Ch 5

The sun was just about to set when Rocket was informed that the main tunnel had been reached. He looks up from his latest project to regard Ashen's beaming face.

It had been hard work to dig through those twenty feet down and then fifty straight through hard earth with nothing but shovels and picks but the fact that the soil around here was mostly compacted clay and silt and the main tunnel itself was laid from bricks, instead of being mined into bedrock, made the digging so much easier. Which was why Rocket had ordered the access tunnel to be dug from the Inn's basement in the first place.

"Good work lads. Anyone gone down there yet?" Rocket asks whiskers twitching from anticipation though only part of his attention was divided to Ash, the rest given to the weird looking cylindrical contraption at the table in front of him.

"No, but it should be safe to use even though it's too dark to see even your own paws in there without a light. These tunnels were regularly maintained until just a few days ago." Ashen explains with a bit of pride in his voice for the work they had completed.

"Right, put a few guys with good ears down there to listen -we need to be sure the Badoon haven't gained access to the tunnels yet. Also tell people to gather on the saloon within an hour once the morning rations have been served. I have a few announcements to make." Rocket orders setting the metal cylinder down, fiddling with his guns at his lap now.

"As you order Guardian-Ranger Rocket." Ashen replies saluting smartly before scurrying off to fulfil the tasks. Rocket frowns lightly at the salute. Last time he checked they weren't official anything and most certainly not any kind of an army. He sighs deep, feeling tired from the lack of sleep and worry for his people. His impeccable tactical sense told him their odds against the Badoon and they weren't good. He sighs again, donning his helmet before reassembling and holstering his photon pistols and screwing the end cap in place that finishes this particular 'project'.

"I wish they would stop doing that. "Rocket mutters to Nidnene standing next to him while she's doling out the daily breakfast rations to their 'troops' (though it was technically supper time) when a forth male person in row gives Rocket a quick salute and some females offer a small curtsy. "Well, taking charge of things tends to do that." She whispers seeming amused. "This isn't a game woman! People are going to die because of this." Rocket growls under his breath. "And a lot more would if it weren't for you. So, what's really eating you now Rock?" Nidnene shrugs opening a new cardboard box containing some kind of canned preservatives. Snaives by the smell of it, Rocket deduces wrinkling his nose silently. "What's eating me? Well, nothing -okay pretty much all of this. We're in deep frack and they're all just so Krutacking chipper about-" Rocket's grumble is interrupted by Nidnene's remark. "Well why don't you start thinking about how to 'unfrack' things then? Sure, we probably are in deep shit here but that's no reason for throwing your axe in the well and running for the hills. After all we're still alive and kicking despite the odds." Rocket glances at her and for once considers what his saying before opening his mouth. "Don't jinx it Nidnene. Fate is not set to favour the little guy by default and the good guys rarely win."

"Go get us some coffee or whatever and stop dampening my mood you eternal bringer of jollity." Nidnene sighs half-jokingly and pushes Rocket to move towards the coffee table queue.

Rocket is standing atop the bar counter surveying the crowd with a coffee cup in one hand and his helmet tucked under the other arm. Though there are new faces in the crowd, they are way too few to his liking and way too many of those new faces are clearly those whom the Badoon hadn't even cared to round-up just yet, the sick, the elderly, too young or otherwise handicapped ones... People who couldn't put up a fight even if they wanted to. It was a testament for the Badoon efficiency and strategy that in a city of 100 000 Rocket's motley team of freedom fighters had managed to reach less than 500 during these four days of siege and soon these five hundred would begin to run out on food. Providing enough clean water was already becoming a problem since the city water and sewage treatment stations had been among the first to get hit. Better get this show on the road or we're all going to die on dysentery. Rocket muses morosely, setting his cup down on the counter, before 'kicking' online the makeshift holo-projector he'd workshopped together during the day.

To Rocket the contraption was crude and rudimentary, mainly made up from the insides of a fire extinguisher, aquarium water pump, garden shower head, a couple of halogen lights and bits of glass and wiring, all attached to his wrist communicator via power cord for controls and computing power. He had clearly underestimated the usual level of technology among his audience if their slack jawed looks were any kind of indicator when the first projection came to life.

