Log:Distress Call Part 2

Distress Call 2 - Distressing Harder

OOC Date: January 30, 2019
Location: Lancer Frigage Phi-5 - Sullust Sector
Participants: Artemis, Drath, Saanvi,Oran Arcantael Ravelyn

It's quiet again, the Trandoshan prisoner unconscious, the smell of cooked human and wookiee guts filling the hallway where Artemis and Drath had their brief firefight. Evie and Saanvi are dealing with the prisoner, and Arvis is manning the shuttle cabin, because leaving the ship and doing anything other than overwatch makes him uncomfortable. "Inbound, uh, craft - people. It would appear that someone has, ah, someone has decided to reinforce your position." Another shuttle slides into the Lancer's bay, sleek reflective black and along the design lines of a rapid assault shuttle used by the Imperial forces of old, touching down and opening it's hatch for the occupants who, if they don't already have special breathing helmets, have been provided full face covers with re-breather filters due to the bio-hazard warnings.

Drath had his leg patched up, thankfully, and when he's sure the firefight is over (For now), he allows a slight giggle over the comms. <<Heehee, you shot him in the kriffing ass.>> It does well to find humor when one has just been shot in the leg, and so with that hilarity done, he pushes himself up on the wall he'd leaned against, putting pressure on his leg with a slight grunt of exertion as he lets it readust to not having a hole in it. <<Hallway looks clear.>> Just in case Artemis couldn't see, from where she'd been shoved to the ground.

Artemis' stomach contents pool on the floor in a partially congealed mess of ashen gruel and chunks of protein: the First Order's finest in carefully crafted nutrition. It's clear that little mind was paid to smell and flavor when the formula for barracks chow as the acrid, stinging scent assaults the olfactory glands. The trooper takes a swig of her canteen and spits, wincing at the pain as her skull shifts and her nerves blaze in protest. Already, the side of her face is swelling up like a certain Knight's puffed up ego, shimmering greyish blue and taking on a myriad of other colors that contrast sharply against her pale skin. <<Focus, DL.>> Artemis chastizes Drath with a strained grunt once her helmet has been donned again. Collecting her rifle, she rises unsteadily like a newborn foal. A shake of her head dispels the Wookiee hair but not the hot throbbing of her face. <<Sitrep.>>

The ramp of the newly arrived shuttle hisses as it lowers, revealing a pair of dark-clad figures; one robed, one armored. Oran's Coruscanti accent - and his dismay - are clearly audible even through the rebreather filter as he disembarks and comments, "Well, this looks pleasant and completely under control."

"Isn't that how it always ends up?" Ravelyn asks, striding down the ramp alongside Oran, deactivated lightsaber already in hand before stepping off the ship. "It feels that way." No rebreather necessary thanks to the full coverage helmet that comes with the armor and handily cleans toxins out of the air before the Knight breathes it in.

Saanvi manages to stabalize the prisoner though she created a mess to do so. It seems to be taking her another bit to steralize everything and pack away her kit.

"Well, from what I can see - you have additional, ah, additional assistance from the Knights. Other than that your... your situation has changed very, very, ah, little." Arvis's tone comes across the comms as he inspects his chromium fingers. This is not the command you're looking for. (Try "help" or "+help" for help.) The turbolift remains open, the door closing on on the human merc with the blaster wound in his left... ah... cheek, then re-opening after giving an alert tone.

Drath straightens up, slapping his leg a few times to ensure proper circulation, then raises his rifle again as he starts down the hallway. <<Focused.>> he assures Artemis. Approaching the downed merc, he kicks the corpse with his armored toe, <<Target is down. That makes three. Maybe we should check the bridge?>> he asks, as he inches around the edge of the open door with his rifle, taking a brief glance to whatever is on the other side. Allegedly just the turbolift, but you can never be sure that another hallway doesn't intersect somewhere.

Shouldering her rifle but keeping the barrel low, Artemis hustles down the passageway after the other trooper. Glancing at the turbolift and peeking within, she hisses over the comms before speaking. <<This is going to be a kriffing kill box. Medic, are you done back there?>> She peers back down the hallway. The plastoid shell of her helmet hides her gritted teeth.

