Log:Sunfire Chronicles: Drunk Tank
It was Ektor's Fault.
OOC Date: April 4, 2022
Location: Slaver Yacht, Coast of Coronet
Participants: Ghost Crew, Tess Vikander, Erinn Laski, Khalim, Zavr Drick, Qutha Buvu Pah, Ektor, Black Krssantan, Poe Dameron
Those constituting the cell have suddenly become awake at the sound of power cutting out. It's a loud switch-like noise where once the idle hum of electricity empowered air to circulate through the vents in the form of rattling noises, and lights beamed at a frequency one might hear in the silence. Turned off, the group experiences only silence.
Emergency lights flicker on from one corner, shining into a receiving bay which all could see from the barred room they occupy. Judging from the surroundings, and the presence of other cells, they were in a detention block. What's odd is that either they're all still drunk, or the setting is rocking to and froe. It's not a subtle rock, but distinct, and things outside the cell move back and forth from the pressured momentum of the rocking.
Everyone is inside this 'drunk tank', but with no memory of why or how they got there. It's the kind of cloudiness that begs the question, 'What the rekk was in your drink?!' or, 'What was it Ektor convinced me to drink?!' Regardless, the details are all fuzzy.
In limited light, Poe Dameron sits up and is promptly thrown from the bench he occupied. It was not a lapse in balance, but the momentum of the rocking setting. "Ugggggh," he exclaims from the ground, rising up slowly and squinting at the lights first, then their surroundings. "What the hell? -- Is this a dream? Who is in here with me?" Poe asks stupidly, running his own hand back through his dark curly hair.
Someone just landed on her and that's what woke Tess up. With a sound of the air being squeezed from her all at once, she pushes against the warm body that's on her with a groan. "Get off of me, Poe." She knows it's him because she can smell the hair product. Also, she knows the voice. Unwedging herself, Tess finds the room sway back and forth at a queasy rhythm. "The Six damn it all," she adds with a sleepy, disoriented groan. "Where are we? Ektor, what did you do this time?" Two very safe questions to ask.
Erinn Laski is lying on her back on the floor of the jail cell, one of her arms above her head and the other draped across her stomach. The sudden 'CHUNK' of electricity switching off causes the young engineer to awaken with a start. "No!" she yelps out as she awakens. It's as if the sound had shaken her from some sort of awful dream. In that sense, perhaps, it is a bit of a mercy. It means that her big brown eyes are peering about the place with curiosity in the dark, just before those emergency light switches begin to turn on. She pulls a twist of hair that had fallen between her lips from her mouth and looks around as Poe tumbles from the bench and onto the floor beside her.
Thanks to youth, the young woman doesn't actually appear to be hungover at all. It's as if she somehow... blacked out drunk... and isn't experiencing any of the effects. No consequences!
Ah youth.
"Where the Farkle are we?" she asks, echoing Tess' sentiments. She then turns to the others in the cell with her.
"Who the farkle are these people?" she asks. Then to Ektor. "The last thing I remember is doing shots with that Zabrak and then..."
Beat.
"...What the Farkle is going on?!"
Having been rolled off a sterile metal bench by that still unaccounted for rocking motion, Khalim occupies one corner of the cell in a rather unceremonious heap. The Mirialan's normal pear-hued visage has taken on a decidedly chartreuse tone, and his hair is sweat-mussed. In fact, the entirety of him appears rather sweat-mussed and unwell.
Perhaps it's Poe's voice from nearby, or perhaps he'd been moments away from some kind of early-onset wakefulness, but Khalim responds with a groan and the shift of an arm. Dark brown blinks wash away some haze, and then more, until the room's dimensions and the fact he is not alone penetrate the man's fog.
"Whu... Nemesse?" No, not here. He looks from face to face. "Who are... where am I?"
Zavr Drick is snoring on the floor tucked against a wall, laying on his back. His white t-shirt has ridden up a bit and there's a pink belly that needs no amount of slapping from bullies to fit the name. The snoring stops for a brief moment, along with his breathing... but it's brief and his personal buzz saw starts up again soon! The sudden snap noise of power going off brings him to quick wakefulness. Or at least being concious. His head snaps up, hair flat on one side, wild on another, and he looks around blearily in the dark. "Wha? Huh? Who's that?" he calls to the voice of Poe and then of Tess, and in the darkness there's heavy shuffling as he reorients himself to be sitting up against the wall he'd been laying against.