"Ahem! May I have your attention, please." Rocket starts, feeling slightly nervous when all eyes in the room fixate on him. He straightens himself up needlessly before continuing. "I'm sure you've all heard the rumors by now, about dead not staying dead... Now this is at least partially true -BUT we're still investigating on this to find out if it's some kind of illness brought in by the invaders or something else and as a precaution, nobody touches anyone that looks like a cadaver. Just leave the bodies where they are and move on. You can't do anything for them anyway." Rocket adds when the crowd begins to get restless.

"As an actual today's agenda, I've promised a sit-rep on what's going on and I won't lie. It's not looking good right now, also as our supplies are dwindling and some of us here are actually quite ill or badly injured. Thus, we've been working on plans for evacuation of civilians and gathering more supplies to continue our efforts in ousting the invaders..." He continues, projecting images and sketches with his contraption while speaking for the next twenty minutes to his audience who are staring at the presentation in almost stunned silence. Many of them just now realizing how bad their situation really was.

"...And to conclude this briefing, let's give applauds to sneakiest of lads; Tan Two-hills, who took quite the risk in nicking those service tunnel blueprints from the city hall right from under the Badoon noses. Without his efforts our evacuation plans wouldn't have been possible." Rocket announces indicating at the steel grey furred lad sitting by a corner table with his friends. The youngling in question seems slightly confused by the sudden attention his receiving while the crowd raucously cheers for their latest hero.

"Most of the supplies left have been repacked and distributed Guardian-Ranger. The lookouts report nothing unusual in the tunnels." Roork informs snappily to Rocket whose sitting on a small stool next to his injured kit Trey at the basement. Rocket glances up when spoken to and puts away the small metal casing his been fondling. The casing seamlessly reattaches to the left pelvic side of his armour. "Good work Roork, Tell Ash to carry on with the evacuation as planned." Rocket replies absently.

"What about you sir? Aren't you coming with us?" Roork questions sensing that something is in the 'air'. Which prompts Rocket to actually look up and respond sharply. "Soldier doesn't question, Roork." The former Baker's apprentice eyes his leader shiftily before rescinding any protests he may have harboured with a quiet nod of acquiescence. Rocket watches him leave with a small frown before turning his attention back to his son still sleeping lightly. Nidnene had managed to lure Uno & Duo out and moving from the basement by bribing them with promises of pancakes. The doc had assured that their timidness was temporary and that the kits would recover -assuming things wouldn't escalate much worse than what they were now and speaking of the devil... Rocket eyed Doctor Greyle walking in to check on his small patient. It wasn't that Rocket didn't trust the old and grey whiskered physician in particular but he could never make himself fully trust any medical professional, no matter how benign or harmless.

"So, how's little Trey?" The doc asks calmly ignoring Rocket's glare.

"Sleepy, like his been since yesterday." Rocket sighs holding his son's small paw at his own before the doc grasps it.

"So, still no change? What was in that drug you gave your son Mr. Rocket? I worry it may have been too potent if there's no change in activity soon." Doc muses setting Trey's arm back down once he has noted his pulse from the wrist.

"Kree combat steroids... I don't know everything that's in them, but they're designed to increase blood cell count, stimulate natural immune response and healing, to work as analgesic and to generally stimulate. You're supposed to make your own cocktail from the vials according to situation and preference." Rocket explains showing the vial casing for the Doc.

"I see, and you used your premade-mix?" The doc guesses reading into Rockets guilty look.

"I didn't know what else to do... He, -he was so pale and would have probably died otherwise." Rocket sighs in regret. "No, no. I think you've made the right call during his field dressing. He very well might have died if you hadn't given him the drug. In any case, if you please Mr. Rocket. I'd like to check on his artery shunt, splints and bandages now." The doc assures lifting the covers on Trey to look at his right thigh where the temporary shunt was inserted to bypass the damaged main artery.

"Field dressing -bah. Want to know what that means among mercs out there beyond the great black?" Rocket grumbles dismissively while making circling hand gestures above his head. "I'll tell you; you'd have taken a plasma sabre and just cut the lad's legs off and later made him cybernetic prosthetics or vat grown a new pair instead of making him suffer like this. But me... I had no guts to do what should've been done."

