Log:Array Consortium: The Museum Piece

The Museum Piece

Location: Death Star
Participants: Pash Danigo, Aola Ziveri, Razia, Mandl, Dosk, Tamrae, Adhar Gann

Having sold off the ailing Bandit's Castle to the entrepreneur, Bortas Binn, the time has come for the crew of the Consortium's flagship to move into their new home - but elsewhere in the galaxy, another of the Consortium's captains runs into trouble, and the newly-claimed Serious Business is christened in a bloody - and, considering her captain, fitting - way.

LOCATION: CoreStar Starport, Hangar P3, Nar Shaddaa - Former Headquarters of the Array Consortium

Moving Day.

Late last night the orders were given to leave the Bandit's Castle, unloading any and all supplies and systems that did not belong to the ship itself; nearly two hundred bleary-eyed crewbeings did their all to strip the ship down from everything that was Consortium-owned, packing it all together, only to be taken first by a small fleet of rented shuttles was taken away late in the morning to...the new ship, apparently, which is in orbit of the Smuggler's Moon. Ships have been taken up, fighters, and now only a few of you remain to watch over the transfer from the ground.

Meanwhile, literally /hundreds/ of new crewbeings have arrived in their street clothes and are being processed by staff before sent up as well - new crew, new faces, far too many to become intimately aware of. This has been going on for ten hours.

Then, landing in a spot that no longer has crew squared up in it, Voidhawk settles, all blue and gold malevolence; the Captain emerges from the death-yacht, looking tired, if stern, and rather intimidating (perhaps) in the new prosthesis that replaces his eyepatch - durasteel and blunt, the frame that wraps his eye and the temple over his ear is set with a dark grey lens in which a single mote of white light flares like a reversed pupil. He walks slowly as he comes out from under the ship and looks about, frowning. The frown makes him look even worse, of course.

Tamrae comes trotting down the ramp for the Voidhawk, looking a bit frazzled as she stretches, her upper arms behind her head, her lower behind the small of her back as she grunts at a faint pop, then sighs, looking around the mostly cleared cargo areas. "Let's see...um...I better check that there's no more supplies ready ta go up, but looks like we got just about everything..." she says to Adhar absently.

She raises a brow as Adhar starts looking over the ship. "Somethin' wrong?"

Mandl plots a course! Up, down, beside, along, beneath-- all the while: "Coming through. Excuse Mandl. On your six. Ma'am." Slither, squeeze, turn, duck, turn! The wily brain on... suspiciously-fit muscles slithers forward to the front of the crowd. "Adhar! Tamrae!" A quick salute.

"Wow, you have been busy" Dosk says, emerging from the crowd of new crew members, using his man arms to guide people out of his way, some more forcibly than others. A smile given to those present whom he knows.

"I'm tired," Adhar says to Tamrae, rubbing at his brow. "I've been up for twenty-three hours straight and with very little time for caff. I've gone through everyone's files, but it's still hard to retain the names and faces of over two thousand people." He rubs at his temple, at the metal implanted there. "Especially with a headache that has yet to go away." Yesssss, the skull implants, preciousssss. That little pinpoint of light swirls hither and yon, tracking Razia, Mandl, Tamrae. Mind of its own.

"Hallo, Mandl," he calls, "And you too, Captain. We're getting the last of the crew processed and up to the Serious Business. Shouldn't take long now. Then it's a week or two of tests and then the shakedown cruise." He bends over, touching his toes in a groaning stretch before straightening up again. "Razia! Come over and give me a report, please."

Razia looks up to a human who is a lumbering beast of a man. Her steel grey eyes just blink at him. What are they feeding humans now days?! She runs his credentials and does the normal security check of him to process him. Her gaze lifts up to look to Adhar who has emerged from the Voidhawk now. As she is called over towards Adhar, she hands the duties of processing over to the next security officer. She turns to report dutifully as was requested, "The armory has been cleaned out and sent up to the ship. It is secure and I have posted two guards within the armory until things have simmered down. The processing of the new crew is nearly complete."

