before being cast against a vat that shattered, spilling the contents of green ooze and releasing another Grey!
<"Facility Containment protocols initiated. Facility containment protocols initiated."> Announced the intercom before the power cut out, and the lab on the otherside went dark. The screams of those who remained alive did not last long. They fought. They died. Then it was silence.
<"Containment protocols overridden. Lockdown lifted. Enjoy your stay at Facility Besh."> Lights within the lab flickered suddenly, as the form of 8 silhouettes simply 'appeared' staring right into the glass at the crowd. Some were lab technicians raised from ground, others were the Greys. Even Dr. Viner had joined their squad, what was left of him. They all began to bash against the window..
"Bloody hells! Where's the door for this place! EVERYONE.. we need to get out of here! Containment protocols overridden?! Oh.. mother save us.." Aryn looked between those nearest her:
"/We're the experiment!/"
<<"Six, emergency evac prep. Stay on station and be ready for quick pickup.">> Kryll comms to his droid who stayed within the ship. He looks to Aryn and motions for her to move. <"You are a priority, go now."> he pauses to look away towards the hostiles, raising his carbine as he walks backwards. <"Everyone, the ships will not wait, if you are compromised you are already dead. MOVE!">
The heat signatures of those within the room are noted by the Arkanian, seeing what others can not with the infrared of her vision. A thoughtful sound is made and she steps about, getting a clearer view as she easily navigates those in the room with her. She clucks her tongue and narrows her gaze. The lights come up and she watches all too interested in how the Grey's react.
Atrel steps closer even and off to the side. "It would seem that the only weakness these modified creatues have are their limbs. Take them out and you take out thier means of attacking us...they will break through." That said loud enough for others to hear she calmly starts to back step.
Nerys rocked back in her seat, as she saw the creature not rise, but simply disappear, and the attack begin. Well, not even an attack, really. A wholesale slaughter of one, and then another. And that was enough to get her on her feet, hopping the back of her seat to get herself clear and in the aisle. She drew a baton from its holster at the side of her armor, the arms of the bow telescoping out into full length, the string thrumming with low vibration that shivered along the length and against her palm spinning to catch sight of the silhouettes against the glass, <<How intelligent are these things?>> She asked in an almost reasonable voice, backing up to try to keep within the perimeter of the group. << Intelligent enough to be the ones who just lowered the containment?>> Her voice said she didn't think so.
Ban Iskender gives a terse exhale at Aryn's latest realization. "I ought to have known: no /legitimate/ academic function would have admitted me." A shake of his head, and the gentleman touches a control switch on his belt, activating a personal shield. Turning his green regard over the assembled crowd, he takes a silent headcount. "A sizable test case, my Lady." His hand settles on the swept hilt of his sword, preparing to draw it.
The presence of a Jawa's hyper jibjab jerks Netep around to look, mild surprise arching a green brow to see that her ears do NOT deceive her. Heh. 'Karma'. The tiny alien isn't wrong...
Case in point, THIS is happening. The first scream from the aide startles Muri's focus back to the laboratory theater to witness the gruesome karma that's unfolding. Oh nononono...She feels Viner's pain. It's like a match gets lit under the academic junky's ass and before the real carnage begins, she's already RACING for the nearest exit.
If 'racing' was stumble-bumping too-hastily along between other bodies and statium seats. It's awkward, at best. And that was BEFORE the lights cut out. The sound of her knee hitting floor is muffled by the suit padding, but her voiced grievances are oh so clear. In three languages. Muri's Void suit makes itself useful, soon as she's crammed the helmet onto head, from belt, and locked it TIGHT. A little light assist beams the way and she's making demands of the exit's control panel in no time. But it ain't budging. "AHHHH still locked!" What happened to lockdown lifted??? Her initial attempts to tamper with the mechanism are useless. With a begrudged grumble, she dumps her little pack and goes rustling through for the Universal Comp Interface. As backup, her LEFT hand pulls her taclight (which happens to be attached to a DL-18) from hip. <<The damn goo powered an entire SHUTTLE on its own, last year. Manipulated the hell out of the lot of us. So yeah. I'd wager it's got /some/ intelligence.>> She sounds equal parts pissed to worried, over there.
