(A/N) Hey guys, sorry about the delay between the last update and this one. Things were pretty hectic on my end last week, mostly with college stuff, but everything is back to normal now, and I think things should be running a lot smoother now over the next few weeks than they have in a while! This chapter, to be honest, is possibly my favourite from Phase Two: Betrayal up to this point, written by the oh-so-awesome OhSoDeadly, who just nails every character that appears in this chapter. I hope you'll all agree with me, but I can't see it happening any other way!

Enjoy!

Chapter Forty-Six – Team Nice Dynamite

Agent Florida

Written by OhSoDeadly

"We can either sit here and do nothing or grab those flare guns and do something really stupid." – Herc Hansen, Pacific Rim

"Ok…try it now."

Florida peered through the new detachable scope on top of his rifle, and was pleased to see the rangefinder at the bottom had increased by fifty metres. Flicking a knob on the rifle's stock, he saw a little red icon pop up on his HUD. Exhaling lightly, he squeezed the trigger.

Phoom! A small black orb fired from the underslung launcher and struck the cardboard target at the far end of the range, about 100 metres away. The grenade detonated, sending a shockwave through the room and setting the target alight. Klaxons blared, and extinguisher jets hissed. The flames dwindled, and died. There was still a heck of a scorch mark though.

In the A.I. sconce above their heads, F.I.L.S.S.' avatar popped into existence. "Agents Florida and Georgia, please be reminded that detonating ordinance without proper safety protocols is a shipboard offence. Have a nice day!" The blue light winked off.

Florida placed his rifle down, yanked his helmet off and blinked. "Well, I'll be! It worked after all!"

Georgia gave a scoff. "Of course it worked! Who do y'all think you're talkin' to here?" The man went back to his impromptu work bench, and started unscrewing something.

Not wanting to cause a quarrel, Florida slapped his teammate on the shoulder. "Only the best darned mechanic on the ship! Though I'm sure that some of the boys down in the hangar bay would give you a run for your money, eh?"

"Hah! In their pathetic, forty-thousand-bucks-a-year dreams! I bet that they can't even…"

As their resident Einstein rambled on about the incompetency of the techs on board the ship, Florida mulled over his new piece of equipment. Truth be told, he hadn't even been askin' for it, but then Georgia had caught him struggling with long-range bombardment targets on the range, and had offered his services. So far he was doing a splendid job! He was bound to land some more hurt on the enemy with this nifty gadget!

Detaching the scope and placing it inside an equipment case on his armour, Florida turned the firing range computer off and stepped out of the cubicle. "Well, that's done for the day! What are you up to now, Georgia?"

"Just doin' my usual thing," he grunted, still straining at the piece of metal gripped in his hands. It looked like any other piece of scrap to Florida, but the Lord knew he was no whiz like Georgia! "Figuring out brand new ways to blow shit up. Hand me that, would you?"

With a free hand, he pointed to what looked like a screwdriver. Only it had three bent prongs coming into a central point. With some reserve, Florida passed him the implement and then set to drumming his fingers against his breastplate. It had become a habit of late. Still better than fighting with a darned voice in my head, he thought darkly. "So the Leaderboard got changed yesterday, I see."

Quietly, he cursed himself. Poor Georgia was all the way down there on the list! Not that he'd much cared in the past, but it still wasn't a very nice thing to bring up. God shoulda blessed you with more'n one mouth, boy, his grandma had used to tartly inform him, that way, ya could put your other foot innit.

But thankfully Georgia seemed unconcerned, now grappling with the metal in earnest. "Mm-hmm. And as usual, lotta unhappy folks where that's concerned. 'Rado's not keen on being behind Jersey, Nevada's at the bottom of the barrel…" He sighed, and wiped his forehead. "Different agents, different times, same old Leaderboard. Same old squabbles over who's on first, what's on second."