"How have you been Adhar?" Dosk says to the obviously tired man. Nodding to Razia as she nears as well. "You guys moved all that stuff pretty fast, sorry I wasn't here with the Dream to help out."

"Very good," says Adhar, nodding crisply to Razia. "Well done. Once processed, I'll want you to go up with the rest of the crew and let the security personnel do the rest." That said, he gestures for Mandl and Dosk to come closer. "Lads," he says, "She's getting up to speed, but it's definitely a situation where we'll want to step lightly. The Hutts haven't trouble with us having the ship in their space, but they've specifically asked us to /keep/ it in space. So we'll be doing a lot of drills and such, just not anywhere near there."

Adhar nods to Dosk. "Nah, dont' worry about it," he says, "That's what crew are here to do. At this point we're just getting things together, getting bunk assignments, that sort of thing. In a few days we can likely start weapons testing in the Belt. On pirates."

Mandl nods assent. "Mandl will make 'stepping lightly' a priority in forthcoming briefings. Is certain. Smuggling lends itself to enthusiasm... overmuch. The cold, clinical 'let us not all die in a sarlaac's belly' approach. Restraint."

Razia nods to him. As Adhar goes into Captain mode, she simply steps back, folding her arms across her chest. Her gaze urns back to the line of crewmen still being processed by fellow security personnel. Despite being vigilent, it is obvious that the Rattataki is on the exhausted side. Her eyes hold that sleepy look and there is a hint of gray tinting under her eyes. Still, she does not complain and simply stands there.

"Alright, if you say so. Can still ferry some people up if needs be though." He offers, pulling out a cigarra and holding it still. "Cant wait to check it out though. I wanna see the bridge!" He exclaims, his top arms widening out with enthusiasm.

"Well," says Adhar, scanning the bay, "I figure we can go up. Razia, go ahead and sign yourself off-duty - I'll go and get the Messenger. You all just hang back a few minutes."

Razia watches as Adhar departs, then she looks to the others. "Well. Guess I am off duty then." She relaxes her stance and stretches out to rejuvenate herself. She then turns to find a place to sit, hefting herself up and onto the nearest crate.

Mandl leans against the 'Voidhawk,' checking commodities-prices on a pop-up wrist display. Perhaps it trades Bith-stocks. Meanwhile the lines are... managed, not wanting to seem negligent in Mandlduties.

As they've been waiting, Dosk managed to locate his flask and has taken a few sips, once Razia is off duty, he offers it to her. "Think you earned yourself a drink after processing all those people." His lower arm extended out with a grin as he plops the cigarra in his mouth and begins to chew on it. "Gonna be interesting for you all to see how everyone manages to get a long. Imagine there will be some bumping heads."

Razia glances down to the flask and reaches to take it. "Thanks." She mutters before lifting the flask to her lips to take a hearty swallow. The flask is offered back to him even as she swallows down the fiery burn of thebeverage. "Of course there will be. Then I get to bump their heads for real." A wicked, yet tired grin lifts at the corner of her dark-colored lips.

The bay is visited again, this time by the vast, three-winged form of an Imperial landing ship. It settles down on its landing gear, gushing waste gased from ports, and as its landing ramp opens from the bottom of its 'head' like a jaw, Adhar descends, waving. "All right," he calls, "Enough of this. Dosk, Mandl, you two take the ship up to the Business, and I'll take Razia in the Messenger. Anyone else left behind can take Voidhawk back up."

Mandl looks up? "Headbutting contest?" It nods. "Headbutting contest. Mandl will be rich." At Adhar's order, the compact scientist pivots for the named craft.

Razia glances to Adhar and hops down from the crate. She glances back to Dosk, "Thanks for that drink." She turns to head towards the named ship. In all honesty, she is looking forward to unpacking her own stuff and taking a hot shower.

