NaNoWriMo 2017: Hellstar-4

HELLSTAR-4

EXT. CH-6-FAC-4 ROOF - NIGHT

Laughlin and Hampton crouch low behind some unidentifiable rooftop debris atop the factory node adjacent to CH-6-FAC-3 and at an angle to RES-2 where the Hungry mercenaries are making their way through. Both are wearing tactical black, though DETEC is in broad white letters across their shoulders. Neither has a gun in hand, though the pistols on their hips seem to be larger than one would expect for service size.

Hampton has a banged-about-looking SMG slung on his back, dangling like a messenger bag. Laughlin, adjustable binoc projector held high, scans the rooftops and walls.

SY HAMPTON

I hope to seven shades that this isn't what we think it is, Laughlin. That would be bad.

DEREK LAUGHLIN

And by that you mean "a lot of people will die," right?

SY HAMPTON

I mean a lot of people will be stuck doing a lot of paperwork, and by "a lot of people" I mean me. Nuclear warheads always take so much paper.

DEREK LAUGHLIN

You're kidding me, right? Please tell me you're kidding.

Laughlin lowers the glass and gives Hampton a hard look.

SY HAMPTON

I really hate paperwork, Derek. I really hate it.

Laughlin sighs and goes back to looking across the way.

DEREK LAUGHLIN

Import/Export patrol sucks.

SY HAMPTON

That's the truth.

The guys downstairs ready?

DEREK LAUGHLIN

Not as ready as those mercenaries, but they'll do their job when we give the call.

SY HAMPTON

Never expected GP to let us pick up some freelancers for this gig.

DEREK LAUGHLIN

Apparently the Mother doesn't care for the thought of rogue AI.

SY HAMPTON

Xenophobic authoritarian slaver state. I can't imagine.

DEREK LAUGHLIN

Yeah. Lovely people. Guess you can't run a stellar empire without breaking a few eggs.

SY HAMPTON

Moral: don't be an egg. Story of my life.

INT. CH-6-FAC-4 LOBBY - CONTINUOUS

Down the floors. Chunks of metal functioning without human intervention, only thin lights of redundant tell-tale LEDs glowing in the lights-out facility. Pipes hissing. Tubes pumping fluids. Twelve floors. Then they start getting emptier, only a few machines here and there. By the bottom floor, there's just an empty area with a few cameras and automated defense guns in case of break-in.

A SWAT team (or local variant) crouches or sprawls behind some makeshift black barriers. five men, body armor, pistols, shotguns, SMGs, though in much better shape than Hampton's. One has a huge chunk of metal with handles and a back-strap as well.

TEAM LEADER GABRIEL methodically checks the action on his SMG, then his shotgun. BREACHER NAREEN flicks a tiny flake of paint off of the business end of the huge solid slug she carries; the bulk of her shoulders and line of her sleeves suggests there is something more underneath her armor. OFFICERS DANE and MILLER watch through the front via little periscopes binocular attached to their helmets. OFFICER QUAKE lays on her back, kicking casually in time to some unheard music.

NAREEN

(glancing at Quake)

Even odds, guys, Quarenthape's got on her wireless nubs under her helmet or she got into the stash we recovered last week. Show of hands?

DANE

Nubs.

MILLER

Drugs.

NAREEN

I say nubs.

GABRIEL

(laughing)

Nubs. That shit was too weak-sauce to be Quake's style.

Quake lifts her head lazily to look at the rest of the team with one bloodshot eye.

QUAKE

Joke's on you fuckers. I hacked the headset comms to take a feed from my personal data feed. Nobody wins! Ha!

NAREEN

Ain't that the truth?

General snickering.

GABRIEL

How's it looking out front, team.

Miller adjusts his periscope slightly. The display brightens slightly, figures in stark shades of green contrast, ranges above and below.

MILLER

Looks like what we've seen the last thirty minutes. A few apes here and there close to the outer walls but we can't see anything closer than that.

Dane shifts the view in his peri to something much, much higher. The PoV circles around the building, showing a display similar to Miller's but with altitude and attitude markers.

DANE

Drone's the same. Nothing changing. "What's He Doing in There?" might be a good song for this, Quake.

QUAKE

(bored)

That'd make the sixth time this hour. Too much is bad for the brain.

GABRIEL

I don't like this at all. If this really is some kind of smuggling thing, they wouldn't stay here, would they? Product'd come in, get hustled away. You know, smuggled.