A sound somewhere between a cough and a groan rises from one side of the chamber where a busted xantha rests atop a figure in a beat up jacket and work clothes. "Farkling..." the first attempt to sit up is arrested and he plops back down. A line of green running down his brow, sinking into the lines of his forehead to highlight them and down one cheek. Not hard or flaking, but sticky and an aroma like cut greens and when the man sits up there is a wild blinking a choked sound and a bit of a scrabbling that causes the broken string instrument to clatter to the floor.
"Dadt'raddit..." murmured at a low whispering growl while he fumbles in the dark, managing to clumsily unscrew part of the instrument shaking it and tucking into his jacket while the rest is left - busted and now forgotten. "I can't see none've you..." leaning back against the wall with a soft grunt of surprise - he was sure there was more space between he and it.
"H'anybody got a light or sommat?" one hand rubbing his eyes before they bug out some, trying to see in the dark. Another moment spent and there is a 'hooooocchhhhk' sound while he clears his sinuses, "Space they said it was just alcohol... Anyone know what's in a Blooga Fruit Dakikiri?"
"All I said was 'a real pilot can do at least three proton bombs' it ain't *my* fault you lot is a buncha ...A-wingers, yeah?" Somehow, Ektor sounds no more sloshed than usual. "No, trust me: no light. Light only makes it worse, yeah? And I'm betting it's a bit of blooga fruit, some crushed ice and a lotta booze." A beat of silence. "No lie? It is kinda fishy we all got bombed, though. Is Zorii here? If Zorii ain't here, I say we blame her."
"Hhhhhnnnnnnggggg...." That must be Wookiee for ugh, oh drek. Or something. Santos is among the last to come too and since there isn't a bunk large enough for his bulk, he's already lying on the floor. A massive paw lifts to lay against his brow, the one scarred by a light saber. Dark eyes blink against the light even if it's dim emergency lighting.
Voices. Familiar voices and one taht isn't. Krrsantan sniffs the air and scenting Qutha, a strange scent indeed, the huge black Wook pushes himself to sitting up.
A slow blink as the structure seems to be shifting. Like a boat at sea or some shavit.
Sitting up, Santos stays still for a moment. Hang over? Maybe.
He rumbles, "I smell cordite. Burning electrical?" The Wookiee turns his head towards the air vents, then makes himself get up to his feet, a hairy paw out to steady himself. "Where are we?"
"oof," Poe sounds off, being unwedged from Dr. Tess. He rolls into Erinn, then shifts to put his back to the wall and shake his head of the cobwebs. It doesn't help, leading Poe to believe he'd been drugged some how. When Ektor speaks up about it being Zorii's fault, Poe agrees, but only because she's not here, "Yeah, definitely Zorii's fault." Poe tests the ground, rising up slowly and moving toward the bars that kept them in place. "HELLO? Ugh.. ack, ow.." Holding his head. Santo's observation has Poe turning around. "Santo says he smells cordit.. burning electrical. There isn't anyone here it seems, and space knows.. we got no idea where we are. I ain't sticking around to find out, neither. Look for things to help bust us out of these bars or something.." Poe dances to one side slightly from the rocking, then latches onto the barred wall to keep steady. "Ugh, I'm about to see dinner again.."
There's something very comforting about hearing the gentle WAAARG ROOOOL RRRAAAAGG of a familiar wookiee's yowls. Though she is only catching about a fifth of what he's saying, Tess recognizes Santo right away. Erinn and Ektor manage to fire in her brain soon after, as well. That accounts for most of the Ghost crew. But... "Who in the realm are you?" is directed at the others in this cell with them. Faces are difficult to place in the low-light. Even more so when just sitting up gives Tess an intense bout of vertigo and she sways then leans back against the bed Poe had fallen from.
"Ektor." She's absolutely blaming him, failing to find him in the darkness in order to properly glare disapprovingly. While she is currently useless in helping friend and stranger find a way out of their collective perdicament, she does notice: "They took my /medical/ bag, too? C'mon." Now it's personal.
"You ate dinner? All I ate was that bag of hosh-nuts and a... piece of cheese," Erinn says. She scratches the back of her head, feeling for the hairband that has attempted to hold it into a messy bun. With all the tossing and turning, she'd dislodged most of it throughout the night. Now she gives a little groan, but only because her hair's a mess and someone is saying something about... dakikiri's.
