Banged up, but alive

Marie and Irina had just reached the small utility room they saw on their way to the auxiliary control room when their comms ran with the short tone of an incoming authorized contact.

"Sampson here," the captain's gruff voice sounded pained, "we made it. Took a few...ah...bumps," he grunted, "but we pulled through. Marie, Irina what's your status?"

"We're on our way captain!" Marie responded, relief flooding her, "we'll be there in a minute, tops."

"Don't rush on our account ladies, hah!" Samson's hearty chuckle gave way to another pained groan.

They found Nicholas first. The pilot was leaning against one of the bulkheads, bent over double and gasping for breath, his helmet laying on the ground next to him, its visor cracked in broken. The rest of his RIG didn't escape unscathed - Marie was sure that in a few places it had been sliced deep enough to reach the under suit. Nicholas' rifle was leaned up against the wall next to him, and several misshapen and mismatched leathery bodies lay scattered in the hallway, still leaking with yellow fluids. The pilot did not seem to notice them until they were right on top of them. He lurched up with a start, his eyes going wide for moment before he recognized the women.

"Marie, Irina," he gasped out, then doubled over again, a coughing fit interrupting his words. "I'm alright, I'm OK," he managed to stammer our, waving off Irina who moved to assist him, "one of those bastards hit me in the chest. The RIG held - but I'm not so sure about my ribs," he gave a weak grin, "really I'll be fine - better check on the captain. He's in the main room there." Nicholas jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

The room Nicholas pointed to looked to be a larger version of the control room they had found on the other side of the bridge, though the lighting here had held up better. The whole room was still bathed in the soothing white light of the illumination set in the high ceiling, though Marie found herself wishing that the light was a little dimmer. The scene in the room was one of grisly chaos - more than a dozen of the mutated creatures lay scattered about the room and over the consoles. Bullet holes riddled several of the computer stations, weak sparks and flashes emerging from the cracked displays.

Sampson was seated at one of the intact consoles, one of his legs curled under his seat while the other was stretched out in front of him. He was leaning back in the chair in a pose that looked relaxed at first glance, but the pained way in which he moved and the red glow of his RIG indicators betrayed his condition.

Seeing Marie and Irina approach, he gave a weak wave. "Hey there," his gruff voice barely shook, "good so see you in one piece. As you can see," he gestured with the arm he could move well, "we managed just fine."

"Stop talking, captain," Irina moved to his side, "I need to get a better look at you."

"What's there to look at," Samson growled, but offered no other protest as the medic began to examine him and take readings from the RIG.

"We got hit too," Marie reported while Irina worked, "not as bad as you and Nicholas, but still had a close call."

"Yeah, I figured," Samson nodded, wincing at the movement. He looked at Marie while Irina moved to examine his leg. "Listen, Marie - that's twice now that we've scraped by the skin of our teeth. I don't fancy our chances in the third one, banged up as we are. I don't have to tell you that we need a plan, and we need to get off this damned ship - gah!" He grunted in pain, and Irina stood up, an empty syringe in her hand.

"Gave you a quick booster shot, captain," she reported, stowing her scanner back at her RIG, "should help a bit. You're not on the way out yet, but you're cutting it close. You need to sit for a while, let the RIG and the medicine do the work"

"Tell me something I don't know, with all that medical schooling," the captain grinned at Irina, then looked back to Marie. "You can see where this is headed, right Marie? I can't ask you to do more than you've done, but..." Samson left the sentence hanging, looking uncharacteristically hesitant.

"I get it Captain," Marie nodded, "we need those access codes. You're hurt, Nicholas's RIG is busted, and Irina needs to look after you, while Nick gets his RIG back to order."

"Yeah, that's about the look of the thing," Samson nodded glumly, "Now listen, about Safin. I don't trust him one bit - no big surprise there - but according to these," the captain pointed at the console beside him, "he's right about who can remove the lock on the bridge. So, we need the access codes of either the Chief of Security, or the captain of this rig himself. An ID chip would work. Here, take this - I think you'll need it more than us."

Samson tossed a small datapad to Marie, who caught it, and with a press of a button summoned a 3D map of the ships interior. The main security station was not far from the bridge - several levels lower, and a short walk through what looked to be a utility or training deck. The captain's quarters and the rest of the officer's housing was in the opposite direction, and the path there would take Marie up one deck from the bridge and most of the way across the breadth of the ship. There looked to be a small tram line that ran along most of the route, though the odds of it still functioning in these conditions were low. Marie's attention however, drifted to another section of the ship. Samson noticed her gaze.

"Thinking of going after your sister? Well," he winced uncomfortably, adjusting his leg, "I'm in no position to try to stop you, not if you're going out there on your own on our account. Just...just be careful, Marie."

"Will do," Marie nodded back, stowing the datapad away, "I'll be back before you know it."

***
A few minutes later, Marie was standing back at the elevator bank, the control panel's lights twinkling invitingly in front of her. Reaching out, Marie tapped the indicator, and the obedient machinery immediately sprung into action, the elevator's actuators spinning into motion.

Marie is carrying:
Pulse Pistol
Surgical Blade

Marie's RIG Condition:
Fully functional