Bit more of Bullet

Bit more of ‘Bullet’. This whole section is really clunky. I’m hoping it’s because I’m writing this in small blocks at a time as opposed to a major failing in pace and structure. Shut up back there…

Theibert, sat in a squeaky chair in his little elevated porta-cabin, rocked back and forth, looked out from his smoky window down onto the small courtyard. The weak orange lights outside highlighted the lazily drifting dust, rising and falling in their own eddies and currents.
Squeak squeak squeak went the chair.
Beyond the courtyard (as it were; basically a space area of flat rock that the semi-circle of cabins and portable homes encircled) lay a thick, obscure darkness, like a heavy black veil drawn by a particularly depressive renaissance artist. Somewhere, down there, the bugs lived in the cavern below. The lights kept away the creatures and protected the camp from any threats, although there had been the occasional excursion by one of the insects that had over time resulted in an opportunistic capture, followed by experimentation, succeeded by electronic capping and finally, remote control. They were like small radio controlled buggies, except with many feet, mandibles and disconcerting clucking noises. While Thiebert never concerned himself over the zombification of the indigenous species in this dank, grim hole, certain, select members of the camp railed heavily against the decision. This was despite the fact her brother invented, then implemented the device and then she decides to complain about it.
The majority of the recruits will blindly follow – as they have done so far without question – but Jane’s dissent has been growing louder as the visible faith she has in her own beliefs distinguish and one thing Thiebert knew with any certainty is that she will absolutely, positively not approve. Not to worry. Dabe knows what to do when the time is right. A cold fellow, that.
Speak for yourself.
Squeak squeak squeak. He glanced up at the clock. Time to make the call. Thiebert grabbed the receiver and dialled the number.

*
“Shit.”
“As disarming as that is you can’t help but be impressed by the strength and reliability of technology on this planet.”
Al approached the package gingerly [1] and minced around it.
“Fuck. What do we do? As soon as he twigs he’ll blow the package and then kill Mav and Alex.
“Then, “ Steve replied with meaning, “We shall ramp up the bullshite. Pass me the radio.”
Al fished out the radio from the gloopy, gore drenched high grade explosives and handed it across to Steve with a grimace. “Keep him talking, “ Al said. “I’ll ditch the explosives. Somehow.”
“We’re in space. You can’t just open a window and chuck it out. “
Steve paused. Caught Al’s gaze. “Can you?…”

[1] use your imagination