Log:Property Reallocation: Lies Save Lives

Lies Save Lives

OOC Date: August 31, 2006
Location: Kiskua
Participants: Zhu Yan, Stavros, Kasia Ciph, and Hex as GM

The short version: Kasia and Zhu Yan lie their way into and out of a slave auction gala. Stavros is a terrifying pool boy.

The long version:

This mission has brought the Redline into service, as it has more room than Kasia's Broadstar or Hex's HWK-290. It's en route to the fourth moon of Kiskua, a gas giant also in the Y'Toub system. The destination is an opulent settlement, a city of wealth and luxury, and Kasia and Yan have been instructed to dress accordingly.

"You're Rachelle and Yves Florissant, attendees to the Rising Star Society's annual Acquisition Gala," Hex reminds the pair, sourly. He has to stay in the car. And there's something going on between him and Kasia that involves a lot of awkward silence and not looking at each other. "They're actual people who declined to attend; they usually go to these disgusting human supremacist auction events by comm. So if anyone asks you things like they know you, lie. They're Hapans," Hex adds, pointing from Yan to Kasia, "So you're her bitch, Yves."

The ship sets down on the main landing field, and he continues, "You'll see holo representations of the slaves for sale on the main event floor, but you need to get a floor down to where the actual slaves are being held. I dunno how you'll get there. Lie more. I'll be waiting on a back entrance of that floor with the ship; as soon as you start disabling cells and trackers we're gonna be on a real tight schedule. Any questions?"

"Question," said Yves Florissant, a rather doddering old man with a cane, salt and pepper hair and beard, bright blue eyes and a rather charming suit. Of course, the voice coming from Yves was that of Zhu Yan, con-man extraordinaire, but nobody would notice that because his disguise was on point, perf, lit, fam, and all sorts of other obnoxious words. Bae. "Is this awkwardness going to be a big thing? Because I can cut the tension in here with a headbutt."

Kasia is not dressed up as an old woman, but she is dressed sharply in an asymmetrical green dress that clings and hugs in absolutely all the right places, flattering her generous figure well. She's got her hair up, jewelry on, and makeup done a long heavier than usual. Not truly an effort to disguise, it's just an evening look, okay. She doesn't quite look like herself though, this is dressier than she's been in a very long time. "You're my bitch, you're not headbutting anyone," she replies in a mildly testy tone, which really doesn't help to abate the awkwardness.

Hex twitches his lekku in displeasure. "Nothing like rescuing the innocent out of deplorable bondage with your ex-girlfriend," he explains to Yan. "Yeah, the awkwardness is gonna be a thing." He reaches into a footlocker and withdraws a small tracker-disabling device, for the use of making sure slaves with ownership implants aren't tracked or exploding after leaving orbit, and hands it to Kasia, who's used it before. Yan gets handed a pair of fancy looking invitations. "Worst case scenario, com me and I can light up this building with laser fire, but... trying to avoid that. They've got mercenaries with Skiprays, so if we have to come out hot, Yan flies, I'll shoot, Kasia keeps people from screaming too loud." He makes a shooing gesture. "Now go. Go steal me some people from gross humans."

Yves looked aghast! Aghast! Gross humans! Coming from this Twi'lek! How dare he! "I ought to slap you with a glove, good sir!" said Zhu Yan in his best Yves voice. It wasn't bad, seeing as he was a cunning linguist. And also good with voices! Ha! "But more importantly falling into character is easy. Basically just gotta channel my normal evil villain urges." Pause. "Did I just say that out loud? Nevermind! Let's go!" he thus declared, waving about the invitations.

Kasia, presently known as Rachelle, gives Hex a look of displeasure at his remark, but she doesn't say anything more about the matter at the moment. He'll probably hear about this later. "Fine. Let's." She turns to stride off of the ship with Yan, or Yves, whatever, the old dude who she's stuck with. It's definitely just for the money, he'll die eventually and she'll inherit all the dirty human supremacist fortune, but until then she'll just boss him around. It's their way.

After the Florissants clear the landing zone, the Redline lifts off, and Hex is presumably flying it away to the rendezvous point. Unless he's finally lost patience with all humans, and is abandoning them on the 4th moon of Kiskua.

