Log:Smert Piratam
Smert Piratam
Location: Rishi
Participants: Hadrix Kora, Sapphira_Solari, Jacali, Vandred, Tharyn Corlas
EMERGENCY BROADCAST: TRANSPONDER 222-C_11-343BYS, LEISURE CRAFT DESIGNATION 'SULLUSTAN FIREFALL'.
SHIP LOCATION: RISHI SYSTEM, ABRION SECTOR, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES.
MESSAGE BEGINS:
"Hello? This is Bicka Lorem, of the Saltar Metals Corporation. We entered the Rishi system a couple of hours ago, where we were promptly set upon by pirates. My ship has been boarded, my crew and guests captured, but I have managed to secure myself in the panic chamber - please, if anyone's listening...oh, Spirits, help us! I have money, I'll-"
MESSAGE ENDS. REPEATING...
The dumbest thing in the galaxy is for wealthy people to go to pirate-held systems on a pleasure yacht, but history demonstrates that if wealth does anything, it can make people really, /really/ dumb. So it is with Bicka Lorem, head of the Saltar Metals Corporation, one of many producers of industrial metals on the Rim and a woman of no small amount of resources. Just, you know, also apparently capable of astoundingly bad judgement. Whether it is arrogance or ignorance that saw the /Sullustan Firefall/ enter the pirate-rich Rishi system, the ship is now a victim of those forces. Good corporate magnates are supposed to reach out to their own security forces, but Bicka Lorem has not; the wide-spectrum signal has fallen largely on deaf ears, but there are always the opportunistic - or the just plain foolhardy - and thus this team has been assembled, including the timid and officious personage of one Bando Bale, the company representative dispatched to oversee the operation.
Traveling on board the /Avenger/, Tharyn's fresh-from-the-yards YT-1500 transport, the ship enters the system but a few hours after the signal has gone out - with a crew of four other mercenaries attending the vessel, /Avenger/ enters the system not far from where the signal broadcasts: the yacht is unarmed, a sleek and finely-tooled Luxury 3000. Appearing close enough to drift close to the ship with nearly all power cut upon entering realspace, the ship's pilot brings the transport in to dock with the other vessel - seemingly without any detection on the part of whatever pirates have boarded the ship. Seemingly.
The team has entered the docking section of the vessel, led by Bando Bale - the Bith wears a ridiculous EVA suit, the surface patterned with the logo of some designer house or another from the bowels of fashion Hell. As /Avenger's/ boarding hatch opens and the locked hatch of the /Sullustan Firefall/ remains stubbornly sealed, Bale clears his...well, whatever it is that Bith use as a throat-equivalent.
"Don't worry," the Bith says in his high, reedy voice. "I know the access codes! I'll just get the door open in a moment..."
From behind the Bith, Tharyn - dressed in his brown and green void-sealed armor - grunts, but says nothing else. He's armed with shock gloves, though pistols ride on his hips as well.
Who's dis bish? Why it's Sapphira ... just Sapphira, these days. Or Sapling, Sappy, and most commonly, Sap. The petite redhead turned up for this little escapade dressed to be unseen: she's donned the second-skin of a black Shadowsuit, which seems to suck the light out of the space around her. Pistols are strapped to either thigh, high enough on her form so her stubby little arms can reach them without issue. "I'm telling you," she said to Tharyn at least four times during this excursions, "If you'd let me tighten up those compression coils, she wouldn't rattle so much. I know //you// don't feel her rattling, but I do, and your blast shielding feels it too. If not for me, at least think of your shielding." This was the lecture Tharyn got until it was, at last, game time.
The redhead stands now to the right of the Bith, not tooooo close that she might become blaster fodder for anyone aiming at him, but close enough to be part of the group.
Signed on for pirate hunting, why else? He no longer believed in the Supreme Leader, but he believed in Order. He believed in crushing out pirates, smugglers, slavers, drug runners. So merc work was the best option for the FO Spec Ops gone Mandalorian.
<"If you need point ops, my suit is vacuum rated and prepped for full EVA operation..."> the old E-11 drawn and held like a pistol in his grip. <"Hell... I'll take spearhead anyway if necessary..."> Hadrix's voice rumbles through his externals, an animal intensity there that can't be washed out by the speakers.
Vandred, by most standards, is an overly happy and pleasant person - always happy to lend a hand. Especially when there is money involved. In fact, lets just go straight to the part where the recording goes 'I have money'. Put that on repeat. Wait. Slow it down. Yes. x0.50 speed. Save that, put it as Vandred's datapad ringtone. Now we're talking.
