Countdown! A Joan Jettstarr Adventure.
An Ironage.media prompt - The Acropolis.
BLAM, BLAM, BLAM.
Laser fire had pinned Joan down, and the only cover she could improvise was that of a clunky, out-of-date servbot, which she used as a shield as she slowly made her way to the access terminal of the fortified Acropolis.
What was on the other side of those doors, she had no clue, but the droid guards were now on full alert, and a group of the killer bots showed no remorse and asked no questions as to Joan’s presence in their most guarded and secure sector.
Joan returned fire; with calculated blasts she held the guards at bay in the chokepoint at the door. If they got inside, she was done for. As desperate as her situation was, she was calm, hacking the servbots neural infrastructure, she cross wired the commands of the access terminal with the wires she had ripped out of the bot’s innards.
In the precious seconds she was distracted with the terminal, the guards forced their way through the door, with laser fire raining down in all directions.
But Quintus’ instruction on cyborg and android anatomy has served her well, the terminal accepted Joan’s forged commands, the doors opening revealing a maze of stairs and corridors on the other side.
Joan didn’t have time to think, and promptly sped through the door, with her assailants not far behind.
As she traversed the labyrinthine innards of the Robo-cult acropolis, Joan was overcome with a feeling of déjà vu, some sense in her, some invisible will, guided her through the impossible doorways and constant security access terminals.
Behind her, the guards swarmed in her wake, following Joan’s trail like breadcrumbs. If she wasted any time on second guessing where the uncanny senses guiding her came from, she would be toast.
Closer to the heart of the fortress she ventured, and in her mind, a poem of numbers and sequences started repeating themselves over and over, which frustrated Joan, as she was unable to put her finger on the origin of the tune which seemed familiar and nostalgic.
With the threat of the guards still imminent, Joan came to a colossal gate which she couldn’t open. The déjà vu had disappeared and she was left abandoned with death on her tail. The gate was ancient and made from stone. Its precise craftsmanship ensured that no foreign means could pry the twin giant pillars that blocked the way.
Fear dripped from her pores and she was at a loss. She searched the gate doors for any sign of an input module or command interface, but the gates cold, bare bulk loomed over her in denial.
Pacing, Joan could hear the racket the droid guards made as the approached, their heavy footfalls a din and echo in the enclosed corridors. In her mind the poem repeated itself endlessly. It almost exhausted Joan but she couldn’t help but try to give voice to the tune. At first she mouthed it under her breath, but at the dead end of the colossal gates, she resigned herself to her fate and collapsed against the immovable monolith.
Quiet.
Everything was dead silent. Joan guessed that her pursuers had finally reached her and were plotting the best course of action for their final attack.
Then in defiance of the silence, Joan began to whistle like a bird. She had heard their calls in the holo-projection sensory room at the academy, and mocking her assailants, she whistled their tune. But as she sat there, the tune of the poem sequence grew louder in her mind, so she whistled that.
In that moment, the ancient colossal gates began to rumble and slowly parted. Joan leapt to her feet and rejoiced. Behind her the guards started their stack and thrust themselves around the corner, blasting at the slightest sign of life or movement.
Joan squeezed herself through the small opening of the gates which moved at a crawl.
Forcing herself inside, the guard’s laser fire struck Joan in the shoulder, but relief and adrenaline pushed Joan onward. She found herself in a silo of sorts, with a proton powered rocket under retractable roofs, she knew she had reached her objective.
The proton rocket system was a prototype, able to transport great quantities of mass long distances. It is with this technology, the Robo-cult had developed mini stars which they would fire as weapons at their enemies. The infant stars would ignite and grow, aging in mere seconds until it collapsed on itself and became a black hole, obliterating everything in its vicinity.
Such technology the Galactic Alliance feared, and had tasked Joan to steal and retrieve, and bring back if she could for dissemination.
As the colossal gate slowly moved, Joan had to move fast. The déjà vu returned, and she prepped the Proton rocket launch sequence with uncanny accuracy she translated the poem which had infected her mind, into trajectory and coordinates.
The guards recklessly blasted through the opening in the colossal gate as Joan finished and initiated the sequence live.
With the countdown starting, Joan fired her blaster at the guards to stall for time.
There was no way out for Joan. The silo of the Proton rocket was one of many she guessed and the only way out of the fortress was through the roof.
Not thinking twice, she strapped herself to the rocket, firing her blaster at the guards as the countdown reached its limit.
Rumbling, and causing a great racket, the proton rocket launched through the roof as Joan accessed the cockpit and sped her to freedom.