— §§ — Part 2/3 — §§ —
"Attention Sargasso personnel," chirped the intercom system above. Ryan and crew looked up to the video boards around the food court, which displayed a text version of the same message. "Hangar Two will remained closed for the foreseeable future to conduct repairs on damaged instruments and machinery. All cargo shipments will be redirected to Hangar One and Three. Hangar Four will remain for exclusive usage from the CDF Interceptor teams."
"That's one way to decommission a hangar," Rob remarked.
"Our job is far from over," reminded Ryan, cleaning off dust from his glasses. Upon putting them back on, the world of Sargasso opened back up to him. The central hub had a massive common area to it, with at least a hundred Cornerian soldiers in identical attire swarming about. There wasn't anything special or standout-ish to the common area, since it only served for functionality under Venomian occupation.
A handful of stations served food in the corner where the mess hall and expanse of tables resided. The team of five held their table without drawing attention. To the Cornerians, they were just part and parcel of the massive military presence on Sargasso. The uniform synonymous with the Cornerian Military—consisting of an off-gray jumpsuit with the CDF insignia embroidered on the shoulder, a dull royal blue energy-absorbing vest, similarly colored boots, and a helmet branded with the given soldier's name and rank on the forehead—made Ryan and his team seem like just another group of guys, even though the means of which they obtained the uniforms were sketchy at best. The green HUD visor accompanying all CDF suits made it even easier to blend into the battalion. Luckily this part of the base was naturally louder, and most people didn't bother to note any loud groups. This made it seem more like one cohesive unit, blending together into the machine. Ryan smirked to himself. If only they knew.
He had to admit he admired the scene. Not necessarily a sense of adoration, but more of a sense of respect. He respected their team; their unit. Hundreds of Cornerians, countless Cornerian subspecies, all from different backgrounds and classes, all sharing the same banner and allegiance… it was awe-inspiring. Nothing was similar personally, yet everyone felt connected. Here, differences were cast aside to promote a sort of team unity.
Team Unity. He liked that name.
"Like I went over, there's a handful of jobs we need to complete before we can open the floodgates," Ryan continued, careful not to let his voice get too unruly. Not often was he paranoid, but in a situation where one wrong move or word would put him in a literal sea of hostility, he didn't want to take his chances. "I'm not gonna go over it here, so if you guys didn't pay attention, that's tough luck. Hey Nick, can you get access to the plans of this station? Like where the servers and control rooms are?"
"On it," Nick nodded, immediately typing away on his tablet.
Ryan nodded as well. "Michael, Austin; know where you two need to go?"
Michael nodded while Austin's reply was distorted beyond comprehension. Ryan looked up from the tablet when the crunching of paper followed the unintelligible response.
"Austin."
The wolf looked up from his basket.
"Is that a chicken sandwich?"
With his mouth still full, Austin nodded, still holding the sandwich with a vice grip. "I was hungry," came a muffled excuse.
"Where'd you even get that?"
Austin pointed over his shoulder with his free hand. "They kept the old smokehouse open over there."
"That's from the old smokehouse?"
"No Ryan, I brought it from home and kept it in my suit," Austin quipped sarcastically.
"Our mission directive wasn't for sandwiches," Ryan breathed.
"Mine was."
"Because gods forbid I get in the way of Austin and food."
"Damn straight."
The lion rolled his eyes. "Michael, do you know what you need to do?"
"Can I steal a fry?" the fox's lowered voice asked the wolf to his left, essentially ignoring Ryan completely.
"Go for it," replied Austin. Michael giggled and gingerly peeled a couple fries from the basket.
"Michael."
"Hmm?" the fox looked up with the end of a fry sticking out of his muzzle.
"Did you hear me?"
"…No, I was preoccupied with fries."
"For crying out loud…" murmured Ryan, not exactly angry at the situation but indifferently disappointed. "Rob, how about—" he stopped himself when he saw a basket of food between his arms. "How…" the lion blinked a couple times, cranking his head back and forth between his teammates. "How'd you get that so fast?"
