Log:Merc for Money 4: Running with a Bomb!

Merc for Money 4: Running with a Bomb!

Location: Tionese Space Station
Participants: Saturi, Frexl, Frutzin' Clankers

"The Tionese are supposed to be keeping them preoccupied in the main airlock." Saturi says as she lowers her helmet into place. The bond between her suit and headpiece clicks together with a hiss. <"But, there's a good chance that there are droids covering all of the auxiliary hatches."> Her voice distorts through the aging speakers of her armour. Gloved hands manipulate her trailing cape, the garment falling to the floor after being unclasped from her shoulder. <"If they are there, we need to be fast enough dealing with them...otherwise they might realize what's going on.">

'They' is a small army of droids under the command of a mining baron. A true despot that has taken over another corporation's refining station and announced his plan to blow it up with a massive proton bomb. The Tionese, not so happy to have such incidents on their doorstep, have jumped at an opportunity to stop the crisis before the denotation.

<"Have you ever used these before?"> The Pantoran asks whilst flashing a set of throwing knives, an assassins tool. <"I don't know if they'll be very effective against droids."> She offers a shrug before stowing the bladed weapons on her belt. <"I'll be carrying my tools..."> Stooping over, she slings an obnoxiously large duffel bag over her once caped shoulder. It takes visible effort to stand from the weight. <"We'll need to be slow...and fast.">

Fresh from the Pre-Action Nap that he took during his union-mandated break time, the Apprentice Mercenary known as Frexl looks positively eager for some combat. It sure beats walking around on Nar Shaddaa with a sandwich board sign (don't ask.)

Snapping the pieces of his blaster carbine back together, the Dug runs his weapon through a quick functions check and pops in an ammo clip while listening as best he can to his employer.

"Uh... yeah Boss. Slow and fast, that's how the womp rat wins the soup. But uh... now, I don't want to come across like some kind of expert, because EVERYBODY'S a frutzin' expert these days... must be nice. But… uh... are you SURE you wouldn't rather have like a blaster or somethin'?"

Frexl's brows are furrowed with concern as he surveys his employer's choice of equipment, and he grips his own blaster a bit more tightly.

"Maybe we could find you a nice block of wood, yes?"

<"I'm not crazy..."> That's exactly what a crazy person would say. Luckily for her, Saturi is able to prove her sanity on her way to the airlock. Gliding to the door of the shuttle, she reaches out to grab a pair of blaster pistols from the wall rack. <"...it's just that if we're going to be quiet. The blasters might be a little too loud."> She offers, mistakenly figuring that it's as easy to covertly take down droid patrols as it is organic ones. <"And, don't call me boss."> Her icy glare is leveled at the dug. <"It's such a cumbersome way to address someone."> The comment delivered with disappointment, her judgment as sincere as an uppity parent.

<"Are you ready?"> Her question is accompanied with a glance through the airlock's window. It's far too dark to tell what is going on inside. <"It should be time to go.">

His concerns somewhat assuaged, Frexl picks up the pace to match the Pantoran's. It wouldn't do to fall behind, there's a whole chapter about that in the Mercenary's Handbook.

"Don't you worry Bo-- Ma'am. You want quiet, Frexl's your Dug! Did I ever tell you I was a scout one time? Recon sharpshooter, New Republic Army... gave me a medal one time. Oh! And one time! Uh..."

Something seems to occur to him as he stands next to her near the airlock, and his voice lowers to a whisper.

"Tell you about it later Boss Ma'am. Better let me take point though, on account of like... I'm a professional."

Bringing his blaster up to eye level, Frexl advances slowly looking for good cover points, as well as good ambush points. If he gets ambushed, Frexl gets that sweet, sweet overtime pay.

Aside from the sound of the airlocks opening for both Frexl and Saturi, the station is extremely quiet. The hum from the shuttle can be heard for a few paces, but once the doors shut behind them, it's nothing but silence. It's dark, the corridor only lit by the eerie presence of red light cascading down from the emergency sconces. By the looks of it, the refining facilities are not just advanced, but well kept. The occasional touch-screen panel illuminates in a dim orange as the pair pass, revealing station information for easy navigation.