The building where the gala is being held is gorgeous, architecture referencing the grandest days of the Naboo style, and everyone present - all human, though some with meek alien slaves in tow as well - is dressed to the nines. Kasia fits right in. "Hello, and welcome!" a pretty blonde greets the Fake Florissants, when they approach the red-carpet entry. "Invitations please!"

With a harrumph and throat clearing befitting of a Disguise check passed at 71, Yves Florissant handed over two invitations. Clearly this pretty blonde thing was below the attentions of the Hapan man, though the Zhu Yan hiding somewhere inside would deign to disagree. "Rachelle and Yves Florissant. Please, make this quick. Our presence is required." It turns out that when you run Zhu Yan's jackassery through a formality filter, that's what you get.

Kasia gives the pretty blonde a smile, which she maintains as she looks at the doddering old man beside her. "Be polite, dear, she's doing her job. We've more than enough time." Stern, superior, yeah, this fake Rachelle in is enjoying the whole getting to be bossy to Yan bit, and would probably milk it for everything it's worth.

Stavros follows with an expression as close to meekness as he can muster, hands folded in front of him, expression looking downward, even as his eyes are flitting around whenever he thinks someone isn't looking. He is dressed in bright colors, but clearly it is in mockery of his culture rather than out of respect for it: someone giving him a Zeltron costume, rather than a Zeltron dressing himself. He moves behind the Florissants, as though their admission brought him naturally. He doesn't look at the pretty blonde collecting invitations, instead looking down. At the ground, and the Florrisants' bums.

The blonde seems surprised at the names, which she recognizes. "Oh!" she exclaims. "You've come in person this year! There were some rumors you might not, what with - ah - what happened last year, and all!" Her demeanor suggests it may have been something salacious or embarrassing, because she blushes, and looks like she wishes she didn't say anything. "Ah - well - anyway! Please enjoy yourselves!"

The three are ushered inside, and as Hex's intel promised, this grand room is the main auction floor. There are only about 20 or 30 auction "displays," but each is a well-appointed little area. Clearly the sellers compete to make their slaves' holo-stations look as appealing as possible, to better show off the merchandise. There are little displays at which to bid. Live music plays, stringed instruments in a classical arrangement that would give Hex a heart attack if he was here, so good thing he's crying in the car. Beautiful people in gorgeous clothes, human of course, swan about, laughing and talking, enjoying the copious food and beverages that near-human slaves silently offer. Somewhere around here, there must be a way down to the floor where the slaves are.

Yves Florissant SIIIIIIIIIIGH. "Yes dear." Clearly, despite wearing pants, he didn't wear the pants in this relationship. Hell, he was positive that their Zeltron FIEND of a servant was secretly tupping his wife whilst he attended to affairs about the city! The man cleaned their four pools, for Teneniel's sake! See look, backstory! Easy. Also if Hex so much as scratched his ship (ignoring the existing ones), Yan would kill him. Fitting in, he snagged a small hors d'oeuvre off one of the food trays and sampled it. Seeing as his ability to find anything, anywhere, was absolutely lacking, he focused on blending in rather than searching.

Oh the smile that this pretty blonde gets, it becomes sharp, and the look in Rachelle's eyes far less friendly. If looks could kill... well, the woman wouldn't be dead, because Kasia doesn't really want to kill her for bringing up whatever this embarrassing past was, but figures it helps them to fit in that Rachelle wouldn't be pleased to hear it. RIGHT? Right. So those subtle dirty looks abound while disguised behind pretty smiles. They make their way inside, and immediately she takes a drink, leaving the food to Yan. "Take notes," she instructs her Zeltron pool boy that she's totally not tupping dear, honest. "We can come back around to have a better look at those that catch our eye." And they can get a look all around the room to find where the slaves are being kept.

Stavros follows his owners with all the tenacity of an attached lamprey but fewer uncomfortable teeth. He doesn't have to feign his discomfort at being the odd alien out. Usually that doesn't bother him, but usually they aren't all xenophobic slave-buying bigots, either! "Yes, mistress," he says obediently, producing a datapad and looking at - and between - the slaves and their listed numbers and descriptions at the stands. Only once they have made a slow circumnavigation of the area does he wait for a moment when neither Kasia nor Zhu Yan are talking and he interjects quietly, "Master, mistress- I believe Number Seven most fits the needs you have discussed-" He presents his datapad for review. There are a few actual notes here and there, but at the end, an emphatic ENTRANCE IS BEHIND TAPESTRY - AND GUARD. Indeed, there is an oddly-placed fellow in a dark suit who seems to herd people away who try to touch the tapestry. As to whether the tapestry truly hides the entrance? Well, you just have to trust him on that. Given that speaking aloud might be dangerous.

