Week 15 Summary (September 16-22, 2002)

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"Vice?" Durst asked, her eyes widening a little. "No... what... do you mean?"

"Oh, you can't kid me, Dee," Gunther prodded. "You mean to tell me that you aren't interested in the man? I saw you in the infirmary, and overheard a bit too."

Dee Dee's eyes widened further. "What? I was... just... talking to... the guy. What exactly... did you... hear?"

"It wasn't what you said as much as how you were saying it," Gunther confessed. He restarted the treadmill program. This time though he was watching the release button on the harness strap. He didn't want to endure another repeat performance by Durst. "So," he continued, "what do you think... of the man? You knew he and I used to be best friends."

Dee Dee slowed her machine down so that a brisk walk kept pace with her treadmill. "So Vice said," she responded. "He kind of hinted... that you guys used to be good buds... but that something nasty happened between you. He didn't say what. He seems like a cool guy... but maybe one with a long memory." Looking over at her friend, she added, "I really am sorry about the harness thing, Gunther. I know you've... kind of been getting it from all sides lately. I shouldn't have... jumped to conclusions."

"Aw, that's fine," Gunther dismissed, adjusting his treadmill to match the brisk pace of Dee Dee's. "I haven't been taking it all too seriously, just playing the part." He smiled his generally disarming grin.

"Uh... so..." Durst began innocently, "what exactly happened between you guys, anyway?"

Gunther raised his eyebrows. "You mean, you haven't figured it out?" He looked down at the treadmill controls, his countenance taking on a bit more of a sullen expression as if a painful memory started to surface. "It was a woman," he finally replied. He turned his gaze to look Dee Dee straight in the eye. "Her name was Gwen, Gwyneth Tully."

"Oh," Durst answered sympathetically. "And you've never really gotten over it, neither of you? That's a bummer, considering you were such good friends. Gwen must have been quiet a woman."

Gunther chuckled defensively. "Oh, I got over it... our friendship, I mean... at least, at the beginning. Vice, though, couldn't. He couldn't get over any of the whole mess." Gunther paused. "And truthfully, I never quite got over Gwen."

"Ah," Dee Dee said with a wry look on her face. "Love of your life sort of thing, huh? And she got away. That sucks." Her expression lightened a little. "Hey, maybe that's why... why you... uh... have had a lot of girlfriends. No one stacks up to Gwen, huh?"

Gunther just looked at Dee Dee, not sure whether he felt comfortable telling his secrets in a crowded gym or even with her. No, he thought to himself. "I wish it had been that simple, but that wasn't the way it happened."

"Look out," Durst suddenly warned, "hot babe at two o'clock." Sure enough someone had entered the gym -- someone attractive. It was the slender young steward with nice legs that McGregor had busted Gunther for ogling. Tanza Kerokovic, the recruit's name was, and Gunther saw that her exercise leggings showed off her legs magnificently.

Gunther's eyes widened when he caught a look of Kerokovic's fine figure. "Oh baby, Gunther whispered to himself as his heart leapt. Tanza looked hotter than in the hangar, her tight outfit showing every luscious curve. He started to smile that devilish smile he did whenever he was hatching a scheme, but then he looked away, the smile leaving his face. "Damnit," he said aloud. He stopped the treadmill and unfastening his harness. He looked Durst in the eye again. "I haven't told anyone that before." He grabbed his towel that was velcroed to the handrail. "I gotta go."

Dee Dee watched, speechless, as Gunther made his way across the gym. A slight sadness touched her features; there had been genuine pain in Everett's eyes when he spoke of Gwen, and though the pain must have been years old, it was obviously still acute. Continuing to walk on her treadmill, the fiery young lancer pilot quickly became lost in her thoughts.

Private Arianna Cyan floated cautiously out of Lana Epsilon's quarters, taking care to make sure that the corridor outside was empty. She couldn't even describe what Lana had done to her hair, so she hoped she could make it back to her quarters before someone saw her in her current state, and asked her to explain.

"Blue streaks," she mumbled. "Yeah, real clever, Lana. I doubt anyone else would have thought of that for someone named Cyan. Real clever."

She tried to push some of her hair out of her face, but was unsuccessful, her short strands apparently held in place by something Lana had that would be useful in sealing hull breaches.