<"When the Tionese took a scan of the station, they noticed an abnormal build-up of particles near engineering."> Saturi's voice rattles off the bulkheads. She continues to break through the stillness. <"It's likely that they've plugged the explosives directly into the primary power grid...highly unstable but exponentially more dangerous.">

Keeping his blaster up, Frexl stays a few paces ahead of the client as the airlock opens up a path. He stays closer to the wall, not quite hugging it, and walks smoothly while scanning in all directions with his weapon. It's not the fastest way to get from point Aurek to point Besh, but it's the most tactically sound.

Holding his blaster in his lower armlegs, and ambulating on his upper legarms, Frexl looks about as weird as usual. Until he suddenly freezes in midstride, and raises one of his larger legarms up and forms a fist. Standing on only one 'leg', with two hands on the blaster and one in the air... it looks about as strange as it sounds.

A raspy whisper, juuuust loud enough to get attention. "Hold up, Boss! Either I hear something mechanical, or one of us ate a big ol' bowl of bolts before the mission."

He looks back at the client a bit suspiciously.

"Uh... you didn't eat no bolts, right?"

The Dug's stalking Pantoran isn't nearly as concerned with moving in a tactical fashion. She pays attention to the muted tap of her feet, but not much else. Her straight line path /is/ the fastest way to proceed, but an intentionally slower pace keeps her behind the professional mercenary. Saturi doesn't risk speaking if Frexl hears the idle pacing of nearby droids. 'No.' She mouths with a furrowed brow and a shake of the head. Nobody eats bolts...right?

The clanking grows loud enough for both of them to hear. The metal on metal sound difficult on the ears. Eventually, the reddened shadow of two stock patrol droids inch into view.

Oh the joys of being the rich client. Walking through dangerous terrain, completely carefree, while competent mercenaries protect you at every turn. What must that be like?

If Frexl's performance is any indication, Saturi might not live long enough to find out. But you get what you pay for, and of all the mercenaries available at short notice on Nar Shaddaa, Frexl's one of the cheapest.

Holding his weird ostrich pose, Frexl remains mostly silent, and mostly motionless. So far so good. But when a couple of patrol droids come into view, their evil red laser lights just visible in the low light conditions, Frexl apparently forgets Chapters 1 through 3 of the Mercenary Handbook and immediately fires off some shots!

Some of them even hit...

"Eat blaster bolts, WERMO! Frutzin’ patrol droids TAKING OUR JOBS! RAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!"

Saturi had enough time to slip to the side of the hallway. Her breathing slowed as the tension built. The roaming red lasers traced her form but quickly glanced away, having not made her image out against the dark background. Unfortunately, the initial immeasurable relief was short lived. Golden eyes watched as the dug's blaster bolts were flung down the hallway. Her expression was shocked, horrified, and bewildered. Quickly flashing to a flattened, she decides to roll with the punch, effortlessly drawing out her golden blaster and firing it in unison.

One of the droids drops to the floor as its head bursts into a million little pieces. The other is forced to fight through significant damage to its core processor. It slowly turns to fight, working in its own robotic confusion. The metallic lump fires down the hallway at random, not understanding what is attacking it.

Bewildering though his thought process might be, Frexl's methods are certainly effective. Sure, they usually have a different effect than his clients might prefer, or even a polar opposite one. But SOMETHING usually happens, and that's beautiful in its own way. Unlike Frexl.

He doesn't let up, firing off more well-placed shots until there's nothing left of the droids but little pieces. Once again, the superiority of flesh and blood has been proven. Also, the superiority of collective bargaining and union apprenticeships.

Or at least Frexl seems to think so, given the obnoxiously cocky smile on his face when he turns back to look at his no doubt exasperated employer.

"Never send a droid to do a Dug's job, eh Boss?"

"Er... Ma'am."

<"My name is Saturi.">

The Pantoran seems to correct the dug once more, clearly uncomfortable with the level of formality. It's a long story that she likely won't be willing to discuss on their stroll through the ready-to-explode station...if at all. Her cold demeanor continues as she lowers her weapon, letting the golden blaster hang in her left hand. <"Call me that, please. It works regardless of language."> It's framed less as an order and more as pleading.

