Trish slumped into the sanctuary of the open lift, lightly pulling Angel in with her. They were almost home free it seemed. The door sealed with a hiss behind them, and began the quick ascent. Looking over Angel, she could see the exhaustion therein. There was a pang of guilt, Trish didn't know the limits of a Psyche when she asked, no, commanded her to use them. Now, it seemed that the woman was mostly useless, and therefore vulnerable. If they ran into any more trouble, it really could end badly.  

Trish took this time to look at her injured hand, noting the blood that was dripping off it now. It was a fairly deep and jagged cut, but she could still move and use it, albeit with a fair bit of pain. She ripped a sleeve off her shirt and quickly wrapped it up, until she could get it patched up properly. As she watched the numbers tick off, she readied her buzz baton, and made a mental note that she had three stun grenades left. The door hissed open, and Trish looked over at Angel, not saying anything, before stepping into the hall.

Then the alarms resounded. The real alarms. 

This meant time, which was already limited, was now fleeting, and if they weren't quick, they'd be left behind. At the end of the hall, she saw Amir drop a guard and begin pounding on the hatch. Looking over her shoulder at Angel, [color=fff200][i][b]"Let's get outta here."[/b][/i][/color]

She stuck close with Angel, not going to leave the drained woman to her own devices, not knowing when more guards may show up. Her ears were straining to listen past the sirens, trying to hear the hiss of a lift door. The hatch needed to open soon, or they would all end up in Dead Lock. Saying nothing, she simply looked to the captain for direction.