"Don't even talk about alcohol to me right no--," she stops. Blinks. Stares at Qutha.
"What the kriff are you doing here?" she says. What happens next is simple. Erinn Laski maneuvers her way onto her feet by crawling clumsily over Tess and using the bench Poe passed out on to pull herself up. She dusts off her overalls, both thankful and not thankful that she'd slept in her bra, and squints to look outside of the cell as best she can.
"It's definitely cordite," she says, giving a few confirmation snoofs in the air. She scratches her head.
"Only smell that if the power was cut. Deliberately," she says, and turns to look up at the back-up lights that kicked on a few moments ago. "We must be running off auxiliary. Wherever we are. Whatever that -means-," she says, and puts her hands on her hips.
"They took my gum, too," she complains.
Khalim's wakefulness quotient is high enough that he's able to see, hear, and process all kinda at the same time. As others begin moving about the cell wary glances are sent their ways. Tess's query draws a curious look in reply, though it shifts once again to those others present. "I could ask all of you the same," he says, and while there is distrust threaded along his words there's little in the way of hostility.
The Mirialan is about to say something further when his gaze seems to fix. Somewhere out beyond their cell's bars. He takes a step, and that peer becomes a fixation. He closes with the barred entrance, standing next to Poe. "Kriff," he mutters, and that dark brown gaze remains focused and unblinking. "Other cells, with doors. They're occupied. One..." His gaze narrows yet further. It's still dark, if no longer pitch black. "Someone's /REALLY/ anxious to get out."
He looks to Poe, then the others. "Who are you. I'll share my name is Khalim, and if this is an Enigma failsale, and you're looking to score one last twist of the knife, I'm going to take at least one of you out with me." A pause, and uncertainty. "If not... disregard."
Zavr Drick slowly gets himself to his feet and rocks much like the rest do. Carefully he spreads his stance to try and get more stability. Using his nose to sniff noisily for the source of the burning electrics, and on the blind hope there's a panel he or another mechanically inclined person can futz with, Zavr starts stumbling around. Heavy pink hands reach blindly here and there. He manages to find the bars, gripping them like a safe harbor for the length of another pitch of the.. whatever they're on, then he's releasing them again and making a determined path towards where he's certain he smells... SOMETHING like burnt electronics. "Wait, you guys had weapons?" a low groan rises up and he mutters something about locked up with hooligans, and then his search bears fruit! "I think they took my tool bag, tooooowayfaringstranger (talk) 23:06, 4 April 2022 (EDT)!" Another roll of the ground sends him careening into something big and hairy... and while it doesn't smell like cordite, it definitely smells dangerous. Looking up in the dim light Zavr catches sight of a hulking black form and lets out a yelp, shoving himself away from Santos frantically!
"Ss'Erin?" rubbing at his temple, "An with the lights so dim can't see to begin with." patting down his jacket, inside and out, along his legs, "Couldn' at least let a fellah have one chem-stick light." Qutha shifts again and groans inwardly when he moves a little too quickly. "I was helpin' with arid climate crop options for some rooftoppers in... I'm not sure if I'm still in Mos Espa... I was given a drink and it worked... pro'ly sugar in it." taking a breath and closing his eyes again, focusing and letting his connection to the Force aid his sight when they re-open, blinking rapidly.
"Ah... There. Augments's workin'." pausing when Khalim starts threatening, brows lifting and then shifting when the cut in his scalp is re-opened, sending a fresh line of chlorophyl down to nearly run into his eyes, "Consarnit..." Moving to where the door is, its shift line and the gap where it would slide into he motions,
"S'cuse me, sir." said to the wookiee... "Y'wanna hep me with this?" placing his hands on the hatch as if getting ready to try and push upwards...
It's dark. Ektor can't see the glare. But he hears the tone. "Don't look at me like that," the relapsed pirate complains, defensively. When auxiliary lighting kicks in, Ektor turns an eye around their surroundings. "Eh, drek. So, I got good news, and I got bad news.. The BAD news is that this ain't no legit kinda drunk tank, yeah? This here? This is a press gang kinda setup. Take in bodies, sort out which ones is useful for what, and then ship the ones like me off to Kessel, yeah?" He doesn't mention the good news, instead looking blankly at Zavr. "I mean.. yeah. My blaster, AND the Czerka, so.. they checked good. DREK," he swears aloud. "They even found my spice stash. Rekk it all, now I'm pissed. Come on, let's get outta here."