NAREEN

Something about this stinks like six month old fish, boss. I don't like it.

GABRIEL

Me either. But that's the job. Could be worse -- we could be walking the whorehouses in REC-8.

Quake sits up sharply.

QUAKE

Are you crazy? REC-8 whores are awesome!They'll do almost anything for twenty creds and a smile. Last week I had them reenacting the Battle of Slugroth with sex toys on a bed. It was a blast!

Everyone gives a pause to look at Quake.

She flops back down.

QUAKE

You guys have no imagination. Only cost me a hundo.

INT. CH-6-RES-2 HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS

PVTs Larder and Holmen are moving down a narrow hallway between what were clearly corporate apartments. The way itself only shows slight signs of decay. A few tiles look leaky in the ceiling, there's a little mold in a few corners.

VOLE

It's like people just all bailed out last month.

He follows the two riflemen and carefully opens an ajar door in their wake, barrel first then body.

The room inside looks like people just walked out and never came back. It's perfect. Things are neat.

VOLE

(raising a hand to key his mic)

Sarge, nothing's out of place. These people had warning. No food on the tables, beds made -- mostly. This wasn't a roust.

FOUNDER

(radio)

So it appears. Everything nice and polite. This is the kind of thing that gives me the willies.

VOLE

Me, too. Out.

They come out into a hallway joining which extends into a common room for residents. Three lines of approach and a couple doors, soft chairs and couches for cover, a beverage machine and a closet.

The soldiers eye the area with distrust. Larder and Holmen set up overwatch down the cross-halls. Vole opens the door which extends down beyond the room a crack and aims down that way.

VOLE

(mic)

Clear.

Founder, Ancil, and Allen come up from the far end of the hall that Vole's team has cleared. It's not paranoia to check corners and doors in an already "cleared" hall, but good sense is sometimes in short supply. Finally, the SAW team catches up, setting up a complementary crossfire.

FOUNDER

One more hop, guys, then we'll be clear. And then the real fun begins!

Allen glances up at one of the cameras which sit dead in the corner of the ceiling.

ALLEN

I've never been more glad that we cut the power to this place at the panel. It's creepy enough without worrying about someone's tri-D being left on.

ANCIL

That's ridiculous.

ALLEN

So you say. Just what we'd need now, a sudden cat yowl from nowhere and the full firepower of six mercs blasting down a hallway.

LARDER

Or a crying baby!

HOLMEN

Or a gunshot!

VOLE

Fuck you guys. Fuck you right in the fuck.

FOUNDER

Yeah, yeah. I want to get to the front in the next ten, hear me?

ALL

Yes sir!

Founder nods and gives Vole a short salute with a smile.

VOLE

On the hop, colonel.

VOLE

On the hop, sir!

C'mon you apes, you wanna live forever!

LARDER

Yes!

HOLMEN

Absolutely, sir.

Vole scowls and turns to look at them directly.

VOLE

Well, me, too. So let's do it by the book.

LARDER

By the book, sir.

HOLMEN

Ready to rock.

Vole checks the mag in his SMG and heads down the left hallway.

VOLE

AR team moving.

Larder and Holmen grin at one another and head out on his trail, clearing corners and doors as they go.

ANCIL

They're your squad, Sarge.

FOUNDER

Life is hard, Private. We get our giggles where we can.

ALLEN

They are giggle-factories, that bunch.

FOUNDER

Plenty more giggles to come. Keep sharp. You just never know what'll screw you next.

INT. CH-6-RES-2 LOBBY - CONTINUOUS

The SWAT troops keep careful watch over the front of the FAC across the street.

Cameras are scattered through the facility, just as in the RES arco. Tucked into ceiling corners. Looking down halls. Little balls of black plastic.

INT. CAMERA DISPLAY - CONTINUOUS

The camera over the SWAT lobby doesn't have an amazing picture, but it's more than serviceable. Desaturated colors, a little frame loss, but the troopers are clear. Their voices come through as through tiny speakers a mile away.

MILLER

It is fucking cold lying on this floor.

DANE

Lights-out facility. The machines dump heat. Heat rises. We're lying on the ground floor. Imagine how much worse it'd be without the armor padding.

MILLER

You are a sick, sick man.

The camera flick-shifts to Gabriel.

GABRIEL

Knock it off, you two. I'd guess it's less than ten minutes until the party starts.

Flick-shift wide again.

QUAKE

Glad I wore my garters. I love a good party.