Oran's path takes him toward Artemis and Drath, boots stepping neatly around a puddle of Artemis sick. Or someone's sick. Maybe it's better not to think about it for too long, or too deeply. Maybe that's not really what that puddle was. "Are there signs of life aboard this wreck, sufficient signs of life as to represent a majority percentage of this frigate's crew are alive somewhere?" he inquires, speaking through comms and an earpiece, rather than yell through the rebreather. "Medic. Is this a known pathogen, something new, or unable to determine the origin?" He glances to Ravelyn, and raises a brow. "I mislike the thought of bringing this home." That might bode ill for survivors.

Ravelyn traverses a similar path as Oran, helmeted head turning to examine the carnage laid out before them. Not the worst ever, but unpleasant all the same. "Agreed. We need to determine what this is before we bring it back with us, it would go poorly if we infected the base with this. Or cause an outbreak on Nar Shaddaa. It's probably due for a plague, but it would be far more headache than I'd like to deal with."

Saanvi responds promptly, sealing her kit shut and latching it back to her belt. Long strides carry her towards the others <> Her sigh and long suffering look at Oran's question are partally concealed by her helm <<I lack the data to make that determination, Sir. I would require a lab and time to determine what the pathology of the disease this crew perished from. I have collected samples for analysis but there will be no data until we return to base or eliminate more variables. It seems like an aggressive respiratory flu or Rhinopharyngitis. The distribution of the affected suggests an extremely aggressive onset of symptoms. They would have been infected hours not days prior to succumbing to respiratory failure. This is only a hypothesis unsubstantiated by actual data."

Drath hums over the comms in agreement with Artemis, then kneels down as a plastoid covered knee meets the metal floor. He rummages around in the human mercenaries pockets, coming up with a few objects such as a commlink, tauntaun jerky, and one of the octagonal canisters that supposedly contains the virus. <<No antidote present. Looks like they weren't too worried about it infecting the humans after it'd already been fired, or at least, the antidote was applied elsewhere.>> Standing back up, he walks over to open up the turbolift so he can take a look at the floor opens, his armored boot placed in front of one of the doors to prevent it from shutting.

<<The status of the rest of the crew has yet to be determined, sir,>> Artemis clarifies over the comm for the new arrivals. Remaining wary, back up against the curved facade of the turbo lift, her eyes flicker rhythmically from one end of the hallway, across her HUD, and then back to the other end. She ignores the protests of the lift's doors. The body can remain where it is for now. <<The crates contain a CorSec dispensing device of some sort. A Trandoshan... kriffing jaw... was wielding one like a weapon. There are additional hostiles in engineering for certain and we have yet to sweep the rest of the ship.>> Artemis words are clipped and quickly delivered. <<With your leave, we will continue. Contact may be spotty between levels.>>

Oran takes a moment to process the information from Saanvi and Artemis, then draws a breath and lets it out, audible in the rebreather. Fortunately not audible in the comms; people who breathe into the mic deserve to die of sudden onset Rhinopharyngitis. <<Kill them all,>> the Knight instructs. <<Anyone infected dies here. If it's our people, make it clean. We are not introducing this into the greater population. Continue the sweep. Neutralize the hostile combatants. We'll be with you.>> <<If we encounter anyone capable of answering questions about this pathogen, attempt to subdue and get answers, then kill them,>> Ravelyn adds over the comms, the voice distorted a little differently than through the actual vocoder. <<If that doesn't appear to be possible, neutralize and move on.>> Saanvi HEAVES a sigh and clarifies <<Poisons, venoms, and other toxins have antidotes. Infectious diseases do not.>> At Oran's orders <<We should assume any not isolated by a separate ventilation system to be possibly exposed even if they appear healthy. Prudent solution, Sir.>> After a moment's careful thought <<Also bears noting that any one of of us who's armor is breached in any way will require quarantining to avoid possible exposure to the rest of us>> The Turbolift beeps another alert, with Drath's foot keeping the hatch open. The human merc's commlink begins blinking. Domino (dom) pages Hadrix and Artemis: No getting dead!