She starts down the corridor towards engineering, intentionally sticking to the side of the hallway so that she doesn't have to contend with the scrap they made. <"But...yes."> A quick glance is tossed down to the junk. <"You're superior to a droid...sort of..."> Her distorted voice trails, deciding to stop with how she wants to be addressed.

"Saturi... I like it. Almost sounds like a Dug name."

Finally two of Frexl's feet are on the ground, as the Maker intended, and his weird gait continues to make the trek more interesting. Creepy, sure, but interesting.

Taking the lead, Frexl keeps his weapon up. He seems to know where he's going, or maybe his training is just kicking in and making him look competent in the face of uncertainty. His large fingertoes make little noise on the metal as he strides forward.

"Maybe we're related, yes? Hur hur hur!"

<"Absolutely not."> Saturi rejects the notion with a snarky laugh. <"We're not related. I guarantee it."> She holsters her weapon as she follows. <"I don't know what the Dug are like, but on Pantora, family is everything."> Her focus isn't there, eyes not on the prize...too burdened by the possibility of being related to Frexl. <"We keep detailed family trees, live with our extended relatives, and don't allow members to be forgotten.">

<"I'm not saying that there aren't bad Pantorans, but our family...we're as strong as it gets.">

"Never met a Pantoran I didn't like. Of course, you're only the second one I've met."

Frexl isn't the best multitasker, but he can at least walk and talk at the same time. However, he's keeping his voice pretty much down to a whisper, like a professional. Well, a professional might actually be completely silent, but did we mention that he's cheap?

Each time he comes to any sort of turn or corner, the Merc for Money pauses, and makes sure to 'pie' his way around the obstruction. Maybe they're teaching them a few things at that Mercenary Apprenticeship after all?

<"One-hundred percent is a pretty solid success rate."> Saturi remarks with a quiet snicker. She continues to trail behind the dug, double checking each of his corners. You might be able to make a case for doubt, skepticism, or distrust...but the math works out. Four eyes are better than two. <"Who was the other Pantoran you met?"> Her question is one-part curious and one-part worried. <"Not many of us make it out here.">

"Oh... it was another lady Pantoran. Real pretty. Wanted me to mate with her REEEEAL bad. But you know, I'm busy with my mercenary work, no time to settle down."

Continuing cautiously through the station, ever on the lookout for more things to shoot, Frexl tells a perfectly believable slice of backstory. We're really unravelling the enigma that is Frexl here.

"She understood, but said she would wait for me forever. So... I got that going for me."

Saturi rolls her eyes before responding with a deflated <"How noble."> and continuing on. She keeps track of their progress towards engineering, eyes glancing over each marking they pass. As they approach the central spire of the station, the low hum from the refining equipment starts to break the eerie silence.

<"I don't know if I should find the lack of droids calming or unnerving."> Her attention seems divided between the Dug and the path ahead as she speaks. <"I'm not very knowledgeable when it comes to patrol strategy, but if we aren't running into any more opposition, the Tionese really could have all of the security tied up.">

Judging by the confused look on Frexl's face, he probably doesn't know much more about the station's patrol schedule than his client does. It would help him a lot with his future employment if he were able to actually keep knowledge gaps like that to himself.

"Be damned if I know. Them droids they got these days, it's like, what even are they? Do they got a guy that has some kind of remote, or does he just tell them what to do?"

His furrowed brows suggest that he's in the middle of trying to think.

"Taking our jobs, is what they're doing. That's all I know."

<"Droids aren't capable of the same competence that you and I are."> She clearly doesn't harbour any love for the inorganics. <"There's a reason that I didn't deploy them when my company was bidding for contracts."> Saturi slows down as the red emergency lights change to white. As they grow closer, the engineering section becomes visible. Bright ion conduits illuminate the halls, the core of the station is designed with an open concept, allowing anyone to see across it.

The weird part...nobody is home. The section is entirely vacant save for a few irritating insects...and not even the sentient types.

Tied into the central nervous system of the station is a massive device. The haphazardly placed network of wires mean that it was quickly installed...or that the station engineers never bothered with proper cable management. Judging by the ominous red glow at the ends of the container...it's likely the proton bomb the Tionese were worried about.