Florida couldn't help but nod in reluctant agreement. It had been nice to take the rookies through their paces at first, him and Wyoming in the Danger Room. They'd played around with all sorts of neat guns and gadgets, and afterwards they'd all went to the mess hall and had a good laugh. But ever since that nice young girl Connecticut had been sent on that hush-hush mission…most of the camaraderie had seeped out. Oh, it wasn't like everyone was at each other's throats, but it wasn't a picnic either. It was so much like old times that he was expecting to hear Massa's laugh, or Penn's grunt-

He swallowed, and shook his head slightly. He didn't want to go there right now. Breathe.

The fact that Alaska had expressed his doubts to Florida had him a little spooked. Alaska was cool-as-a-cucumber, as the kids back on Arcadia had used to say. He looked at things and didn't get funked out by them. So when he was saying how fraught things seemed, it didn't bode well for any of 'em.

Against his better judgement, he asked haltingly, "So…are you ok? I mean, I don't mean to be rude or to pry or anythin', but…"

Georgia shrugged moodily, still finickin' away. "There's always next time." Obviously, he wasn't in the mood to talk about it.

The silence stretched, became awkward, and would have probably remained so, were it not for the sudden sliding open of the doors, and a loud voice ringing out. "There you guys are!"

They both turned, to see Agent Kentucky striding through the doors, a cocky grin on his face. The boy looked just about ready to burst with excitement! Florida hopped up and beamed at the new agent. "Howdy there, Kent! How's tricks?"

Kent gave him a flash of the pearly-whites. "Speak of the devil! Tricks are good, Florida. But they stand to get a whole lot better." He gave a friendly nod to Georgia, who returned it and then went back to his twiddling. "I need your help with something. Something big. Colossal, even!"

Something big? Sounds exciting! Florida rubbed his hands together. "Is that so? Is it someone's birthday soon? Should we be planning somethin' nice for 'em?"

The young man rolled his eyes. "Nothing so pedestrian. Come on, we can't have this conversation here. Damn ship A.I. watching at every turn." Without preamble, he turned and ran out of the room. When the other two agents didn't immediately follow, he ran back, a playful scowl on his face. "I said come on! Seriously, you guys are moving like molasses! Our secret meeting place is just in the next hallway!" Just as before, he zipped out of the room like he was made of greased lightning.

Sensing a trick of some kind, Florida snorted amusedly and crept out of the firing range room cautiously. After an explosive sigh, Georgia threw down his little project and got up to follow. The two agents walked down the otherwise deserted hallway with growing consternation. "Kent!" Florida looked all about, and huffed. This was just like Kent, all wit and sparkle, then up and disappearin'. "Darn kid's gone and pulled a fast one on us, I'd say-"

"Psst!"

They both turned, and just next to a ship terminal, they saw a tiny door, barely ajar. You wouldn't have known where it was unless you were looking for it. Heck, it was even the same colour as the wall! Squinting into the tiny space, Florida made out a faint shade of deep, forest green. It was Kent.

"Don't look at me!" A scuffling noise, then what might have been a beckoning gesture. "Act natural!"

"Act natural?" Georgia mumbled. "Is he serious?"

Florida was about to make a similar remark, but quickly sobered when he realised that when it came to being natural on this ship, it was a whole lotta different strokes for a whole lotta different folks. Not everybody thought, or acted the same. Heck, Alaska was the first and best example. No matter how much better he might have been doing, Florida still remembered the day he lost it, ripping his helmet off and screaming for someone called Moi…

Resolving not to let things get that bad again, Florida shrugged good-naturedly. "Let's go see what he wants." He walked forward, trying not to look suspicious, and put one hand to the doorframe. "So what's all the-"

Only to be yanked inside, like some ill-behaved puppy! Crying out in shock and annoyance, Florida threw an errant elbow, only to be pinned against the wall by Kent. "Why you-"

"Shhh." In the darkness, Kent grinned, and held up one finger. "All will be explained. Where's Georgia?"

As if on cue, Georgia threw open the door, throwing the tiny room into light. "What in tarnation are you playin' at, Kent?" He looked about, and raised his eyebrows. "This is a maintenance closet."

"Uh-huh." Kent looked impatient.

"Your super secret meetin' room is a maintenance closet."