<<This one goes up to the command desk.>> Drath responds over to comms. He doesn't address Saanvi's words, he's not a SCIENCE person! That's why she's here after all! He keeps his boot in front of the door, his rifle propped up at an angle as he pokes his head outside and peers at them all through his helmet visor. <<If we hurry, we might be able to take them off guard before they realize those unanswered commlinks are potentially dead mercenaries.>> <Guests Channel> Guest 2 has disconnected.

<<Copy.>> Artemis then aims with her pointed finger at two positions flanking the door within the turbolift, taking the suggestion for celerity to heart. <<DL, right. I'll have left. NV, you're behind me. Let's go!>> She grabs the corpse by the belt and shuffles him back before moving in to her place to the inside of the door. Dropping to one knee heavily, she adopts the same firing position by rote but frees a hand to hold the door open as the rest position themselves.

<<Make sure those with breached armor are decontaminated properly,>> Oran informs Saanvi, in a tone that suggests it's her ass on the line if they're not. <<Rather not have to put down any Vanguard. You're all extraordinarily expensive.>> He's joking. He loves you! Well... maybe joking. Don't think about it too hard. His position is taken in the lift, out of the way of interfering with the directions Artemis just gave, and apparently on board with Drath's notion of taking them off guard.

<<The investment of time, and level of skill, yes, they are expensive. Try not to die,>> Ravelyn helpfully interjects, not lending any assistance to the idea that it might be a joke. The armored knight steps in along with Oran, likewise taking up a position out of the way while the Vanguard do their job.

Saanvi offers in deadpan consolation <<There would be no need to put anyone down. It is most likely anyone infected will die within hours of exposure based on the limited cases I have observed, sir. I will erect a quarantine zone and decontamination zone. All will be decontaminated and anyone found with breaches will be quarantined.>>. SV trots up behind Artemis <<I am with you>> She confirms.

The turbolift doors shut, at last, while the commlink continues to blink. A low humm fills the small chamber as the lift moves past the crew deck, and then with very little pause stops with its hatch sliding open to reveal a short hallway. "Dochabark! Ruk! Carkin' dung-rutters..." A man in basic merc armor and a gas mask stands, yelling at the comm in his hand, a Rodian next to him shaking its head, flopping it's face tube. What does it mean? Who knows, it's like twi'lek head tails... Who knows. " Imhalyehk! Ootay ji jac!" A blue-gray skinned twi'lek hollars, lifting a blaster and firing at the lift, shooting at the first thing she sees - which happens to be Artemis, and the body flopped in the hatchway. Fortunate! The corpse gets a red flavored blaster bolt delivered at high priority. "That's Ruk you nuj brain!!"

Drath kneels down once overone is in and the tubolift has started. Thankfully, he's left handed, and so he conceals his body behind the panel against the wall as they wait for the turbolift to open. Then the fightfight starts! He'd been quiet for the entire ride up, and as soon as the lift opens and the first shot rings out, he identifies the source of the blaster bolt and opens fire, a beam of red whizzing by the Twi'lek's head and smashing into some computer panels behind him.

Slow, even breaths escape between Artemis' lips as she sights down the length of her joylessly lethal rifle. The turbo lift's passage is ruthlessly sluggish but disciplined despite the anxious foretaste of battle, the trooper's finger rests patiently on the trigger. Artemis does not even twitch as the bolt crashes in to the corpse in front of her. <<Focus fire.>> Artemis orders as she jerks her barrel to meet Drath's target. With a scream, her weapon's precision is reaffirmed: the plasma it spits splashing along the Twi'lek's arms and ribs as it hits at a curious angle. The trooper's hate of arms continues unabted. <<Spread out.>> The turbo lift is too risky a confined space to remain in for long, Artemis dashes out to cover.

