[i]“The head boffin and the AI are ‘gone’? What is that supposed to mean?”[/i] she wondered and rushed to help the other officers and marines hold back the mob. Was there another attack somewhere else? Was there an accident at the dig site or wherever she was? And what could have happened to an AI? Did someone sabotage the security system, causing damage to it in the process, be it intentional or not? Or did he mean that he just didn’t know where they were at the time? If so, were they simply out of touch, or did something happen to them? Given what happened at the Scythian less than ten minutes ago, she could have been targeted by a terrorist group, if there was one and this wasn’t just a one-off thing. But what common, albeit disgruntled refugee would take up a rifle and attack the military? And where did he get the rifle in the first place? The Doctor could have been killed or captured. But for what reason? Perhaps whoever did it thought the scientists were getting priority treatment over the refugees and got angry? That could be, but what about the AI? Miranda was reluctant to ask the director, it looked like he didn’t have a lot of time and she didn’t want to waste it.

Her train of thoughts was interrupted when a hand, grasping an aluminium tube, emerged from the crowd and hit her in the side. “Let us in!”, a voice she assumed belonged to the hand yelled. Although the blow was directed at one of the rigid parts of the suit, it was still painful. Miranda turned her head to see how far away from the ship she stood and if the loading party and crew were inside. “Hurry!” she barked over her shoulder and turned back to the mob, trying to hold the line and talk some sense into the closest people. She opened the line with the director again.

“Well, if it helps, we are holding the line-” another blow, this time a fist to her stomach. “Arg, you little arsebastard. We are holding the line and it looks like most of the people we want on the Scythian are already inside. Once that’s done, we’ll...” she paused and spoke more quietly. No need to inform the horde of their desperate tactics. “We’ll fall back to the ship. BEWARE, the Scythian is going to take off in about five minutes, I don’t know what’s their reason for it but it might calm the crowd. That, or it will get them royally pissed off.”

Now came the tough decision. She and the security forces were responsible for these people. Should they retreat onto the ship, or stay on the ground. It would certainly help the retreat, but what would be the consequences? She didn’t think the likelihood of them making it out in one piece was high. They’d likely be trampled or beaten. She couldn’t ask this of her officers, and staying behind alone would be suicide. She already dodged execution once. Enough times for one life. She leaned closer to the person to her right so they could hear her more clearly. “Once everyone is inside, we make a break for the loading ramp, then we hold our ground. Or ship, in this case. Send it to the next guy over.” She then turned around and repeated the same thing to the person on her left.