Saturi's answer seems to be satisfactory to Frexl. Getting replaced by cheaper labor, whether droid or scab, is a topic that takes up a great deal of his mental bandwidth. He moves forward with renewed resolve, as if his new mission is simply to prove her right.

Moving tactically becomes more difficult in an open environment such as this one, but Frexl gives it his best. Weapon up, scanning left to right, and looking both for threats and potential sources of cover. One of the most obvious sources of cover, however, is also by far the most obvious threat. Frexl's mouth opens wide at the sight of it, exposing his yellow teeth.

"Hey Saturi. That there's a bomb."

<"I think you might be onto something."> Saturi jokes as she walks out into the center of the room. She descends a short set of steps to the main control panel. A quick glance is given to the readout...it's all abnormal...at least when compared to what it should be reporting. <"How much do you know about explosives?"> It's a legitimate question, especially considering the next question. <"If you've had a bit of training, I would appreciate your help looking this over.">

Her stroll comes to a halt before the makeshift proton device. The gnarly composition is hard to look at. It's more akin to a nest of wires than a wired nest. <"If not...just keep an eye on the doors?">

If it were possible for Frexl to whistle, he'd probably be doing that right about now. It's certainly a lot bigger and more terrifying than he'd bargained for. Of course, he'd have had to come anyway, being an apprentice and all.

The noise that comes out of Frexl's mouth instead of a whistle is just the sound of slobber against teeth and a rush of air. It conveys roughly the same meaning.

"I know enough to get by usually, but this thing here's a straight up mess. It'd take us hours to trace all these cables out... well... hang on..."

Lowering his rifle for the first time in a while, the Dug tries to visually trace the paths of the wires, and racks his brain trying to remember what it said in the Mercenary's Handbook about...

Wait! He doesn't need to remember it!

Opening up a pouch on his vest (don't call it a fanny pack) the mercenary produces a well-worn copy of the Mercenary's Handbook, and quickly thumbs to Chapter 17: How to Disarm An Explosive Without Losing Limbs.

"There we go, now if you look at it this way, looks like the control device is that jank over there."

Saturi double checks Frexl's assessment, she spends a little more time inspecting the payload than the wiring net, but the conclusion is the same. Her golden glance is cast to the handbook, giving the text a critical eye. <"Are you planning on being somewhere without power?"> She asks, not understanding why it might be a responsible thing to carry around physical text over datacards and datapads. <"That's a little low-tech."> She adds whilst moving towards the control panel. <"I'm going to try and beat this through software first...rather than just unplugging everything."> The Pantoran reaches into a hard-case on her suit, drawing out an interfacing device. She quickly manipulates the module, plugging it into the bomb's control panel.

Although they definitely have more important things to think about at the moment, Frexl seems a bit offended by her evaluation of his sacred text. No, not the one with the lottery numbers, the handbook he's been reading faithfully for years.

"Hey now. I'll have you know... first of all, there's a lot of words in a book that you can't get on a datapad, and it doesn't ever gotta be plugged in. And second of all... you know that those datascreens got RADIATION in 'em? Carry that around all day... pfft! Say goodbye to your nerts."

Still flipping through the handbook, Frexl fails to notice anything at all that might have been helpful. There's a missed opportunity if ever there was one.

"Or whatever Pantorans got instead of nerts."

<"You're worried about the radiation from datapad screens?"> Saturi furrows her brow in confusion. She glances up from her interface to the network of engineering equipment...all of which gives off significantly more radiation than a screen could ever dream of. Her head shakes as she decides not to argue the point...bigger fish to fry. <"We're going to have to take the physical route."> The Pantoran remarks, detaching her small computer from the control module. <"I can't get through the security.">

The missed hint, an ominous red light on the main reactor panel. It blinks rapidly, an alarm triggered from the unauthorized entry.

"Buddy of mine told me sometimes if you turn those janks off and on again... uh... it might do something if you do that."

Advanced Computer Use isn't one of the subjects taught in the Galactic Mercenary Workers' Apprenticeship Program. At least not at the local in Ko Hentota.

"Oh! And someti--" Frexl's voice trails off, and he faces outward, bringing his rifle up with a slightly concerned look on his face.

Sure enough, there's an audible clanking coming from just within earshot. His raspy voice drops to a harsh whisper as he scans for targets.