Oran Arcantael assists the team in more ways than one, here, by removing that which is too low profile to be a shield, but still tall enough to be a tripping hazard: The corpse in the lift. Up the thing gets as though animated by its own powers, and it flies, fliiiieees, towards the Rodian... who handily avoids it. Thud. Thud thump thud. The corpse lands elsewhere.

Even if that flying corpse doesn't serve its intended purpose and hit one of the enemies inside the room, it certainly serves as a curious distraction that Ravelyn takes advantage of. The armored Knight steps into sight just enough for that Human Mercenary to come into the view, and with little more than a flick of the wrist, a force that hits as hard as a speeder slams into the man. "Drop your weapons and we might consider not killing you all."

Saanvi pops out while Artemis runs, covering the squad leader in her sprint for cover. An arm sweeps the blaster down strait on it's vertical axis then sweeps smoothly from left to right as she sites a target and fires.

Twisting and flopping against the wall with a scream, the Twi'lek's head tails flop about as she tries to bring a comm up, but her arm doesn't work. The meat is cooked, smells of alien filth too. The flying humman draws confused looks from her, and the Rodian before they glare at the incoming First Order combatants. Stupid, or stupidly brave - their human compatriot flattening where he stands before limbs and blood fly to either side, the pair open fire again, at the first trooper to come in, and the one who offered threat. Their aim like the rebel troops on the Tantiv V - when they couldn't stop Stormtroopers in bottleneck, and varied firing angles.

Drath echoes a confirmation over his comms at Artemis' instructions, the Trooper keeping low as he fans out of the turbolift off to the right side of the command deck. The Twi'Lek is hit, and one merc is down, and so he opts for potentially capturing another merc. His hand fans over the side of his rifle, swapping the weapon to stun, as a ring of stunning energy shoots out of the end of it and misses his intended target. The intent is there though: Let's take the injured one captive.

Artemis' composite clad shoulder crashes in to a low lying structure that juts out of the bulkhead. From sixty to zero in a heartbeat. The violence of it all jars her aching skull and she grunts with a low, gutteral growl between gritted teeth. Marking the passage of time, the trooper's swollen cheek continues to spider and threaten to swallow an eye with its fleshy, obfuscating curtain. <<Pick your targets, NV!>> Artemis chastizes the medic's haphazard shot at the Rodian not for its accuracy but for its divergence from the shots of the troopers. Her chagrin is short-lived. Spontaneously lurching backwards to tighten her profile against the wall, the Rodian's bolt sails past and casts a conical scorch mark on the durasteel before her. Artemis' response is equally as impotent as the bug-eyed alien's. Sighted and pulled, her weapons' lethal intentions find purchase on little but the hallway's facade on which to feed. "One." Artemis hisses privately within her plastoid helmet.

Second time's the charm for Oran's attempts on this Rodian's life; he's dispensed with the throwing corpses at it and gone straight to the corpse-making without additional accessories. A hand reaches out to seize the poor alien, who is shortly clutching at his throat, trying to free himself from bindings that aren't there, to access air that won't come. The whole affair is over at a neck-snap in the end, then he drops the body with a new series of disquieting thuds and eyes the Twi'lek. "Do you imagine you'd like to answer some questions? Consider your options carefully."

The hand that made that small, murderous gesture swings up, fingers curled in slightly as though about to catch something. Which Ravelyn is sort of doing, it's just a different sort of catch. That unseen force that destroyed the human only moments ago now wraps invisible tendrils around the Twi'lek, squeezing tight enough to restrain, but not enough to kill her. "I suggest you take this opportunity to consider the offer, and talk. I could hold you here all day, or night, or... what time is it? Never mind. What I'm getting at is that you're not going to get free, so speak now, or die painfully. You choose."

Saanvi's pistol swings a bit seeking a target and only finding one who is being questioned by the Knight. Since killing people knights are conversing with is generally bad for one's health Saanvi suddenly drops the point of her pistol and exhales slowly. Drath flips the mode toggle on his Sonn-Blas F-11D Blaster Rifle - 12290, switching it to Kill mode. Artemis flips the mode toggle on her Sonn-Blas F-11D Blaster Rifle - 13123, switching it to Kill mode.

