Chapter Text
The bridge was a large room, not as large as the storage area, but what it lacked there, it made up for in the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that gazed out into space. A Japanese man stood in the center, by a dashboard of buttons and keyboards. He was clad in thick, heavy armor and his back was turned to them, staring out the window. The Earth was below them, charred, with few spatterings of green sporadically placed on her surface. That, however, was not the man’s focus, his eyes lingered elsewhere, staring at an object shifting in the darkness of space.
“Toshiro!” Sally exclaimed before hurrying over to the man. He turned, looking over the group, not speaking. His eyes met Elliot’s and he nodded, turning back around and pointing out the window to the saucer that drifted towards them, edging closer as seconds passed. The sun reflected on its chrome surface, casting a blinding light back– thankfully, the windshield blocked most of its harsh rays. The man spoke Japanese– not that the outlaws would have any idea of what Japanese sounded like– so most of it was lost on the others present. Elliot scowled and marched up to the massive control panel, gun at his side.
“You’d think by now they’d learn their lesson…” Elliot mused, his voice a rough murmur. Arthur didn't pay too much mind to what the other men were doing, rather, he was more interested in looking out the window. Well, interested probably wasn’t the best word for it. It enraptured him, stealing away the attention he should have put toward what very well could have been very important. It was a far better view here than it was in the hallways… A twisted feeling sat in the bottom of his gut, looking down. He’d never imagined looking down at his home like that. It was different, far more bleak than he’d imagined. Debris circled around the world: satellites, rocks, and metal. Joe followed his gaze.
“Tch.” Joe grunted, cocking his head. “Looks worse than those pre-war pictures said.”
“Before the war, the world wasn’t on fire.” Hall retorted, brows pinched. “Look at that place…” He sighed.
“Always expected more green.” John mused, Arthur nodding in agreement. Elliot held his hand up, quietly urging them all to be quiet. Sally stood at his side, positioned right between him and Toshiro. Elliot started working at the control panel, frowning. After a moment of fiddling with the technology, an image sprung up into space. A hologram, constructed of blue light, obscured the windows, taking up the middle of the room. Elliot motioned to Toshiro and Sally, and the two hurried along the bridge, to other dashboards in the room. Now, they were all face-to-face with a Zetan, though it was only the hologram. It was just the creature’s head, its large, soulless eyes loomed over them all. The creature’s large upper lip curled cruelly, and it spat something out in its strange dialect, brows dipping low over the black orbs in its skull. Elliot was silent, features screwed together as he attempted to focus, trying to decipher what the alien was saying.
“I think…” Elliot started before turning to the others. “They’re going to board reinforcements! Get ready to fight–” He whipped back around, looking toward Toshiro and Sally. “Toshiro, shoot that thing. Shoot it until it leaves or blows up, I don’t really care. Sally, make sure the shields stay engaged.” He bit before running both hands through his hair, muttering to himself. This was the worst part of what they did. Their crew was far smaller than it had been the first time they’d taken their ship… Elliot had huge shoes to fill and, reasonably, would stress about it sometimes. After a couple seconds, Toshiro had the ship’s weapons armed and glanced back over his shoulder. Elliot gave him a thumbs-up and a nod, then the samurai opened fire on the approaching ship. Bright lasers cut through space, meeting the shields of the opposing ship. There was a small chirp from the computers, a notification. Elliot glanced at it, frowning as he tried to decipher the text. Zetans were attempting to board via the transporters. He cursed and denied it. However, what happened next pissed him off. He kicked the console’s support beam, expletives falling from his lips with ease. “They’ve overridden my control on the transporters.” He stated, voice surprisingly calm. “I need to man the computers, it’s up to you to keep those Zetans from getting to the bridge.” He gestured to the hall. “Get out there and hold the position.” He ordered. No one argued with that. If they raised the tensions anymore, things would get far hairier than they needed to be… Arthur led the march back out to the hall, his sleek, chrome rifle in hand. His boys stuck close, though they were far more confident now that they had their old guns back.