"Hey, it smelled good," Rob defensively replied. "They had fish and chips, I couldn't resist." He then grabbed the fried fish and started tearing into it.
"Did you just pick up that fried fish with your hands?" Ryan's slack-jawed question slipped out.
"How else are you supposed to eat it?"
"Are… you… out of your mind?"
"What?"
"I…" Ryan stood up from his seat at the table. "You guys are actually mind-flooding me."
"Don't tell me you're a knife and fork kind of guy," Rob instigated.
"That's the only way to eat it."
Austin's sandwich fell from his hands into the basket. "You're the madman in this situation," he retorted as if Ryan had just slapped his mother.
"How is not wanting to be covered in grease and crumbs indicative of madness?"
"You pick that shit up with your hands," demanded the wolf (who is not actually Lord O'Donnell, Nail; his name is Austin and he likes blowing shit up like Keenan does). "You're weak for using silverware in that situation."
"That's actually disgusting to me," grunted Ryan.
"So what about this sandwich?" Austin picked up his meal and shook it as if he needed to kill it again. "Should I get some chopsticks for this?"
"It's different!"
"Oh, so don't bother looking at a plate of wings because you'll have a heart attack," Austin chirped.
"Alright, alright," Ryan backed out of the argument. "Remind me to bring my own napkins if I go to Rob's or Austin's house because they'll make me eat soup from my hands or something."
Robert adopted a fake hurting voice and shifted in discomfort. "Help," he grunted with a smirk.
"Gonna need a logical extreme on that one," Austin breathed.
"I'm with Ryan here," Michael chimed in. "You might as well eat your steak with your hands."
"What are you talking about? That's not even fried!" Rob laughed off.
"But you're still getting grease on your hands!"
"That I can wash off when I'm done."
"But you wouldn't have to wash them off if you just used a fork!"
Ryan tuned them out and turned to the retriever. "Listen, Nick, have you—" he stopped when he saw a basket of onion rings next to the tablet the retriever had been working at. "Are you kidding—"
— §§ —
After splitting up to divide and conquer in the lion's words, Ryan found himself standing alongside the wall of a long hallway, littered on either side with doors and hastily designed signs beside them. The hallway was fairly busy, with Cornerian soldiers slipping in and out of the doors and down the hallway without missing a beat. Luckily, Ryan didn't seem out of the ordinary, as intended.
He took note of his surroundings. If Nick's intel was to be believed, they were standing in amidst dozens of rooms meant for storage back in the days of Lord O'Donnell occupations, now since repurposed into rooms upon rooms acting as a sort of barracks. This entire area seemed calm and relaxing, with Cornerians dotting the sides of the hallways like himself, just taking a break from work for a few minutes. Some were playing cards with one another, some were enjoying snacks and a cold drink, and others held a small gaming device between their hands.
Shame they had to leave.
He looked to his left to see Nick finishing up whatever he was doing on his tablet, eying the door next to him as well. When the canine nodded, the lion's flared tail flicked.
Nick lifted his wrist. "D-311 is your door," he spoke, eying the diagram on his device. "Wait for Ryan's cue."
"Got it," came Austin's voice on the other end.
Nick then shoved his tablet off on Ryan. "Hold this," he instructed as he dug around in one of his suit's pockets.
"Mmmm, do you have any illegal material on this device?" Ryan cracked a sneer.
"Don't do the voice now," Nick sighed.
"Is this tablet certified by the Cornerian Army as a licensed weapon of espionage?" he continued the voice as Nick tried even harder not to wheeze.
"Do we have to keep this on all the time?" asked Austin from Nick's wrist. While Nick still dug around in his pockets, Ryan stole the retriever's arm and spoke to Austin that way.
"If you stop talking to us, we'll assume you're dead," Ryan replied honestly. Nick tried to yank his arm back but Ryan refused, so the retriever had to begrudgingly dig around his possessions with one arm.
"My one true wish is to be dead," deadpanned Austin.
"Doubt it," grunted Ryan. "Michael, you there?"