The bounty hunter was sitting down until they had to start moving to the docking section, and his Glie-44 - thank you Bounty Hunter's Guild - is taken from it's holster. He pulls the energy cell from it, inspects the charge, then promptly loads it back in and turns the safety off. The armoured man bounces on his heels a few times, working himself up for it while they're waiting for the door to open up. His commlink spits some static, the man muttering under his breath. "Don't get shot in the face." A mantra to live by.
It's hard to say why Jac shows up anywhere, really. It's certainly not to help people, or tend to the injured, or anything so basic or pedestrian as all that. Whether even she knows just quite why is left to question, but here she stands in her armour, every trace of a distinguishable 'person' given up in the name of at least some safety. She has been silent this entire time, listening to Sapphira and her ship chatter. She can appreciate the woman's judgment, her insistance, her apparent superiority in regards to the subject of the ship. With her head turned that way, motionlessly she observes these periodic conversations before allowing her attentions to wander off to one point of interest or another.
Her own weapon is a simple affair. It's not modded. It is, by some miracle, loaded and ready -- absolutely immaculate in how it's been kept, which might strike some as terribly odd, given the lack of customisation or improvement. When Hadrix talks, Jacali looks his way, giving a one-shouldered lazy half-shrug in retort. And then there's Vandred.
Oh, Vandred.
Her breathing shallows when he begins with his mantra, until she heaves the mightiest of sighs and moves one gloved hand to check the medpac she's got tucked into one of her tactical satchels. "Try not to disappoint me." Her voice can be heard as she addresses the friendly fellow.
"<Oh. How I love a hero job,>" Mydas Gryph said to himself while standing at the edge of the transport's aft alone, though he couldn't be sure if his t-visored mask's vocalizer echoed his sardonic sentinment. All the same, he began to tighten the strap around the chest of his crimson Void Armor which held the holster of his AFD sniper rifle. He glanced around crossed his arms--he noticed other mercenaries present, but didn't yet speak to them.
With his sniper rifle secured, he drew his modified DH-17 blaster and checked it. Satisfied with its state, he holstered it and crossed his arms.
Bent over the entry keypad, the officious Mr. Bale prods at the luminous buttons with a thick, stubby fingers. The clear transparisteel dome of his helmet gives his suit more or less the look of something from a child's imagination than a piece functional equipment, and the jerky movement of his bulbous head as he enters the /very long/ override sequence is a slightly disturbing thing. But soon enough he lets out a faint, gibbering sound, and as the faint clank of magnetic bolts being retracted fills the anteroom he turns to nod his head to the rest. "I've done it. It's your show."
Tharyn pauses, then looks to the enormous wall that is Hadrix. << Well, um, >> he says through his helmet's speakers, << You wanna lead this one? Boardings aren't my, um, specialty. >>
The Bith steps back, and as Tharyn speaks to Hadrix, the redhead draws the larger of the two firearms from her person. She turns her head, red braided ponytail swinging as she does, to look over her shoulder at the Mandelorian. She'd recognize him if not for the helmet now, but seeing as she can't recognize him, she just grins vaugely in his general direction. "Step right up!" she encourages him, and with no further ado, her hand slaps the airlock cycle so the door will hiss open.
Recognizable faces or kit, Hadrix's helm turned briefly to Vandred's mantra, Jacali's quips and then to Sapphira as she motions him in. <"Keep on my six, I'll provide mobile cover."> Said to the tiny redhead before the big man lumbers in, sweeping low and much faster than a man his size should have any right to be.
Head cocking to one side he positions to stack up on the only pair of doors at the end of the corridor.
<<"Corridor clear, scraping up ahead. Unknown beyond the doors">> said over comms... The doors do have a big sign over them reading Ballroom.
Vandred offers a thumbs up to Jacali. "I will try my utmost!" He chirps through the commlink at her - then he's moving after Hadrix. His armour is tough enough, he supposes, to handle something like another blaster bolt. Preferably not to the face.
His mind sticks on the fact that he's got three goals here. A) Do not get shot. B) Try not to look bad infront of people. C) Hopefully save enough people to get paid. A and B being probably primary in his mind now - after all, rep matters.
Despite the layers of his armour, Vandred does somehow manage to move quietly enough to basically follow in Hadrix's shadow - just so that if a blaster does appear.. Hopefully it's Hadrix. Not Vandred. That gets shot.