Dosk nods "Meet you up there Captain" saying as he gestures to Mandle "Had to move my ship outside to get it refueled"

LOCATION: Strike Cruiser Serious Business, in near orbit of Nar Shaddaa

For some of you, this might be some inverted version of the ship you'd been to previously - but in a good way, since there're no crystals or mounts of fused-together corpses. Adhar descends the ramp of the Messenger with some other folk, and of course the bay is still swarming with shuttle traffic as the boarding craft from Nar Shaddaa deliver crew.

The pupil of his artificial eye swirls here and there as Adhar stands in the shadow of the Messenger, pursing his lips. There's a faint hint of awe in his own step, maybe a little trepidation, but he marches out into the bay proper all the same, nodding to crewbeings from the Castle who hail him, and to new crew who greet their captain on the way to their berths. Lot more blue coveralls than street clothes at this point, as opposed to elsewhere.

Razia descends the ramp of the Messenger to arrive upon the new, massive ship. Her gaze turns about to look at the new surroundings. Her thumbs hook into the loops on her pants. "Well. Shall we place a Home Sweet Home sign over there?" A smirk twists at her lips.

Soon after, the Twi'lek fighter ace arrives down the same ramp, her fingers hooked in the strap of her rifle while she walks into the space. "And I was just getting used to the Castle," she comments, her lekku giving a little twitch in their wraps. "But at least this one has its shields and weapons intact. Mostly."

"This one is actually entirely restored," says Adhar, looking about. "She was the proof-of-concept for a living museum that a fella I know wanted to set up - lots of Imperial and Republic ships, all floating around. You could visit them on special touring shuttles, meet actors dressed in uniforms of the time, all that mess. Pretty clever, actually, until of course the First Order showed up recently. Now he just wanted to get rid of her so she wouldn't draw attention to him. Sold off the Castle, then, and gave him the credits so he could open up a casino instead. Now she's ours."

Adhar grins. "Not bad for a museum piece, eh?"

Razia allows herself to smile. "Not bad at all." She replies to him. "It will be an interesting new adventure." The Rattataki woman turns her attention to the shuttles that are still disembarking with new crew. "So. Perhaps a drink or two is in order before we crash out from lack of sleep?"

"I'd be lying if I didn't say I wished she'd come with an X-Wing, but she's a good home. Will you be docking her back on the moon or leaving her up to shuttle?" The Twi'lek stretches her arms up now, arching her back a little before laughing. "It's nice to have the armor plating on our side."

"Ah...yeah, actually," says Adhar, nodding firmly. "I guess a drink would be nice." Adhar gives Aola a grin. "People still don't get that nobody's gonna pay a half million for an X-Wing," he says. "I got two people tryin' to sell 'em to me now. FreiTek just flooded the market with their new E-wing design, though. That's one over there." Adhar points at the fighter in question, wedge-like but very lethal. "You can get four of those for the price of two T-65s. And they're /state of the art./ Can't imagine what they're going to be like with our new suits."

Razia perks up a little, "New suits? Are we getting new uniforms?" She is interested in that now. She isn't a pilot, so the talk of ships is a bit above her, but what girl doesn't like to know what she is going to be wearing?

Mandl nods, adding: "Sentimentality, Captain. It is the ship that won several wars. No doubt manybeings crave the sitting-inside -- the smell of 'history.' To Mandl it would smell like... a wet Wookiee with a bowel obstruction. In an electronics-fire."

Razia gives Mandl a double take and crinkles her nose...

"AN E-WING?" Aola speaks, eyes wide and shoving past Adhar to look at the ship. "These things were still prototype stages for the longest time. I didn't think I'd ever see them in production." Her eyes are practically sparkling as her lekku give an excited twitch, the blue-skinned woman looking the ship over, practically running around the fighter. Someone gave the Twi'lek too much sugar. 