"Keep doing what you're doing. I'll keep 'em off ya."

Saturi hears the tap of metal feet approaching too. She shakes her head at Frexl, not agreeing with his assessment. <"This isn't something I can do while we're getting shot at."> Golden eyes flick around for cover, but the open concept of the room doesn't allow for many hiding places. <"They were still before...maybe if we hide."> This is a bad strategy, but based on the droid's performance before...not /too/ unsound.

Blue hands quickly finish stowing the interfacing device and draw out her golden blaster. It's just in case. The woman slides to the console, stooping behind it in an effort to hide.

There's really no way to know who's plan would have been better, as the issue is kind of forced on them before they're prepared. There's a life lesson in there somewhere. But Saturi's plan was definitely better.

Despite not being the brains of the operation, or the skills, or even the looks, Frexl manages to do what he was paid for with competency. He sends blaster bolts down range, double tapping the first clanker that walks through the door. He doesn't even look impressed with himself when it explodes in a satisfying shower of sparks.

Too bad there are more where that came from.

"They don't call me the Malastare Mauler 'cause I'm so good at HIDING!"

Nobody calls him that.

Sometimes a plan is so poorly executed that you just have to follow your instinct, or in this case, Frexl's instinct. The droids enter the room in a square formation, the red laser eyes staring both of them down.

Saturi is only halfway to her planned hidy spot before she realizes the droids are there. Left entirely exposed, she follows the dug's lead and starts shooting. The front two droids are destroyed in a shower of metal and gears, but the next two don't seem phased. They continue forward over their shattered comrades and begin firing at the purple blur...their fire so inaccurate that it almost hits our favourite Malastare Mauler.

One of the advantages of being small is that when you're in a firefight, the droids tend to shoot primarily at your taller, much more colorful employer! All things considered, Frexl's having a pretty good day so far. He can almost taste that sweet, sweet, overtime money.

Firing off more shots, he connects with one of the remaining droids, but doesn't put it down. It's okay, there's a high likelihood that nobody will survive this mission to tell everyone what a lousy shot Frexl is.

Making himself taller by stretching out his neck, the Dug shouts at the droids with Very Impressive Volume.

"HEY! WERMOS! LOOK OVER HERE!"

No reaction.

"COME ON OVER HERE SO UNCLE FREXL CAN TURN YA'S INTO RAT POODOO!"

Still, no reaction. Just more shooting.

Saturi fires at the next round of droids as accurately as the first. She pops the head off the robotic guard with a placed blaster bolt, relaxing as she takes the time to make it right. Her fearless attitude towards droids is understated. She's too confident, having been able to walk over their inferior motor brains before.

The Pantoran darts back towards the control device and starts to diffuse the bomb. Even though she objected at first, their success has bolstered her trust in Frexl to get the job done...and keep her from getting shot while she does it.

The last droid, having difficulty powering through its damaged frame, finally turns its attention to the dug. It fires repeatedly, the red blaster bolts colliding with the far wall.

As the droid's targeting system goes wonky, Frexl has a brief window to pause, take a breath, and place two well-aimed shots through its processing unit. As the droids head explodes, and its body falls to the floor with a 'KLANG!', Frexl finally breaks out into a triumphant grin.

Or at least that's what it's supposed to look like. On Dugs, everything just kind of looks like a snarl or a sneer. Maybe it's more accurate to say that he breaks out into a triumphant sneer?

"Never send a droid to do a Dug's job! That's what I always say!" It's true, he says that frequently.

But his triumph is short lived, as he now has a moment to look back, first at Saturi, and then... gulp... the bomb.

"Oh. Right."

Sometimes the simplest solutions were actually the correct ones. As soon as Frexl has finished gloating about his organic superiority, Saturi starts to unhook the control device from the proton bomb. Had she gone this route before, it wouldn't have tripped up the security sensor like the hacking attempt. Hindsight is always clearer.

<"I've removed the control module."> She says with a relaxed tone, glancing to the destroyed rubble that they both caused. <"Help me dislodge the ordinance...we'll be taking it with us to the shuttle.">

Putting the carbine reluctantly in its sheath on his back, Frexl heads over kangaroolike to 'help.' Reaching his grubby hands in there to help dislodge the ordinance, there's almost an accident which may or may not have destroyed the entire station. Frexl's a little fuzzy on that part.

