“[…]just as water retains no constant shape, so in warfare there are no constant conditions.” - Sun Tzu
The crackle of static woke Ray up. At first he didn’t really make much of it, assuming it was a simple glitch with his radio, or interference from all the equipment surrounding him. Neither of those were unusual occurrences in the Marines living quarters.
He just turned in his bed, before discerning a voice coming through the static and garble (or was it through his sleepy, addled mind?).
'Ray?' - Than's voice crept into his head, a sweet, silky and yet strangely coarse voice he could recognize anywhere in the universe.
'Aye aye Ma'am.' - the weary marine replied.
'Were you sleeping?'
'Yes Ma'am. I posted Ian's fire team on SMA duty and decided to give a break to the rest of guys.' – he answered, his voice somewhat slurred.
'Alright. I need you to do something for me. Not Ian, not Bern: you.'
Ray crawled out of the bunk and put on his BDU, followed by a quick, but thorough check of his personal handgun. He then tucked it in his pocket before walking out his room, slowly but purposefully.
When he felt the world whirl around him, he understood he was on the brink of exhaustion: everyone was, to be honest. The whole placing was falling apart around them, collapsing under a siege of determined invading forces, which meant everyone was overworked and every post was understaffed. He couldn’t help musing the current situation was like being inside a Quaffe can being slowly but surely crushed. They weren’t on the frontline, but it was approaching at an alarming rate and that was enough to keep everyone on their guard.
The corridors were empty at that late hour, so he didn't even bother trying to be discreet and careful. He just headed straight to the express elevator he took to the top level of the tower, where his intended target was. He breathed deeply as he stepped out of the elevator and looked around, taking in the cramped corridors, riddled by pipes and cables and illuminated by red floodlights: if there was such a thing as Hell it would probably look like this. Still, Ray kept walking to the management quarters with grim determination. He pressed the doorbell and waited.
Moira opened the door, while drying her dripping hair with a towel, and smiled when she saw the burly marine.
‘Hey, what’s up?’ – she asked.
‘Moira, could you please accompany me?’
‘What’s the matter Ray?’
‘Nothing does wrong, just get your kit bag and come with me, please.’
Moira closed the door and put on her clothes, trying to understand what was happening, why Ray was here and what the hurry was. Instinctively, she grabbed her own snub nosed pistol, loaded it and tucked it on the small of her back, in such a way she could pull it fast, if it became necessary. She had heard many horror stories about traitors in corps and alliances. Moira did not intend to become the casualty of one such coup and even though she knew Ray for quite some time, she trusted no one.
She walked two steps ahead of the marine. Her eyes leaped around, out of a sheer sense of fear building deep inside her. Clearly it was unfounded, she kept telling herself. This was nothing and no one was going to hurt her. But all that thinking did no good when they turned into a dead end leading to an airlock, where she could read an ominous “pre-opening check: completed” status message on the screen.
‘What is this about Ray?’ – she asked, pulling the pistol out in single flowing motion, a hint of fear blossoming in her voice.
‘Whoa, hold on lady…’ – he replied – ‘just following orders.’
He kept his hand tight around the pistol in his pocket.
‘Yeah, hold on Moira’ – Than said through comms – ‘Hold on and get your ass in here. We are leaving this place and you are coming along with me, in…’
‘If you say first class, I will punch you in the face when I see you… with spiked brass knuckles this time.’