There are strangers in here. The Wookiee eyes them each in turn, his gaze settling on the Zeltron of all people. Yes, you, Zavr. A growl rumbles deep in Krrsantan's throat. Yet he listens to what the others are saying, especially his crew. Well, maybe not Ektor.
Santos rumbles and takes a few steps over towards the bars of their cells. He eyes them, sniffs them, then lays his big hands to them. "No puking." A wrinkled nose. Santos inhales a deep breath and starts to exert his strength upon the bars. Muscles bulge beneath his black hair, his metal knuckles still in place since they are fused and part of his bone structure. Not remoevable.
The bars though? There is a creaking sound, then a popping and suddenly a WRENCH as one of the bars /rips/ out of the floor and ceiling.
Santos turns his head to look at Poe, "I think you can fit through." The bar is not dropped. The Wookiee look at it then offers it, "Who wants a weapon?" He mimes taking a swing with it, then offers it.
But not to the strangers among them.
What was that? Somebody bumps into him. Santos turns his head and SNARLS at Zavr. But hey, the Wookiee made a way out!
Santo made a way out using brute strength. The noise of the bars bending and the sudden pressure on the wall makes a loud SNAPPING noise, followed by a slow groan. Originally, Krrsantan had bent the bar and suggested Poe could fit through it, now, however, the barred wall begins to fall down and it lands before the group in a LOUD clatter. They're free!
Their setting rocks again, and this time there's the sound of blasters. It's muffled, like it's outside in a corridor or something.
Poe looks to Errin, briefly who confirms the presence of cordite and the nature of their situation, then to Khalim who is asking for names. "I'm Poe. Poe Dameron. For now, I think we're all allies in this.. adventure. Santo, my very large Wookiee friend has made an exit for us, but I think we should move together. Someone see about those people in the other cells.. they want to get out.. maybe they're sealed in there with no air. (There are four other cells.) Someone else look for our stuff or something.. guns, sharp sticks.. anything. If there's fighting outside, we might have to fight our way out."
Poe stumbles from the cell, rocking with the motion of their setting. "Reeeeeekkkkkk.. this is getting more violent.. I feel like.. we need to hurry.."
"You can't see how I'm looking at you," Tess fires back towards their resident pirate, so confident in her assessment of what Ektor can and cannot see that she throws a silent raspberry his way. Nyah. Somehow by the grace of the Six, the doctor manages to get herself to her feet. Though her years in the circus should have helped her navigate through treacherous conditions, she is unable to do so gracefully this day and staggers out of their cell.
A fist hits a control panel next to their cell in the hopes that she can Fonz her way into freedom. Strangely, technology needs a thing like power to operate. So she swagger-lurches over to the other cells and peers in, squinting so that her vision focuses. Something isn't right with those other prisoners.... something... oh. Oh, that's it.
"Uuuuuuuhhh!" The noise starts low then grows louder by the end like a rising alarm. "They're suffocating! We need to get them out!"
Erinn blinks softly whene Santos pries the door from its hinges. Now, Erinn Laski -knows- that the wookie is strong. She knows -all- wookies are strong. But to see -that- is something of an... experience. She looks around at those in the immediate vicinity and just gives a baffled shrug.
She turns to look around her, trying to see if she can recognize -anything- about this particular vessel that they are in. If they are in a vessel at all. The same disturbance that rocks Poe forward sees Erinn stumble a bit forward as well, though she's not quite as graceful. She grabs onto the bars, preventing a full on faceplant before turning up to look around at the walls. The architecture.
"I don't recognize any of this, and I know my ships," she says.
She follows out through freshly-made exit and pulls her hair back into a tighter bun. She sees Tess fuss with a computer that seems to have been left off of the routing of auxiliary power, and begins searching for anything that might resemble electrical wiring.
Bingo.
Protected fibers that spill from each of the consoles, doors, and lead down the hallway and towards the... blaster fire. She sighs softly and just as chasing that power core down begins to seem like a -stupid- idea, Tess announces that those people in the cells are suffocating and, well.
"I'm going to go turn on the power!" she yells and, before anyone can argue with her, the young woman is bolting down the hallway, following the thick band of wiring above towards what she presumes to be its source.