She growled softly to herself as she pushed herself towards her quarters. Coming around a corner, Cyan almost bumped into another woman, who looked more than a little startled by the helmsman's hair.

"Whoa," the well-built crewmember called, her eyes on Cyan's head as she backed off to a comfortable distance. "Sorry about that. Sort of wasn't looking where I was going."

"No harm done."

"Hey," the woman said brightly upon seeing Cyan's name on her chest, "that's an unusual name... are you any relationship to Ashley Cyan, the concert violinist?"

"Tesla," Cyan replied, immediately following the woman's question with one of her own. "That's an unusual name. Are you any relationship to Nikola Tesla, the mad scientist from earth history?"

The woman was sure to be able to tell that Cyan wasn't joking by the angry expression on her face.

"As a matter of fact, I am," Corporal Katlyn Tesla answered hotly. Despite being put-off, Tesla was finding it hard to keep her eyes off of Cyan's spastic hairdo. "I presume you're not related to the violinist, then, and you get very tired of people asking if you are."

"Does it matter?" Cyan snapped back, pushing against the wall to move slowly down the hall towards her quarters.

Telsa looked hard at the young girl, then at the corporal stripes on her own sleeve. "Nice attitude there, Private. Save it for someone who deserves it." Turning to go, she stopped and looked back at Cyan just before the girl left. "And you never answered me. Are you related to her or not, Private Cyan?"

"Yes, she's my sister," Cyan replied. "Why do you care... sir?"

"Because I've seen her perform twice," Tesla said, her eyes softening ever-so-slightly, "and she's magnificent. You must be very proud."

"I'm proud of the work that the JAF does," Cyan replied, less venom in her voice than before. "I'm proud of my skills as a pilot and what those abilities will allow me to do for my fellow Jovians. Music is nice, but it's not service."

A bit of understanding dawned in Tesla's eyes, as she well understood sibling rivalry. "I'm proud of being in the JAF, too, Private. Carry on," she said with a slight smile before turning to go, her notions of getting an autograph from the famous violinist dashed.

"Can you detect anything on the other side?" asked Harry.

Ellis shook her armored head. "Walls are too thick for thermals, sir. Laser listening is too badly distorted by the -- wait. I just saw something on the laser acoustics. Looks like there is some activity -- right on the other side of the airlock, sir."

La Rue moved into the airlock with Brinks' armor gun at the ready. "Come on!" she shouted. "Noah's fucking dying -- let's get through and waste these fuckers so we can help him."

"Don't be too hasty, La Rue," warned Harry. "There could be more civilians like the unfortunate Mr. Tompkins wandering around. Okay, Ellis and La Rue up front, I'll follow with Brinks, Ng and the lieutenant at the back."

Harry stepped into the airlock carrying Brinks' unconscious form and waited for Ng and McGregor to follow. "Cycle the lock, Ellis" he ordered. "Remember, it may not be hostiles on the other side, so check your targets first."

When the entire team was in, it was a very tight squeeze. Ellis worked the airlock controls and in short order the room began filling with an oxygen-rich atmosphere. The young marine kept the door opposite the one they entered in down as, long seconds later, the green lights came on to indicate that the pressure had normalized.

La Rue had her weapon aimed straight at the door. "Do we charge through," she asked, "or try to treat Brinks here?"

"No point waiting for whatever's on the other side to come to us. I at least want to move to somewhere with a clear line of sight on anyone approaching us," said Harry, shifting Brinks into a better position to get him through the door. "Let's move."

When the team had taken up positions, Ellis began the sequence that would unlock and open the door. "Here goes," she said as the heavy portal shuddered and began to roll out of the way.

Ellis, now up on the ceiling, had the best view of the passageway on the other side of the airlock as it was slowly revealed. "Nobody home," she commented as La Rue came to the same conclusion and moved into the hallway. Stretching out into the gloom, the poorly-lit tunnel went perhaps twenty meters before intersecting a major corridor like the one the squad had fought the Stalkers in. Above La Rue's head was a hatch similar to the one on the other side of the airlock -- it led up to the next deck.

"Hold up," Ellis said as the rest of the squad exited the airlock. Looking at her scopes, she added, "I've got something affixed to the deck in that intersection. Looks to be about 40cm by 30cm by 30cm. Could be explosives."