This time.
Jacali is, thankfully, not the one that's being asked to breach.
She's seen enough before this point to know what's about to happen, and she's keeping well away from the initial dangers inherent in boarding a ship. After all, she is but a smol doctor, he is mighty manmeat. Also, of course: Better him than her. The reasons for not getting in the way are many, these are but a few.
Her interest is, however, avid; what awaits this intrepid crew? Will Haddles be lit on fire? Could his organs be harvested? What model is that cybernetic eye? ... Should -she- get cybernetic eyes? Behind her mask, too-bright eyes narrow in the shadows cast by that metal bastille that hides her, her head tilting owlishly to one side as she considers all of these things. In the throes of her reverie, it takes a moment once Hadrix has moved to check up ahead that Jac snaps out of it, her head turning quickly to scan for the dancing shield that is the much larger Mando. When she does, she moves to support.
From behind.
From far, far behind.
It's not that she's a coward. It's just that she's so very fond of living, you see.
When Vandred speaks, she quips in retort, "I have changed my mind." She snoots out a soft 'hmph', "Either do, or do not. There is no try." A beat of a pause, "... My suggestion would lean to the former, rather than latter, should you be so fond of living as I am."
Mydas moves through the corridor near the front of the company at the right-front flank and attempts to keep his steps quiet, just as he'd practiced so many times over. There were no floor plans for his AR to access and display, but while it might've disturbed him, he'd been in 'blindside' jobs quite a few times.
Lost in his own attempts to move stealthily, the right side of his armor brushes against the right wall, and he jumps at the noise as though someone else made it.
<"Tccch...>" he mutters, and keeps moving with his blaster raised.
From outside, the ship obviously has several decks; this being the lower deck, accessed from the rear of the ship between the nacelles, the main corridor runs to the fore, lit comfortably from above by holographic sculptures that double as light fixtures. The walls are paneled with greel, and also spattered with blood - no bodies, just blood, and the occasional scorching of blaster fire. As Hadrix takes point, Tharyn sticks in the middle, following the line of boarders with crackling fists held in a low ready position as he lot of you move along. The ship is silent, so very, very silent, all except for a soft scraping noise somewhere on the deck. Where /is/ that coming from?
In the back, next to Jacali, Bando Bale keeps close to the port side of the corridor - close enough to bump into the wall with his ridiculous suit, but managing somehow not to do it. "It's so quiet," he whispers to Jacali, black eyes enormous and reflective. "Shouldn't we hear something?"
Sapphira has no trouble falling in line just behind Hadrix, and she does so with the ease and confidence of one who has done this numerous times before. She moves acceptably quietly, aided by the soft padding in the built in feeties of the suit. At one point, she nudges Hadrix (in an upward direction due to disparities in height) and points a black gloved hand toward a bloody smear along the wall. She reaches that same hand out, dragging a slender index finger through the mess. It cuts right through, smearing the blood. It's fresh. Not too fresh; a dry crackle is left behind. But fresh enough. In silence she lifts this finger to Hadrix as well, so that he may note it in his position as line leader.
It's a FOMD Mark-IV, Spec-Fo Optical Replacement. That's why the sclera is black, the iris of gold micro-wires and the actual optics are glowing red. The Medical Directive likely gets much of its design information from the Public Relations/Psych-Warfare departments of the order.
He doesn't like it much. But he doesn't mention it often. His voice then comes over comms as he elbows the door panel and rolls in, keeping his eyes peeled for hostiles and cover.
<<"Entering, moving for cover">> Simple enough - even as the sight presented in the wake of his movement is a holofilm nightmare.
Crew, guests, men in battle armor. They're organized. But not standing. There's blood everywhere. Bodies torn apart and laid in a circle.
<<"Someone was using industrial saws it looks like.">> Calm despite the carnage, his boots leaving clear pressure trails in the coagulating blood and viscera coating the wreckage of the floor.
He's seen worse.
As Hadrix said, the ballroom - sumptuous but small, in keeping with a smaller yacht as the Three Thousand - is a slaughterhouse. Ten people have been laid out on the floor in a circle, humans, Rodians, others. Crew and sentients in finery. It is a cosmopolitan circle of death, including some in the tatters of battle armor that look suspiciously as though they might well have been the pirates responsible for the /Sullustan Firefall's/ current fate: something that Hadrix, in his breadth of experience, can very well confirm as members of the Snapping Fangs pirate gang operating in the system. Each one have been killed in one way or another, seemingly always by surprise, throats cut or hit from behind with some manner of industrial device or similar: all wounds are horrifyingly ragged, as are the postmortem - and by Jacali's judgement, /highly/ ritualistic opening of each victim's ribcage by the same suit, armor or otherwise. Bloody mess within, but nothing missing.