The Trio of Hero aren't left to their own devices for long, as a tall, glamorous woman approaches "Yves" and "Rachelle." She smiles brightly, teeth white and perfect against her tan skin. "Oh my, please forgive me, but word spreads so quickly," she greets. "We are so honored that you've joined us in person this year! I had no idea you were so...." She's had a few to drink, and she's looking at Yves with some surprise. "...Venerable..." She looks back to Kasia and Zhu. "How is your - ah - your baby?" Chick is clearly wondering how Yves knocked that up. She tilts her head to the side, and adds, "I quite like your Zeltron. Have you have any difficulty training him? Don't they emit chemicals of some sort? I've been thinking about getting one this year but I'm not sure if it would be a hassle."

"Quite well, m'lady," said Yves, taking a small bow. Clearly the Hapan deference to the matriachy was ingrained into the man's very soul. More importantly, it was time for BLUSTER, and BLUSTERING at someone inebriated was as easy as robbing a Tatooine crime lord. "In fact, the governess insists that our little daughter is stealing cookies from the cupboard when she is not looking but," and Yves looked a little bit conspiratorial here, as though letting Miss Glamourous in on a secret, "it's actually me! A little prank I like to play to keep her on her toes. Unfortunately, Madam Galleria is Zelosian and such she will never catch on. I feel we will have to let her go soon." IN-CHARACTER EUPHEMISM.

Rachelle regards the tablet with the notes, giving Stavros, her Zeltron slave boy (this is never going to get old) a nod. Approval, if slight. Maybe he'll get a cookie later. Getting a look a that tapestry will have to wait, however, because they're being approached by a glamorous lady, who is greeted with a dazzling smile. "Babies are rather like men, they cry a lot, they eat a lot, and they constantly beg for your attention." She sounds so weary at it all, life as a rich space racist is so hard, y'all. She shoots a look over her shoulder at the slave boy that's been brought up, then leans in closer to her fellow slave owning scum pal here. "It takes a firm hand, and a lot of time, but it's completely worth it in the end. If you'd like, he can give a demonstration." She makes a little motion for Stavros to step forward so she can get a better look at him, if she wants.

"Oh, I... I thought you had a son," the Florissants' bestie furrows her brow in confusion. But they're okay liars and surely they know their kid better than she does, so she lets it go. "Ooooh a demonstration!" she's so delighted! "What can he do??" She clearly doesn't care what Stavros does, but she's stoked to see a trick. She's disgusting. They're all disgusting. "I take it you switched to Zeltrons after that incident with the Twi'lek, last year," she remarks conspiratorially to Yves. Isn't there always an Incident, with Twi'leks. Isn't there always! "Oh, you've quite convinced me that Zeltrons are for me and I haven't even seen him perform yet! I'm going to have to up my bid on Fourteen," she smiles to Rachelle. Auctions! So fun! Sharp eyes will catch a swish of fabric in the southeast corner of the room as a man in a pale suit steps over there, and indeed, he vanishes through a door. That must be the way downstairs.

"Mention not the Twi'lek," said Yves, having to work to inject some annoyance into his tone. Unlike other individuals, he wasn't annoyed by a Twi'lek at this precise moment. What he was, however, was looking in the direction of a certain tapestry. Of course, he'd seen what Stavros had written, so he kept his mouth shut. Then he reconsidered. "Shall we?" he asked of his companions.

Though Rachelle doesn't respond, or mention the Twi'lek incident, she does adopt a briefly unpleasant expression. Sore subject, her and Twi'leks. "Zeltrons are worth every credit you spend on them." And hopefully give this slaving space wench a whole lot of trouble, if she ever gets one. What Kasia really hopes for is that this whole place burns to the ground in a mysterious fire that someone sets on their way out, taking all the slavers with them, but that can't be counted on to happen. If she noticed the fluttering of the material, she makes no indication of it, and glances at Stavros to see if he's going to give a quick demonstration before they move on. Whatever it is. Maybe make the awful slaver want to run away and cry, though that would undermine the whole Zeltrons are great thing, but really, it's fun and games when you make dirty slavers cry.

