Sarah watched on the monitors as the clean up crew checked again for gas around the number 4 lock seal. She couldn't believe it. First the Capain and Trang, then the poor Janitor, and now three security team members killed by poisonous gas. She had narrowly escaped that fate herself. If the oversized Carbone hadn't insisted upon leading the team into the suspect ship, she would have been the first to sniff the gas and instead of the burly chief, she would be the one now resting forever on that cargo pallet outside the station.
She allowed herself a grin as she remember watching Carbone walk out of the poison cloud, carrying two of his team. He simply had realized what was happening and decided not to breath for a few minutes. The discipline amazed her at first, but then she realized she should have expected that kind of quick thinking from the amazing man. Unbelievable in anyone else, quite understandable when you knew the six foot, ten inch, 290 pound Marine.
It wasn't the nuclear attack the TERRCON status report had intimated at, but who gave a shit. The fact was they had been attacked, not once, but three times. All in the space of a week. With two attacks within hours of each other, the martial law order now seemed a forgone conclusion. TWO Days ago it would have been unthinkable. And they were nowhere near getting a clue on the identity of the attacker. For all they knew the terrorist was still on station.