Mandl's words however have her frowning, poking her tongue out at the man. "They're dependable!" Mandl says, "... assuming 'salvage.' Obviously not 'new.'"

"You would think I would be more sentimental about ships, Mandl," Adhar muses, looking around the vessel. "Maybe I'll fall in love with this one." With a look at Aola, he laughs. "Go on, pilot, just don't try and claim her, all right? All pilots will be in the rotation."

That said, he looks to Razia and shrugs. "Well," he says, "This ship's got a full complement of Imperial uniforms, but I think that might be a shade too far, even dyed in our colors. We'll see what the crew wants. For now, though, coveralls."

Mandl shrugs. opining: "Bith do not make ships. Only the guts. Mandl drives a nondescript metal box, because it serves Mandl's needs. Mandl's people would probably vomit with rage at anything that was less-than-perfectly aerodynamic."

Razia crinkles her nose. "I guess I misunderstood your words. Though, being this level of tired, I am unsure how I am even still standing." She shrugs. "I am going to head off to explore the ship more. I will need to know it better if I am to keep her safe."

Mandl seems compelled to explain: "Bith smell, very keen! Anytime anyone, anywhere says the words: 'Do you smell that?' Indeed we do!"

"Yeah, well, let 'em puke," says Adhar. "Mind you, my Voidhawk, she doesn't exactly look like a brick, yeah? Get her in atmosphere, however, and all that agility goes out the window. Still gorgeous to look at, though."

He purses his lips, looking at Razia. The pursing turns into a smirk. "I dunno," he says, "We'd all look right sharp in those uniforms. These've not got the jodphurs, just the straight-legged trousers. I'm getting more and more tempted to suit up in the stuff as we speak."

And then there's Aola, who has come down the stairs to Life Day morning. "Look at 'er," he says. "Since we got her family back, she's a right proper lil' miss again, bless her."

"I'll buy her off you!" the Twi'lek speaks before frowning, tilting her head to the side. "I uh...might need a raise or an advance..." Patting her hand against the ship's hull, she looks between the others. "I am taking this thing out to fly like...as soon as I can." Adhar's words of teasing has her lekku twitching in what might be the Ryl equivlent of flipping someone off, but she crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm excited, so what?"

Mandl jerks a thumb at Aola. "Look at her, she is like Mandl at the Nrb'l laureate recognition supper-- all-- emotional." Is that a thumb? Fourth, no, sixth from the-- whatever.

Razia does another double-take, this time towards Adhar. "If I had a choice, I would choose not to look like a military unit." She responds to him, "That makes people nervous. Then again, you are the boss." She shrugs a shoulder. Then she turns to depart, curiosity overwhelming her with the new ship. Seems she has forgotten drinks in favor of exploration.

"I like seeing you happy," Adhar calls after her. "But ask Bar'duur about it - he bought the bird, I want to make sure he's gotten to fly it first, all right?" Adhar grins at her. "And don't worry! I'm sure we're all gonna work real hard and get more."

He chuckles as Razia wanders off. "So, there we are. Feel free to look around, folks, it's your new home and all."

Mandl nods. "Mandl would not-- presume-- to address security, having only a minimal level of underhanded expertise. But. Is there any task Mandl's skills call for? Perhaps a metallurgical analysis of our bouncing baby... aerial city?"

"Mandl," says Adhar, "You I want to be an officer." He turns toward Mandl then, chuckling. "Third officer, navgiator on the bridge during watchstanding and in charge of safety on the ship. I think that would work well for you, don't you? Also part of the ship's scientific complement."

"They're just gonna take what you own if you don't fight for it," Adhar says with a shrug. "All right, you lot. I've got to head to the bridge for a bit - you all look around, see what you think. I want recommendations when you've got them."

LOCATION: Sentinel-class Shuttle Messenger, en route to Tattooine

Ça plane pour moi.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Behind the controls of what appears to be an Imperial shuttle of some sort, Adhar is busy flying. In the background, orange desert sands can be seen, light pouring in. His dark eye of flesh squints, while the implant fixed to his skull stares impassively at the 'camera'. "Pash," he says. "What can I do for you, Captain?"