Lokir smoothly draws his Theed S-5, expecting to get more use out of the cable function than mowing down endless rotting meat. <Weapons free, but these hordes aren't the objective. Let's blow this joint and not turn into brainless mush. Glass is starting to crack and there's a panel by the door. Only ways out as far as I can tell.>
Merek looks to the scientist while he's taken by the creature, then he looks to the whole team of people. There's a moment while he thinks, drawing his pistol, the low-light upon the visor which he then places on, then shifting away the set of his mirrorshades. Kat begins to take to the man's shoulder from the equipment of his. "Kat protocol activated, what would you like master?" the feline asks. "Well, alright," he drawls.
The Sergeant looks to the people, "Break away from the glass, we have time to think and to react, we can use the observation seats as a shield, although that will limit movement," he drawls, then he points to the door, "If we want to escape with everyone, we will need to unseal the door, if you can't link into it, we will need to find if there are weaknesses to the structure." He then points to the glass, "I'm going to take point next to you all to guard you while you work." He steps by the Jawa Greez, while the Kat leans forward to translate what was said if need be, while she greets as well. The man looks to Cole, "We've managed a bit crazier things than this, you know?" he admits.
Of course it was a trap--Cursed intelligence. Could he have a sitting board member of Sienar flogged? He could threaten it, sure. Regardless, the fact remained they were the intended to be the buffet. Kuolo didn't like being on the menu but he didn't rightly care about the others, either, so like an imperious Imperial warlord, he deigns a sneer and backs against the wall. When it felt safest, he used the darkness they had created, wrapping it around him, concealing him from their eyes. At least until he could figure a better plan out.
Lyra moves up to the front where the enemies are going to come from when they come. Her voice is muffled through her helmet as she speaks at Kryll. "Well... This wasn't how I expected my evening to go." She readies her weapon, calmly taking aim as she waits.
They're the experiment. Kasia's expression reads distinct displeasure at that whole idea, or possibly it's just a reaction to seeing the Viner crushed against the transparisteel. "I just assumed they were after funding, not test subjects," she asides to Ban as she moves nearer the nobles. She shoots a look over in Lokir's direction, or at least where she heard his voice because she doesn't have anything to assist her vision here just now. "Not that I'm against the whole idea of escape here, but if we leave then we might doom this whole place to those things, and I'm not sure I feel great about that. We should find a way out in case it's too much, though," she agrees while one hand fumbles with her bag, reaching inside to grasp something unseen.
While others complain, speak of calmness, give suggestions. Liz is laughing, a hauntting maniacle laught. "AHAHAHAHA. Did you see that guy? OH MAN, he got tossed around. YASSSSSS." He was delighted, completely and utterly delighted. "Oh Smelly, you copletely inept dimwit..." That was to Netep. His hover chair make an annoying Thhhhhhhpppptt sound as it scoots its way over towards the exit. His long finger reach out to pull off a panel, grabbing wires and pulling them out. Then, as sparks shower out, he twists them around one another in different combinations. THe door Opens! But only about half way from the bottom up. "Ah Phewie. CLOSE ENOUGH. All who's leaving, come through here. INDEED. A little LIMBO for those about to be sent there. AHAHAHAHAH!" He farts. "UHG. It's okay, I'll set a bomb before we leave. It'll take care of it!" He was certain!
Greez half-freezes up at all this. She knew it. She -knew- it! Then, she's looking around, spotting that the door has opened. She -sprints- for it, slides underneath the door easily - she's a Jawa - and pops up to smack the panel on the other side as quickly as possible. "on sas! yvyka! aapophet ofezaaghae aegiepokim, fufurh iekoove ofezaaghae sas! ovi kooph sat aathygid ohuny." To the one who stated that a bomb would be useful - Liz - Greez nods. "ihotura, ahiekerh... hoomejaaph sot, aewogahy? ovi aedeasiev kedevyd. -toogeatheaghaa- ihotura." Over to the rest, she just stares for a moment. "ivu as. etaetutov rhaefer fethijad etaetutov etaetutov!" She tries phrases she's heard from Basic, but... Somehow it doesn't work well.