"Right, check it out," ordered Harry as he maneuvered Brinks a little way down the corridor where he could treat him without getting in anyone's way.

"Ng, can you give me a hand here?" he asked as he activated the emergency release on Brinks' suit and pulled away the chest plate.

McGregor stepped forward. "I've got it," she said. "I'm not good for much else at the moment, and Ng can stand guard."

"Sounds good to me," replied Harry, handing her the trauma kit from the thigh pouch on his suit. Kneeling down he opened the armored covers on the arms of his suit, allowing him to use his hands to check the extent of Brinks' injuries.

Ng nodded and covered them while Ellis and La Rue moved cautiously down the hallway until the smaller woman gave a signal to halt. "I think that's XDX, sir," she reported, her sensors all focused on the package fixed to the deck in the middle of the intersection. "Enough to completely destroy the intersection and a good five meters of each of the corridors."

Harry didn't look up from where he was working on Brinks. The man's breathing was shallow; he'd lost a lot of blood. "Well, let's try and avoid that if we can. Ellis, Ng, any ideas on the trigger?"

Ng maneuvered around slightly to get a better look at the package Ellis suspected to contain explosives. Zooming in, he examined the object for a moment before answering. "Nothing external. Might be timed, might be remote," he offered. "Might even be inert."

"Yeah, right," La Rue said sarcastically.

"I don't see anything either, sir," Ellis answered. "But I'm definitely getting a chemsniff of XDX."

"Why not just detonate it from a distance?" La Rue queried.

"Just a second," said Harry as he removed the remaining pieces of Brinks' dead exo-suit and then rolled him onto his wounded side to stop his undamaged lung filling with blood from the wound in the other. "Right. Ng, what's above and below the intersection on the other floors? Any power or life support conduits go through there?"

Ng zoomed in on the sled's schematics in his HUD. "Yes sir. Right above our heads there's a main conduit. Looks like air and water, along with power."

"Sounds like it might be remotely detonated if they want to cripple the sled then. Do you think you could disarm it? If it's too dangerous forget about it."

McGregor and Mandrake could see that Brinks, who was unconscious and now on his side, indeed had holes in both his chest and back. Blood ran freely from both wounds, and his breathing was labored.

Harry began tearing syntheskin bandages from their sterile wrappers and applying them to the wounds if Brinks' chest. "Lieutenant, can you get the plasma, his blood pressure is dangerously low," he called out over his shoulder.

"Yeah, got it right here," McGregor said, unpacking a canister of synthetic plasma. Checking the I.V. needle's integrity, she commented, "This is going to sting a little bit, Noah." She stuck the needle in his forearm and checked the unconscious man's vital signs. They weren't great.

Ng moved past Ellis and La Rue, closing in on the XDX. Just a few meters from the intersection where the package sat, he stopped. "Sergeant, I don't think there's enough here to cripple the sled. Even if it takes out the life support lines, I think there's plenty of redundant systems to reroute the water and air. Sir, I'm thinking this is a present for us, and if I set foot in that intersection, that bomb's going to go off." Ng turned back towards the rest of his squad as Mandrake and McGregor desperately worked to stabilize Brinks.

"Couple of options, I think. I can probably get a ballistic blanket over that thing before it blows -- that'll direct the blast down into the deck, though. Very messy, and a chance of fire if we rupture any of the lines. If I can get up next to it, I can probably disarm the thing in about 15 seconds or so by freezing the reactants. Maybe if we had a distraction or some covering smoke or something..."

"If you think you can do it, do it. Ellis can use the grenade launcher to set up a smoke screen if it will help. Otherwise we'll find another way around. We can use that hatch to go up a level then drop down again somewhere else," replied Harry.

Ng glanced at Brinks before answering. "Let's give it a shot -- we might not have time to go around."

Ellis readied her weapon and moved down the corridor, amazingly light on her armored feet. La Rue moved to the ceiling and went prone, ready to cover with her armor gun.

Ng shouldered his assault rifle and readied his demo kit. Creeping towards the intersection, he gave Ellis a hand signal when he was in place.

