Ten Minutes. She counted them. There were times where she caught herself counting faster and forced herself to slow down, to breathe. She stared at the wall ahead, arms wrapped around her knees. Fingers curled into the legs of her jumpsuit. She could feel the bite or her nails through the fabric. Ten minutes.
Kaylin swung her legs off the edge of the bed, walking to the dresser and calmly opening the drawers, even though her heart was racing in her chest. She took out a clean jumpsuit, clean socks and clean underwear, setting them on top of the dresser next to the first aid kit. Once those were set out she looked over to the camera.
With sheet in hand she approached, gathering the sheet and tossing it over the camera. She froze and waited, dark eyes turned in their sockets to the door in her peripheral vision. She could hear her heart pounding and how heavily she was breathing.
Nothing happened.
Very carefully she wrapped the sheet around the camera to deaden any sound that the microphone could pick up. She went back to the dresser and grabbed the canvas bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She then went to the door and lightly knocked on the cool metal.
"Excuse me," she said, being careful to be just loud enough to be heard on the other side of the door, "I need to go to the bathroom."
At first there was no response, then, "step away from the door and back away, I'm going to cuff you."
Kaylin didn't even respond; she darted to the wall to her left, the feel of cold metal gripped beneath white knuckles made her sick to her stomach. The door opened and she maneuvered to be behind it. The moment she could hear the marine breathing she slingshot around the door and smacked the large end of the chair against the marine's head.
The sight of blood stung at her eyes as he fell to his knee, fumbling to lift his gun. She hit him again, cutting off the beginning of a cry to arms for any marines outside that could hear him. He fell to the ground, pushing himself with his hands to try to stand and fight. She hit him again, then again. The leg of the chair snapped off in her hand, causing the chair to twist awkwardly. She rebalanced it and turned to hit the marine again but froze. He wasn't moving. A quick jerk told her that he was alone. Where was the other marine?
With stuttering breath she set the chair down and checked his pulse. Still alive, still breathing, but his hair was matted with dark red color. She forced herself to put the thoughts of the sort of brain damage the man would have, possibly for the rest of his life as the pay he received could not be enough to hire the doctors needed to fix it.
She quickly filched his keycard from his belt, snapping the cord it was attached to and shoved it in her pocket like a thief. She only spared another second to grab his earpiece and ran out the door. Quickly she began to maneuver through the hallways, using what she remembered of which ways were guarded and which were not. Panic quickened her blood and her mouth felt dry.
She switched the metal chair leg to her right hand and set the earpiece into her left ear. The radio chatter would allow her to know how much time she had. All that greeted her was silence.
Swallowing with a burning throat she ducked into another hallway, froze, then moved back out of the hallway as she heard the rapid beat of approaching footsteps. Panicking she saw nowhere to immediately hide. So she darted to a door and swiped the card, hoping it worked. The green light of the door came on and she slipped inside, easing the door to close quietly.
The sudden light nearly gave her a heart attack, but when she whipped around with her makeshift weapon brandished and her sweaty back against the door she was met only with emptiness. Unlike her room, this one was clean and painted, with more of a bed and less of a cot. It didn't look lived in though.
She heard the footsteps go by and she started counting the seconds. One minute and no sound. She opened the door and peeked out. She saw no marines so slipped out and chose a different hallway to go down. She messed with the earpiece, wondering why she wasn't hearing anything. If an alarm had been raised, which would be the call for running around, it should have gone through the radio right?
Kaylin kept close to the walls until she saw the elevator. Her heart went from racing to pounding and she ran to it, nearly tripping inside and hit the button that she knew Jitar was on. She ducked down into a corner so that the marines in the hallways would not see her as she descended and prayed that no one else below called the elevator.
Kaylin tried to control her breathing, but only managed to not-hyperventilate through her nose as she bit down on her lip, her slick grip tightening on the metal chair leg. Her heart skipped when the elevator slowed to a stop and the gates opened. A glance up showed the number of the floor painted on the concrete.
She crawled over to the opening and peered out, half-expecting a line or two of marines ready to gun her down. There was no one.
She shot into a sprint from the ground and ran to the door, running the card through the recognition pad so quickly she almost bent it. She knew that there would be scientists within, and at one armed marine. She got her baton ready as the light flashed green on her skin. She slipped in and hugged the inner wall as she neared the ninety-degree bend. She held at the corner, breathing heavily, giving up on trying to control it. She put her other hand on the baton, steeled herself, readied her weapon and shot around the corner and down the hallway, ready to charge the marine the moment she saw him.
Pain erupted across her face, her neck cracked with the force of her head snapping to the side. She heard the chair leg clang to the ground as she took an unintended sharp turn towards the ground. Lights danced across her vision as she scrambled to be upright again, tasting blood in her mouth. Her perseverance was met with a quick kick to her ribs and she cried out in pain, curling her arms around her middle and curling into a ball.