Still just standing there, Stavros doesn't move. Something is happening, though. The woman's cheeks start to flush and there is a catch as she takes a deep breath. She shifts her weight slightly. Those paying attention might notice her pupils dilate slightly. She wets her suddenly-dry lips, and finally asks, "When is he going to-" And then realization hits, and she looks almost embarrassed. She opens her mouth, closes it, and then takes another deep breath as she turns to walk over to raise her bid on Number 14. Then he nods to Zhu Yan- er, Yves, and assumes a flanking position if they go straight for the concealed entrance.

Later on, in the privacy of her shuttle, that human supremacist is going to be confused and upset over how bad she wanted a piece of that alien ass. What's happening? Where are her standards?! She does run over to put all her money on Zeltron 14. ALL THE MONEY. Before she goes, she smiles, "I hope you have /such/ a lovely evening! I hope you get everyone you want!" Indeed, lady, indeed.

When she's gone, they have a clear shot to the tapestry door, but the dark-suited man steps forward to halt their progress. "I'm sorry, sir, madam," he says politely. "This area is restricted access. Refreshers are just there to the north, and I can have someone show you to a private conference room if you desire."

Yves Florissant folded his arms, put on a stern facial expression, and FROWNED. It was a horrible thing, designed to bore deep into one's head, heart, even their very soul, and overwhelm them with the feeling that they had done something horribly, horribly wrong. "You know why we're here," he said, his voice remarkably quiet and measured. What he didn't say was, 'Let me through that door or I will literally have your head on my mantlepiece before the week is out'.

Though Rachelle might feel pity for the slave owning scum, Kasia does not, she's quite enjoying watching the woman throw credits at an alien she wants to climb all over. Hopefully it's an alien that she won't have a chance to get, because they'll be off with them before the auction is over, but it's amusing all the same. "And you, dear," she calls, giving the woman a finger wave before she turns to move along with the tottering old hubs. He handles trying to convince the guy to let them through the door, and for the time being, she leaves it to him. She'll bust out her charm if she has to, but really, we'll let the little old guy have a go first, because it's really Yan, and he's good at this stuff.

Stavros follows the two, eyes downcast. His eyes are focused on the ground and on the two identically-sized humans before him, but he's mostly staying alert for sudden movement from this obstacle to their descent. He is positively _demure_.

The 'guard' doesn't really know what to think of this. He's not a bouncer, not really - this is not a high security event. He was told not to let anyone down where the slaves are. But.. this guy... uh... he seems really important. Know why we're here... Shit! He doesn't know why they are there. But there was that meeting he didn't attend because he was late getting back to work that one day when the food truck didn't come. And it seemed like an important meeting... they probably went over this. Shit! The guy sweats and adjusts his collar. "Uh... uh of course sir!" He steps aside and opens the door.

The world of twinkling crystal chandeliers, gentle music, and bubbly drinks vanishes abruptly when they pass through the tapestry door, and the three Arcadians find themselves on an industrial stairwell leading down. The area is all pipes and concrete, dimly lit, and leads down to a large, spartan room filled with the hum of generators. And cells. Every slave represented in a holo above is housed in a cell here. They are all aliens, of course; and mostly the sort that would be appealing to human eyes. House servants, pleasure servants, assistants. Pool boys! People who will be expected to smile every day at those rich monstrosities in the Rising Star Society above, no matter what indignities or horror they're subjected to. They are wearing basic, bland attire, and they have no facilities beyond a cot, a sink, and a grate in the cell floor. Each cell hums with a force-field door, but there's probably a way to disable the devices. There's one guard down here, and this one is armed, but he seems surprised, not yet wary. "This is a restricted area!"

Why stop a good thing? "My good sir, do you truly think I can examine the goods if you're merely showing us holograms?" Yves's bluster was truly on point today. He gestured over to Stavros, indicating his Zeltron-ness. "Look here. A prime specimen of Zeltron. Capable of emitting pheromones to induce all sorts of emotions. But you don't see such things, do you? My good man, I cannot make an adequate..." pause, "sizeable purchase for my darling wife if I cannot assess the goods properly, do you understand?"