"…I̥͎̤'̼͙̯̺m̲̝͍͙͓͉ ̱͖́s̱͉͕̥̭̜͉͝t̛͉̩̼i̱̮͇̭̱͚͕ḷ̴͚̺l̩͘ ̹͙͉̮͠he̶͉̯̘̩͈r̶e̴͉̣̝̝.̠́" crackled a distorted Michael.
"Whoa, my gods," Ryan recoiled a bit.
"Michael, no," Nick winced, yanking his arm back instinctively so he could turn down the volume. "You've become a robot."
"Robot Michael," laughed Ryan.
"Y̶̫̝̰̳̘̱̬̗͢ḛ̼̼̰͔̭̝͢r̷̸͚̺̥ͅr̶͈͎̮̲͕͖̦͞͡r̢̟͕̕͡ ̷̨̘͔͍̰̘̤͚̫ͅḅ͕̘͇̫̦̰͘e̴̛̝͓̮̟̹̞̗̥̺͢b̶̦͍͔̪̜͍̝̯ȩ̬̼̠́͝d̴̫͍̦̙̱́e͍̲e͞҉҉̜̗͍̳̥e̵͎̜̺̪̳̠̤͇ͅ" the fox's distorted voice crackled again, followed by a cursed laugh.
"Michael," Ryan called out as if the fox was lost. "Please fix your radio."
"I'll just talk for him," Austin intervened. "He's here with me, we're just waiting for your signal."
"Okay," Ryan looked around. "Nick, if you're going, go."
"I'm waiting for Rob," the retriever replied.
"I'm here," he poked his head around Ryan's frame. "Hi."
"Watch the door," Nick instructed as he pulled out a shard of plastic. He pressed the card along a black box beside the door, causing it to beep, click and force itself to slide open. Nick and Ryan slipped inside, with Rob staying outside to watch as he was told.
A wave of heat hit the duo as soon as they entered. The room was mostly dark, with a blue glow towards the very back that was obscured by the outline of a pillar in the center of the room. Once the door sealed shut, Ryan heard the sound of a chair grinding on the metallic floor, followed by footsteps. Ryan his behind the indiscernible centerpiece while Nick stayed put, eyes staring at his screen. A flashlight clicked on, illuminating Nick's golden fur as well as the center object which turned out to be a large server tower encompassed in a metal cage.
"Hey, who are you?" the Cornerian wielding the flashlight questioned. The only thing illuminating his frame was the blue glow from the display behind him, and the reflections of green from his visor. "How did you get in here?"
Nick shrugged when the soldier approached him. "I'm a locksmith," he deadpanned. When the soldier tried to push him out, Nick kicked his leg out, causing him to stumble into an emerging Ryan, who locked his neck into a vice grip while clamping his muzzle shut. The flashlight fell from his grasp with a thud.
The grinding chair sounded again, but before the other soldier could do anything, Nick threw his tablet at him. The soldier caught it, but the momentary distraction allowed Nick to pull the tablet down to deliver a forearm to the soldier's jaw. He stumbled into Nick's other arm, which pulled him forward into another vicious forearm. The soldier attempted to fight back, only for Nick to wrestle his arm behind the soldier's neck. In one smooth motion, he jerked his elbow backwards, forcing the Cornerian's face into the steel grate, cracking his visor. Dazed, the soldier rested against the grate, allowing Nick to pull back and slam his elbow into him again. He dropped to the floor in a heap, coinciding with Ryan gently laying the other unconscious soldier to the ground.
Ryan picked the flashlight up and pointed it at Nick, who was pacing in a short circle while bending and extending his left arm.
"Funny bone," Nick wheezed, though it wasn't in laughter. "Funny bone," he repeated with more saturated pain. Ryan withheld a snicker.
"Mmmm, was it humerus?"
"You can actually shut up," Nick shot back while Ryan just laughed.
The lion walked around the server to come face to face with a large blue screen, littered with numbers and indecipherable strings of code. Not even the simplistic diagrams and names made any sense to him, so he wandered away from the screen and to one of the unconscious soldiers. Ryan rummaged through his belongings, stealing his badge and small blaster, as well as his security card and key ring.
"Hey Austin," he spoke into his own wrist this time. "We're in the server room."