Vandred, Tharyn, and Mydas, cycling through the staterooms and offices lining the corridor, find nothing but further horror. Each room has a single victim, killed and hung from the ceiling by their necks, opened up like those in the stateroom - all except for a unfortunate Ithorian who was beheaded postmortem and left in the corner with their head in their lap. Boarders, guests, and crew, nobody has been spared. Between the team, it's determined that some kind of vibrosaw was employed, based on the serrations and the cauterized edges of the wounds. To Jacali, it's also made clear that these people were likely all lured into their positions to be murdered.
And all the time, that same tapping sound can be heard, still anonymous and directionless, still nagging, seeming to grow louder as time goes on and the search reveals more and more terrible fates on this deck of slaughter.
Mr. Bale busies himself by vomiting in a corner, poor fellow. He's only a functionary, after all.
Tharyn's face is unseen behind his helmet, but his voice is hushed by the enormity of it all. << Uh, what the krif is going on here, >> he says as the last door is opened, stepping back into the hall. << What the /krif/ is going on here? >>
Sapphira steps over a corpse here, a limb there. She seems to be working her way toward something at the far side of the open expanse, and with a few more ginger steps, and a whispered mutterance of 'yuck,' she gets to where she's going: a computer terminal. She begins to type, wrinkles her nose in frustration, and then lifts the panel entirely. A few wires are rerouted, and there's a quick *POOF* of sparks, and the redhead goes at the computer again.
"If there's survivors of this ... well, let's just go ahead and call it a trap," she announces to the group. "They're in the bridge. Here, you," she says, referring to Hadrix as she points to the screen. "Armored and sealed. We might be able to get a comm inside to talk to whoever's left. Assuming we aren't murdered first because, yanno, trap," she says again. "There's a route here."
Noting Sapphira's information, Hadrix looks about the group. <"I'm going extra vehicular."> he looks then to Jacali, bobbing his head as he says for the others, <"If the trap has a chance of being some sort of biological, she's your best bet for information."> the big man starts for the hatchways, voice coming over comms,
<<"Miss Red. If you can find me an external hatch that can get access to the bridge, please forward it via comms. Anyone who wants to risk some recon work feel free... But you might get locked away from the action">> Multiple eyes on the bridge - something that could be useful.
Vandred's reaction to all of this is to make an odd choking noise in the commlink. Oh good. He's gagging and trying not to profusely vomit all over the inside of his helmet. There's an audiable gulping noise, and his voice rattles out quietly. "By the Fates."
Of course, instinct kicks in. One of the murder rooms is acceptable. If one doesn't ... Look too much at it. A table is kicked over, and chairs are shoved up and rolled into place. A few pillows are thrown near the table for comfort - after all. Nobody wants to kneel on the ground for ages while hiding behind a table.
That's right. Vandred's building a fort.
"Not necessarily." Jacali responds to Bando Bale, but does not see fit to expound upon her statement. After all, there is sneaking going on, and she doesn't care to draw any extra attention from those that may still be alive and kicking. She does observe the exchange between Hadrix and Sapphira, the blood on the wall of particular interest; the freshness, the amount that's been spilled here, whether it's anything more than a smear, what direction the smear tapers, is there more than one...
...donor...
Well. One supposes all of those questions are answered once that door is opened, and the scene begins to unfold in its entirety. Jac observes still from the rear, eyes flicking from one body to the next in her slow approach, her face contorting in confusion that is betrayed by her tone when she finally speaks, even if that expression can't be seen. <<"It looks ...">> Comms cut briefly as she takes a moment to consider exactly what words she's looking for. <<"Ritualistic.">> That'll do, pig. That'll do. <<"Not the work of simple pirates, I would nearly be willing to offer guarantee.">>
People might not be surprised by Hadrix's general lack of alarm, with what it can be assumed one in his position has seen. But, Jacali seems rather nonplussed by it all -- if anything, she's absolutely intrigued, crouching down by one of the bodies as she further examines the gaping chest wound that seems so central to these murders. "<<A message?">> She muses aloud, head tilting to one side and then the other as she moves to get a better view, or better light during her examinations. <<"Uncertain, the purpose of these wounds, or the placement of these bodies. None of the organs have been taken, and thus nothing of value biologically seems to be the incentive to kill. Revenge? ... Simply opportunistic?">> She talks like she's used to recording herself, rather than trying to communicate with others. What a lonely existance. <<"Nor will contacts in organ trade provide any aid in discovering the identities of...">> It's then that she realises she's broadcasting, her head lifting suddenly, sharply, turning to look toward the others, then back to the bodies before she drops into silence.