SR-7 (20429) repeats after Greez, "Through door! Hurry! If trap experiment, could be trap door! Not sure how long hold. Bomb, disruptor... Things regenerate, yes? Need destroy complete. -BIG- bomb. COME ON. GET OUT WHILE GET GOOD!"
Barad: "It's likely corrupted whoever runs this facility." Barad surmises, "to lock us in. It's a liquid that dissolves organs on contact, so we can try to freeze it to slow it. Fire, though, can destroy the ... thing." Barad worries. "Even a partial - freeze might make it easier to break appendages off, though. Anything to make them more brittle ... ?" Barad nods to Atrel, with professional courtesy for her astute input. Barad seals his armor, while there's still time. Putting to use the lessons from the last encounter. Barad hopes against hope that there might be a "Next Time ..." To that end, Barad readies an item to throw the moment the Mnggal break out and come for them.
The glass is giving way, spider webbing and favoring the blows from the eight relentless beasts. When a moment of clarity fills the room with a brief silence, the rattling of small air vents is the true sign that power is coming back on in phases. The sound however, draws the gaze of all the creatures on the otherside and they step back in eerie unison to look up. A moment later, between the brief flickering of lights, they were there. They are gone.
The door is opened to the scene of chaos. It seems that the facility had an unscheduled drill, so those in labs came out and were talking when suddenly the door to the viewing room (where our heroes/Villains are) opens and a Jawa emerges to start smacking the outer panel.
Scientists look confused as they realize this isn't a drill, and suddenly.. the vents above the hallway (the corridor we're exiting to) drop from the ceiling, and out drops the Greys into a gathered crowd of scientists. Immediately, screams of pain, death, and live dismemberment sound in the hall, echoing further terror into the depths of this massive facility.
"RUN!" One scientist says, running far enough to be landed on by something invisible that /immediately/ crushes them into the ground. A loud purring noise is heard, followed by a loud SCREEEEEEEEEEECH! What began as eight has morphed to 28 Grey Subjects, and they're all out in the corridor!
Aryn backs up as she's bid to, moving behind Lord Ban Iskender and Kasia alike as Kryll seems more apt, like the others to draw weapons and prepare for battle. Relief crosses Aryn's features when she sees the door open after angling the tac-lite from her wrist toward it. "The exit, everyone! Get to the exit!"
<"Right, shooters in front and back, non-combatants in the middle. Do not let them touch you."> he brings his carbine up and pivots towards the exit, moving under the door and prepares to move forward when a mass of targets presents itself. <"Contact rear!"> and then he opens fire with his carbine, sending red blaster bolts down the hallway into the new threat. <"Alternative routes suggested."> he says between shots, putting one round center mass into a target.
That is enough observation, what with their numbers growing and the sound of the door lifting behind them. Atrel making her way with the other living and mostly unarmed figures at present. Her hand resting upon the buttom of the raised door she ducks to clear her head and bobs up on the opposite side to straighten up and begin searching the corridor for something. "We are likely to run into more blocked doors if the facility is on lock down..so.."
The arkanian stops and looks up, pointing it out for those with her as the pipe that is hissing over their heads glows red in her vision. "Burst the pipe near the door, it will slow them down and give us some time to improvise." She suggests to all, looking for a way to build pressure through valve or otherwise.
Nerys might have a weapon drawn, and she might be in fancy pants armor, but she was not Nerys Arda, Space Warrior, no, she was Nerys Arda, Space Nerd. And this nerd was exiting stage, well, whatever direction that Jawa had gone in. Being small and wee, the door opening height was enough for her, and she ducked beneath the door, moving into the next room weapon raising to try to cover the Jawa. She did manage to offer a quip though, << I almost died yesterday. I'm not in the mood to die today. Is this the only exit? No chance we can get out by going back the way they came, now that they're no longer there?>> To her discredit, perhaps, she did not give more than a glance towards the rapidly multiplying Greys, no, she was bound for the nearest exit. Shoot if you have to, run like your life depended on it. She took a moment to glance around,s till blithely ignoring the dead, dying, or resurrected scientists, beyond noting that the enemy numbers were growing, <<We need to get to higher ground, the corridor slopes upward, and to the left, towards the atrium we passed though,>> she offered to those who might not be able to see, <<But we'll have to fight out way through.>> Because of course they did.