"Okay…?" the wolf sounded confused. "So do you have the security clearance down or no?"
"I just wanted to say we got in," Ryan smirked. "Have some patience; we're not miracle workers."
"The way you were talking on the ship gave me different implications."
"Do we really have to start this again?" Ryan sounded falsely disappointed.
"H̹̗e̝̮ý, ̸͔̜͍̗̟̞g̠̻̬̞̦̪̤͟u͇̯̯̥̞͎̕y̧͖͉̲̹̹̤s̻,̣͇̣̪̞͘ ͞d͡o̧̭ͅn̷̦͓̳͈̖̖̪'̢̲t͔́ ͍͚̫͢f͖̥̗͓̫͓́i̷̮̫̟̲̭g̺̲̣͇ḩt̻͉̜ ̬͕̜͙̦̤̜n̯͇͉̼̬̮̰ǫ̘̮̰̠̖w̥̮̭̗̳̳͡ p̥l͍̗͔̞̹̳̦e̻̦͔̣͉a̻̗̠̱̦̰̪͢s͖͕̳͔̙̦̭e.̘̞"
"Ah! Michael!" Ryan rubbed his head with his free hand. "Fix your radio."
"I̟̫̘̝̞ d͍̣͇̯͚̀i̮͔̯̻͎͍͖d̫̯͘ ̛͓͕̗̖̜̣fi̸x̞̼̫̞̲̘ ̪̺͚m͔̜̺̠y ̶̟̳͉̠̖̞r̢a̮̩̘̰̖͕̺d̦̼̫̗͕i͏̘̭͙̠ͅo̢̥.̷̬̮̦̫"
"Doubt it," Ryan murmured.
- § -
"Look, just tell me when you have it done," Austin glanced out of the corner of his eye. The hallway ended in a heavy metal door, with the airlock-like door locked and unmovable. "Michael and I are gonna get our end of the job done, so just open that door and we'll be on our way."
"Please don't do anything stupid," Ryan pleaded.
"It's not me you should worry about," answered Austin, checking to make sure the backpack on his back was secured.
"Your door is open," Nick announced within seconds of the blast doors peeling inward. Austin cautiously crept in while Michael followed closely behind.
The room they entered housed a large reactor-like device. According to Ryan, this device generated the encompassing shield around Sargasso so that stray meteors or enemy fire wouldn't damage the frail station. The stainless-steel machine whirred loudly as heat radiated off it, distorting the glow of the off-white lights above them. Austin circled the catwalk around the machine to check for hostiles, while Michael looked around to find a weak spot in the generator. There were control panels along the left side of the catwalk connected to the machine, so he took that as his incentive.
"Now this is something Ryan won't bitch at me for blowing up," Michael murmured to himself. Austin dropped his backpack so the two of them could get some appropriate hardware. The fox found himself wire-cutters, a screwdriver, and a hammer for good measure; while the wolf snagged a few remote explosive charges and a little detonator he clipped to his belt.
Michael felt around the blocky control panel until he found a hitch in the plating. His screwdriver slipped between the cracks and pried open the plate enough so that he could peel it away with the end of his hammer. Doing this exposed dozens of wires and circuitry, which were evidently still live judging by the heat he could feel on his fingertips just reaching for them. Meanwhile, Austin dropped down to his stomach and reached underneath the steel grate of the catwalk to stick one of his charges to the underside of the walkway, just in front of the entrance. After replicating the same on the other side of the catwalk, he also placed a charge on the back wall of the room just in case.
"Why's the shield generator door open?" a voice called out.
"Shit," Austin hissed. "Michael, hammer."
The fox held the dislodged sheet of metal in front of him as he hid behind the console, tossing his hammer to Austin in the process. He snuck around the edge of the walkway to position himself behind the threshold of the heavy doors. He spied two solders approaching the door with blasters drawn.