By hokey, the boy all but danced a jig in frustration! "Yeah yeah, I know! Look, it's all I could do at short notice, and if my timer is right the surveillance scrambler I rigged up in here will expire in…" He looked at a readout on his wrist. "Two minutes! Come on, close the door and we can talk." Sighing, theatrically this time, Georgia closed the door behind him.

The three agents were sealed in darkness. Kent cleared his throat. "OK. I hereby call this kickass meeting of badasses to order! Gentlemen, I have on question for you." He cleared his throat, and spoke, sotto voce, "How would you like to be part of bomb-making history?"

There was a brief silence, then Georgia snorted. "You dragged us in here so we could talk about your obsession with bombs? What a jip."

"Oh, and what is your obsession if not with bombs, Georgia?" Kent shot back. "You're a tinker. Tailor. Soldier. Spy. Whatever. The point is, you and our good friend Florida here can help me with a little heist." He rubbed his hands together and giggled mischievously.

Florida folded his arms, now having grown quite tetchy of the kid's rambling. "And why should we do that? Sounds a might dishonest what you're plannin' here!" Georgia made a noise of agreement. Or it might have been a belch. It was hard to say.

Kent sighed, and shook his head despairingly. "The pair of you, so rustic. Should be chewing wheat on a farm somewhere. Look, I'm bringing you because you're a calming influence on us all, and you because you're the third-best techie we've got on-board, and the only one that's fun!"

"Whaddaya mean, third-best?" Georgia thrusted his jaw aggressively.

Before they could come to blows, Florida stepped in between them, which took some doing seeing as the closet was barely big enough for all of them. "Now come on, fellas, none of that! We're supposed to be a team here!" He stepped back with some difficulty. "Ow."

Their would-be recruiter grinned again, his teeth shining dimly in the gloom. "See? Just what I meant. Now, seeing as we're out of time, are you in? Or are you out?"

"Will it be dangerous?"

"Potentially."

"And no good'll come of it if we get caught?"

"None whatsoever."

Florida side-eyed Georgia, who couldn't help but smile sheepishly. Nodding, the older freelancer gave their answer:

"So what's the plan?"

They were, quite literally, in the shit.

Florida wasn't much one for cursing, but the facts were the facts. Clad only in a thin technician's jumpsuit with a crummy plastic faceplate, he grunted as he wriggled through the Mother of Invention's septic tank system. There was barely enough room, but fortunately there was plenty of light to see by. Dim red lights provided illumination ever ten metres or so, with yawning darkness in between.

And of course, the ever-present sound of dripping-

"What the fuck-" a splash behind him- "kind of plan is this?"

Unsurprisingly, Kentucky was less than excited about this part of the plan. His initial enthusiasm had waned considerably when Florida had studied the corridors and passageways around the ship, crossed off the ones with surveillance devices or heightened security and proclaimed that there was only one place that didn't have such impediments and would provide a bypass into the armoury.

"Goddamnit, Kent, if you splash around one more time I will kick you to death!" Georgia was even less pleased, if that was possible.

"How the hell are you gonna do that? You're behind me, you tool!" Another splash. "Take that, cowboy."

There was a crackling noise, and another light split the darkness. Florida swung his head wildly, panic shooting up his spine. "Georgia! Put that away! We'll be fried if you're not careful!" Snarling with disappointment, the agent put away the taser he'd drawn.

Trying to ignore the silly arguing going on behind him, Florida squinted at the beams above his head. It was darned hard to read the serial inscriptions, but he could make out a few numbers. Unfortunately, none of them were the ones he was looking for. Hissing in frustration, he made to scratch his nose and instead ended up thumping himself in the faceplate. "We're not there yet. Keep going." He kept on crawling, trying to ignore the smell.

"You know, Florida, I never thought you'd stoop this low. I mean, we are swimming through the collective shit of everyone on-board! The Director's shit is in here too! Do you know what that means?!"

"No, Kent," Florida returned amicably, "what does that mean?"

"…I dunno. It just felt like it needed to be said. Acknowledged. You know?"

"Rookie, would you shut up?" Georgia was sounding more frustrated with each passing moment. "We're already up to our waists in this crap and to top it all off, this was your idea!"