The Rodian is dead, it's floppy, obscene, face tube stilled at last, the Twi'lek gasps as she is grabbed, her arm and ribs pressed into by nothing eliciting a pitiful shriekey sound as she gasps for air against the pain of... well blaster wound. "What!? What?! Yeh... I talks, force-witch!" gender stereotyping because of robes. Shameful. Meanwhile, in engineering, a number of white-armor Stormtroopers keep behind Hadrix. He's got a plasma flamer, and he got stuck with the white-suits. They're boring, they're not fun like the Vanguard squad. They only take orders, they don't offer insight on the situation, they just stick to standard operational action. The White-Armor in command under the Vanguard member reports in, <<"SP-0229 - situation under control, four targets down... Special operations asset appears... irritated">>

The Rodian goes down, and the Twi'Lek is grabbed by that... What is that? Space telekinesis? Drath swipes his hand back over the toggle, swapping his weapon back to kill mode as he straightens up and follows it back to Ravelyn. He just kinda... Stares for a moment, then turns and walks around the rest of the room, his weapon up and shoved against his plastoid covered shoulder as he checks over the rest of the command desk. <<Area clear of hostiles.>> he reports, allowing the others to deal with interrogation as he continues his sweep. Drath's brief once-over also reveals the deck crew in the crew pit, deaded, though they appear to be dead from blaster wounds, and not gross diseases.

<<Command deck crew located. Dead by blaster fire, not pathogen.>> Drath tacks on to his report.

Artemis peeks over the abutment and finds the situation bound tightly in phantasmal strands. Even if she had seen the occult workings of the Knights several times before, she could still only vaguely grasp what was happening on some intellectual level. It causes her pause as she rises from cover. The barrel of her rifle favors a lower angle handing the risk of receiving a misfire to the hallways' bulkhead. <<Let's keep moving.">> Artemis calls out over the comms as she skirts the obstacle and slices the air with her hand, waving towards the other end of the hallway. But then a familiar figure appears at the other hand and her pace slows. <<Belay that.>> The trooper growls. The nagging of her skull seems to be fomenting her aggression. <<At ease, SP, asset is nearly always ornery.>> With that, she pivots on the ball of her foot and approaches the Knights. <<Awaiting orders.>> The latter directed at the pair of robed beings. The woman's attention appears to be set on the Twi'lek, her finger still hovering over her rifle's trigger.

"Keep sweeping the ship," Oran provides orders for Artemis, awaiting them. "Ravelyn's got that one well in hand, and what's discovered will be relayed." He is inspecting the gunshot bridge crew, briefly, and looking annoyed. The asset is annoyed. All the assets are annoyed. "This is pathetic," he grumbles at the corpses that so roundly failed to defend themselves, then looks back to Artemis and Saanvi. "Crew deck. Let's go."

Ravelyn's steps are slow while crossing the distance between the lift, and the imprisoned Twi'lek, coming to a stop close enough to be uncomfortable for the alien. "Tell me about what is happeneing here. Who are you, all of you, why are you here, and what is this sickness business about? Answer quickly, and honestly, I'll know if you're lying to me. You don't want to do that." Saanvi presses lips and seems perplexed as to the cause of Oran's irritation. She follows along but does think to ask "Shall I fall back to thee ship to set up decontamination stations and quarantine area?" Oran Arcantael is MAD AT THE DEAD. Not Saanvi. Saanvi is a strong contender for employee of the month.

The floor beneath the Twi'lek sees the formation of a puddle following a pitter-pitter raining sound. Gulping and stumbling over herself, she speaks at a rapid pace, "Take ship, kill crew, replace... Open pipeline..." her grasp of basic is... well basic and soon devolves into blubbering as the screen Drath is at suddenly erupts into slapping sounds and a myriad of grunts as his face is illuminated. For Artemis, Saanvi, and Oran the lift doors opening causes a torrent of bodies to suddenly tumble in, like an avalanche of flesh, faces twisted, eyes and noses crusted with mucus, rubbery strands dropping from mouths. Those closest to the hatch have bloodied fingers, some rubbed to the bone.