Khalim displays clear indicators of stress, and they've grown with the loss of that mental haze, not lessened. But Poe's forthright answer to his question, and observation that what they all appeared to be was allies, draws a simple nod. "Fair. You're right." The mirialan does step back, giving that extra dusky-shaded (in this light) wookiee the room that's needed to - *he blinks* - apparently just tear that barrier apart.
As the crew begin piling out of the cell, Khalim hurries over the tumbled remains of that barred entrance as well. Someone runs and smacks a fist against what should be a door mechanism, but it does nothing. Near a station at which blank display panels stare back, he takes a moment to try and activate it; anything to possibly give access to power. Or information. Both would be nice. But it's just as dead as the rest of the hardware that stares blankly around the compartment.
'They're suffocating! We need to get them out!' Khalim's attention snaps to the source of that shout, and is quickly drawn to Erinn's following yell that she's on to a possible solution. The Mirialan runs after, certain that restoring power was the key to at least some of this mess. As he nears Tess the snowy-haired woman receives a surprised, almost shocked look. But he passes, in Erinn's wake.
Zavr Drick lets out a WAAAUUUUGHHH! and back pedals quick enough for his heavy boots to propel him backwards, aided by another lurch, and while he doesn't get thrown on his rear, he does end up against the wall near to where he woke up. "Ok, Zavr, think. That Wookie is here. And these voices, at least some of them, sound familiar. They were there LAST time the Wookie showed up." An absent minded hand strokes at the Zeltron's nose, or at least the puffy bandage that covers it, protecting a still healing nose that's just started to itch.
He closes his eyes, considering the things he's hearing, and what he's seeing in the dim emergency light, namely the Wookie breaking apart a jail cell. "A press gang ship? Like with the slavery, at best, and so many worse things at worst?" That seems to put a little durasteel into the Zeltron and he glares towards the bars and what's beyond with a feral grimace.
Zav pushes away from the wall and moves through the area, scanning for anything that might trigger his mechanic's knowledge "Hey, y'know... these pipes," he points to some tucked up against the ceiling, "look an awful lot like what you'd see on ships based out of Mon Cala. They have to move a lot of water or other liquids, right? But the architecture doesn't strike me as any freighter or starship I've ever been on or worked on." There's a long pause as he stretches up, trying to get some kind of view on the pipes themselves maybe trying to find stenciled words or some such. "Between that and this damnable rocking, I'm not even sure we're *in* space. I think we might actually be on a, um.. y'know.. some sorta ship. Like a water yacht or something. They make press gang ships outta yachts, Mr Hidden Spice Man?"
"That works too..." Qutha notes, looking at the excess of property damage. "S'pose that'd be the easy fashion." hand lifting to rub at the back of his neck before stating, "Qutha, t'those don' already know me." head bobbing slightly, eyes closing and taking a sharp breath through his nostrils that turns into a cough and a slump against one of the walls as he stumbles his way out.
Nothing said, for now, about what he was doing; but he looks one way, then another, tucking one hand into his jacket pockets, feeling at the bit tucked into an inside pocket and grimacing. "Reckon all that shootin', pro'ly want sommat whose done tucked up like a sausage in one of these cells." pausing and looking around - seeing if anyone looks to anyone in specific before he leans up off of the wall again.
"Bother..." looking back to the cell, "Mom's gonna be less than happy that xantha got busted up..." pausing when Erinn's words sink in, followed up by Zavr's comment "Wait we're onna ship?" looking then to where Tess is indicating people suffocating, "Bother and blow..." rolling up the sleeves of his jacket some.
Ektor adds the the noise of bars collapsing to the deck by howling in triumph as Krrsantan powers them out. "HELL yeah, big guy. Arright, If we're on a ship, I say we steal it," Ektor votes aloud, while looking around for something or anything that might be of use in the escape from and/or stealing of their current locale. Eyeing the row of other cells, he visually follows the line of doors to what looks like a maintenance hatch and straight kicks the panel to pry it loose. Sure, he could have just popped it open, but the Wookiee ripping the cell door off has him all fired up. "Here it is- I'm WORKING on it, yeah?" he hollers at Tess, before grabbing the metallic wheel that releases the pressurized locks securing this bank of cell doors. Jaw clenched with effort as he muscles the long idle wheel into motion. A glance over his shoulder looks to see if it's working. A cracks a crooked grin when weird pink guy asks about press gangs on water yachts. "Uh.. they just call those 'ships', yeah? Like star ships, but less.. starry. And yes, like with the slavery and drek."