"Hey, not true! Florida's! And who are you calling rookie, you old yokel? I was a boombringer for-"

"Fellas!" Florida shouted irritably. "Keep it down! The floor ain't as thick as you might think!" He bumped his head on something, bit down on a curse, and then blinked. The words ARMOURY BYPASS 4-38 glimmered back at him. "Heck yes! We're here!"

"Oh, finally…"

Propping himself up on his elbows, he rummaged around in the darkness above his head until he was able to insert his gloved fingers into a small crevice. Pushing as hard as he could, he was rewarded with a faint screech and a chink of light. He exhaled heavily, and then started again. After a few minutes, he'd levered the metal tile all the way off, and clambered up into the light.

Only to groan, as whatever unmentionables that had clung to his jumpsuit slopped onto the floor. Peering back down into the hole, he shout-whispered, "Leave your suits down there! We're not strollin' into the armoury dressed like this."

They grumbled, but divested themselves of the plastic garments. Kent swore viciously as he caught a tremendous whiff. "God-fucking-damn it, really? Really?" His right hand came up, extended a middle finger, then withdrew.

"Hush now," Florida said soothingly, wrapping his jumpsuit around a railing above the sewage trench. "The hardest part's over!" He peered about, and frowned. "Well, gosh, where is this meant to be?" High walls surrounded him. He took a nervous step backwards, and yelped as his foot clanged into something. Hopping about, he fell down on his tuckus. "Dang it!"

"You're gonna die saying heck, aren't you Florida?" Kent came up out of the hole, and sighed. "Florida, this is a goddamn toilet. Probably the bathroom for armoury techs." He sidled along one wall, and pushed. It swung inward. "Yep, called it."

Georgia emerged as well, still looking unhappy. "A toilet. That figures." He stretched his arms, and cracked his neck with a satisfied sigh. "Alright then, let's hustle! My time to shine." He walked out of the cubicle, and Kent followed. Sighing, Florida got to his feet, carefully put the toilet seat down and followed them.

Out through another door was the armoury. Florida hadn't been down here very often, but he knew the general layout. General shipboard arms were located towards the front, along with extra sets of armour for personnel, radios, that kinda thing. Then came more specialised weapons, separated into categories like long-range, explosive, CQC and so on. Last, and certainly not least, was the experimental arms and emergency weapons storage. That was where they were headed, with Kent's hefty ol' shopping list in hand!

Florida poked his head out of the door, and saw the cavernous room beyond. He ignored the various pillars and aisles and squinted for any signs of movement. If they got caught here, well, they'd get more than a spanking and an early bedtime, that was for sure! But it seemed Dame Fortune was on their side. Nobody seemed to be around.

He withdrew, and gave his friends the thumbs-up. Single-file, keep it tight, he signed. They nodded, and they set off, weaving between supply crates and running from shadow to shadow. It was all quite thrilling, actually. Florida felt a tingle of excitement as he ran swift and low. Might not be by the book, but gosh is this fun!

He was taking the lead, but Kent was keeping a little too close for his comfort, and when he stopped to rest behind a pillar, Kent bumped into him. The young fella tapped his shoulder insistently, and he turned with a sigh. "What?" he whispered.

"What about F.I.L.S.S.?" Kent looked about wildly. "She's gotta know we're in here!"

"Relax, rookie." Georgia had caught up, and was leaning almost casually against a pylon. "All she knows is that we're in here. She doesn't know what we're doing. Trust in my perfection." Kent drew a breath to utter a retort, but Florida snapped his fingers impatiently, and they set off again.

Eventually they reached the door to the third chamber without incident, and they huddled inside the metal cowling that created a mouth around the door. Apparently it was in case of an explosion, which was pretty darned likely if anyone started foolin' about in there. Like us, Florida thought nervously, as Georgia pulled out a little plastic case. Taking another quick look around, Florida spoke urgently. "How long is this gonna be, George ol' buddy?"

"You don't…" Georgia opened the case, and withdrew a chip of some kind. "…wanna rush me." Opening the panel below the holographic lock (which had flashed an insistent red when they'd tried to open it), his fingers caressed the circuitry underneath, and he hummed thoughtfully. Then he rammed the chip into a small port. Kent gaped, and Florida covered his ears.