Ban Iskender does his best to keep count of the guests as they rush out the mostly open door. His black brows knit in a frown as they seem to be one short.. One last glance around and he silently wonders if he'd counted wrong, and missed one in the rush as he finally takes his own leave of the cursed conference room, he mutters to Aryn, "We may be short by one-" before the choas and consumption erupt ahead of them. He steps forward, drawing the sword hilt which- for an instant- lacks any blade, until a great beam of energy emits. To Steel, as he steps past, "Your pardon mistress- once all the living are past, it will be cut." He sets to warily engaging the nearest of the Greys, but between trying to avoid wounding any of the living scientists and the sheer speed of this unloving foe, none are struck down.
Muri doesn't need to be told twice! Or once, really. The moment Liz gets that door open a SMIDGE she's packing her stuff back up and watches the Jawa blur by. Yessss....
"I am VERY much on board with this bomb plan," she gushes breathlessly to Liz'diot and Greez. "BIG bomb." Her hands demonstrate 'this big' before she's even finished ducking under the door.
Just in time to watch the ceiling ducts fall out and the dumbfounded scientists staring back at them get...erm. Re engineered. To be fair, the suddeness of this turn in events renders Muri dumbfounded as well and she barely notes the Arkanian moving by. Until an idea gets voiced. She looks up and around, tracking the noted pipe. Near the door. "Don't think they much care 'bout getting IN to the theater, anymore. Especially since their new bodies have no choice but to go /that/ way." She points at the maiming horde.
Having shared in yestereve's experience with Nerys, Netep is evidently of a similar mindset. To GTFO. Also, to not steam the remaining friendlies behind. So she shoots ahead - misses, of course - and leaves a nasty swathe of carbon scoring on the corridor bulkhead instead of a Grey. Oops.
Lokir eyes the pipe as well. Taking careful aim, Lokir squeezes the trigger. Beneath his helm, a smile. <"Just like shooting the fuel tank of a flamethrower...back when I was a little tin can. Let's see how these corpses like a steam bath.>
Merek maneuvers to the door, while he slides along, then even as the steam begins to fill the place, he lifts up his weapon. The blaster bolts begin firing into the creature, though the blood manages to full splash on the scientist, which transforms them. "Well, that would explain a lot, let's try to avoid firing upon them next to the scientists, looks like steam works, perhaps the temperature."
The man nods to Kryll while he drawls, "Alright, does anyone have any thermal weaponry?" he asks. The soldier begins to move along with the party. Then he motions to the scientist team, those still standing, to come with him in addition.
The others are retreating, and far be it for Kasia to object to getting the heck away from this unpleasantness. She's among the last to leave, ducking out after most of the others to find that they haven't escaped the chaos. "I swear," she says to basically anyone around her. "I'm going to have a stern word with anyone else who thinks it's a good idea to try and study these things." She yanks the large blaster out of her leather bag and levels it on one of the Greys, squeezing the trigger after a beat, and managing to hit one of the creatures, rather than a scientist. That's good at least.
Liz looks up as the Grey's descend from the ventilation system. "Phewie!" He laments in a deep groan. "HUNTER!" The RHTC droid rolls through the door, uncurling its self, and coming into an up right position with the A280 raised. He starts blasting! Liz starts floating away. "YASSSSS! YASSSS! Everyone remember to listen to the hot old lady with the white hair! Go for limbs and make it perfect!" Reaching into one of his chairs compartments, he pulls out a bottle of booze. Popping the top he downs a good portion of the amber liquid. "Okay... where to now... Something cold... or... Hot... YES HOT." He starts to gather supplies from inside various storage areas in his hover chair, laughing manicaly as he does so. When Merek asks if he has THermal weaponry, the laughing becomes almost like a scream it's so loud. Cackling, that's what it was. Cackling... which turned into caughing.
Lyra looks around in all the chaos and finds a target to try and fire at. She aims her carbine at the creature and squeezes off a round, missing. She curses and aims again, ready to move and moving as needed.