Doc. Greyle blinks at this a little, nervously adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses. "Well, that's certainly... Efficient, I guess. Harsh but efficient though I'm confident that his legs will heal fine given time and proper treatment and I'm positive there will be no need for any -such radical procedures." He finally notes in dry fashion, getting up from a crouch at the floor by Trey's pallet.

"Fraking quack, that man. I tell you." Rocket grumbles to no one in particular once the doc has gone away.

And Trey suddenly pipes up, now fully awake and beaming with child-like imagination. "I could have robo-legs, so cool... I'd be a super star-soldier just like you daddy."

"Well, ahh, -It's not all it's cracked up to be, kiddo." Rocket chuckles after a short moment of perplexing on how to respond. He carefully wraps his son on a blanket and lifts him up to carry in his arms. "you feel like eating yet?" He asks walking upstairs. They'd need to get moving soon anyway and it would be best if he could get Trey to eat first. The kit hadn't eaten anything in at least a day, -lack of appetite was a known side-effect of the steroids.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, son?"

"what's a Fraking?"

" I - ahh, I'll explain, when you're a little older, okay?" Rocket mutters flustered and hoping that Nidnene would never find out from whom Trey had learned that word.

"Eyy, daddy! Your pancakes are better than mommy's! She makes them weird." Uno & Duo yell in choir when Rocket arrives to the kitchen with Trey and carefully sets him down on a kitchen chair.

Nindene grumbles something inaudible at Rocket's questioning look when he notices something which looks like the remains of a spongy cake in a pan at the sink. At least it wasn't burned, Nidnene was way too good chef to make a mistake like that, but it still wasn't a 'pancake'. Rocket surmised to himself. She follows Rockets gaze on the sink. "Well, I've never made them before, but the kits say they liked them just the same as yours." She snaps at him defensively.

"Let me try and show you how they're made, and we can all eat some 'real' pancakes, okay?" He suggests pleadingly when his SO starts to show signs of anger for the feeling of her cookery skills being ridiculed.

Rocket has barely managed to get the batter ready and simmering when Ashen busts into the kitchen. "Guardian-Ranger, you've got to see this quick!" He whisper-yells at him, frantically waving with his right hand while holding the Badoon assault plasma war riffle at his left which immediately clued Rocket that something was very wrong. He had strictly forbidden any kind of gun waving inside the house days ago for the reasons of basic gun safety.

"Go find Roork and tell him to get everyone into the tunnels Nidnene. I'll be back soon." He tells her and rushes after Ashen leaving confused Nidnene to wonder which would be more pressing to her; to make sure her kit was getting something to eat or go alert Roork. After a brief inner battle, she plops the utensils and slightly raw pancake in front of Trey, tells the kits to behave and goes to find him.

"That's an attack formation Delta if I've ever seen one." Rocket mumbles to Ashen whose huddling beside him behind the roof ridge of the Inn, using a makeshift trench periscope to spy the Badoon troops three stories below, to avoid being spotted by the enemy that was edging in and around the city block containing the building complex which housed the Inn.

"Fight or Flight?" Ash questions sounding almost surprisingly calm.

"Flight, there's no point in getting overrun and slaughtered. There's a time and a place for last stand and this isn't it." Rocket determines as stoic as ever. "I had hoped for us to be gone before dawn but the Badoon have stepped it up for some reason. They hate the night-time, you know -them being lizard-like and all is more deeply ingrained than just the visage." He adds noticing Ashen's unvoiced question.

"What if we have a turncoat among us? I mean someone must have tipped them off." Ash frowns worried.

"Nah, not in our own ranks. If they were sure of our whereabouts, they'd have charged right in or blown this block to smithereens with orbital bombardment already. Lucky for us those thick clouds are blocking that option right now... Come on, it's high time to get everyone moving." Rocket whispers and Ashen gets on his knees at the roof ladder, rising his head just above the ridge to crawl past Rocket to get back in through the roof hatch when it happens. There's no warning, just a hiss of superheated air and a flash of light drawing after-images on Rocket's artificial retinas through the periscope. Rocket turns his head to warn his mate just to see his frozen look of confusion before he tumbles down along the steep roof. There's still no other sound but the hollow thud and polymeric clatter from his gun and body hitting the ground below. Rocket lets out a string of curses that would literally make a Shi'ar space pirate blush and a veteran Ravager to sweat, feeling the next shot bounce off from the back of his armour, while his already diving through the hatch.