"Whoop whoop whoop!"

But in the end, all is well, and the Dug hoists the control module over his shoulder with a loud grunt.

"Sucker's heavy! But don't worry now, they don't call me the Malastare Mauler because I'm NOT good at carrying stuff!"

His pace greatly slowed, and his posture greatly stooped, the Malastare Mauler begins the long trek back to the shuttle.

Let's hope nothing terrible happens to him.

Dislodging the proton bomb has likely saved many lives, but until the bomb is on Saturi's shuttle, there isn't anything preventing the mining baron from securing the weapon and rearming it. Following Frexl, the Pantoran keeps her blaster in hand. This time, on the way back, she leads the way. Halfway back to the shuttle, something unexpected happens. The emergency lights go out and the entire station loses power.

The now faint hum from the refinery grows silent and the bomb wielding pair are in pitch black.

A bright beam of white is shot from the lamp of the Pantoran's helmet. It was accessible with just a tap. <"I think that we may have removed the reactor's ability to charge the station's power cells."> The blinding light is pointed at the dug as she looks at him. <"They must have hardwired the bomb between the two grids.">

"That's... not a... good sound."

Supposedly out in space, nobody can hear you scream. But there's still air inside the space station, so Frexl holds it together. All is not lost yet, right?

"Between the grids? Does that mean we're 'BOUT TO GET SMUSHED?" Apparently he's picturing the control module as the only thing that was supporting the entire structure. And so, he does what any self-respecting Dug would do, he starts to book it!"

<"What?!"> The Pantoran isn't able to contain her complete bewilderment. How would they get "smushed"...they aren't in a trash compactor. She watches as the dug starts to sprint for the shuttle...in the darkness...through halls he has only been down once. Saturi tries to keep up, having difficulty tripping over her own feet in the low light. <"Slow down..."> Her breathing is more irregular than before. <"You're running with a bomb!">

'Starts to sprint' being the operative phrase. It only takes Frexl a few steps before he remembers that he's carrying a Very Heavy Bomb component. Almost instantly he starts getting winded, and slows down. It also doesn't help that he's trying to navigate in the dark while huffing and puffing.

"Slow down!? That's gonna make it easier for the station to smush us!"

The reminder is all he needs to dig deep, and try to pick up the pace!

Saturi picks up her pace and passes Frexl shortly after she becomes comfortable with the blind steps past her helmet's lamp. <"Would you slow down already?"> She asks with an exasperated sound. <"The station isn't going to collapse! You're going to hurt yourself."> Her concern is warranted by the dug's laboured 'sprint'. <"The shuttle is only a few hundred feet...slow down.">

There's definitely a greater than zero chance that Frexl will pull a muscle or drop the bomb and kill everyone. But surprisingly, he doesn't do that. True, he nearly trips over his own feet a couple of times, but manages to remain the Dug equivalent of upright.

But just as he starts slowing down, the customer starts picking up her own pace, passing him by! This will not stand.

"Don'tchu *HUFF!* take off *HUFF!* without me!"

There are many huffs and puffs before he can get anything else out.

"Or my *HUFF!* UNION REP will *HUFF!* He'll... *HUFF!"

"You'll be in a world of *HUFF!* poodoo!"

<"They can lodge their complaint in writing."> Saturi responds as she continues to sprint ahead of the Dug. On arrival at the airlock, she uses her free hand to cycle the shuttle's entry, making it easier for the dug to sprint the bomb inside. <"Come on."> She motions into the ship with her blaster. <"We don't have all day...">

His chest heaving, Frexl manages to get one last short run in. It's just enough to get him into the shuttle where it's all he can do to avoid collapsing on the floor. First things first, set the bomb down carefully.

Still breathing hard, his muscles shaking, Frexl secures the deadly package with some cargo straps, and does a fairly decent job of it. There might be hope for him as a spacehand someday. Aside from the whole not liking cramped spaces or outer space in general thing.

Only when the straps are secure does the Dug finally seem ready to relax. The whole flying the ship thing is well outside of his job description.

“Hey… is there any more rum?”