"Three, two, one," Ellis counted down, then fired a smoke grenade into the corridor directly across from the team. A second later, she'd fired another down to the right, then sidestepped across the passageway and launched one up the left branch. Right after the three explosions sounded and billowing smoke began to fill the three corridors, Ng hustled over to the package. As Ellis switched her rifle back to 10mm mode and swept the area with her sensors, smoke washed over the team's demolitions expert.

Dead silence followed for a long few seconds as the smoke began to drift down into the squad's corridor, and Ellis and La Rue shifted around, trying to get a better look at what was happening with their thermal imaging.

Nearly twenty seconds later, Mandrake and McGregor saw Ng emerge from the cloud, holding a package in his hands. "Got it," the marine radioed. "Piece of cake."

"No activity on the scan," Ellis reported.

"Nice work, Ng," McGregor said calmly as she swapped another canister of plasma in for the one that had just gone empty. "Mandrake, I think this is about as far as you and I can go with Brinks. He's still bleeding internally and needs surgery. If we can get a line to the Fierce, we could maybe have Dr. Zelios or Gilmour give us some remote instruction."

"Right," Harry nodded. "Okay squad, we're going to get Brinks out of this corridor and into the supply room to the east. Lieutenant, if you could, contact the Fierce and see if they can help with the medical situation. Once we have Brinks safely out of the way we head straight for the command center and neutralize any resistance. Once we're in control there we locate Jackal squad and get them to our location ASAP. Sergeant Tucker has some advanced emergency medical training and can do more for Brinks than we can."

Carefully picking up Brinks, Harry gestured for the squad to move out.

"I'm on it," McGregor replied. Patching open a secure communications channel to the Fierce was no easy task, but she hoped for the best. "Fierce, this is McGregor. We've got a medical emergency. Patch me through to the medical lab please."

Senior Lieutenant Messier answered almost immediately, his voice distorted but recognizable. "McGregor, hold on while we put you through."

Ellis, Ng and La Rue covered McGregor and Mandrake as they moved Brinks, and the squad made it to the supply room by the time a woman's voice came on the line.

"Lieutenant, this is Dr. Gilmour. I've been told you've got an emergency. What can I do to help?"

"Hi, Doctor," McGregor replied, carefully maneuvering Brinks to the floor. "We've got a man down here, bad. Couple of high velocity rounds ripped through his exo-suit and his chest. One lung punctured. Internal bleeding. Pulse erratic. Blood pressure dropping, though not as badly as before. I've got a couple tanks of synthetic plasma in him." She slipped out one of her mini cameras -- normally used for spy work -- and aimed it at Brinks' chest. "Here are the entry wounds." She rotated around to his back. "And exit. We need some quick surgery here and what you have is me -- I'm your hands. I've got first aid training, a strong will, not too great a bedside manner, and hands that are accustomed to working with small gadgets." While talking, she had carefully removed her suit's gloves and arms panels, exposing her bare arms to the ship's atmosphere. "Ready?"

Vice studied the expression on Gildings face for a moment. He had heard about her from the other pilots and had wanted to find out if what they had said about her was true. For someone with a reputation for remaining cold and aloof, the idea of her being a coward had really set her off. So that's what you lose your 'Cool' over, he thought as he palmed the cards back into the deck. "My apologies. I didn't mean to cast a shadow on your intentions or to imply that you were a coward," Vice started. "I was curious about your battle experience."

Gilding blinked a few times and her demeanor calmed visibly. "Oh. I've skirmished with pirates on several occasions, and I was at Elysee two years ago. I wasn't close to the action, unfortunately. That Ryu was my first real taste of exo vs. exo combat."

"Let me make amends for my unintended slight to your honor," Vice added with a smile. He turned to Doctor Gilmour with a flourish. "Doctor. A flagon of your finest non-alcoholic, low-carb, sterilized, good-for-you-yet-flavorful drink for Ms. Gilding. Put it on my tab."

Gilmour looked up from the datachart she'd been working on. "Hey... how come I have to help you make up for something stupid you said?" Despite her mild protest, the doctor crossed the medlab to a refrigeration unit and found a squeeze bottle of fruit juice. "Here you go," she said to Gilding, "care of Lieutenant Valkurie." Looking at Vice, Gilmour added, "You owe me."