Something then occurs to the young Arkanian, chin lifting again as some vague, tickling idea niggles. <<"... We must make room for the possibility that the message we received, that which others will have received, is simply bait ... something to bring these people here, just as it has brought us.">> Her head again turns to nod toward Sapphira, apparently coming to the same conclusion as the redhaired gal with the slicing skills. <<"It may be unwise to go to the bridge. It may be likewise ... unwise...">> Man, that's a lotta wises. <<"To attempt to locate this supposed survivor. Something is wrong,">> She warns, most especially to Hadrix, <<"Something is very wrong.">>
Mydas returns to the dining hall from the canvassing task moving at his usual, brisk pace and usual, aloof stance. Understanding that it was all clear, he takes a nice long look at circular arrangement of bodies.
'Amateurs,' Mydas thinks to himself. 'No sense of style, so taste in art...nothing to send a message, or to be remembered by...just...blah. Nothing too ritualistic. Just...blah. No imagination, these haar'chaaks.'
After getting a final look at the bodies, he searches not for more clues, but for a bottle of liquor which might've been spared from the slaughter. He doesn't see one, but a transmission over the squad frequency informs him that Hadrix is headed to the bridge, but will have to spacewalk to do it. Mydas holsters his pistol and hurries towards the external hatch.
<"I copy, covering squad-command,>" he says, and raises his right vambrace to be certain of his air supply.
"Got it. Oh, no wait..." Sapphira mutters to herself, reaching up to switch her comlink voice on. <<Got it,>> her voice crackles in the ear of all present. <<Schematic information is being sent to you now, Mister, uh ... tall guy.>> So professional, our Sapphira. <<I'm in on the hatch too, so if things look sketchy just give the word and I'll remove the airlock seal. You can void the entire bridge. Just don't touch the controls, yeah? Wouldn't be the first time these kinda guys have set up a trap that way.>> Type type type, Sapphira the Nerd continues presses forward into the digital innards of the ship.
She does pause long enough to look over her shoulder at Jacali. "Any way to tell if they're from different orgs, or ships, or anything like that?"
She goes back to what she's doing and reaches up to touch her earpiece again as a look of incredulity sweeps across her features. <<Uh, be advised everyone. There's no escape pods on this ship. Like ... on purpose. Sithspit, who //designed// this peice of crap?>> There are some continued mutterings from Sapphira of professional displeasure.
<<"I'll keep that in mind, Jac... When it does and if I survive you get to tell me what you told me so.">> The Big Man's tone is earnest despite the obvious humor and a last look is spared before he disappears.
<<"Copy that, Red. - Re-designating Overwater. Will inform when in position and wait on your mark. You have hatch controls at Bridge.">>
Squad command - that brings him back to another time and place. In the airlock hatch he saw a black helmet... The red stripe running down the side centering over the right eyelet. Drawn cheek guard... <<"Jacali - suspected trap types I should look out for?">> Mag-lock boots keep him at the hull, though his pack is ready if he needs. His reflection was back... the T-Visor, the plates, seen in darkened viewports. Good. He was back in the present.
It's unpleasant out here for him as well, memories dredged up. At least he's in an EVA suit... not like last time. Creeping up on the bridge itself, with the intention of trying to get a read on what is going on in there, without being at the bulkhead within. Maybe if it's just pirates he can use one of his thermals as an extreme breach charge.
Vandred does not like any of this. This is further made worse after Jacali's statement.
She can practically hear the sweat suddenly showing on his forehead. Another table in the murder-room is promptly shoved up to the barricade, and it's built further.. And further..
Wait. Something is missing. There's the audiable sound of him clambering through his barricade - and he's rapidly clambering towards Jacali. "Get over here and get behind the bloody barricade!"
He's reaching out to her with one hand, to promptly grab Jacali and - ignoring her protests if he gets a grip on her - he'll drag her into the hastily made fort.