Hologram Pash Danigo is seated in the cockpit of the Special Delivery, arguably *flicker* looking worse than he ever has since joining the Consortium. "Anything for a buck, eh?" he manages, wincing in pain. "Gonna need your man, Quentin."

"I'll see to you first," Adhar says, reaching to power up the ship once more. "There's a ship in near orbit of Nar Shaddaa, called Serious Business. Our new flagship. Code is '####'. Land there. I'll have a medical team ready for you."

His tone is urgent, but calm. "You just steer there, and we'll take care of you. Do you have a droid to help you?"

Hologram Pash Danigo rolls his eyes and shakes his head, which he immediately regrets. "Dangit!" He sucks in a deep breath and exhales. "No, I do not have *flicker* a droid. I'll steer this thing myselff. Long as I survive until then."

"That going to be a danger, Pash?" Adhar kicks the enigne in, and proceeds to start the shuttle skyward once more. "You keep talking to me, all right? Tell me what happened, all right?"

Hologram Pash Danigo settles back a bit, looking more tired all of a sudden then anything else. "Got bit up by a damned lava eel, but I'll live." There's the truth, *flicker* or at least what he believes to be it. That is, his living or not.

"Yeah, keep awake," says Adhar. His voice is calm, still, but very insistent. Quiet command, but not overbearing. "And keep a medkit in your ship from now on. Where'd you run into a laval eel?"

Hologram Pash Danigo nods, "Yeah, I'm awake." He shifts a bit and answers, "I was on Mustafar. Explorer's *flicker* Guild contract, so *flicker* I'm not without *flicker* a bit of cash from the endeavor." He chuckles, winces, and says, "Freakin' eels."

"Yeah, well, I'm about to head in to land," he says. "I've sent a message on to have medics waiting on you. Remember, landing code is '####'." Now when I land here, I'm not leaving, all right? I'll talk you through it till you get there."

LOCATION: Landing Bay, Strike Cruiser Serious Business

Charging down the opening ramp of the Messenger, bolts across the deck while medical personel emerge from the turbolift. "Get that seal-suit ready," he calls to them, "Taken burns from lava-eels, whatever the krif that is, burns and likely lacerations. You get that set up, we're gonna catch him with the tractor on account he's not answering the holocomm anymore." His voice is hard, his command strident, but his accent thick and heavy Corellian farmhand. "Get ready! Go!"

Special Delivery does not come in on its own power. The drives are on, but it is the invisible hands of the cruiser's tractor beams that draw it in and set it on the deck. Immediately do blue-suited medics charge for the ship's sealed ramp, the white bands on their upper arms like racer's flags. Adhar follows, running along ith the rest of them - prepared to deliver medical care, perhaps, or to simply pick the lock to let them in.

Pash does not like this. All the attention, that is. The wounds that cover his arms and legs, big chucnks of flesh and clothing all torn up, that he can live with. But having to be tractored into some unfamiliar cruiser and pried out of his ship? That's embarassing. But what else can he do? And this is how they find him, when they do get the hatch to his ship open: Bloodied, bruised, sweaty, and pale.

They find him there, all right, and medics do not take any time in getting him down onto the repulsor-driven sealsuit gurney, nor do they take any guff - down onto the thing and its transparent, coffin-like lid closed over him, its antibac field kicks in and begins sterilizing wounds actively as they begin running him down across the deck. "Yeah, that'll work," says Adhar, shaking his head as his fellow captain is borne across the way toward the turbolift and the waiting medical bay above. "Suns below, he's gonna start gettin' marks like I do."

Pash doesn't resist the treatment, but he does look extra annoyed when the box is placed over him. He lifts an agitated hand and runs it along the inside of the lid, staring out at whomever is around him. At the same time, though, he visibly relaxes, which is for him the first time since he left Mustafar.