Charles had left the 10 mm tucked into his belt, now brandishing his shotgun. He was more comfortable with the shape of his old gun that he was that blocky thing he'd had to use before. Sean was very happy to have his guns back, even if he had a bit of a handicap now, he was itching to get use of them, laying lead into the bastards that did this shit to him in the first place. He hoped being behind the trigger would be easier than getting up close and personal with those things. There were more alerting sounds from the console and the sound of subdued booms could be heard– lasers against the ship’s shield. Elliot cursed, muttering something to himself, but no one spoke a word otherwise. A few tense moments passed before a bright light shone from a little nook in the wall, golden-white and billowing out like a flare’s glow. Charles raised his shotgun to his hip once the sound of Zetan language was heard. They were whiny little chirpy words that grated ceaselessly against Arthur’s ears. And he thought Sean ’s voice got annoying… As soon as that bloated gray thing’s head emerged from that hallway, Sean fired his cattleman, grinning triumphantly as his bullet burrowed into the Zetan’s head. The thing let out a horrifying death rattle as the force sent it toppling to the floor. Sean shot Arthur a snarky little grin.
“Ya’d think they’d take care a’ such a big target, eh?”
Arthur shrugged. “Especially if they’re so big you can actually hit ‘em.” He grunted, earning a laugh from Sean. Joe rapped the butt of his pipe pistol on the wall.
“Don’t let your guard down, boys.” He hissed before starting an advance down the hall. “Who knows how many there are. There’s gotta be more than one access point.” He declared, sticking close to the wall. “A couple of us should stay up here while the others go out.” He added with a shrug. “Don’t care who does what.”
“So the gunner has a serious side.” Camilla noted before following him, her assault rifle tight in her grasp.
“Hey, becoming swiss cheese isn’t my favorite hobby.” he retorted. The remaining folk glanced amongst themselves as Joe and Camilla wandered off. Hall sighed and rubbed his forehead.
“I’ll stay here with… Sean… if that’s right… Due to his injury it may be best for him to remain stationary. The rest of you stick with the others. If there are multiple access points, who knows how many are inside now.” Sean let out an offended scoff but didn’t complain. He pouted and crossed his arms like a damn child, earning a slap on the shoulder from Arthur before the older man headed off with the others. He didn’t leave with any snark, too tired to come up with anything. As they wandered into the hallways, Arthur found himself just sick of it. The light, the shape, the smell, everything was just too much for him. He didn’t want to be here much longer… Hopefully once this was over with, he could at least have some goddamn dirt beneath his boots. Not long into their wanderings, they heard Zetans speaking around the corner. They all froze in step before falling back, close to the wall. Charles was tense, somehow maintaining his cool despite his fury. John stood by the much larger man, offering him a pat on the arm. He didn’t get how Charles could remain so cool right now. John was already pissed off, if he were in Charles’ shoes, he’d probably have lost it on these sons of bitches. He inched forward slowly, waiting for the Zetans were in view, but Joe quickly bolted around the corner and opened fire. The aliens fired their laser-weapons, beams of light scattering around Joe as he ran serpentine to the other side of the hall, exhausting his chamber. He hadn’t taken any down, but they sure as hell got a good dose of lead in. He looked over at the others and nodded– not that the cowboys needed any invitation. Four people raining down bullets on the Zetans made rather quick work of them. The assault rifle landed rapid fire bullets into the gut of one of the bastards right up until he fell. However, the remaining Zetans didn’t go down without a fight.
The feelings of the lasers grazing across skin was one Arthur was not prepared for. A hole had been burned in his jacket in mere seconds, leaving a stinging burn on his arm. Arthur hissed, jerking back and glancing down at his arm. The exposed skin was very red, hair singed away. Arthur held his arm for a moment as his brain processed what just happened before he relaxed slightly and readjusted his grip on his revolver. It was very different from a bullet… but he really didn’t want to know how it’d felt, had it been more than a graze. Joe let out a sharp cry and his pistol clattered to the floor. Arthur shut his eyes, letting out a sigh. Well, that about answered that. There wasn’t any time to look, however. There were still Zetans to wipe out. Charles took two out with his shotgun, lips drawn back into a snarl. Arthur dipped back into the hall, shooting with great accuracy. John followed suit, though his accuracy wasn’t as exact as Arthur’s was. Regardless, the two took out a few of the Zetans. Once the Zetans were gone, Charles looked at the other outlaws– a quick assessment of their thankfully few injuries– before hurrying over to the fallen Gunner across the way. Joe was moving still, thankfully, but he was grasping his arm.
“You alright?” Charles asked in a low voice.