<<"I suspect ambush is the most likely outcome,">> Comes Jacali's voice over the comms in response to Hadrix, his obvious humour likely missed, but an appreciative nod is given his way when he offers confirmation that he's heard and understood her warning. What he decides to do with it is very little of her concern, provided it happens far away from her. <<"I have yet to determine the reasoning behind their particular meth--what are you doing?">> She's not turned off the comms, and so what is to follow is likely a terribly confusing thing to Hadrix, and others that aren't in her direct line of sight. <<"What are you DOING?!">> Dear god, what's happening back there?? Should he return? Is the good doctor in need of his immediate aid?
Where have all the heroes gone... ?!
<<"UnHAND me, criminal!">> This is not the first time Vandred has heard these words from her, and it will very likely not be the last. <<"I most certainly will--HNGH--NOT!">> She struggles valiently with Vandred, but his much larger and stronger build doesn't really leave her much in the way of options. <<"My expertise is... no! I will not--">> Her comms are vaguely staticy, and her heaving breath spawned of struggle are raggedly huffed over the airwaves for all to hear. <<"I will -HURT- you, Vandred!">> She warns, the first available information sent Hadrix's way to suggest that no. She's fine. Angry. SO angry. But, fine. <<"Do you have a spleen??">> It continues.
<<"No! It's -my- spleen now!">> She can still be heard as she's stuffed into a makeshift fort.
Mydas doesn't find it hard to fit through the external, broadside hatch given the slimmer armor, but his inexperience with zero-g walking causes him to get stuck in his movements in his attempts to keep up with Hadrix as they cross the hull to point that once, he even has to lift up his own leg to move it from an awkward position.
<"Ban'u on His Throne...this is why I hate hero jobs...>" Mydas mutters as he lumbers across the hull with his boots maglocked to the surface, but manages to never lose track of the squad leader despite being several meters behind. Once the bridge is reached, he simply waits.
The darkness comes, the darkness falls away - always like an ocean, violence and peace, clarity and madness. Though what's truly happening with this horrible ship, one side of the sea or another is anyone's guess yet.
Following Hadrix and Mydas, Tharyn clomps along the outside of the yacht's pearl-white hull. It takes time with the boots, even if all three men have the skill and experience to make the walk with little difficulty. << This is not, um, what I signed up for, >> the thin man mutters as he walks along behind the other men. << Those people. It isn't right. >>
Meanwhile, sequestered in her chosen 'office', Sapphira chimes into Hadrix's ear. << Hey, Overwater, >> the redheaded woman pipes in over the line, << Looks like the bridge shutters are on a shared circuit. Give me a minute and should probably get them open by the time you three get up there. Keep an eye out, cos, yanno, trap. >>
As Jacali is wrestled into Vandred's fort, Bando Bale tucks in after them, smelling acridly of fear and vomit. His helmet off, it spatters the inside of his helmet collar. "Not like that," he murmurs quietly, over and over as he curls up in the confines of the makeshift bunker. "Not like that."
<<"Getting into position, scout posture.">> Hadrix notes on coms, and his boots disengage as he pivots forward, keeping his thrust angle away from the others space walking with him and suddenly shoots towards the bridge ports, carbine ready, hand on a frag charge on a grenade belt. Waiting.
"SSshhuusuuhshh."
Vandred repeats this at least a dozen times as he drags Jacali back into his hastily made fort, and he wags his Glie pistol over the top of his barricade, waving away any would be, you know. Horrible murderers. Whatever. Vandred's a bit shaken up at the moment.
"I don't know if I have a spleen." He states over the comms. "I don't know." He states this on what he's going to guess is Jacali's follow up question. "And you are not doing a physical now. We're going to stay here and wait for those lot outside to do their job, and then when this is all blown over we're going to a Cantina for a pint. How's that for a stack of cred chips?"
<<"How do you not know if you have a spleen??">> This is hardly the time. Before she can begin in earnest to demand that they shuck down here and now so that she can feel about for his gross little alien organs, he's already answering her next question. She hates that. How dare he steal her thunder. How dare he DENY h--wait.
<<"Wait...">>
She stops struggling against Vandred's attempts at getting her to safety, her helmetted head turning that expressionless face toward Bando, his own form reflected in its cowardly huddle, her upper lip twisting slightly. <<"... Not like -what-?">> There is a desperate chill to her tone, a venomous and dangerous thing that hisses over the comms with all the invitation of a den of vipers. <<"Stained by vomit, -reeking- of fear... what do you know?!">> She demands of the man that brought them here, even as she's turned and is set to rampage her way toward him.