"Think of this as fulfilling your Hippocratic oath and saving me from further harm," Vice winked. "But if you insist on payment then I will gladly give you an autograph. It will be worth millions once I become a trideo star."

Gilmour merrily rolled her eyes as Gilding opened and drank from the juice. "So what "Hawks and Doves" are you talking about, Lieutenant?"

Vice shuffled his deck of cards. "I was just philosophizing. There are Hawks who desire battle and Doves who will actively avoid it, pursuing other means. And there is a duplicity involved with it. I've heard students rally against CEGA and a perceived injustice yet they are unwilling to go to the front lines to deliver their message in person. I much prefer actions over words. You mentioned that you've skirmished with Pirates?"

Before Gilding could answer, Lieutenant Everett Gunther appeared and intruded on the conversation, his gaze fixed casually on Vice. "So, how is our star-studded hawk... feeling a bit like the wounded dove?"

"Well, well, well," Vice said coolly. "Look who drifted in. Did you come to bring that debriefing that I asked for? Gilding and I were just talking about the Ryu and it would be nice to see what the brass came up with."

"Unfortunately, no," Gunther confessed. He moved away from the wall that he had been leaning against, moving forward. Gunther clearly looked agitated. "I haven't seen the official report myself. Of course, facing off with those Ryus myself, I don't know what the report would tell me that I didn't already know." Gunther glanced at Gilding reclining on her bed. "And how are you healing up, lieutenant?"

Gilding's voice was even as she answered, "I'm recovering well enough."

"And I'd appreciate in the future it you wouldn't just barge in here," Dr. Gilmour chided Gunther. "I'm sure your fellow pilots here appreciate the company, but there are frequently times in here when we can't have the crew just wandering in." Adjusting her stylish eyeglasses, Gilmour held Gunther's eyes for a few seconds. "Okay, Lieutenant?"

Not blinking, Gunther replied, "Sure, I can do that." He pointed his thumb back to the door. "I figured with the waiting room being empty and the quiet around here, it wasn't a problem."

"You might want to consider putting a tracking tag on him Doc," Vice said as he looked over at Gunther. He grinned broadly as he thought back to an incident during their academy days. "How many times did we... you walk in on Stella Chang under the pretense of it being so quiet that you thought that there was no one there? That the ventilation fan drowned out the sound of the shower? I remember her being pretty mad at us over that."

Gunther couldn't help but grow a cheerful smile on his face, imagining back on Stella's pleasing, water-soaked figure forever captured in his mind's eye. He chuckled. "You and I both know that was completely under pretense, Vice," Gunther chuckled again.

"A pretense that struck several times?" Vice replied. He rubbed the side of his face, remembering where a hand had made contact years before. "I think that she slapped me far more than she did you. And I was the innocent one."

"Oh ho, you just never learned to duck as well as I," Gunther poked in jest.

"I'll have to warn the women in the showers about your shenanigans," Dr. Gilmour smiled. "It sounds like you two are trouble when you get together."

"Don't worry," Gilding said from her bed, where she calmly surveyed the situation, "they don't appear to be the best of friends anymore. I doubt you'll find them coordinating panty raids together."

Continuing to chuckle lightly, Gunther looked over to respond to Gilding's comments, but soon his mood sobered as her words sunk in. "No," he confessed, looking back at Vice. "That is something I doubt you girls will have to worry about."

Gilding was about to reply when Dr. Gilmour suddenly stood up and held her hand to her headset. Holding her other hand aloft, she quieted the trio. "Yes, sir," she said, setting off for adjoining office, "put her on, sir."

End Week 15 Summary (September 16-22, 2002)

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ALL SYSTEMS GO is set in Dream Pod 9's Jovian Chronicles universe. Jovian Chronicles, the Jovian Chronicles logo and Silhouette are trademarks of Dream Pod 9, Inc. Exo-armor, Jovian Confederation, CEGA, Silhouette and all other names, logos and specific game terms are (c)1993, 2002; all Jovian Chronicles art and designs are Copyright (c)1994-2002 Dream Pod 9, Inc. No challenge to these copyrights and trademarks is intended.

Except where noted, all original content is copyright 2002 John Guilfoyle, Alistair Gillies, Chris Schaller, Robb Neumann, Dennis Kirkpatrick and Bryan Lee. Page last updated on September 30th, 2002.