((Sorry about that - since no-one would specify which hover they wanted, I just shoved them into the ones they were hanging around. Don't worry, it's still more than fast enough. And yes, I shall try to include the status updates.))
- I'm all turned to hearing to know what traces you were covering.
"Uh...We kinda...Shot down your ship with EMP? Only it didn't work so good." The prisoner throws up their hands in a defensive gesture. "I had nothing to do with the plan, before you ask! I'm just a lieutenant."
- Shot with EMPA, you say? Maybe you'd answer what for you destroyed the ship with peaceful settlers?
((Imma off for about 10 hours.))
"No, not EMPA, EMP. An electromagnetic pulse. We planned to make it crash, but it looks like you had those tougher Hyperon-NASA drives with shielded control modules. So we were sent to make it impossible to determine that we had shot down the ship - blow it to bits. " The prisoner looks at you sheepishly.
"It's not like I have a reason to be overly loyal to my employers...But before I spill the beans, tell me this: what's gonna happen to me when we get back to your camp?"Hit dirt ice, gun off back and into hands, yell into radio, shoot lots?
You don't even cut your speed, just flopping down onto the ice and sliding forward. The crazy's next shot rakes you across the back, but you just swear, ripping your SMG off your back and [6] riddling him with bullets. You're quite sure he's permanently dead. You have about half a mag left before you need to reload.
Markus overtakes you while you're lying down. Suddenly, a large man bursts through the bushes on the tall right bank and leaps on top of him. The unconscious psycho is thrown sideways onto the ice while the man puts Markus into a jointlock.
"Dammit, keep movin', we don't have time for more psychopaths!"
Shoot at the offender on the ice and keep moving.
It looks like he has been shot already, so you decide to leave it at that.
[tgh:4] You are quite certain you can still run, even though your head swims.
You run forward over the dead man, when something heavy lands on your back. You fall face-forward onto the ice, dropping your psycho, and your arm is wrenched into a jointlock. A voice whispers in your ear: you recognize the lumberjack you spoke to before.
"Traitor", it says,
"traitor."Before Al-Radi can say anything, Franz gasps, his face contorting into a grimace of horror. "No survivors? Are you sure? My sister... she was there."
She nods somberly.
"I'm sorry. For some reason the vessel landed without uncoupling it's pods. No one could have survived those sort of forces. If it's any consolation, her death was quick and painless. It's likely she never woke up..." Mcgaw said in the kindest voice she had, which was still sort of cold-but she had also, lied, sparing the mans feelings.
She knew it's likely if there had been a systemic failure onboard, many of the pods would have gained consciousness due to the emergency systems. Just in time to realize what was happening, but not to change their fate.
But there was no reason for him to know this.
Al-Radi puts a hand on Franz's shoulder, but he shakes it off.
"I...I'll go get drunk or something. Be in the mess if you need me." His expression can be described as utterly lost and uncomprehending. He walks off shakily.
"Damn... First all our lumberjacks vanish, and now this..." The lines on the Arab's face seem to be multiplying with each passing second.
((I may have to go without Internet for several days; it's not certain yet, but don't be surprised if I vanish suddenly. I'm here for today, though.))