Mydas watches Hadrix launch ahead with his rockets and by instinct, he tries to run after him--and nearly breaks his ankles due to his maglocks.
<"Haar my life,>" Mydas says, and though it takes him awhile. He reaches Hadrix's position and stands at a distance when he notices the grenade in his hand. <"Covering,"> he reports.
<< Got it! >> This calls Sapphira as Hadrix rockets to the fore, the armored shutters over the yacht's bridge side away, like blinders drawn from the eyes of a harnessed fathier - revealing darkness there through the transparisteel.
"She always wanted to play the game," Bale says to himself, getting up as Jacali charges him. "But she could never play it right. She always wanted to play it /cleanly/!"
Through the specialized optics of the Mandalorian's advanced helm, Hadrix can see a figure on the cockpit floor - spread-eagled, staring at the ceiling. Face frozen in shock, throat slit like a second, ragged mouth.
It's then that the Bith's gloved hand comes up, and in it shines a serrated blade, telescoping from its heavy grip like a tooth. Vibrating, it sings a song of death as Bando now charges the medic in return. "SHE COULD NEVER! PLAY IT RIGHT!"
<<"Bridge is empty. You were right...">> Hadrix notes as he moves 'above' the viewport on the hull. Bracing and then opening fire with his carbine to blast open the screen. <<"Ingressing. Bridge screens blown out. Zero pressure.">> Allowing Sapphira to close other hatches so that the bridge hatch can be opened, and in the Mandalorian goes, still expecting ambush.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA."
This is the sound of heroism.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA."
Up comes Vandred with the Glie blaster.
"AAAAAAAAAAA!"
The trigger is pulled. A bright blue bolt from the Official Bounty Hunter's Guild (TM) Glie-44 screams past Jacali, slapping into Bando. It causes Bando to stagger. Vandred rises.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!! AAAAAAAA!"
A second bolt. This one slaps into Bando's torso and causes him to promptly start collapsing.
"AAHH!"
Vandred's officially ran out of air. The third blaster bolt goes slapping into one of the walls, and the man stands there - pointing his blaster pistol down at the collapsed Bith. He takes a breath, a heavy one.
".. Do you want me to shoot him again?"
Somewhere, in the vacuum, despite the inability to hear anything outside of what's in his suit and his comm earpiece... Hadrix hears the shriek of Heroism. Shriek on you magnificent bastard.
Yes. -Yes-.
The rage, the fear, the -madness-...
... so thick on the air she can practically taste it.
How she has starved herself...
Beneath the helmet, unseen, a grin splits wide the pale lips of the Arkanian that lingers beneath. What was, momentarily, concern for the dangers this Bith had put people she might consider to be less than completely useless has turned into an utter lust for what is about to transpire. The fight. The -vengeance-. <<"Let us see what recompense is found within your gutless f--">> She is once again interrupted by Vandred. Vandred and his screaming. And his shooting. Shooting that very nearly hits her. She has taken a defensive position, her pistol in her hand, plucked free of its holster at her hip, her other arm lifting to protect herself out of instinct. When the screaming stops, and she looks for her prey, she finds he's already on the ground. Her hand flops down against her side and she whirls about to face Vandred.
<<"REALLY!?">> She howls with rage, the lady boner she's sporting for what was surely to be some exquisite festival of pain so cruelly denied. <<"I was going to...">> Huff! Snort! <<"Do I shoot -your-... HHNNNN,">> You can practically feel the bite on your own tongue, gosh, just imagine what it feels like on her end. <<"Ech... ghh,">> It's just sounds now, as her hand presses against the side of her gut, her head flopping back.
<<"It hurts... inside...">> Gettin' a little dramatic there.
Mydas only hears the screaming over his comlink, and rather than be alarmed, he shrugs.
<"Missing the action...always a bridesmaid, never a bride--"> he says out loud, and then he reactivates his maglocks and heads over to the cockpit console. With a few button presses, the timer is set for the viewport's blast doors to close.
<"Let's move, commander,"> Mydas says as he turns and heads back through the cockpit's now-open shutters.