LOCATION: Medical Bay/Laboratory, Strike Cruiser Serious Business

When it's clear you're not burned or otherwise damaged other than having a whole lot of chunks removed, the medics bring the sealsuit cart over to a bed, open its dome, and get you onto the table. Chunks of your clothing are cut away as the medics do their work, calling back and forth as they examine what are assumed to be no small degree of laceration from the eels' vicious fangs.

As they work, of course, Adhar is there, prepared to assist as needed - how interesting that the Captain appears to be a trained medic, from the way he listens in on the huddle, doesn't try to grandstand, and listens to the medical staff as if he were just another trauma op.

Pash has let himself go into the care of the med team. It looks like he's been eaten, which he has. Flesh torn away and gone, bite marks now bruised along the edges. Whatever went down, it wasn't pretty, but hey you should see the other guy. "This thing come with a bacta tank?" he asks, turning his head slowly to eye the senior captain.

"Not on this boat," Adhar shorts faintly, shaking his head. "Yet. We'll have to take you down to Quentin's tomorrow once you're stabilized." Adhar looks up at one of the medics who nods to him, apparently all right with the captain working on you along with everyone else. Adhar, medical supplies in hand, begins to clean the wounds with another round of antibac and filler foam, carefully washing the wounds before trimming the savaged flesh away with a laser scalpel - which is, happily enough, rather painless - after a drug lead sunk into your arm spread magical, calming warmth throughout your body. It's a bit of an assembly line, but they're all surprisingly well trained together. Even Adhar, who while no doctor seems quite up to applying triage medicine.

But of course, it's got to get worse before it gets better, and Adhar's work - while skillful - is still flaying damaged flesh away. The medics take over once he's done and lay bacta bandages over your wounds, letting them get a head start.

Pash nods and grunts as Adhar works to remove...more of him! "Quit it, would ya?" he complains, wincing. But then hes getting bandaged and he settles down again. "I don't want a bionic anything ok? In case he puts me under you're a witness to that."

"The good thing is, Captain Danigo, that you won't need a prosthesis. These are life-threatening wounds, but nothing a dunk in a tank won't solve." The medic in charge is a skeletal Givin, whose voice is at once like bone flutes and basoons in chorus. "You will be pleased to know that there is no infection, either. That is often a problem with these injuries. While we don't have bacta facilities on this ship, I believe Doctor Haslett does."

"Yeah," says Adhar, nodding. "You'll be out for a day or so, but once done you'll be good as new."

"Minimal scarring," the medic agrees. "You should take a lesson from him, Captain."

Adhar just snorts.

Pash rolls his eyes and says, "Just focus here, would you?" He then closes his eyes and swallows hard. "A few days, huh? I don't have a few days." Of course, he does have a few days, but who would want to spend them in a tank?

"Of course you do," Adhar says, grunting. "You've been saying you wanted a vacation anyway, right?" It's humor, but made very dry as he helps check over your wounds and ensure the bandages are right. "Trust me, you catch up on a lot of sleep. Makes me wonder if that's how I manage to get everything else done that I do."

Pash attempts to chuckle again, but it comes out as wheezing. "Yeah? Maybe I'll be running an empire if I keep this up, then." A zough-chuckle this time. "I'll admit it was exciting, though.

Adhar gives you a bit of a grin. "Careful, now," he says. "You're gonna start sounding like me, nd then who knows where you'll end up?" He taps the bionic appliance over his left eye. "Just make sure you don't lose anything permanently."

The medic clears his throat. "Well, Captain Danigo? Should we prepare you for transport to a bacta tank, or did you want more traditional treatment? Now's the time, before you weaken any further."

Pash slowly lifts his hand and extends a thumb to show his approval for the tank. "Dunk me in, Doc." He glances to Adhar and winks, then lowers his hand. "See ya on the other side."