The aforementioned wife of the blustering old guy simply stands by looking bored, as though all of this hassle is completely beneath her. Yawn. She'll pay attention when they can move on and look at the actual goods, and oh hey, look, the door is open to them now. Rachelle crooks a beckoning finger at Stavros, and swishes her way right on through the door to the less glamorous world of where the slaves are actually kept.

The second guard isn't exactly unexpected, but tiresome. "It is restricted, and yet we're here, which means we're allowed to be here." She strides closer to the guard, though it's slower, purposeful, totally unarmed, honest, look at my hands and how they're not holding weapons, and hey if the hips sway a little more along the way, you can notice that too. "Do you know who I am?" Authority, she speaks with so much of it, such confidence that she is right, and he is wrong, that she's allowed to be here regardless of what he might've been told before. She just KNOWS it. "I am a woman who plans to spend an obscene amount of money tonight on these," she motions around to indicate the poor slaves who are probably praying really hard that this crazy bitch doesn't end up their owner. "And I can't imagine that anyone would be very happy to discover that I decided not to all because of you."

Stavros preens at Yves's compliment, smiling broadly and rolling his shoulders back. He might even be blushing a little. His behavior is in keeping with that, but can you even tell when a Zeltron is blushing? He bows deeply to the security guard. Human McXenophobe probably doesn't know. While he's bowing, his eyes flit to either side, looking for something resembling controls.

This guard is a little sharper, and better armed, than the other. He seems like he's thinking about what Zhu Yan said, but he's not sure, and it takes Kasia to set the hook. She's sexy, she's scary, the guy doesn't know quite what to make of it. He's definitely too cowed to admit he doesn't know who she is, so he holsters his weapon and walks over to what looked like just a normal piece of the wall, opening up a hatch that reveals control switches within. Lots of switches for lots of doors, but it looks like there's also a code keypad where he'll have to enter something in. "Uh... Which one did you want to see....?"

Zhu Yan was many things, but a scary motherfucker he was not. So he'd leave that part to the others. With Rachelle sashaying ominously at the guard, he instead backed away and let the two obvious people do their thing while he glanced around to see if there was an exit that did not, in fact, lead them straight back through a gaggle of guards and guests.

Rachelle, or Kasia, or... whoever, that brunette in the green dress with a nice ass smiles at the guard now, approving, maybe even a little flirtatious. How YOU doin'. "Why don't we start with," she steps closer as she turns to look at the cells, near enough that she can rest a hand on his shoulder unless he pulls away. "That one," she points to the cell where another Zeltron is kept. The one that lady bid on upstairs, probably. First to be freed, just out of spite. Teehee. "And then we can go from there, yes?" she turns to look at the guard, smiling, but not with the underlying threat of being all disapproving and superior again if she doesn't get her way.

The Zeltron masquerading as a slave walks over to where he's behind the security guard, towards the cell where the Zeltron who is a slave in truth is held. Slave Number 14 is another Zeltron man. When he is close enough to speak - about five feet or so - he says something to him in Zeltron. Then he walks back over towards the guard and Kasia. His gaze at the back of the guard's head is a bit - malevolent.

Let's face it, Kasia. She is rusty. She's wasted her talent for most of a year on someone who's too easy to impress. It is not the best seduction she's ever done... but good enough for that chump. The guard taps a code in and pushes the button for Zeltron 14, and the force field winks out. It's another Zeltron man in there, looking alarmed, but he hears Stavros and nods. The other slaves are starting to wake up now, unsure of what's happening. "I can't... can't let all of them out," the guard vaguely remembers his job, as he gets distracted by the way Kasia looks in that green dress. "Just one at a time... I'll put that one back so you can look at another..."

While the guard is still looking at Kasia, Stavros catches his shoulder with one arm. He pushes him back against the open door of the control panel and stares straight into the man's eyes. His lips are pursed, one eyebrow is raised, and he is as dispassionate as though he were staring at an insect he was about to stomp. More "Listen carefully. Your life changes today."

The man is more afraid than he knows he should be. "You are going to enter the codes to open all of the cells. You are going to accompany me as my honored guest as we all make our departure. You are not going to give warning by word or deed that you are doing any of these things." His eyes narrow. "I'm your only hope of survival right now. Give me your weapon, give me your comm, and you'll have a new life, somewhere else. Because I'm a nice guy."

