Chapter 33: Delving Deeper
Maine took a deep breath, suppressing the chill that always accompanied missions involving corpo secrets, and focused his entire attention on the holographic map before him. The complex structure of the subterranean facility felt like a cold, metal beast slumbering beneath their feet, every shadow seeming to conceal an unknown threat.
"Alright, chooms, gear check, keep the comms clear. Let's move," Maine's low voice echoed in their secure channel. He took point, heading towards the southeast maintenance vent Joric had indicated. His heavy tactical boots echoed starkly on the derelict concrete.
Dorio followed, her heavy weapon held ready, its muzzle subconsciously sweeping their surroundings. Falco adjusted his sensors, the data-stream reflecting on his focused face.
"Ambient radiation levels nominal. No wide-area bio-signs detected... but the interference is strong down here. Near-field dampening is highly effective."
Pilar checked his sidearm, his usual chatter masking his nerves. "Scrap, this place gives me the creeps. Like crawling into the steel guts of some old monster."
Rebecca racked the slide on her shotgun with a sharp clack. "Then shut your mouth before you attract its digestive fluids."
Sasha brought up the rear in silence, her hooded gaze sharply scanning every detail of their surroundings, missing nothing.
The two rugged, cold-looking Combat Servitors moved silently at the back of the formation, their heavy stubbers and grenade launchers gleaming dully in the dim light, their heavy tread a distinct counterpoint to the crew's lighter steps.
The vent hatch had already been opened by Joric's servo-skull, revealing a rusted ladder descending into darkness. A cold draft flowed up, carrying the smell of stale air, old oil, ozone, and some unidentifiable chemical residue – the unique chill of the deep places.
"Skull, advance and scan environment. Full spectrum," Maine ordered.
The replica servo-skull, its oculars glowing with blue scanner light, drifted silently down the shaft like a ghost, transmitting real-time video and data back to everyone's HUD.
Below was a spacious junction, seemingly part of the old ventilation network. It was choked with discarded ducting, unidentifiable machinery casings, thick dust, and cobwebs that stretched between rusted metal structures.
++[Preliminary Scan: No immediate thermal signatures. No motive activity detected. Atmospheric Composition: Nitrogen/Oxygen nominal. Trace volatile organic compounds and inert coolant residue detected. Recommend maintaining environmental seals.]++ The skull's report appeared on their internal comms.
Confirming no immediate biological threats, Maine signaled the descent. The ladder groaned under their weight, the sound unnervingly loud in the silence. Their boots landed softly on the dust-covered metal floor. The air was stagnant and cold, the only sounds the faint whir of the servo-skull, their own suppressed breathing, and the almost imperceptible vibration of distant, functioning machinery.
"According to the schematics, left turn ahead should be one of the access corridors to the main research sector," Falco murmured, checking the map on his datapad while adjusting his handheld scanner. "Interference is getting stronger. Feels like some kind of old, but still active, shielding field."
The team advanced cautiously in tactical formation, the two Combat Servitors flanking front and rear, their sensor arrays constantly rotating. Pilar tried jacking into a wall-mounted data-port but shook his head. "Dead. Physical damage. Looks like something... ripped it out." He pointed to deep gouges in the metal beside the port.
The corridor widened. Faded, peeling signs began to appear: 'Research Sector B-7', 'Restricted Access', radiation hazard symbols. They passed several rooms that looked like labs or offices, their doors mostly open or broken. Most were empty, save for overturned furniture, shattered glassware, and scattered paper fragments, evidence of a hasty evacuation. Some terminals were dark; others had holes melted through their screens.
"Looks like it was looted," Dorio commented, gesturing with her weapon at a pried-open storage locker.
"Or purged internally," Maine said grimly, his eyes scanning every shadow.
Just as they passed a junction marked 'Server Maintenance Access,' it happened.
Several seemingly inert armor plates on the wall suddenly slid open, revealing honeycomb-like firing ports behind them! Heavy barrels extended! Without warning, a cold, lethal protocol activated.
"Cover! Auto-turrets!" Maine roared, diving behind a thick coolant pipe.
THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP—!
The deafening roar of heavy-caliber autocannons erupted! A dense storm of kinetic slugs shredded the air where they had just been, pulverizing the floor and equipment, sending shrapnel ricocheting wildly through the confined space!
Dorio wasn't fast enough. A ricochet slammed into her shoulder pauldron with a shriek of scraping metal. She grunted, rolling behind cover.
"Dammit!" Rebecca cursed, popping up from behind a large machine to return fire, only to be driven back down by another lethal hail of rounds that chewed chunks out of her cover.
"Servitors! Suppress!" Maine yelled into the comms, his voice nearly drowned out by the gunfire.
The rear Combat Servitor reacted instantly. It took several direct hits to its front armor, sparks flying from the deep impacts, but didn't even slow down. Its shoulder-mounted grenade launcher swiveled, and with a muffled thump, launched a high-explosive grenade in a short arc, directly into the still-firing turret nest.
BOOM!
The detonation ripped the emplacement apart, sending twisted metal and armor fragments flying. The gunfire ceased abruptly, plunging the corridor back into dimness filled with the acrid smell of explosives.
"Threat neutralized," the Combat Servitor reported in its cold, synthetic voice, as if it had just completed a minor diagnostic.
"Good work," Maine breathed, signaling Dorio. "You good?"
"Grazed. Armor held," Dorio flexed her shoulder. "Scrap, that's one noisy welcome mat."
"Stay sharp. This place definitely doesn't want visitors," Maine checked his own ammo count. "Keep moving."