Yes, there are many enemies. Yes, their numbers are growing rapidly. Yes, this Jawa does in fact have a blaster, but honestly? Getting out of there is a priority. She's following Nerys, and that makes it certain that her focus is not on the Greys, which she fires at anyway. Why? Because frankly, if it hits something that isn't on her team, it's a win. If it hits a wall and is a distraction because of the -sound-, it's a win. "erhohewid lae searoothag? erhohewid lae -agyrh-. sigh kosa ehaa agyrh oodimoo rhu! sigh kosa. duphi sigh." And the exploitation of tatooine, thousands of years ago. "azefeh adorh etaetutov, kosa etaetutov rhaefer, vefy as kelaelasoo, agyrh etaetutov awofiku." She's honestly had too much danger in her life lately. Just... Jeez. No thanks.
SR-7 (20429) repeats after Greez, "Almost die before? Almost die -now-. This why Jawas no trust Czerka! THIS WHY. ALL THIS. High ground good, we get out, jump on ship, no get DEAD."
Barad hesitates to throw a grenade into Mnggal - Mnggal, now that it's moved near to scientists. No. That . . . is not the way. Hm. Barad looks around a bit, now that we're out into general Lab Space. Having spent his share of time in Bio labs and Chemistry labs, Barad has an idea of what to look for. Basically, the idea is: "Fire." And ... ah ... yes, that's the ticket! "Chemistry to the rescue!" (A First?) "Hey Sarge! I found some Fire for ya! Those! Rupture, but, do -not- stand close!" Barad points to the Cyclohexane tanks used for "Specimen Incineration" ... yep that'll do.
A long running battle, or battle on the run has Kryll and the others reach the atrium and the lifts. Kryll finds a solid position to hold, allowing the others to move out first. <"Get as many non-combatants out first. I'll hold as long as I can before falling back. Any assistance would be welcome."> he slaps a fresh power pack into his carbine and raises it, firing bolt after bolt of red death. . . or in this case, red annoyance back towards the greys. He tilts his head slightly, <"The bodies are unable to contain the host anymore. They have been used up, they are at their weakest now while they find new hosts."> he relays this information back to the others as his fire continues.
The situation is getting rather interesting as the Arkanian has no further advice to those holding off the horde as it were. Atrel notes those attacked directly and the wounds begin to show a bit more prominently as they have time to settle in and affect their owners. It is then that she is moving over towards Nerys as she pulls on four fingered gloves from her med kit. Her expression somewhat strained there is otherwise little to read. "Hold still please, we will wait here but you need attention." She says, a glance up towards the Greys and those weaponized before the painkiller is depressed near the lower left torso wound that is all too obvious to the infrared vision. "Hold still, should not hurt any longer." She reports.
"I did not think this would be how we met again. Speaking of which, should we survive we need to talk further." She pulls out the disenfectant to clean the wound and look for any remnant of the grey left within the open flesh.
Once done she places the sealing patch over top and smooths it into place. "Minor wound. A day or two and you will feel better."
Well, at least someone was picking the grey things off, well, occasionally adding to them but(!) you took what you could get. <<This way, up and to the left, stay close to the wall so they don't get on both side! And for ****'s sake, move! Trust me, you can do two things at once!>> Nerys did not want to be at the front, but she also didn't want to be the one standing in the massive corridor waiting to die. She would, of course, try to fire if she could not avoid it, while she was threading the needle, as it were, using her armor along with her natural ability to see through the steam and fog. But it wasn't enough, as one of the creatures seemed to reach out of nowhere...or maybe actually out of nowhere considering they could become //invisible//, it's arm slamming into the small woman's chest, the force of it tossing her back against the wall of the corridor. She was probably used to this too, as she tried to angle her body to keep herself from injuring her head or strong left hand. She managed, just, to get to her feet and proceed with the rest of the group further towards the exit, which, as the fog and steam was clearing, did not make things appear any less dire, as she caught sight of the Greys making they way out of the mist. She stopped, trying to search for something, anything that would give them an advantage, her inaction working to her benefit as it gave time for Atrel to help the pain in her chest that was making it tough to breath. Something in Atrel's bedside manner, perhaps, or just the lack of pain made her grin, <<You know me, I love a good adventure.>>
Ban Iskender voices with steady composure to Kryll, "On the right, sir," taking a duelist's defensive stance with the rearguard, and striking to cut down or dissuade any of the Greys who weather the barrage of blaster bolts to approach near enough. A hard sidelong eye is spared for the red lightsaber in the hands of the 'Sienar-Jaemus' administrator, and the fellow's face, in turn. "Focus," he repeats to himself.
