John nodded as Deraen suggested taking his ship to help those outside.
"Sounds like a good idea. I might join you, or I might just travel up one of these anchors and take the fight to these pirates," he replied. He looked down at the datapad on his wrist to check the Alamo's sensors.
"Looks like our guys have already detached twelve of our anchors. Don't know about the Babylon unless I look out a window, though." The mercenary loaded a new clip of ammo into each of his weapons as he prepared for the next wave of enemies.
The elevator made a loud
ding as the doors opened, pouring pirates out of the overstuffed space.
Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. John counted each kill in his head as he made seven, controlled shots. The other seven that had been inside he left for his Andalite partner to take care of with his own firepower. He made yet another face of disappointment, though it was still hidden beneath his helmet, as he approached the bodies and kicked one to make sure it was truly dead.
"Elevator's too small, they can only come in small waves... How boring," he said to Deraen, his back still turned.
John turned to the numbered panel inside and began to form a plan. Crouching down, he began to push the dead pirates out of the elevator to lighten the weight, not at all bothered by their gruesome facial expressions or the gore. One finished, he stepped back inside the blood-soaked elevator and hovered his index finger over the button that would take him to the floors above.
"You coming, Andalite? It'll be much more fun than staying down here. Especially if I'm slaughtering them all from the source."Whether Deraen came or not, on the ride up, John would type a message to those in their fighter outside.
Detach all but one of the anchors attached to the Alamo. I've got a plan. Afterwards, he'd send another message, this one to Starfire command and with Raptor Squad's current coordinates.
May need support. If there are any nearby troops, please send quickly. As the elevator began to reach its destination, John unsheathed the machete on his back and unholstered the handgun on his right thigh.
"Let's do this."-=-=-
The
Pirate Captain sat on his chair as he watched his small army be slowly dispatched by the band of mercenaries.
"How can this be happening?" the cyborg yelled, his voice sounding more like a electrolarynx than a normal human voice.
"You just had to kill eight or nine mercenaries and a few glorified mailmen and I- I mean we- would have more credits than we'd know what to do with. All that Oppenheimium that could so easily be sold on the black market, but these bastards had to get in the way. Well I'll show them! Send that robot we picked up from the last transport ship to kill those sons of bitches on the ship carrying the ore."
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