Nothing happened, and Georgia tutted. "Well, can't say I had my hopes up." He withdrew the chip, and put it away. Searching around in his case, he withdrew another chip and started looking for another place to stick it. Florida watched with a mixture of curiosity and impatience. "What are those little doodads, anyhow?"

"Scrambler," Georgia grunted. "They disrupt the network. Of which this door is apart of. But only if I find the right port. And there's about fifty of the goddamned things." He hissed in frustration as once again nothing happened. "This'll take too long. Time for plan B."

"Plan B?" Kent said, wrinkling his nose. "What's that?"

"Plan B, or Plan Being the Only Good Engineer on This Ship if you've got the time of day." Georgia turned to smirk, then went back to peering at his work. "Is this." He put down his plastic case, and set his hands to the edges of the circuit board. Then, with a growl, he yanked the entire darned thing off!

Florida and Kent both gasped with shock and anger, but Georgia whirled, and held up his hands. "It's fine! It's fine! Just watch. Watch and learn in your case, Kent." He put his hands into the darkness of the wall's interior, and started rummaging.

"I don't get it," Kent snapped, his face red. Maybe all of Georgia's teasing was getting to him a bit. "Why the hell would you start ripping off panels? This what you call the stealth approach where you come from?"

"All the security locks on the ship operate under the same system." Georgia gripped something they couldn't see, and twisted tightly. There was a loud beep, and he kept rustlin' around. "Triad power with networked sync."

"The what with what?"

"Holographic locks are efficient, and use very little power, but they're powered all the same. Since having a central power source for holographic locks would be prohibitively expensive, and hard as hell to maintain, they all have their own little power source built in. Which are located…" He tapped the wall. "Here. Disrupt the circuit and the power goes off. Easy as lyin'." He twisted again, and the lock's hologram dimmed. "One more to go."

Kent whistled low, and Florida nodded in awe. "Where did you pick up that little tidbit, eh?"

Georgia stiffened, and his head slumped. His voice, breezy and confident only moments before, sounded very small. "It was Ark. He found out, came running to tell me one day. We, uh…" He swallowed, and kept talking. "We ended up geeking out about…locks and stuff."

The mood in the room dropped like a swallow carrying a coconut, and Florida chewed his lip, furious at himself, even if he couldn't have known. 'Gee, George, I'm real sorry…"

"Not your fault, Florida. You didn't know." A sigh. "It can be hard, though…"

'Yeah." Florida thought about their old teammate, how he'd used to be one of their most loyal and hardworking comrades, and the self-righteous monster he'd become. He'd done terrible things in the name of his crusade against the UNSC. Him and Penn both. But try as he might, he couldn't hate the Ark they'd once known, even if he was, for all intents and purposes, the same person. And it seems Georgia feels the same way, them being best chums and all. Back in the day, anyhow.

A scoff, and Kent broke in. "Uh, guys, you're talking about that psycho who defected, right? Are we seriously having a moment over him? Don't waste your time, he sure as hell wouldn't for any of us."

Georgia twisted the last thingamajig in the wall, and the holographic lock winked off. But then he was striding over to Kent, planting a finger against his chest. "That psycho," he said with gritted teeth, "was twice the agent you'll ever be." Then he turned, and walked into the next room.

Kent made to retort, but Florida laid a hand on his arm. "Never mind, hey? You weren't to know, it's alright. Just a bit of a sore spot for us." Though he tried to keep his voice cheerful, it still cracked, just the tiniest bit. If they had gone the rest of the day without talkin' about Arkansas, it would've been mighty fine in Florida's book. He jabbed a thumb towards the door. "Shall we?"

The younger agent nodded, but muttered resentfully, "Not my goddamned fault, the guy's a freakin' nutjob, how anyone could have become friends with him on this ship is beyond-"

Then his muttering stopped, and was replaced with a shriek of pure joy.

Florida gaped as Kent rocketed into the centre of the next room, all but leapin' out of his skin, hands flappin' like crazy! "Look at this stuff! Look at this stuff! Guys, look at this stuff!"