Austin lashed out once the shadow of the soldiers crossed the entryway. The head of the hammer blasted the closest soldier below the belt, and since he couldn't continue forward, he spun and swung backwards to catch the older soldier in the jaw. The first soldier doubled over in excruciating pain and unable to even call out for help, allowing Austin to swing at the other stunned soldier, knocking his blaster out of his hands. While he was still disoriented, Austin shoved him into the wall and blasted him in the head with the weapon, cracking his helmet and almost instantly felling the poor soldier. He dashed over to the other one who still coughing and sputtering and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and belt. With a roar, Austin hurled the Cornerian over the guardrail and into the machine generator before he plummeted however deep the room actually was. Only when Austin heard the thud at the bottom did he hand the hammer back to Michael, cheeky smile and all.
"You made that look easy."
"That's because it was."
Michael giggled. "Uh, extremely Austin voice: everything is easy because I'm just good at it."
Austin cracked a little chuckle as he eyed the entryway. "Make it quick."
"Uhhh," the fox looked into the open control panel. "Which one?"
"Which what?"
"Which one?" he repeated, gesturing at the maze of wires and circuits he was presented with.
"The movies always say the red one."
"Wasn't it always the blue one?"
Austin's tail sagged. "To tell you the truth, I don't remember."
"Oh no," Michael leaned away. "This is mind-flooding me so bad. What if I break something?"
"That's… the entire point though."
"But I mean; if we're taking this place back sometime, shouldn't we try to minimize the damage we deal?"
Austin's eyes narrowed. "I think Ryan gave up on that approach the moment he bombed an entire hangar bay."
Michael ended up nodding. "True. But what should I do?"
"I just planned on blowing it up," Austin shrugged, his tail coming to life. "Ryan might not like it, but it'll get the job done."
"But we have to be careful," reminded the fox. "One wrong move and security is all over us."
"I think you should just cut the red wire."
"And what if it doesn't work?"
"I'll just blow it up," Austin said with a worrisome smile; at least to Michael it was worrisome. He seemed to get more and more eager the more he talked about his explosives.
"No, Austin, seriously," Michael pleaded, trying to calm the blood lust in the wolf. "Don't blow anything up."
"But I gotta."
"You don't gotta."
"Says you."
"Yes, says me; the guy with the wire cutters."
"Bomb beats wire cutters."
"In this situation I'd argue the inverse."
"Michael; bomb beats wire cutters in literally every situation."
Michael cupped his muzzle in his hands. "Okay, look, I'll just start cutting some wires," he picked up his cutters and singled out a wire. One snip later, and nothing seemed to happen. Michael reopened his tightly shut eyes and sighed.
"Can I blow it up?" Austin eagerly asked.
"Wait, one more." Another wire cut, nothing happened.
"Michael."
"Okay, maybe just one more." Again, nothing.
Austin smirked. "Michael."
Michael's hesitance slowly began to melt away as he smirked back. An evil giggle slipped through his teeth as he said "Oops," while cutting yet another wire. Austin just laughed.
"It's not working."
"Alright, look, just one more."
"You said one more like—"
Finally, something seemed to happen. The machine's whirring calmed down, almost as if someone decided to just turn it off for the night. Michael looked into the wiring to see what he did, and just started to laugh harder. He pulled out the end of a black wire he snipped, giggling all the while.
"So this one is connected to the power supply," he explained. "Maybe shoulda started with this one."
"Or, you know," Austin's ears fell as he glanced at the console. "Maybe shoulda just turned it off?"
Michael looked confused for a moment or two as he stood up and looked over the control panel. Sure enough, there was a noticeable switch referred to as the "power" switch, conveniently located in the heart of the control panel's interface. It appeared unlocked as well.
"Oh," the fox started laughing even harder. "That would have worked too, I guess."
"Your incompetence is unparalleled."
"Look, I did what I needed to do," Michael dismissively replied. "The shields should be down right now."
"At least you did something," Austin shrugged.
Michael just frowned.
"So… what wires did you cut first?"
"Is that important?"
"I think it's appropriately important."
"But they didn't do anything."
"That you know of," Austin added on. "You could've cut the line to the Wi-Fi for all I know."
"Why would the Wi-Fi be connected to the shield generator?"
"I don't know; it was just a hypothetical."
Michael just shrugged and found time to lift his wrist. "Hey, Ryan; we disabled the shields."
