Throw Me to the Wolves and I'll Return Leading the Pack

Posted on Saturday May 4th, 2019 @ 19:44 hours by Canaan Serene & Mercy

Mission: Short Treks
Location: Main Engineering, Deck Four, S.S. Fawkes
2828 words - 5.7 OF Standard Post Measure

[ON]

The orb of disrupter energy pinged against the bulkhead, the rusted metal melting under the intense heat as a black ring charred from the impact. Several additional volleys followed, narrowly missing the fair-haired signaller as he rounded a corner. Canaan felt the heat from the disrupter blast as he covered the back of his head cowering, thankful he was far enough ahead to avoid getting singed, or worse. The air was thick with the pungent stink of ozone as he sprinted down the corridor, his pursuers lagging behind his running gait by several meters. The sound of their feet pounding against the deck echoed along the length of the hall, equally matched by the heavy beat of his heart hammering against either eardrum.

A band of raiders overwhelmed the Fawkes's crew after disabling the ship's defensive and propulsion systems. Although the flight deck was locked-down tight with the bridge crew safely behind emergency bulkheads, there were pockets of violence throughout the ship where the raiders met resistance. Canaan wasn't much of a fighter, although he'd learned to hold his own when needed. Clint, Ares, and M'erah saw to that. But he was also a strategist and schemer. While the vast majority of raiders were pillaging the cargo stores, mess lounge, private quarters, and anywhere else they could access, Canaan had pissed off a group of four or five that were trying to break into Langer's modest armory. His initial attempts interpreted as nothing more than a nuisance, it was only after knocking one of the trespassers in the back of the head with a self-sealing stem-bolt that they sought retribution for their injured comrade.

His attempt at distraction paid off by drawing blood, but now he needed to coax them to the main engineering where he hoped to make introductions with the Fawkes' Sirran engineer.

Another weapon bolt whizzed by Canaan's head as he ran pell mell into engineering, missing by mere inches, singing his hair before slamming into a bulkhead on the far side of him, leaving a scorch mark. "Fuxake!" Mercy growled, lowering a comically tiny disruptor - or so it looked in her hands - a thin trail of smoke still emanating from the muzzle. "I nearly blew your head off! Warn a girl next time, ok? Gave me a fucking heart attack." she scowled, casting a dirty look at Canaan. "I hear footsteps. How many are following you?" Her voice thick and warm, though a hint of fear in it. Mercy was knelt behind an overturned table, using it as cover. Her ears lay back, she seemed very agitated.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot, don't shoot!!" Canaan yelped in a high-pitched squeal as he ran past Mercy's emplacement, diving behind a nearby cargo container. The signaller peeked around the corner of the crate at Mercy. "That-was-close." He wheezed between breaths, chest heaving, before holding up a hand with a five-finger spread, indicating the number of pursuers. "Phaser?!" He beckoned just as the lead raider, specifically the one with a rather significant lump forming on the back of their oily bald head, hopped over the raised threshold of the door, the other cronies quick on his heels.

"Sorry, no spares!" Mercy called out. Truth be told, she shouldn't have this one either, not according to the ship's Master at Arms. Good thing he didn't know about it then, her own personal weapon she'd smuggled onboard. And a good thing too, turns out. The five men ran inside, though as their leader jumped the threshold, Mercy opened fire again. She really wasn't a very good shot, this much was obvious - as a shot intended to put the bald man down instead hit his shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain and - using his still working arm - raised a disruptor at the general area the shot had come from, melting a hold in Mercy's table. The other four raised their weapons too, ignoring Canaan for now, taking aim at the sturdy table Mercy was hiding behind.

"Mercy!!" Canaan called out in concern for his friends' well being as blast after blast of disrupter fire impacted the table the Sirran sought refuge behind. A toolkit sat abandoned a meter away, from which Canaan retrieved a large metal wrench. Aiming, the signaller hurled the tool at the group of intruders. The wrench twirled through the air, striking the temple of the nearest raider, who unintentionally fell into one of their counterparts. The force of the throw wasn't enough to knock the raider unconscious but drew the attention of a few raiders away from Mercy. The wrench hit the deck with a clatter while the raider tried to stand on unsteady feet. "ASSHOLE!" Canaan screamed angrily at the one he'd injured before his eyes widened and he promptly dropped down behind the crate as a barrage of disrupter blasts sizzled against the crate and bulkhead just behind.