Georgia, for his part, was trying to stay detached, but the contents of the room were definitely appealing to his more destructive tendencies. He gave a small grin as he stood back and watched Kent run around. "I'm lookin'!"

"The director's been holding out on us! They've got friggin' captured Covenant weaponry! Why hasn't he been doling that out? Shaped plasma charges, fuck, those can burn through ten metres of battleplate!" He stopped at another metal container, and whistled appreciatively. "Neutron grenades, oh baby. I used these once, there wasn't a thing left standing. Antimatter? That shit is rare as hen's teeth!" Kent turned, and he pouted. "Georgia, come on! I thought this shit was right up your alley!"

Georgia smirked. "Oh it is, I just have better self-control than you. Antimatter? That's child's play. Come look at this." He walked over to a small filing cabinet in the corner, opened the drawer and yanked out a glossy black file. "Read it and pass out."

Kent raised an eyebrow, but accepted the folder and took a cursory glance what was inside. Then his jaw sagged. "How-what…"

"I figured it would be in here somewhere." Georgia shrugged. "Y'all tend to hear whispers every now and then. And one little thing kept comin' up every now and then…"

"I thought the whole damn thing was a pipedream. They said they could never get it to work!"

"Guessin' they did. Probably on Reach, or somesuch. But here it is, plain as day." Georgia tapped the file, then looked around. "Instructions ain't exactly clear though. I'm thinkin' we need to put our heads together on this one."

Kent grinned, looking almost maniacal. "I'm in if you're in!"

Florida, feeling a tad left out, came over and squinted at the small, black text. "What are you fellas getting' so amped up about?" He read the first line, then scoffed in wonderment. "NOVA bomb? What the heck?"

Kent came right up close then, eyes wide open with excitement. "Florida, my friend, picture a bomb. Picture it for me."

"Uh, ok." So he did. It was black, round and had a little string comin' out the top. Hah!

"Now imagine this bomb is so powerful…so deadly…" He clapped his hands together. "It could blow up a planet! That's the NOVA!" Kent gave a little bow.

Florida gasped, both in shock and revulsion. "But that's horrible! That's exactly what the gosh-darned Covenant do to our worlds! Mostly!"

Georgia tutted. "Come on, Florida, think outside the box. You could use it in a space battle, couldn't ya? Or heck, if it was a Covenant world…" He pounded a fist into his palm. "Bam. Payback!"

As much as this made sense, and although a part of him would pay top dollar to see something like that, Florida shook his head doubtfully. "I dunno, fellas. Sounds like it could get out of hand real easy."

Kent put his arms round their shoulders. "Well, lucky for you, Florida old chum, we're the most careful people you'll ever meet! I mean, how many people did we hurt getting in here? A big fat zero."

"That's definitely true," Florida laughed. "So are we takin' this file here, or what?"

Kent sighed regretfully. "Sadly, no. They'd notice something like that missing. But don't worry, I brought a shopping list." He pulled a rough sheath of paper out of his pocket and passed it to Florida. It read:

eighteen fusion coils
three gallons of nitroglycerine
sixteen C-12 packs
6-8 incendiary charges (not the 2548-stamped issue, the yield sucks shit)
a fuckload of thermite
antilon mine sensors (those things are wicked cool)
any alien stuff
whatever
extra whatever

Florida looked at Kent dubiously. "How do we plan to get all of this out? They'll see us for sure!"

"It's fine, I have an idea." Kent went back over to the door, an at the top of his lungs yelled, "COULD WE GET SOME HELP HERE PLEASE!"

"What the fuck are you doing?" Georgia hissed, grabbing Kent's arm. Already the sound of footsteps was getting louder, and Florida blanched. They were sunk!

But Kent wriggled free and tapped his nose. "Georgia, old pal, gimme your taser for a sec."

Baffled, Georgia acquiesced, and Kent went to stand beside the door. And not a moment too soon, 'cause right then and there a technician wearing a white jumpsuit walked in and aw them standing there. He gaped, and then reached down for his sidearm (armoury personnel being permitted to carry weapons). "What the hell are you people doing here?"

