A New Player

Zemma was counting heartbeats again later that day, as she stared at the dead body of a female Furyan trooper. Another soldier stood beside Zemma in the doorway, reporting what she had seen for both Don (via the PA system) and Zemma's benefit. Jack was trying to crowd in for a look.

Zemma hunched down, looking carefully at the body. "You're sure she's dead?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You went in there to check?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Commander…" Zemma called towards the PA pickups. "I don't think she's dead." Zemma thought she could see tiny eye movements and the shallowest of respirations. "Do you have infrared that can see into that room?"

"No. And Riddick killed all the Lensors the first day he was Lord Marshal."

"Can't blame him," the soldier next to Zemma muttered under her breath.

Zemma agreed. The Lensors always gave her the creeps and she avoided them at all costs. She never really knew what they saw inside her, so she gave them little chance to look. The half-dead half-mechanical recycled soldier, on a ship already as dark as this one, was even more disturbing than day-to-day life had been.

"We never let one of ours become a Lensor," the soldier whispered.

Zemma nodded grimly at her. She was glad of that. But it made her think of the science ship, really the breeder ship, and all those still caught in stasis and experimented on. They had done nothing about it, yet.

"Commander, why did you call me for this? I can't see how anything I know will help here."

"Because the trooper that should be in that cabin never got on a transport."

Zemma leapt to the natural conclusion. He was still here somewhere, hiding. And she was an expert on hiding.

Don continued, "We are more short handed than you know…"

"Does the Lord Marshal know?" She interrupted him sharply.

"Yes."

"Then it doesn't matter what I know." Zemma's mind was on the room before her. It was full of jars of bugs, spiders mostly. There was equipment too, and vials of liquids lined shelves. Some were missing, gone into hiding with the owner, no doubt.

The Chemist was loose and he had left a trap for whoever stumbled into his room.

"Commander, we need to get this woman out of here. Any ideas?" Zemma addressed Don.

"Not if she's alive."

Zemma had the same thought. If the soldier was dead they could just close the room and close off the bank of rooms. If a bug was responsible they could contain it. If the trap was mechanical in some way, no one else would stumble upon it.

"Nothing to do but go in and get her." Zemma stood but the marine blocked her path with one arm.

"Lady…" she started.

"Call me Zemma," Zemma smiled.

"No, Ma'am. I'm sorry. Orders."

Zemma wondered if it was orders to call her 'ma'am', or not to go into the room.

And whose orders? Jaron's? Don's? Certainly not Riddick's.

The trooper, unlike Zemma, was well armored. She took a cautious step into the room, gun ready. Then another. A third brought her to the body of her fallen comrade. She reached a cautious hand out towards the other's foot.

Something metallic skittered forward. It looked like a large spider. The standing soldier took hasty aim and fired her gravity gun, grabbed her partner by the foot, and hauled her back towards the door.

The metallic creature, seemingly unharmed by the force that hit it, righted itself and charged again. Zemma hit the lock as soon as the women were clear, and was only just in time. Zemma punched in a command that would keep the previous owner from reopening the door.

And then noticed Jack's attention on the panel.

So someone else can memorize, Zemma smiled to herself.

"Don…" Zemma continued in Furyan, "Change that lock code and keep it to yourself."

"Ten-Four, Lady."

That caught her off guard. She wondered if Don were grinning at her sudden discomfort, before she covered it.

The marine was checking her friend for signs of life. "Send us a stretcher, Commander. Vitals are barely there, but they are there."

Zemma breathed a small internal sigh of relief. She felt so protective of every Furyan life.

"Jack, I think you should go back to the suite."

"Fuck! No way, sister. I've only been here one day and I'm bored to tears. Besides, I've seen you fight, you need backup."

Zemma had to control her need to giggle at the now leather-clad girl. The soldier opposite her seemed to have some other emotion to control. Zemma winked at her and saw a twitch of repressed smile back. Jack's lack of propriety didn't bother Zemma in the least, and she didn't want it to bother this soldier. Both women had other things to worry about than this slip of a girl and her outsized attitude.

Zemma looked for the nearest access panel, then dismissed it. Too public and too close.

"When you were making sure these rooms were clear, did any other catch your eye?"

The soldier shook her head. "No, Ma'am. Everything has been as expected."

"And you've been sealing off as you go?"

"Yes, Ma'am. We call the Commander and he seals the vents and locks the doors. Standard procedure, Ma'am, when running light and fast; less waste."

Zemma nodded. They weren't planning on making any more stops planet side till they got… home. The less power they used the less fuel mass they used up. The faster they moved the less their fusion filters caught in dead space; they would be looking for the clearest run with the least debris.

Zemma pictured men and women with their duffels, grousing about the change in deployment. Zemma walked down the hall in the direction they would have gone. A lone man going the other way would have been noticed. She looked for where he might have slipped away from the group. Jack followed her.

At the main corridor the area became bigger, with several halls branching off and more of the 'Monger 'art' filling the dead space. Zemma looked around, walking slowly. Jack split off from her, wandering slowly the opposite direction from Zemma. There were several possibilities in this junction, but Zemma thought she herself would not have dared them with the room full of people.

Jack disappeared behind a free-standing fresco and called out. "Here. He went in here."

Zemma hurried over, not really thinking that Jack was right but willing to look.

Jack was right!

Zemma smiled at the girl. "Nice catch."

The service panel behind the frieze was tinkered with. Zemma examined it carefully. Her little toy didn't leave scratch marks and she could close it properly behind her so no one could tell it had been opened. It also allowed her to open the panels from the backside. The Chemist would have a harder time getting out than he did getting in unless he just used a catwalk and service door.

No reason not to now, we have so few people compared to before; just enough maintenance crew to keep track of and not have soldiers chasing every leaky pipe.

So. Big ship, and he could hide anywhere.

Fun, fun, fun.

"Feel like getting dirty, Jack?" Zemma asked her.

Jack smiled wickedly but kept her wisecrack to herself. "After you, Lady."

Zemma thought her accent on 'Lady' was not especially respectful but let it slide.