"Michael, please fix your radio."
"Oh come on; I've done this so many times already!" whined Michael.
"I actually cannot understand you," deadpanned Ryan.
"Shh!" snapped Austin, pushing Michael's arm down before grabbing his neck and pulling him against the perimeter of the room.
"What was that?" asked a confused Ryan.
"Ryan, please be quiet," hissed Austin.
"Can you fix Michael's radio?"
"Ryan, shut up," growled Austin, silencing the radio. He eyed the entryway, noting several shadows against the far wall slowly approaching the open door. Wide eyed, Austin turned his head back to Michael. "We need to leave."
"How?" Michael whispered back.
"Down," the wolf looked through the catwalk mesh.
"Uh—" without warning, Austin jerked the fox around and double fisted his backpack. "Hey!" he whined as Austin started battering him around to get what he wanted from his bag. He ended up pushing Michael, bending him over to be able to get into the bag. "This is so uncomfortable," the fox whined again.
"Not my fault I can't get in here," he grunted.
"You're not supposed to!"
"As far as I'm concerned, this is fair for me to use."
Austin looked to his left to gauge the situation, only to see five Cornerian soldiers stopped in the doorway with blasters drawn. He froze, mirroring the same expression as the other soldiers. The blank expressions masked by their green visors made the standstill even more tense, as the wolf didn't know how friendly or hostile the soldiers were towards them. At first he was confused at why the soldiers didn't advance, until he looked forward and noticed Michael was bent over while he stood over him; the angle presented extremely suggestive.
"Um," Austin couldn't move, blushing when remembering his and Michael's earlier comments. "I…"
"I can explain," was all that came out of Michael's mouth. "See, what he's trying to do is—"
"Is get this thing out of his bag so I can do this!"
Austin suddenly launched a cylinder out of Michael's backpack, and as soon as it hit the ground at the soldiers' feet; it detonated in a plume of hazy smoke. In the commotion, Austin yanked Michael by the collar again and threw himself and the fox over the guardrail. Michael yelled in fear, but Austin kept calm since he had also wrapped a hook around the guardrail before he jumped off. Austin kicked off the wall, sending them swinging towards the machine. His open hand grabbed on and let the duo slide down before touching down on the steel-plated floor. Because of the momentum, they didn't stick the landing by any stretch of imagination, but Austin still managed to scramble to his feet first and yanked Michael up again like he was a toy soon after. As the duo dashed down a hallway towards the exit, Austin unclipped the detonator from his belt and set it off.
- § -
Ryan almost fell when the ground beneath him shook violently. The blue screens Nick was working at suddenly turned red, showing countless error messages in its place. An alarm soon sounded on the display, which Nick swiftly silenced. Only one word left Ryan's mouth when the commotion subsided.
"Austin."
Nick turned his head. "That wasn't him, was it?"
"I have good reason to believe it was."
"What did he do?"
"Mmmm," his sneer held a rather worried yet annoyed undertone. "Oh, nothing; just completely disembowel the entire shield generator for Sargasso."
Nick just wheezed in reply.
"That's not funny."
"It really is," Nick sputtered in amongst laughter. "See, he did what he needed to do but he didn't do it the right way."
"Look, I'm not gonna get mad at him yet," he dismissively replied. "Let's just get the rest of this done. Rob and I are gonna start the next task."
Nick wheezed lightly. "Task," he remarked jokingly.
"Mmmm, complete this task and I shall award you handsomely, valiant warrior."
"Hey, you said it, not me."
Ryan set his visor down and slipped out of the server room, sealing the door behind him. Rob noticed and stepped over to him, almost eager for updates.
"Nick is tearing it apart," he told the llama, wiping his forehead. "How's it going?"
"Did you feel that shake? A ton of soldiers just ran towards one of the hangars; what's going on?"
"What do you think went wrong?" questioned Ryan.
"Austin?"
"Austin."
"Should've known," Rob shook his head.
"So are you still good?"
"Nobody's said anything to me yet, so I guess that's okay," Rob replied. "But, honestly, it's not the best. I feel like I'm not getting to shine here."