For once, terrified screaming actually works well in Vandred's favor, because Bith /hate/ loud noises; it's said that sonic weapons can cause a Bith's head to explode, and frankly, Vandred's timbre isn't too far below an ultrasonic blaster. Yes, grade-A girly soprano screaming guides the stun bolts squarely into Bando's chest, and the would-be psycho killer goes down like the sack of brains and crazy that he is. Sprawling across the floor, the blade in his hand hums fitfully for a moment longer before the knife goes quiet without the Bith's knobby fingers to hold down its charge switch. Again, silence follows, though Vandred's screaming will be embedded in everyone's ears forever.
<< Damnation, >> Tharyn says as he jets into the cockpit behind Mydas and Hadrix with his own flight pack. << Is that Jacali? What the hell is he doing to her down there? >> He follows behind the Mandalorians, dropping onto the deck, seeing the dead woman now draped across the console, sucked forward by the sudden decompression and kept in place only by a trick of gravity. By then, the shutters are sealing shut behind them and the cockpit is recompressing, and the cockpit hatch opens soon after.
Here, the corridor is also smeared with blood - but there are no corpses, and the open doorways lead to salons and game rooms where murders have taken place, but there are no signs of the dead. Likely they've all been taken below.
But there is womanly screaming! To action, men!
A lift to get down to the proper level from the bridge?! Hadrix does not care for such things! HADRIX RESISTS!! He forgets he's not wearing his old strength enhancing power armor. But that's no matter! Apparently today is slave to Hadrix's SUBJECTIVE REALITY! Forcing the lift hatch open with bare hands and then dropping down the shaft, using his rockets to gain momentum while firing to blast through the emergency hatch and down into the lift itself - only to render more doors a thing of fantasy! The very thought they could hold him!
It's to he bunker room he goes, striding in... Fully annoyed.
<"I hate this ship. Let's leave and blow it up">
Vandred is not having a good day.
Firstly. He screamed. So he broke the rule about looking cool. So. To be honest, things aren't going too great for Vandred. Especially when Jacali sounds and looks update. The man's shoulders sag for a moment before he starts clambering over towards the unconscious Bith.
He pulls out a set of cuffs so that he can at least lock the murdering Both down. "Sorry, Jac! I just didn't want him to stab you. And this place isn't sitting well with me. So I got a bit scared. So I shot him. I mean... It was stun bolts. So.. If you want. You could maybe wait for him to wake up?"
Ah. Helpful suggestions.
Jac. Can't. Even.
Assume that.. it's assumed.. that Jac will take this man and ask him some VERY HARD QUESTIONS. But as for the rest of you? You whom have done this to her? Brought her to the brink yet left her wanting?! She speaks to -none of you- until further notice.
By the time Mydas reaches the panic bunker...he doesn't even want to walk in. The screaming has stopped, the shooting has stopped.
He sighs to himself and turns around, returning to the banquet room to look for a bottle to take home.
"<The glass is half-full. The glass is half-full," he repeats to himself, as though its a mantra.
And that's that.
In the end, the yacht is /not/ destroyed, on account of a company security corvette entering hyperspace not long after this whole insane episode transpires. Bando Bale is taken into Saltar corporate custody, as is the Sullustan Firefall - after all, they're the ones paying the reward money, to say nothing of being grossly overarmed, if under-skilled. Not that they pay /too/ much, considering the events. Ultimately, with nobody murdered, it's at least fuel money...well, and there's the mental trauma, too.
Rich people are kriffing /nuts/.
--- SALTAR METALS CORP., SECURITY DIVISION ---
INCIDENT REPORT #2235
SUBJECT: 'SULLUSTAN FIREFALL' Incident
LOGGING PARTY: Officer Sanan Sistram, Commander, Saltar Corporate Security
<< -- INCIDENT CONTENT TRUNCATED -- >>
PERSONAL NOTES: What a mess. The Chairwoman's penchant for taking personal revenge finally reared up and bit her, just as I knew it would - only I was thinking a criminal case or lawsuits, not...this. In the end, it turns out that as much of a psychotic the boss could be, her best friend turned out to be worse: Whateve these socialites did to piss her off, ol' Bando finally had it with her actually having restraint, and managed to do the pirates after the boss hired them to do the rest. What was supposed to be one of her little revenge-party incidents went badly after he killed her off himself, and did that whole...ugh. That mess. What a crazy bastard. Well, he won't live long now that we have him, and the board is already securing another Chair to run the company. Me? After seeing that mess on board, I'm taking early retirement. This corporate nonsense can go to Hell. Maybe there'll be something else for me out there.
<< REPORT ENDS. >>