He leans closer and hisses at him, "You don't want me to not be a nice guy. Gun. Comm. Now."

With his darling unfaithful wife assessing the goods for her custom-built home harem, Yves busied himself with sticking his hands in his pockets and walking aimlessly around the room. Well, not aimlessly. More to the point, he was looking like he was casually going somewhere that wasn't the emergency exit, which was his end goal. Of course, such exits were usually trapped, and Yan was a clever cookie. It didn't take him long to figure out which connection to short to stop the alarm. And then he looked over at Stavros, and Stavros was being SCARY. Well shit!

While Yan is off looking for a way out, and Stavros is intimidating the guy into giving up his weapon and coms, Kasia actually managed to spot the code that he punched in, and how he did it, so she begins the process of doing exactly what the poor guard did so that she can open all of the cells to let the slaves out. Each and every one of them. Sorry, guy, hope you have better luck in whatever your life ends up being, if it doesn't end in here tonight.

Zeltron pool boy was scary to begin with, but he's radiating scary like a space heater of pink terror as well, and it's not something this guard is prepared to deal with. His life flashes before his eyes; probably he is imagining himself drowned by the pool boy in the Florissant's pool. Or maybe he's figured out that these are thieves, not bidders, and that all hell is about to break loose. "I don't get paid enough for this," he thrusts his gun and comm at Stavros, in compliance. Then he realizes how much trouble he's going to be in with the Rising Star Society and blubbers, "Take me with yooooooou!" The slaves, freed by Kasia, are rushing out of their cells, but it's in panic and confusion. They don't know where they're going, or who these people are, and they're scared. Some are rushing toward the stairs, which is probably a bad thing.

"Look alive, where're the people at?!" Hex's voice crackles over somebody's com. "I've got ships incoming in five that are gonna be real curious as to why I'm not landed in a proper zone."

See, now was a good time for all hell to break loose. "Guys, get our charges out the emergency exit. The alarm's cut, so we're clear," declared Zhu Yan, abruptly straightening and suddenly looking less like a plantation owner and more like a young man with white powder in his hair. He sounded a lot younger too. He was fishing out a comm from his pocket. It was a slightly bigger one than normal, possibly an antique. In character for the old guy, but that wasn't why he had it. "Green, tell Reddie to redirect the ship's comm systems to me. I'll take care of any hails you might get." Then he cleared his throat again and started reciting words to himself. "We've had a purchase... we've had a big purchase, no that won't work. I was given the wrong coordinates, help me out..."

Kasia squeezes the guard's shoulder when he surrenders his com and weapons as she continues to open cell doors. "Don't go that way," she calls to those who are heading for the stairs. "We'll get you out, take you with us, but just stay here." She's trying not to outright yell, because she doesn't want to alert anyone above that something is amiss downstairs, that'll become obvious soon enough. She doesn't go chasing after anyone who might be continuing on though, if they do, she's too busy making sure all of the cells are open and the slaves are free first. Don't want to leave anyone behind. "We'll take you with us," she assures the guard, but makes no promises as to whether or not Hex will shoot him once they're at the ship. He might. He's a wildcard.

Stavros accepts the gun, aims it right back at the guard. He takes the comm with the other hand, drops it on the floor while still staring at the guard, and stomps it. There is a satisfying crack, and that particular way of warning his superiors about the impending exodus is gone. "That-a-way," he says, inclining his head in the Emergency exit's direction without shifting the gun one bit. "Move."

In a friendlier but still firm voice, he calls, "Freedom is that way. Past the grayhair." He walks the guard towards the stairs, where he can intercept people. Probably if they see the gun they'll head the other way naturally! Only then does he start the guard heading towards the exit. "We'll be the last two out. You've still got time to make a mistake. Don't."

"You are out of line, soldier!" Zhu Yan adapted fast, shouting into the comm like a pissed off drill sergeant. When in doubt, go for sheer audacity. "You're interfering with a sting operation! Get your CO on the line or I will tear your head from its sh..." BLAM. Stun bolt to the chest, and Zhu Yan went down with all the subtlety and grace of a sack of potatoes. He didn't even have time to reach for his blaster, then he remembered he didn't have it. As his vision faded, one word came to mind. Balls.