"Hey now, everyone's got a role and you're doing yours just fine," Ryan patted Rob on the back. "In fact, I do need you for a moment. We need to take a little detour and head over to traffic control. It's time to decommission some attendants."
"But what about Nick?" Rob glanced over at the door. "Is he gonna be okay?"
"I dunno, I'll ask him," he rose his wrist. "Nick, you doing fine?"
"I'm full of real world problems," Nick answered.
"Why?"
"It's kinda hot in here."
"Well yeah, you're not exactly dealing with children's electronics in there."
"Servers can get really hot," Rob remarked. "Like, I think in some places, their server rooms can get hotter than triple digits."
Ryan pursed his lips. "Nick, is it actually one hundred degrees in that room right now?"
Nick answered, "It could be, yeah."
Ryan looked up at the ceiling and began pacing. "Okay… one hundred minus thirty-two is sixty-eight… then multiply that by five, that becomes three hundred forty… and then divide that by nine… So that's gonna be like forty—" his tone suddenly became much more serious. "No; I messed up somewhere. It can't be fuckin' forty degrees Celsius in that room right now."
"That's like thirty-seven, thirty-eight," Rob corrected.
"Nick," Ryan belted.
"Yeah?" the canine answered, almost sounding delirious.
"You need to get out of there."
"I don't need to get out, I just gotta break some code for a minute."
"Just… be careful in there."
"I can't promise anything."
"Look, Austin and Michael already blew something up—"
"Probably."
"Yes, probably, but still—"
"Hey, I'm not gonna blow anything up," Nick retorted. "Just go do Ryan things while I do Nick things."
Ryan looked over at Rob, nodded, and urged him to walk forward as a steady stream of Cornerian soldiers trotted in the other direction around them. An alarm continued to blare overhead, perpetually reminding them of what their teammates presumably did to attract the attention.
"Watch the cameras," Ryan advised, keeping his eyes peeled out for those secret surveillance cameras dotting the station. Even though they didn't mean particularly much in their current situation, Ryan's paranoia was at an all-time high.
"I don't think it would affect me any," Rob shrugged it off.
Ryan's eyes narrowed. "Doubt it."
"No no," Rob insisted. "I don't think they have any pictures of me on record."
"That's a hard doubt it."
"Well, listen; I honestly think I've taken more pictures of my dick than of my face."
"Robert."
"I'm not lying."
"I didn't need to know that information."
"It's relevant to the situation."
"That's another hard doubt it."
"Look, I'm just describing why I think your worries are unjustified in my situation. You're the leader of this crew; if anything, you'd be the most distinguishable."
"That still doesn't rule you out," Ryan just shook his head. "Hey, I'm not trying to start anything, I'm just voicing my worries."
"It's fine," Rob answered calmly. "Look, if Austin did what you think he did, we're on a tight timeframe. Let's make what we have to do quick instead of arguing semantics."
"Alright," the lion digressed. "Fair enough. Let's head this way."
— §§ —
The lion and llama followed the station's halls to a large door barricaded by heavy security clearances, all of which were rendered useless once Ryan used the keys he scavenged off the one soldier from earlier. The duo entered a brightly-lit room filled with instruments and consoles as if Ryan's cockpit from earlier was amplified tenfold. He had to stop himself from bugging out at the sight of all the high-tech equipment in the room as he and Rob made their way inside.
Ryan snickered to himself and tapped a soldier on his helmet. "Hey, guess what?"
"Huh?"
Ryan unsheathed the blaster at his side and belted the soldier across the neck. He swiped the now unconscious soldier's blaster with his other hand, then opened fire on the room. Of the dozen or so personnel in the room at the time, Ryan managed to tag about half of them in his sweep across the control room. The rest of the shots flashed sparks around the room, shattered wall panels and display screens, and scattered debris as if a small twister slammed into the hold. Ryan passed off the other blaster to Rob as he stepped forward.
"If I were you I'd suggest staying down," Ryan shouted, shoving chairs aside to survey his damage. Rob walked back to the main doors and sealed them shut, overriding the outside locks so that only he and Ryan could open them.