Hand grabbed her, forcing her arms apart and dragging her up from the concrete onto her knees. She lifted her head, dizzy and forced herself to focus. She saw the face of the sergeant, that cold glower worse than any visage of rage. But what chilled Kaylin to the bone was the glass cage beyond the sergeant. Empty.
She was handcuffed and forced to stumble behind the sergeant as they walked her out of the room and further down the floor they were on. The taste of iron hit the back of her throat every time she breathed in, no longer able to breathe through her nose. The sergeant was dead silent the entire way.
The room the finally entered into was large and lined with screens on nearly every wall. Many other marine were in there, some turned to salute, others did not. The sergeant tossed the chair leg onto the table with a loud clang. Kaylin flinched, no one else did.
"Betcha think you're pretty clever," the sergeant said, turning around and leaning against the table, folding her arms with her hands in fists, "but the moment we found my man lying in his own blood in your doorway, we knew where you'd go. You're lucky Weyland ordered us not to kill you."
Kaylin sniffed and looked down, "where is he?"
"Downstairs, preparing for some grand show he's been waiting years to see."
"No," Kaylin huffed, "the alien."
The sergeant didn't respond, and Kaylin looked at her out the tops of her eyes.
"He is the show."
Kaylin's eyes burned and she let out a wavering breath. The sergeant stood away from the table and walked to Kaylin, snapping her hand up and grabbing the woman by her chin, "I want you to understand that I was grateful for what you did for Tesya, but you beat Private Jocasta within an inch of his life, you very possibly turned him into a vegetable and I, will not, forgive that."
Kaylin felt her eyes burn, recalling the man she had left lying there just minutes ago. She felt the tears escape and swallowed the taste of bitterness.
"I'm sorry," she whispered and sobbed again.
The sergeant's brow furrowed in anger and she jerked her hand away in disgust, "'sorry' doesn't bring little Billy back."
Kaylin watched the sergeant turn away from her and head towards one if the people manning the screens.
"Send a message to Weyland that we have Kaylin in custody and she will be escorted back to her room."
"Uh… Sergeant?"
The dark-haired woman snapped and glowered at the marine that had dared to interrupt. He turned a worried glance from her to his screen. She walked over, "what is it—."
Kaylin furrowed her brow and leaned over to see what it was that had given pause to the two individuals. What she saw was a gradually widening light and a mass of moving bodies.
"Eyes on the doors eyes on the doors!" ordered the sergeant and soon all the screens flickered to the scene.
"It's the inmates sergeant!" one finally reported, "they made their way in!"
"But how did they know we were here?"
The sergeant cursed under her breath, "fucking private Marten."
"Shots fired."
Kaylin strained to see, to see if she recognized anyone. The images were unclear, and the mass of moving bodies looked like a single undulating organism. They had to be people she knew though, why else would they be here? She felt ill, watching silent flashes of light as guns blazed, knowing that there were people dying in the hallway but still the giant moving creature crawled on, filling every crevice of the screen with its wrath.
She tightened her hands behind her as screens changed, following and monitoring the movement of the crowd. It filtered into small rooms, overwhelming the marines guarding it and raiding the space of anything it was worth.
So many people. This wasn't just one gang.
Thoughts ceased when the lights vanished and the screens blinked off. The everlasting moment of darkness was pierced by red emergency lights. The room erupted with movement as people stood from their seats, checking weapons and falling behind the sergeant as she began to give orders.
Kaylin was grabbed and moved out of the way as the marines began filing out of the door. The sergeant looked at her like she had forgotten she was there and frowned. They both knew this was her fault. As the woman approached Kaylin and opened her mouth to say something, a screech filled the air. The long, cold note held out before dropping in pitch. It was the sound of hatred and anger.
The marines all froze, looking around before looking to the sergeant.
"What the fuck was that?" one whispered.
"You ever heard of xeno-zip?" the eyes turned to Kaylin, "you know what makes it right?"
The sergeant stepped close to Kaylin, eyes boring into her. Kaylin cast her gaze down and finished, "I told you, he was going to get us all killed."
"Oh fuck," one marine spat and moved out the door, "no one said nothin' about fucking bugs!"
"It doesn't change anything soldier," the sergeant snapped and stormed over to him, "we are still marines, and we have a job to do. No get your head out of your pussy and move!"
The marines called out in response and left, probably to go to whatever armory and suit up. The sergeant walked over to Kaylin, glowering. She grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and spun her around, slamming her against the wall. Kaylin coughed out a cry of pain and tightly shut her eyes, unsure of what was going to happen to her.
She heard the sound of metal links crashing against the floor and her wrists hurt slightly less. The pressure on her back was gone and she turned around, looking at the sergeant who sneered.
"Whatever you do from here, I don't care anymore. I owe you that at least," the sergeant turned to exit and paused, looking over her shoulder, "but for the record, I hope you die."
Kaylin watched her disappear into the red glow of the outside hallway. Stunned, all she could do was blink at the closing door. Then like a bolt she remembered why she was here, and she snatched the metal chair leg from off the table.