Lokir sees clearly through the steam and dark, his hunter's senses confortable in an environment similar to a jungle floor. Except for walking corpses. Drawing a bead on the explosive containment vessels that Barad pointed out, Lokir sends two green blaster bolts into the gloom. <We've tried steamed zombie. Let's see if scorched is more to our tastes.>
On one hand, Netep regrets accepting this invitation to a terrible time on her unknowing mother's behalf. On the other...well, no, she does regret being here. But something satisfying CAN yet come of the evening! Muri breaks from the sprint, neither lungs nor legs built for endurance, let's face it. She's slowed a few strides past Kryll and Ban at the peak, back to the lift, staring down the slope of emerging doom. Grey bodies, grey appendages, grey MESS. Barad made a good call, with that Cyclohexane.
All's they need is a light. Right? An impish smile curls in spite of fear sweatin Muri's brow, the other side of that face shield.
<<Y'all fall back sooner'n not,>> she advises and holsters her pretty useless blaster (s'only as good as the wielder), in favor of pulling two things off her belt of gadgets. 1) A leather wrapping. Nerves cause her hands to tremor a bit and this means half the tabac sticks spill onto the floor, but she manages to secure at least one in hand. 2) Lighter. A dutiful flick of thumb brings the ignition and the stick smolders longer than ideal on the end without the greedy draw of breath through the other. But she isn't removing her helmet. Few seconds later it does glow, grudgingly, soft red. And that's enough for Muri.
<< Scuse,>> Said lowly behind Kryll whilst she creeps up around him - blasty meatshield that he is! - and gives the tabac stick an expert flick.
FAWOOOOOOSH
A grey ignites. IS THERE MORE??? Muri isn't sticking around to find out, she's bookin it back to the lift.
Merek lifts up the weapon to shoot, then his right leg takes a strike which begins to break the cybernetics within, nodding to Barad, "You can do it, don't worry about me!" Then he takes a strike to that arm, while the synth skin begins to tear itself into pieces, synthetic blood beginning to splash upon the place. The man manages to lift up his weapon, firing back while they make the way to the lift.
When at the lift, he lifts up the only arm which he can, then he fires on the creature, blood trailing along to him from the path which he came, his right arm by his side in pieces while the cybernetics seem to shimmer with energy. Kat speaks to him though the man looks like he's trying his best to keep to the situation, he drawls, then he's on the knee, not able to keep up.
The appearance of a green lightsaber blade didn't overly concern Kuolo. As a defensive rearguard is formed, the red-blade wielding Sienar associate makes for the lifts with purpose. They were going to blow the place up. But, Czerka had information. His mind was already on extracting this information... and acquiring this weapon! How selfish.
Later Lyra may feel some pain right in the pride zone portion of her being but right now is far too serious a situation for Lyra to worry about the fact that she can't seem to hit her mark tonight. Nor does she really have time to process that there are lightsabers lit up in the room and thus magic space wizards about. Instead she keeps doing what she can to hit these creatures, just cursing when she misses. "Who invited us here tonight again? Because I'm going to kill them when I get out of this." While she doesn't have time for pride to be wounded... she's not lacking pissed off emotions that are coming with this situation, anger boiling within her as she hears all the screaming and watches all the death.
Kasia is more dexterous than she might appear, managing to move quickly out of the way as one of the creatures takes a swipe at her, and then again, both times moving out of the way well before she's hit. She isn't among those making plans for the greater demise of the awful creatures, she's using a more immediate if less effective method of firing her blaster. Which hits, again, but not well enough to take out the number still following. "I was honestly thinking the same thing," she asides to Lyra, laughing, but there's an edge to it. Humor, but maybe a teensy bit manic the way laughter can get when there's stress mixed in.
