Marsh dove through the hot edges of the hole, he had just made, in the armoured doorway and rolled to the corner of the room. In this corner the wall met the large curve of the window and for a second a wave of vertigo threatened to knock him off his feet. A mental shake settled the sensation and he checked his surroundings.
A quick scan of the room revealed the friendly signature of Drickâ€™s suit and no other signs of life. Marsh took a quick glance outside the window again. There was a large amount of tracer fire erupting out of the front of the building, but he could not determine what they were firing towards. The tracer fire was actually the discharges of plasma as the discharges ripped through the air heat-deathing the atmosphere. The angle of fire was seemingly towards empty space. Whatever was firing was taking a lot of efforts to destroy nothing.
Marsh signalled that he was secure on the comms screen and waited for Drickâ€™s instruction. When it came it was surprising but he did as he was asked. Marsh had learned that Drick was always about ten steps ahead of him in working any situation out. It wasnâ€™t that he was slow or they were exceptional, well not that exceptional. It was the advantage of decades of experience of equipment, tactics and events coupled with a passionate zeal for the work.
Marsh followed orders and started to spray the room in a random pattern covering floor to ceiling with a slew of the paralysis darts. Marsh was forced to hit the auto-reloader which pulled another ten thousand shot magazine into the chamber twice before there was a sudden reaction that almost made him drop the weapon.
A figure fell from the ceiling.
The gun fell silent as Marsh almost leapt out of his own skin in surprise. A short message from Drick scrolled over his internal monitor. â€œThey came in and didnâ€™t go out, had to be a stealth suit. They will be out for too long, prepare the hypo while I prep them. We have to ensure the construct program is in place before they fully awaken.â€