<<Kriffing holo porn again?>> Drath curses as he attempts his brief scan of the security terminal. <<Maybe it's a good thing we lost this crew, they were clearly lax in their duties.>> he voices, shutting off the terminal he was messing with as he turns to gaze across at Ravelyn conducting her interrogation. It begins another somewhat extensive staring episode, as he approaches to the side of the floating Twi'Lek and quietly attends the interrogations, his rifle held at a relaxed posture for the time being.

<<What the actual shavit.>> Artemis snarls as she lurches backwards to avoid the crush of sick and spoiled flesh. She does not bother shouldering her weapon and instead lifts her chin to eye the interior of the lift. Reluctantly, she fixes her weapon to her back and wades forward to start clearing the way. Favoring belts and rugged looking clothing as anchor points rather than limbslest she tear them off with her straining.

<<Bloody hell. BLOODY. HELL.>> Let the bodies hit the floor! Let the bodies hit the FLOOOOOOOO- noo, no, Oran doesn't want the bodies to hit the floor, or in fact to arrive anywhere near him. As suddenly as they appeared, they're slowly repelled, but not being flung wildly, like the corpse that was chucked at the Rodian. There are too many, and they're too... horrible. All those sightless eyes, drooling mouths, faces starting to distend from sagging fluids... their clawed, hopeless, bloody hands, their fever wracked, rubbery skin, floppy and pliable without the benefit of rigor mortis to ease them from person to object. It's enough to compromise the focus of even those who are snorting lines of straight black magic off the Kylo Ren Guide to Turning the Energy of your Personal Problems into Galactic Subjugation. But Oran perseveres, and slowly, the bodies Artemis hasn't hefted roll away from the group like a nightmarish wave of disease and human failing. <<We're going to destroy this ship. We are going to DESTROY this BLOODY SHIP. No survivors anywhere I take it.>>

Ravelyn listens to the broken basic basic and exhales a sigh that barely translates through the vocoder. "Let us try this again." This time spoken in a language that the prisoner can understand and speak more easily. "Do you have the information on why you were meant to do all of this? The reason? Who is telling you to do these things? What is this sickness? Explain this now or your head will be popping off. Slowly. In a circle." Twisted is the word that the Knight is searching for, but this language isn't basic, so speaking it isn't quite as easy.

Saanvi grunts and attempts to wiggle free, <<I should get on those stations, Sir. This could be the Phantom if there is even the smallest breach or error in executing contaminate contact protocol.>> She hrrms <<Some lived long enough to fracture their fingers down to their interphalangeal joints. Interesting>>. Trust Saanvi to always find the silver lining literally anywhere.

The Twi'Lek wriggles ineffectually, sobbing out a ragged breath, "Hired by some guy named Rius, we were supposed to gak the crew. Take over till the next duty shift." she looks to the human who was turned into force-induced paste. "He dumped the big cannister in the vents... some super-bug Rius gave us, said it was Corp Sector" she loooks back to Ravelyn, "I just came for the slicin'! He decided to take the ship!" On the crew deck its a cavalcade of horror. Some bodies are crushed in the hall, trampled, some never made it out of their rooms. In at least two of the officer quarters there are a number of crew that decided to have one last carnal trist before death. In the captain's quarters they find a body slumped in a chair, pistol crammed into a mouth that looks like it was ejecting the gunk and fluids that choked him before he could end it easy, eyes bulged and with burst capillaries from strain.

Drath doesn't speak Twi'Lek, so he simply stand there, his rifle hoisted as he supervises the interrogations. It's a very important role to take, supervising Knight interrogations. Someone has to do it! <<You are an inspiration.>> is his only real comment. Keeping himself moving, he walks to a nearby terminal, his rifle slung under one arm as he rests his gloved left hand on the keys and starts tapping away at them. Whatever he finds isn't all that important, apparently, as he reviews Astrogation charts and outgoing communications. Nothing worth relaying, apparently.