“Fuuuuck no.” Joe breathed, pulling his hand away from his arm and holding it up to Charles. There was a hole burned straight through Joe’s forearm, cauterized from the Zetan’s laser weaponry. Joe peered through the hole in his arm, his eye meeting Charles’ through it. Charles instinctively cringed. Well, at least it wasn’t bleeding– though it clearly didn’t hurt any less. Joe gave him a pained grin, his lip twitching.
“Can we do anything..?” Charles asked slowly, uncertainty hanging on his every word.
“Got a stimpak?” Joe questioned in turn, lowering his arm and holding it again. Charles shook his head, and glanced back over his shoulder. After all, how the hell would Charles have any clue what the medicine of this place was. Though, Camilla likely did.
“I’ll be back.” Charles stated flatly before rising to his feet and glancing around for the ghoul. She was standing in the hall now, glancing around with narrowed eyes. “Hey.” Charles called. “We got an injury over here.” He announced. Camilla turned, face softening.
“Do we? Shit.” She hummed, lowering her gun, approaching. “You take John and Arthur and push forward.” She directed as she passed Charles. The man could feel eyes on him, following his intuition to meet Arthur’s eyes. Arthur cocked his head to the side, raising a brow. Charles hummed and nodded before heading out into the hall. He waved for the other men to follow as he tread down the corridor. The further they walked, the more nerve wracking it was. It was just the three of them now, against whatever else those monsters decided to throw at them. It was eerily quiet.
“Any of you boys hurt?” Arthur asked, voice low as he finally broke the silence. Charles simply shook his head.
"Nope, and I'm sure as hell glad I ain't." John answered. He kept his voice down but, with a voice like that, it was always a little louder than intended.
"Mm. Suprisin, considerin' it's usually you that we're digging lead outta." Arthur teased, peering at John from the corner of his eye. John rolled his eyes.
"Oh, shut up." He grumbled. "I didn't get hit, alright?" He turned to look at Arthur properly, a bitter and annoyed look gracing his scarred face. His eyes softened, though, as his eyes landed on the reddened, scorched flesh visible through a burnt hole in Arthur's shirt. "Looks like you weren't so lucky." He noted. Arthur simply grunted in response. John turned his face back down the hall. A breath's silence spanned between them before John spoke again. "It hurt?"
"What d'ya think, Marston?" Arthur grumbled. Charles wasn't paying attention to their exchange, listening carefully for something else. He sped up slightly, making sure both of the other men saw his hand raise, urging them to stop. Arthur and John obliged, knowing better than to question Charles' skill. Charles raised his shotgun, heading towards the wall, flattening himself against it. Arthur and John followed suit on the other side. Sure enough, a door opened and Zetans came marching out. There weren't a ton; those teleporter things couldn't move a lot of them at once, it seemed. Only 8 where there, their gross little faces twitching with a familiar expression of anger, yet they hadn't noticed the cowboys yet. Arthur took a deep breath, focusing. His muscles twitched with anticipation before he jerked, moving out into the middle of the hall. With dead-eye accuracy, he shot six of the bastards. Five of them went down. John and Charles made quick work of the others.
"Glad to see we ain't rusty," John noted, "What with all them years on ice." He looked at the other men.
"Yeah, I'd say we're pretty lucky." He mused, voice low and soft. He patted Arthur on the shoulder. Before they could get moving again, the ship shook. It was a violent toss, like a ship being tossed by a wave, or perhaps more like another ship rammed into them, attempting to capsize them. John fell unceremoniously to the floor, his back thunking painfully against the metal. The bright lights flickered dangerously. Flashes of white and dim red back-up lights lit up the hall but remained on once the brief tremor had stopped. Arthur steadied himself, stumbling towards the wall and catching himself on his injured arm. He didn't react much more than a hitch in his breath and a twitch of his eye. The world around them creaked, settling around them. There was the sound of boots thumping on metal, though the disoriented men were unsure of where it came from. The boys just raised their weapons, prepared for whatever came their way. As the footsteps drew closer, they could finally gather which way it was coming from– behind them. John lowered his revolver with a sigh and rubbed his back.
“Christ.” He muttered to himself. The other men kept their weapons at the ready, but John easily just turned his back on the hall. Sure enough, it turned out to just be Camilla and Joe catching up.
“What did we miss?” Camilla called out, rifle in hand. Joe’s arm was bandaged, gun in hand once more.
