Chapter 17: Pembrook

Several hours earlier...

Pembrook slaps Chief Lowe on the back and grins. "Last run of the night Nigel. Captain says we've got incoming in about two hours, so we need to be back at the Resolute in one. You really don't want to be stuck in that cluster fuck when it comes down." Turning to gather his gloves and cinching the harness a little tighter, he grunts. "Mother fucking tight ass torture contraptions. I swear I'm going to be a eunuch before we're finished!"

"Michael can you please be less." The Chief's hands waffle in the air as he searches for the right word.

"Obscene? Gross? Disgusting? Uncouth?" Pembrook helpfully supplies as he chuckles. "No promises there Nigel. Let's get these damn medical supplies to the ship before my balls shrivel."

"Fucking degenerate." Chief Lowe mutters under his breath as he cinches his own harness, grunting in pain as the straps tighten in the crotch area.

"Okay people, listen up and listen up good!" Pembrook shouts. "We have time for one more load and then we're packing it up, I need your asses in seats ready to go in forty five minutes. Get packing!"

Bodies turn to rush away, scurrying around the cavern like industrious ants. Squaring his shoulders Pembrook turns to Chief Lowe. "Okay Nigel, spot me. I'm going to head up now and make sure everything's as tight as a nuns asshole up there." Smirking at Chief's eye roll, he turns. Fingers deftly working the rope into the carabiner at his waist. "See you up top Chief. And hey, no looking at my ass this time pervert!" he says, chortling as Chief Lowe snorts and chokes.

"Lord above boy I'd have to be a desperate man indeed to stare at that ass!"

"Suuuure! I've seen you looking." Patting his rear, Pembrook looks over his shoulder. "Reckon I'll have to ask for a scoring later." He says, wagging his eyebrows and grinning.

"Oh for fucks sake! You're a fucking degenerate pervert Michael. Now get that ugly ass of yours up the wall before I decide to stick one of the spare cams up it!" He growls.

"Oooh Chief I never knew you swung that way." He says, ducking as Nigel's hand swings for his head. Hands deftly finding his first hand hold as he begins the ascent. The Chief, still grumbling, anchors himself; the safety line securely held in his hands. Eyes centred on Pembrook's body climbing like a monkey up the cliff face, he finds his eyes drifting towards the man's tight ass curiously. Laughing derisively, he shakes his head and looks away, allowing the line in his hands to unknowingly go just a little slack.

It was in that moment that the slightest ground tremble loosened the spring loaded cams holding Pembrook secure against the wall. With his body already tired from the lifting of heavy boxes, the palm of his hands still sweaty with perspiration, Pembrook loses his grip. He falls, seconds pass as he tenses for the stopping impact of the cam, arms automatically crossing around his head for the impact against the rock wall.

The seconds seem to slow into minutes as his body sails through the air, to the cold, hard ground below him. The safety cams fail, one by one as within seconds he plummets, hitting the ground full force. What little breath is left in Pembrook's body is forcefully expelled during the impact. He lays there, struggling to breath, barely conscious. Sounds, an annoying buzzing, growing ever louder fills him as he fights to stay conscious. With sudden clarity he realizes he's still alive. His head, slowly clearing registers the buzzing noise as groaning, his hands, laying against the strangely warm floor twitch as he tries to move. breath coming in sharp gasps.

Hands gently grasp him, lifting him up slowly and setting him to the side of where he had originally laid. Small whimpers of pain escape from his mouth. Pembrook's head slumps to his left as others swarm around him. Something, he thinks, something bad just happened.

"Hold on Sarge." A distant voice says close to him. "We need to treat the Chief first. Listen to my voice Sarge. You have to hold on for now. The Chief's hurt bad." The strange, friendly voice moves away, his shouts becoming more indistinct as he drifts in and out of consciousness.

"We're in a fucking medical cavern. Get me the fucking supplies NOW!" That same strange, friendly voice shouts. Pembrook's eyes open slowly, trying to make sense of the scurrying blobs of colour around him. "I need the nanites NOW dammit or we're going to lose him!"

Blobs of colour continue working on another blob lying beside him, their movements frantic and edged with panic. The pain swells, his chest burns and Pembrook surrenders to the cool bliss of unconsciousness.