The big Wookiee squeezes his way out through the hole he made in the wall. Krrsantan doesn't pay much attention to Tess freaking out about suffocating prisoners though. Instead, he is momentarily distracted by Erinn running up the corridor. For just a second it looks like the Wookiee thinks about going after her to protect her...
Instead, Santos turns and looks around, sniffing the air, and starts moving around and past the various cells as if they were no concern of his. Nope. Zavr is also ignored and left behind as the big guy goes looking around.
What Santos seems to find is a hatch to another compartment. He sticks his face up to it and peers in through the little blast proof window. A rawwwwlll sort of sound rolls out. Then he's putting his big hairy hands to the hatch mechanisim that doesn't want to open. Brute strength starts to be applied and a moment later...
---==== RRRRRIIPP! followed by a CLANK as the Wookiee rips the hatch door off!
Santos ducks his head and goes on in. No prisoners coming out Tess, sorry. Instead, Santos comes back out a moment later with arms full of weapons and gear, "Here's our stuff!" Another clank as he drops it all on the deck. Except for his long gun and his own satchel. The Wook checks his own things out first. The ship's rocking is annoying but Ektor's suggestion of stealing this ship makes Krrsantan bare his teeth, "Yes, let's."
His own things are settled and Santos starts brining everyone else's gear to hand out.
Poe manages to stop Erinn from bolting by taking hold of her arm and pulling her back inside the room they're in /just/ as blaster bolts crisscross in front of the threshold. A BATTLE. At first, it might seem like Poe is angry, but up close he looks more concerned with Laski than made. "You alright, kid? -- " A loud pop from behind Poe prompts him to look back to see as Ektor successfully releases the pressurized locks on the cell block, and the doors swing open with nothing holding them shut. A number of people stumble out, all of them wheezing for air. Poe looks back to Erinn, "We didn't need the power after all, but we might if we're planning to get out of here. Let's do that together, alright?" He pats her arm just as a metal door clanks on the deck, curtesy of Santo.
"Alright people, Santo found our drek. Let's load up and get off this thing, or.. steal it. Grab your drek.. and let's move out."
New information about Tess: she's apparently a crabby drunk. Or drugged. Whatever the hell they were all knocked out with.
Tess doesn't have a chance to fire a little bit of snark back at Ektor as he gets the doors open and a flew of patiences come tumbling out coughing and wheezing. Just in time for blaster fire to open up beyond their brig. Grand! Splitting her attention, Tess manages to catch her carbine as it is tossed to her and flick it on instictively, but her focus returns to the new additions who are likely more disoriented than she is. "Stay low, follow me--- er... well..." She points to Poe who just nabbed Erinn from the ionized claws of hurt. "Him."
Pale blue eyes find the form of Khalim among the throng and grins a little. "Fancy meeting you here. You have a penchant for danger or are you just happy to see me?" Look, it's not smooth but she's in a bit of a panic. "I need help protecting these people as we go. You game for another small adventure?"
Erinn Laski's bolting for that door towards the central power when she feels something grasp at her arm. She lets out a pained sound at the catch of it and staggers back, watching blaster fire erupt in the darkness ahead. She gasps when she's spun around, Poe's question making her blink and turn her attention back towards those cells that have been released -- the people suffocating inside freed. She's breathing heavily, her pupils dilated, but she nods.
"Yeah. Yeah yeah. Okay, okay. I'm okay," she says softly, watching Poe move away and turning to look towards the others while letting out a long exhaled breath of relief. Erinn was unarmed when they were drugged, and there is nothing but a little mobile scanner in her belongings. She tucks it away and swallows, heart beating quickly in her chest as she lets out a long and ragged exhale.
Those prisoners able to be freed, are freed, leaving Khalim with but two possible means of contributing to everyone's mutual escape. Do techie stuff, and flick wires together, but he's only familiar with that sort of shenanigans in the holos. No, he's got one purpose at this point. To shoot people.
Black Krssantan returns with just about everyone's gear save his own, it taking the Mirialan but a couple of moments to realize none of what's toted out of that back room has that familiar look. He dashes within, roots around, and finds his own stolen, well, just that sleek yet oversized Westar. Blaster newly in hand he returns to the fray, only to be intercepted by one Tess Vikander.
