Two trios of zombies entered the forward command compartment at about the same time, one entering from the upper entrance and the other staggering in at the deck level. Their controller had been prepared to take a brute force approach to overriding the door controls, but they’d only had rudimentary locks enabled.
Visible in all six zombies’ sensors was the back of the dark-haired figure of Dick, seated attentively in the pilot’s chair.
Back on board the dreadnought, the necromancer was wary, having mysteriously lost three zombies the last time he’d spied a helpless victim. He ordered them to spread out and proceed slowly, and they did so.
Telling a zombie to move slowly is similar to telling another class of creature to sit and stay, though, so he told them to pick up the pace a bit.
The loathsome creations made it to the front of the command deck, and the two pack leaders reached out for the seated figure, who started to turn in his seat.
“Who is there?” he asked as the zombies lunged.
Their hands passed through the holographic head without resistance and with no other effect besides scrambling the image up a bit.
Six muffled whooshes sounded. Six needles impacted with six necks with military precision, and then six tiny explosions sounded. The zombies and their heads fell to the floor separately.
Dick stood up from his hiding place behind the u-shaped desk of Lilliana’s communication station.
“Autopilot off,” he ordered the computer, and his holographic doppelganger disappeared. “Seal forward compartment, authorization Unger-FA038B. Maximum encryption.”
He fed a mini-loader of six needles into the base of his needler’s clip while the computer complied. He took his seat and spun it around to face the back of the compartment, where he’d have a sight line on both entrances.
The Rebellion wasn’t a military vessel. It was a century and a half out of date, besides. The command deck wasn’t designed to withstand a siege. His little trick meant that the second wave, if it came, would have to start fresh against the doors… but they’d eventually get through with either electronic trickery or brute strength.
Regan took the narrow stairs three at a time on the way up to her workshop. She’d sheathed her sword and drawn her axe and a knife instead… running was awkward with the sword out under the best of circumstances. She approached the landing just as the first of six zombies lurched in from the cargo bay catwalk.
Her axe slashed out at eye level and took a leg off at the knee. The wounded zombie toppled down at her, and she ducked and flipped it down the stairs, where it collided with another group of zombies coming in from below. They’d been headed down towards the engine room, but turned at the rude interruption
Above and below her, before and behind, the ranks of twisted undead turned their gazes towards her, reaching out with bony hands. She was boxed in, surrounded.
Regan smiled.
It was not a nice smile.
“Right, then,” she said. “Let’s get down to it.”
Discuss This Chapter On The Forum
« « 31: Taking The High Road 33: Warp Factor » »
Note: I'm trying out a new comment system. It's new and subject to jiggerypokery. It's moderated. Detailed guidelines to come but follow the general rule: be excellent to each other.
If you enjoy reading, please consider a financial contribution.
« « 31: Taking The High Road 33: Warp Factor » »