Artemis does not echo Oran's sentiments in word, remaining calm but somehow heavily laden as her step grows languid. The way she studies her hands after the deed is done betrays the way they squirm, deadening the nagging throb in her face. Even insulted from the effluvial, pathogen-laden ichor by the plastoid composite plates of her gauntlets, the trooper's digits seem assailed by imagined insects that gnaw and gnash at her flesh in macabre meal. Oran's voice, of all things, sets her back on the warpath. <<Likely, sir.>> Artemis confirms the Knight's suspicions to the best of her ability. A full scan of the Frigate would be needed to see if anyone had found their way in to ventilation or maintenance hatches but the First Order may see the risk as too high to save replaceable staff. Hefting her rifle once more, she ventures on to the crew deck. What Artemis finds tests her lifetime of conditioning. <<No survivors.>> She sniffs sharply, clearing her nose as if the swelling on her cheek were somehow pressing up against her sinuses. The woman's fingers curl tighter about the steel of the weapon cradled in her hands.

Oran makes his way through the crush to, eventually, the officer's quarters -- and spends a moment there in unhappy contemplation of the man weeping fluids, and his ultimate, self inflicted wounds. It's a a long pause. You know shit's got real when Oran actually shuts up for two consecutive seconds in a row. Just the breathing of the respirator in the hideous, dead quiet, then he shakes himself free and remarks, <<Was the bridge crew shot by the mercenaries?>> It's a rhetorical question, one he doesn't leave time to answer before turning around in a whirl of starwarsy black cloak. <<Enough. We've seen enough. Saanvi, prepare your decontamination procedures and comm ahead to Lt Commander Oakfell to inform her of the situation. Everyone, complete your tasks and withdraw to the ships.>> The poor Twi'lek will have to endure silence longer than is comfortable for her, because Ravelyn has tapped into the comms rather than the exterior vocoder. <<The alien says they were hired by someone named Rius, they were supposed to kill the crew and take over until the next duty shift. They dumped cannisters of the whatever it was into the vents, I believe she called it Corp Sector, if that means anything. She was here to slice into the systems. I believe this is all we're going to get out of her, we're going to finish the job then we're on our way to you.>> The Knight steps back from the Twi'lek, maintaining that imprisoning grip on her. <<Trooper.>> This is to Drath. <<Shoot her, and then we can go.>> Saanvi notes <<Once aboard I will be invoking Medical protocol 106.7-03 Article 4.2 section H. This Means no one is exempt from decontamination or quarantine. Further directions will be communicated as soon as stations are erect and operational.>> She resists the urge to linger and study the corpses more closely and turns sharply on heel to march off. Saanvi has disconnected.

<<Ma'am.>> Drath responds to the order, removing his hand from the keys of the terminal as he does an about face and raises his rifle back up to his shoulder. It clacks into place on his armor, and without hesitation, the Trooper opens fire at short range on the clearly terrified Twi'Lek who happened to catch the sight of the black-clad Stormtrooper moving out of the corner of her eye. The blaster bolt impacts the side of her head, which erupts in a nice, red paste as it's misted all over the consoles behind her. At a 90 degree angle to Ravelyn, thankfully.

<<All Vanguard personnel are to immediately return to the docking bay and remain on standby for quarantine procedures.>> Artemis choes over the comms as she too follows the Knights orders and trots back along the path she came. There's little haste in her steps: there would be plenty of time to regroup as they all went through procedure. It would be a while before they would be allowed to rejoin with genpop. The First Order teams make for their shuttle bays, the Engineering assault team loading up and following Saanvi's quarantine proceedures to the letter. The shuttles, lifting out of the frigate's docking bay are barely out of range when the frigate that had been transporting the Vanguard open fire with turbo-lasers, boring holes into the engine-rooms of the Lancer before a quartet of proton torpedos are put through the gaps, setting of sympathetic detonations that erupt the plague-ship into fragments. Safely contained in their bubble, the investigation crew spend several hours, to learn that the pathogen was inert by the time they arrived... fast burning and ultimately self-destructive. Something designed to wipe out a small population and cut a hole for invaders to put down roots. Did the mercenaries shoot the bridge crew?