There's a curl of a smile, though it's muted, in reply to her quip. Dark brown meets with that pale blue and if there's a reunion in the moment it's fleeting and transitory. "I never have a penchant for danger, it has an addiction to me. Apparently." The last they'd met that eye had been concealed, missing in fact, but here it stares back, unlikely survivor - impossibly unlikely - amidst that once dreadful yet healed scar running through repaired socket. It's a mirror of its opposite, even managing to convey a little bit of life as that grim smile resettles with a nod. "Of course." The Westar is tibana-racked, that energizing gas feeding forward into readiness.
Zavr Drick nods to, "Qutha? Zavr. Yes, some sorta ship ship. Like on water. Who even knew people did that anymore?" Deflecting the horrors of the situation with a joke, as per normal. Ektor knew, apparently! "Well, they should have thought better. I mean what're they gonna do on an actual terrestial ship? Not like they can jump out! So yes. I also think we should steal this thing. Not that we're actually a group or anything, I'm not trying to muscle in on... whatever y'all got going on. And hey, thanks for taking care of those bikers back at Jo's!" Not the time!
When his drek is tossed to him, Zavr quickly checks over his tool kit and, since he did NOT get a weapon tossed to him, he grabs a light in one hand and a hefty wrench in the other, a nice long handled one used to really give the business to a stuck bolt. He gives it a few swings, but he's no figher and after that test, he holds the light towards the pipes. And indeed, there's the stenciling that would indicate where they are on the ship.
Starting to pipe up about it, Erinn calls that she's found similar, and faster, and the Zeltron starts chugging after the other mechanic, a bit oblivious to, well anything now that he's found a mechanical problem. That is untile Erinn is pulled to a stop and shielded and he stops as well, once more coming back to their predicament. "Oh, right. Uh... I think I'll take up the rear, y'all! Make sure none of those freshly released prisoners was actually a plant made to trick us and sneak up on us."
Qutha stares at the wookiee. Just stares at him. Rippin' doors off of everything. Dr. Krrsantan has the cure for all. Locked door? Rip. Pickled gourd jar stuck? Crush. Tooth-Ache? Punch them out the back of your head. Now he wants to see if he could hook a plowshare up to the wookiee to solve some of the issues he's been trying to help with, with the roof gardeners in Mos Espa.
That's neither here nor there now - his effects picked up, what little there is; a collapsible spear, a satchel full of seed pouches and texts with a complicated looking seed-sprinkler... an 1162 - Ladies of the Land pocket calendar; it's sitting there, on the shelf; in clear view. Does he take it? Does he not? There are ladies here. He's already turning similar shades as Khalim while he eyes it, looking side to side before tipping it into his satchel, hanging his spear on his belt.
"Bother." listening to the fighting getting closer and hefting a wooden cylinder out of his inside jacket pouch, "Blasted, blastit, blessit... Farklin'..." looking again to the others before the direction the enemy sounds like their coming from. "Damnit..." head shaking, "No more dakikis..." lips pursed - at least one person here knows... guess there'll be more.
"Y'all what ain' too keen on gittin' mixed into this when things roll'on up here... feel free t'keep 'hind me, an I'll keep y'covered." rustic rim accent thickening as he looks to the carved wood cylinder and the single gold disc set into it. Striding to the fore of the group who, like him, did naught else but have a rough night at the local pub and woke up en route to be sold, already speaking a well known mantra under his breath,
"I'm one with the Force and the Force is with me." thumb pressing the sun-disc and the distinct snap hiss of his blade extending comes with a hissing squeal
"See? Big guy agrees with me," Ektor decides, without any knowledge of Shriiwook. A low laugh stirs in his throat as the Tionese pirate recovers both his blasters, tucking the holdout into the discreet holster at the back of his belt, and checking the charge on his old DH-17. He grin abruptly fades when the pilot realizes: "What the- my spice ain't here! Why you slime guzzling, Hutt-sucking DRIPS- oh wait, here it is. Don't worry errybody, I found it." A much more relaxed Ektor powers up his blaster and prepares to kill some folk in a much improved mood.
Everyone's things are brought forward - if they are members of his crew and he knew which drek belonged to whom. The rest of it? Krrsantan has no clue who's things are who's so he left the rest. It seems a moment more for haste than to paw through the extra stuff.