"This," Kent said cheerfully, and shoved the crackling taser in between the poor man's ribs. He yelped, and collapsed to the ground, twitching. A swift punch to the jaw and he was out cold. A small plastic card fell out of his pocket, and Kent snatched it up with a gleeful cry. "Here it is, gents! Our ticket out of here!"

Florida was a tad confused, but Georgia, who had spent more time around the armoury, nodded with approval. "Tag all of this stuff as special requisition, use this guy's card as authorisation. By the time he wakes up, it'll all be gone. Could probably get access to the ship cameras with that as well, wipe the feeds. Nice one, Kent."

"Aw, shucks." The young man shrugged bashfully, and then snapped his fingers. "So, who's going to help me get all this stuff to the requisition bay?"

They groaned.

"Perfection!" Georgia held up the iridescent purple orb, and caressed it lovingly. "Gentlemen, the plasma caster!"

Florida, who had nodded off slightly during the whole process, cocked his head. "What exactly does it do?" They were all crammed into his room, but thankfully Al wasn't in. Sooner or later they'd have to explain why the small space was being taken up by enough ordinance to outfit a company.

"It's basically a combination of the Covie plasma grenade and an incendiary charge. Doesn't stick, unfortunately, but it burns like the devil on Judgement Day! Burns hotter than thermite, should cut through steel plate, shields, Titanium-A, you name it. Also carries a minor disruptor field, which should knock out all electronics within…oh, twenty metres! Not for long though."

"All electronics?" Kent inquired, leaning against the wall. "That includes us, G-man. What about us?"

Georgia tilted his head thoughtfully and frowned. "Damn it. Well, until our armour gets a patch with improved resistance to EMP, I suggest…" He placed the plasma caster back with the others, about a dozen in all. "That you save these for long-range combat."

"Good idea, "Kent quipped, but with a smile on his face. He took in the sight of the cluttered room and sighed with satisfaction. "A treasure trove, and it's all thanks to you guys. Couldn't have done it without you!"

"Ah, heck, you're not so bad yourself, "Florida said cheerfully. "We did make a heck of a team back there!"

Now that cheeky light was coming back into Kent's eyes. "Yes, we did, didn't we? And a team needs a name. I propose a toast." He grabbed a water bottle lying on Alaska's bed, and raised it. "To the explosive and messy birth of Team Nice Dynamite!"

"Team Nice Dynamite?" Georgia said incredulously. "That seriously the best y'all can do?"

"Oh yeah? What would you have called it, Yosemite Sam?"

"How about Team Sex Bomb?" Georgia gesticulated with his hands, seeking approval. "Huh? Huh?" Seeing the looks on his teammate's faces, he scowled and grumbled. "Alright, alright, Team Nice Dynamite it is then. Nerds."

"To Team Nice Dynamite!" Florida cried, punching the air. He could feel the excitement brewing. This was what he had been looking for! A team within a team, a pair of best buds he could rely on no matter what.

What happened with Ark, will never happen with these fellas, he promised himself, right then and there.

Kent cracked his knuckles and sat down besides Georgia. "Now then, to business, comrades. Did you unpack the Antilon mine sensors? I was thinking we'd wire them with the fusion coils, save 'em for a rainy day! Or possible boarding action, heh."

"No, no, don't be absurd! Those things are fragile as all hell and expensive besides, we don't use 'em on something as cheap as fusion coils!"

"Ugh, fine. What about lacing the core with nitroglycerine? If you do it right it won't set anything off and it'll triple the yield of the explosion."

"Hmm, maybe, but we'd need a solid work space. Something with load-bearing superstructure in case things go south."

"We'll sort it out. How about those big-ass ugly spike grenades we found? I was thinking we could remove the fuse, find out a way to make 'em collapsible, reintegrate the mechanism, make 'em more viable for throwing! 'Cause right now it's like trying to throw a baseball bat!"

"Heh, I hear you man. But the problem there is…"

As the discussion grew more technical, Florida rolled his eyes, nestled in amongst the ammo crates on his bed and sighed with mock despair. Darn kids and their newfangled whatchamacallits. Back in the day we were lucky to have a few sticks of dynamite.