"Traitor," spat a wounded Cornerian being tended to by someone who hadn't gotten hit by Ryan's shots. Ryan just laughed to himself.
"I was never on your side," the lion spat back, grabbing the other Cornerian by the neck and shoving him away. He yanked the injured canine up and forced him into a chair, still aiming his weapon at a vulnerable area of the uniform. "Disable the electronics."
The soldier just sputtered and stared at the damaged console.
"Disable the telecommunications and the aerospace sensors or I'll start wiping the floor with the rest of you."
"That won't change anything," the canine ripped off his visor, but couldn't muster the strength to throw it before Ryan slapped it out of his hands.
"Mmmm, perhaps you just don't understand," Ryan began to sneer, but corrected himself to be more serious. "This station here belongs to Lord O'Donnell. You thugs took what belongs to our fearless leader who only wants to elicit change from people like you. Robbing him of his base of operations warranted this counterattack. Now we can make this quick and painless, or there will be a lot of lives lost on your side. I know which one I would pick."
"You and your band of criminals won't win."
"Is that so?" Ryan chuckled to himself. "Then disable the comms and sensors. Prove me wrong on an even playing field."
Behind the lion, the Cornerian who was trying to attend to the injured had sharpened a shard of glass while he was talking. Without warning he shot up and attempted to use the crude weapon, only for Rob to catch the attack by shooting down the assailant before he could wind up for the killing blow. Ryan looked behind him, but the momentary distraction allowed the other soldier to lunge out of his chair and cut down the lion with a tackle to the back of his knee. Rob hid behind the center console as three other soldiers tried to return fire with their own blasters.
The soldier wrestled the blaster away from Ryan, but Ryan was still strong enough to fight off the wounded canine. Ryan attempted to stand but buckled when putting weight on the one knee. The injured canine used that momentary distraction again and delivered another nasty chop block to the lion's knee. While on his back, Ryan deflected a few of the shots the canine threw at him, then tossed him off when he was too tired to throw any more. He had to crawl over to the blaster because of his now injured knee, then gunned down the soldier as he attempted to attack again.
Meanwhile Rob started to return fire at the three armed Cornerians. Since they had lower ground and more cover, it was proving to be difficult to take any of them out. Rob did spy a dislodged light fixture overtop due to Ryan's earlier onslaught. Sliding to the side of the console, Rob shot out one of the supporting cords, causing the long fixture to fall out and swing over. The three Cornerians couldn't react in time as the light slammed into the three of them, scattering them and their weapons across the floor. Rob hopped the center console and quickly advanced, mercilessly shooting down the three uprising canines before they had a chance to recover.
Ryan pulled himself up to his feet with some help from the consoles and the chair. A grimace across his face, he tossed the blaster aside and clambered into the chair. "If you want something done, we've proven that you've gotta do it ya damn self."
Ryan raised his wrist. "Austin, shields down yet?" After getting no response, he shrugged it off and tapped away at the console.
"You okay Ryan?"
"Ah, the right knee is blown out," he winced again. "No point in sugar-coating the obvious."
"Can you walk?"
"I could hardly walk without a blown-out knee," he still managed to chuckle. "I'll need your help getting out of here."
"No problem," Rob smiled. "Good to know that I do have some use here."
"But of course," Ryan said, hobbling out of his seat. "That's what team unity is about."
Rob nodded. "Team Unity. I like that name."
"That's exactly what I said."
"What?"
"Mmmm, Team Unity," Ryan painfully sneered. "I like that totally original name that's not something Ryan thought of earlier today."
"I didn't know you thought of that," Rob shrugged.
"Well no, I didn't expect you to have a direct line to my cerebral cortex; reading my thoughts like some damn telepathic alien freak."
"Your word choice is mind-flooding me," Rob cried, holding his head as he stepped away from the lion.
Ryan, looking over his handiwork and the console he tampered with, adjusted the frequency of the device on his wrist. With an all-too confident and proud smirk, he spoke into the device:
"Lord O'Donnell, the bridge is down. Send in the cavalry."