Liz stops just a moment, even though the Greys are upon them. He rises the cobbled together concoction of explosives. "YASSSS..." Though, his grip on it is almost loosened as Hunter takes a massive blow from one of the horrifying creatures. "You isufferable Automation!" THe Bith curses, turning to look at the torn apart and barely functioning RHTC. "You! Look at you, PATHETIC! I should trade you in for a B1. Now get up and get back to work, your motivator and legs are stil fine. And don't tell me you can't hold that rifle with one hand!" THe droid, feeling no pain, no fear, does as commanded of his master. It rises, and sets about firing (and missing) once again.
"Now... where was I..." Liz looks over his bomb. "YASSS..." Bublous black eyes peer about. There! A support Beam! He motors his way towards it in his chair. Planting the device and putting a trigger in it. "OKAY. Time to get going Poopyheads!" Then, he's off to retreat like the rest.
Jawas know that sometimes, you have to sincerely straight-up ignore the more eccentric peoples. In this case, most of the people that aren't dying. She focuses instead on saving her own hide, by speeding up that elevator. Some quick wiring, and she's got it prepared - as soon as everyone is able to get on, that lift will LIFT! Like, super fast. This is a good thing, because there may - will - shortly be a rather large explosion that they need to get away from. Fire good, in some instances. Fire bad, in others. "dootheamuta dazae poogiewod yrh, farhiva dazae ovi kooph. kooph thaa yvafarhit fadewaetoo ovi... oowetus yrh etaetutov thaa toogeatheaghaa." Because did you SEE those things? EW.
SR-7 (20429) repeats after Greez, "Tall Lyra brought Greez, so Lyra need sorry. Sorry in form of dinner... After Greez get hungry back."
Barad's big 'ole floopy ears are mostly mushed to the sides of his head now, within the narrow confines of the helmet of his armor. Still, they pick up the noises of the battle just fine, via the external mic feeds and all. Alas. They're not good noises out there. No Sir. Screams and roastings. Panic. Chaos. The murmuring of the insane Mnggal - Mnggal, enticing others to join in its madness. Barad primes the grenade, closing his eyes and sighing out a long breath as he does so. And yet, -once- -again-, they can do little more than retreat and live to confront it another day. Not that that's a bad thing, mind you. There are far, far worse alternatives --- As the scientists could tell you. Well, they -could- ... perhaps ... if they were still scientists. But, now, they're "Mnggal." Again, alas. With a practiced timing, Barad chucks the "Sealant Grenade" out at the last instant, just as the doors close once everyone's on board. A muffled "*PFFFFLLOooouuuuuurrghGHGHGHHFFFF*" announces that the doors will probably stay that way. All to the good. Wouldn't be fun to have Mnggal - Mnggal vaping up the elevator shaft in hot pursuit. No, that wouldn't do at all.
Two distant explosions spread down the corridor as a single tabac flicks end over end to catch the green ooze covered greys! Instantly, blue flames spread WIDE in a WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH sound as oxygen is suddenly drawn in a sudden gust from the lift shaft, fueling the flames that immediately climb to the heights of a 60ft tall atrium ceiling. SCREEEEEEEEEEECHES of dying subjects are contrasted by their bodily forms, arms waving as they draw closer to the lift, gifting our heroes and villains with a lasting image of absolute HELL.
Aryn is among the last to make it onto the lift, twisting and brushing her cape aside to watch the last image they're left with. The lift begins to rise as the temperature follows, and everyone feels that sting of hot hot hot hot air following them. The doors begin to slowly shut, an alarm sounding, with yellow rotating lights alerting the survivors to mind their step!!
The fiery forms rush toward the lift, but are stopped by the sudden deployment of a glop grenade that casts an eerie blue smoke upon expanding and caking the exterior proximity just outside the lift doors. The Greys are stopped in their tracks, left to burn, and the doors shut finally, but not before being caved in across various places. The lift shoots upward in a hurry, arriving at the top just before the very ground shook /VIOLENTLY/! YAAASSSS, that was the bomb, and the weight bearing pillar in the center of the atrium just gave out.
The doors open to the rusty desolate landing zone outside, and out poured scientists by the hundreds. Everyone fled to the transports, to get the shuttles online and back to the control zone in space.
It was time to nuke this site from orbit. It is the only way to be sure.