Grateful for this momentary distraction, Mercy pointed her disruptor through one of the holes in her table and fired off a few quick, unaimed rounds, all of them missing. Still, this was enough for some of the raiders to duck and find some semblance of cover, as Mercy hid behind her heavy table. The metal surface suffering, holes burnt into it, it wouldn't stand up to much more fire. But she had a different plan. "Canaan!" she called out, throwing her disruptor in his general direction in a lofty arc. Not waiting for a reply, she nudged the heavy table forward, prying a massive hand underneath the lower edge, grabbed the upper edge, then with a roar of raw strength she hefted the table and stampeded forwards, straight at the group of raiders, almost five hundred kilos of rampaging Sirran bearing a heavy metal table barreling right at the now panicing fighters. Disruptor fire slammed into the table, ripping through it as they desperately tried to stop her assault - but unable to.

Much to his surprise, Canaan caught the disrupter with both hands, which looked more normal in his compared to Mercy's. In truth, he'd been frightened of the Sirran engineer when she first signed with the crew. That fear was wholly unfounded and purely judgemental based on the woman's physical appearance as a species he'd never encountered before except in the pages of books. Her daunting size was intimidating to say the least; Canaan, with his thin physique, was relatively tall compared to other humans, yet was dwarfed when next to Mercy. Add in the werewolf characteristics and her incredible strength, it came as little surprise that fear was often the most prevalent feeling upon introductions. Canaan learned quickly, however, that he looked just as strange to others and she did to him. Regardless, that same fear welled up within as he witnessed Mercy's unbridled power as she advanced her position.

As the raiders scattered, continuing their fire at the engineer, Canaan took aim at the closest raider. Closing one eye as Langer had taught him to do, Canaan lined up his shot for the man's upper torso. Depressing the trigger, the disrupter unloaded a ball of energy that caused the weapon to kickback. I stead of the chest, where intended, the disrupter beam plowed into the raiders' knee, essentially bisecting the thigh from calf as the kneecap exploded. A spray of blood and preceded a shower of bone shrapnel. The raider immediately dropped to the ground, screaming continously at his mutilated leg.

The kickback had caused Canaan to fall as well, slamming against the deck. Langer had warned some disrupters held more of a kick than others and to always brace with your back foot. Canaan saw the injury and grimaced. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!" He called out with sincerity. "Was aiming for your chest. Oh gosh, that's a lot of blood... GROSS! Sorry, I'll leave you alone now!" Canaan's empty stomach heaved as he gagged at the gore. Even so, he recovered quickly and took aim at the next unlucky bastard.

One raider down, courtesy of Canaan. Two others couldn't get out of the way of the raging Sirran and her table in time, and - with a sickening crunch from both - found themselves underneath nearly two hundred kilograms of holed and partially melted heavy metal workbench. As the large, towering caninoid stood up straight, Canaan would see the front of her torso pockmarked with scorch marks, where molten bits of the table and whatever disruptor bolt energy not entirely dissipated by the table had ripped in to her. She was panting and wheezing, staggering uncertainly on her feet, clutching her side, dark carmine red staining the torn remains of her outfit. And yet, two raiders were left, though scrambling for cover at the realization of what they were facing.

Predatory eyes darted around, keen triangular ears turning this way and that, picking up the two remaining raiders, and the hulking engineer turned to chase one, heavy footfalls echoing as she thundered after him - though a sharp CRACK of energy released followed by a yelp and the spray of red splashing on the ceiling and nearby equipment saw the black furred engineer staggering and then collapsing, a gaping wound of singed flesh where once her right pectoralis major had been. The scorched white of shattered bone protruding from the sizzling and smoking wound.

The raider that had shot her now emerged from his hiding place, eyes wide, weapon in shaking hands. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU??!!" he bellowed, cautiously approaching the laboriously breathing and painfully writhing Sirran.

"She's my friend!" Canaan bellowed, stepping from behind the crate, gripping the disruptor tightly with shaking hands. "Get away from her you monster!" He fired several shots as he cautiously moved toward Mercy. The discharges were chaotic enough to warn the raider off. Although the intruder pointed his weapon in their general direction, it was to cover their retreat. He and the only other raider left standing retrieved their disabled partner and left the engineering bay with all haste, leaving the two deceased raiders beneath the crushing weight of the table. When Canaan felt it safe, he ran to engineer and fell to her side. "Mercy!" He cried out, surveying woman's gruesome injuries.

Mercy was still alive, if only because she was a Sirran, and a female one at that. Sheer bulk and fatty tissues had saved her life, dissipating the disruptor bolt before it could reach vital organs. Where once a breast and underneath muscle tissue had been was now a bloody mess, with some of her ribs visible. She had her maw clenched, biting down on her teeth, trying to keep her mind clear in the biblical, mindnumbing, unholy amounts of pain tearing through her very soul. Fortunately the bleeding itself was a trickle, compared to the flood it could have been, as the disruptor bolt had scorched much of her tissue. It was a testament to her sheer force of will that she was still awake.

"Wall .. Med ... kit ... " she snarled between ragged breaths, each word nearly overwhelming her. "Pain ... killers ... triple ... dose ... P-please ... " she managed, through tears of maddening pain.