“Can he shoot?” Charles asked, frowning.
“I can shoot fine, man.” Joe stated, spinning the gun on his finger. He winced, despite his best efforts to hide it. John snorted, having watched the display from over his shoulder.
“Yea, so long as you don’t try anything fancy, huh?” Joe gave John a harsh look but said nothing. John wandered a few paces, looking out the hallway windows. There was debris beginning to sprawl out into the weightless void of space– hunks of metal floating and scraping along. John hummed thoughtfully as he watched. Logically, that had to be from them or that other ship. Regardless of where that came from, his gut churned the more he watched. Floating out there… He supposed it’d be a lot like water. Probably worse considering how heavy that metal had to be. John averted his eyes before he thought too much. “Guess we keep movin’.” He grumbled before a resounding crack thundered through the ship, the vessel shaking and flickering again. The force was stronger this time, tossing the poor party to the floor like dolls. Before they could even rise up, there were Zetans coming down the hall. John cursed. “How many of these goddamn bastards are there?!” He shouted, twisting around awkwardly on the floor so he could open fire on the Zetans. Joe let out a frustrated groan, reaching for a pouch on his belt. He pulled out an oval object, quickly whipping it back with his good arm and chucking it. All the while, a tiny metal pin came clattering to the floor.
“GRENADE!” He announced before ducking, hiding his face away. In mere seconds, an explosion rang out in the hall, fire and bits of metal engulfing the Zetans. Those that didn’t die were quickly picked off by Camilla as she stood, as if the grenade hardly bothered her. However, that wasn’t the case. She whipped around.
“Hey, dumbass, maybe don’t do that in a confined-fucking space?” She hissed, before going to help the others to their feet, dazed slightly. “My ears are ringing.” She added in a frustrated grumble, before stalking down the hall, towards the carnage the grenade had left behind. Arthur crinkled his nose. Those things weren’t human, but it was never a pleasant sight to see anything blown to bits like that, person or animal. That, plus that god awful smell. Arthur followed Camilla, regardless. He didn’t get as far as he did in life (if he could even call it that), by being afraid of a little bloodshed. The hall led them back to the storage room, sure enough.
“Ain’t no way in from here. How you reckon they’re getting in?” Arthur asked, peering at Camilla.
“I guess you wouldn’t have an idea of how teleportation works. Makes sense.” She shrugged. “Can’t really explain it in a way you’d get but… let’s just say science magic.” She waved him off. “Like how you got on here. That’s how they got that deathclaw on here– I mean, you can’t make one of those things go through a door if you tried.”
“Ah.” Was all Arthur said. Like he knew how to respond to that… jargon. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking around the room. He didn’t know where to begin, and he could tell no one else did either. They just stood, watching and waiting for anything to happen when with a warbled electronic noise and a burst of light suddenly sprouted forth from the plate in the center of the room. Arthur cringed, stepping back and shielding his eyes. He felt a hand clasping his arm, and he could damn near hear John’s voice, just like the night this whole mess started. He sucked in a shuddering breath. The light quickly subsided, revealing more Zetans on board. Sure enough, John was holding Arthur’s arm, dark eyes studying him. With the way John’s brow was furrowed, any man would’ve assumed John was as furious as a bull, but Arthur knew better. He shrugged John off before opening fire down at the Zetans. He managed to get a few down before they got wise and turned to face the group. Before Arthur even had the opportunity to react, a burning laser grazed his cheek. He jerked away, cursing. John rose up, despite their lack of cover, and shot the other bastards, though his aim wasn't quite as deadly as Arthur's, only taking down one Zetan. Arthur managed to smirk, despite the situation. "We gotta work on that aim a lil more, Marston."
"At least I ain't got shot!" John bit back.
"A–" Arthur paused before chuckling. "An unusual occurrence, I must admit." He spoke and an exaggerated tone. John pushed Arthur's arm in response.
Camilla and Charles made quick work of the remaining Zetans while the brothers had their spat. She started down the stairs, stretching her arms out above her head. "Well, at least we know how they got here– and how we're getting home." She noted, heading down to the large teleporter and nudging a Zetan with her foot. A tense silence fell, no one quite sure what they were supposed to do. The minutes stretched onward with no changed until Elliot’s voice rang through the hall:
“Zetan threat neutralized. Return to the bridge.”