All the cells are open, all the slaves are loose, it's time to try and herd cats, except that they're not cats, and also now people are shooting. Kasia clacks along in the shoes she wore to try and look like she's rich, which aren't very practical for running, eventually kicking them off to be left behind in the chaos of trying to run herd slaves out the door and not get shot. "This way, this way!" Oh, and down goes Yan. It would be bad to leave him here, right? ...yeah, it would. No leaving anyone behind. Rather than continue fleeing out the door, she leans down to try and help drag him toward the door, except that he's heavy, and still much like a sack of potatoes, which aren't at all helpful when you're trying to carry them.

Ow! And then not much feeling at all. Stavros glares back up at the stairs, shoots wildly in their direction, and then brings the gun back to the guard. "Help her haul out the grayhair," he commands, while he himself taking staggering steps, more or less dragging the leg along with him. He takes a few more potshots at the stairs. Even if their captive guard tried to flee now, he'd get shot and then probably worse, so he feels like it's okay to provide a little cover fire. This blaster is not set to stun, incidentally.

Click, the com switches back over to Hex. "What did you say to them? Yan? Yan?! They're not stopping! I can't fly and shoot at the same time, and I can't fly /or/ shoot while I'm waiting for your slow asses! Hurry up!" Ugh, Hex, way to be so unsympathetic to the plight of your companions. But he's probably pretty concerned about the plight of getting shot off this emergency-vehicles-only landing pad.

Kasia succeeds in dragging the limp body out the door, and the guard follows along behind Stavros. They reach the other side of the emergency exit, and -- there he doesn't follow. Just casts the Zeltron a long, searching look, then closes the exit again, sealing himself on the cells-and-guards side of it. There's a lot of yelling, and the thump of a manual lock being set. Why? They'll never know, but he's bought them enough time to get aboard the Redline, into the ship and away.

The unconscious Yan was babbling. "Give me a blaster, give me a blaster, give me a blaster." And this continued, even as he slowly regained consciousness. "Give me a blaster, please!" he called out as he finally came to, then he looked around and found that there was no one to shoot. "Frack me dead. Hang on, hang on," he sputtered, clambering to his feet and out of Kasia's grasp before launching into some sort of awkward run towards the Redline's ramp. His legs were still tingly. "Get out of the pilot's seat!" he shouted. He was too far away. When his legs hit the ramp, he did it again. "Get out of the pilot's seat!" Zhu Yan was a man possessed.

"You sure you got this, Yan? You just got stunned-" With his leg starting to work again, Stavros makes good time. Once on the ramp, he does glance back once at the locked door, lips pursed- but no time to think about it. He stretches his leg and makes his way to the ladder, grabbing the sides and sliding down towards the ventral turret. He grabs a headset as he straps in. "If there's pursuit, keep 'em below us."

Kasia drags Zhu Yan as quickly as she can, rather than putting much care on how delicately he was dragged out. "Shit." There's a little device that she produces when Yan gets to his feet, and quickly begins to scan the slaves as they awkwardly shuffle onto the ship, shoving each one inside as they're cleared for devices that will allow tracking, or worse, explode when triggered. The process is continued until she's sure she's gotten everyone, and then she'll scan everyone again. Because she's like that, and she doesn't know how to shoot any of the guns on the ship, so this is how she'll be useful, making sure that an exploding slave doesn't kill them all.

Hex does not want to fly this thing, and as they board, is already racing down the corridor to assist with the freaked out slaves. "Get into the pilot's seat!" he yells back at Yan. Aft doors cleared for departure. "Get into the pilot's seat!!" Stavros is manning the turret, ready to fire, and he couldn't have sexier flying to shoot for - Godlike, Yan pilots with all of the grace and talent he doesn't dodge blaster fire with. They knock the Skiprays off their six without taking a hit, and when they break atmo, they have a clear shot to hyperspace, and escape.

Hyperspace. Safety. With that done, Zhu Yan swaggered out of the cockpit, hair returning to brown, age-lines removed, and suit jacket missing. "Not a bad bit of rescuing, huh? You know, sometimes I amaze even myself." And there was the jackassery. Well done, Yan. Well done.