Canaan rushed to the wall mounted medkit and tore open its soft, plexy cover. The kits' contents were meager, evidence of its neglect in the preceding years. He removed the hypo, rushing back to Mercy's side while at the same time depressing the panic setting on his wrist-monitor. Canaan inserted the preloaded pain relieve and pressed it to Mercy's turgid neck, releasing a continuous run of the medication, the device hissing against the woman's skin. "Hold on, Mercy!!" Canaan encouraged as he pulled off the plaid button-up he wore, balling it before packing it into the largest of Mercy's horrendous wounds. The bleeding had slowed, yet was still significant. Canaan opened a comm channel, "Help! Mercy's been hurt real bad! Please send help!" Canaan pressed his favorite shirt against the would, the thick fabric soaking in her blood. "You're going to be okay." There was uncertainty in his voice as he unloaded a numbing agent around the wound, trying to make sure Mercy was an comfortable as possible, his bloody handprint coating the hypos handle.

She closed her eyes, the twitching and writing slowing as the hypo's contents were emptied into her large form. She slowly steadied her breath, even as Canaan's shirt became soaked with carmine red fluid. The numbing agent also taking effect, to onlookers it might seem like Mercy was succumbing to her wounds, instead of finding a sense of stability. Eyes opened again, more focused now that the majority of the pain had gone. "They'll ... be back." she quietly whispered, wincing as she did. "Get ... ready ... for them ... Fucking assholes shot me." she scowled, wincing as she moved, gritting her teeth as she tried to sit up.

"No, Mercy; stay down!" Canaan pleaded, pushing down on her thick hide. "You smooshed two of them like ants." He gestured to the nearby table, where a pool of blood stained the deck. Canaan had the wherewithal to know Mercy was right. Raiders could come pouring in any second to retrieve their dead and take revenge. The disruptor was sitting nearby, but Mercy was Canaan's focus. "What can I do?!" Canaan could hear weapons fire in the distance. He stood up and ran to the open door, peering out before trying to close the port in a futile attempt as the hinges were rusted in place.

"Hold ... the doorway ... " she winced, managing to sit up, using her left arm for support, her right being useless now. A deep rumbling growl that was felt as much as heard as she rose to her feet, shaky, unsteady, clutching Canaan's shirt to her chest. Desperately clinging to her last bit of self-control, of sheer willpower, only able to do so because of how drugged up she was. The moment they wore off would see a crash of biblical proportions, and she hoped and prayed to the Migrator that she would be safe and in a controlled environment with medical personnel nearby when that happened. For now though, she knew she had to get out of the way. Right in front of the doorway was the worst place she could be, in case they came back. She staggered slowly towards a corner where, with a growl and a snarl she sank down again, out of the way, concentrating on breathing, on remaining awake. "I'm - .... in no ... condition ... to fight ... "

"Duh!" Canaan chastized, retrieving the disruptor and standing to the side of the open door, peering out to make sure the coast was clear. "I forget how strong you are sometimes," Canaan noted softly, looking on Mercy with deep concern. "Those pricks had no idea who they were messing with." He chuckled, noting that was the exact reason he'd run to engineering because Mercy was there. Although now he was experiencing overwhelming pangs of guilt that Mercy had been hurt so severely for a poorly executed plan.

Outside in the hallway, shouting. Weapons fire. Swearing and cursing. One or two stray bolts even sailing by the open the door to engineering, slamming into a distant wall with sparks and scorching. Then though, silence - for a short while, until approaching footfalls made themselves known, halting outside engineering. "Hold your fire!" came a familiar voice, that of a junior crewmember. "We're coming in! We brought a medic!"

Canaan had the disruptor trained on the open door, ready to fire until those friendly words were spoken. "Oh thank goodness!" He came around the edge of the door and waved the team in. "Those two are a lost cause, " he gestured to the flattened raiders before pointing to the corner. "But she refused to die." Canaan joked with a bright smile and relieved expression. "She's lost a ton of blood." He continued to update the medic while the crew secured engineering. "Is the bridge still on lockdown?"

"No, the raiders left the ship with anything could carry. The skipper's on the warpath." The crewman replied. "You better get back to your station; she needs everybody at their posts for damage and inventory assessments."

Canaan nodded, looking to Mercy as if asking permission, the medic well into packing and wrapping the Sirran's gaping wounds with sterile supplies.

Mercy was easily found, just follow the trail of red on the floor. She wasn't in any state to do anything but let the medic fuss over her. To Canaan a nod, and a silent 'thank you', to let him know that she was going to be ok. It was going to take time, a lot of tissue regeneration and even more therapy, but she would be alright. She just closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing, letting the medic do as the medic did.

[OFF]

Canaan Serene
Signaller

&

Mercy
Engineer

"There are all these moments you think you won't survive, and then you do."