Clusterfrag

With an uneasy look on his face, Doc squawks the comm channel a couple times.

< Dammit, Tyros and Sinjin! Get your asses out of bed, and meet us in the Armory! >

Doc's mind is a thousand kilometers away, running scenarios. All of them bad. "We have to keep moving," he says much in the way that he might say "we should order takeout."

The first of the Arachnae drones arrives, and he sends the little metal horror scuttling up the stairs ahead of them.

The disturbingly calm voice of the security AI rings out in collective comm-links.

"Sinjin is outside of the mess hall, engaged in hand-to-hand combat with unknown intruder. Tyros is in the barracks."