Big feet bring Santos up the corridor between the cells. He snarls and released prisoners get out of his way pretty fast. His leather satchel full of grenades and other googies has been slung over one of his spiked pauldroned shoulders, long gun in his paws and bolts checked.
"Time to take charge!" A rumble and a roar! Not at all being subtle today, nope.
A quick look around and they seem ready to go. So Santos directs his attention to Poe while Ektor freaks out a bit over misplaced spice. "We ready?"
Poe fastens his gun belt around him after accepting his stuff from Santo, "Thanks, pal." With the gun belt in place, he draws out an old DL-44 and orients the fire selector to KILL, then glances up when Santo roars. "Yeah, buddy, we're ready, I think. Those who are fighting, up here with me, those who ain't.. stay back till it's clear. There's fighting on both sides of this corridor, so we come out swinging!" Poe activates the shield deflector on his belt and says, "We're doing this," before moving outside and firing one way. "DREK! The other way!" Then Poe runs the other.
The setting is a long corridor that stretches both ways with dull grey bulkheads made of steel. The corridor is wide, 10 meters so, and rounghly 50m long in either direction. Poe had changed course based on the observations of Zavr and Erinn, who had indicated that the power lines would lead to the engine source. If they were going to steal this, they needed power, they also.. needed to kill the pirates controlling it! Five (5) pirates are one way, and seven (7) pirates are the other. They're shooting at each other AND the fresh escaped prisoners! "WE GOTTA GO /THIS/ WAY.." Poe points toward the seven (7) bad guys, "..to reach the engines. Let's gooo!"
It's a reunion to be sure. One that, should they make it off of this literal boat, Tess would very much like to continue. There's bound to be a good story there. First they must survive the encounter and that requires some pews. The appearance of pirates draws Tess' carbine up at the ready and the trigger pulled immediately afterwards. Then again. Click. Click. Boom?
"Not again," she groans, looking down at the powercell redout. Zero percent. A hand goes to her bag to grab for another cell--- and swings at her side. The bag is still very much missing. Is bacta already so such short supply that the pirates actually /kept/ her medical stuff?! "Oh, dear..." It might as well be Tess' battlecry. "Say, Mister Nim and... ah!" Qu activates his lightsaber in proper time "Mister Jedi. If you would be so kind as to continue to cover us, I would be in your debt. I appear to be insufficiently armed."
Erinn Laski moves up towards the very door that she'd nearly hurled herself down a few moments ago. This time, however, she merely presses her back against it and waits for others to file in first. She watches Poe valiantly charge to the left.... and then to the right. Her hand drops to the little portable computer console she'd been carrying around and flips it open. Its passive data streaming filters information about their surroundings, and she waves it over the wires to watch its green indices begin to blink and chirp in confirmation.
"Definitely juice in these," she says to Zavr, wincing as the fighting begins. The sound of blaster fire is not something she's ever gotten used to, even in her short time in the military. She swallows and steels herself, peering out into the hallway as her allies begin to engage.
"The engine room can't be far!" she calls out.
This impromptu little troupe begins sorting themselves according to combat readiness, and Khalim sticks beside Tess as they begin moving from cover to cover in the hopeful direction of the ship's engines. Out of the corner of an eye the mirialan catches Tess sight and... *click*...
"Kriff," Khalim grates as his non-firing hand moves to intercept her and keep her somewhat behind himself as he slides himself over a waist-height durasteel diver. Diversion? Perhaps, or perhaps he'd not seen that it was SEVEN pirates directly in front. That Westar is sighted, breath held, and the trigger squeezed. Two bolts of bright gold lance out, accompanied by tibana screeches. One flings off into the ether, but the other? It takes one of those pirates center mast, and delivered a hole that, to be frank, was neither wanted nor needed.
OH, hey! That Qutha person is actually *offering* to protect anyone that doesn't want to fight. If that's not Zavr, then it's not no one! The husky Zelt dips back bethind the Zelosian and then a little bit further, tucking around a bulk head. Recalling how he'd followed Erinn when SHE had advanced to that spot behind the bar, he calls out, "Hey! Gourd lady!" There's a qickly murmured 'Uh... What was it.. Oh!', "Laski! Are you ok?!"
With a rustle of jump suit fabrics, Zavr gives up on the lie of protecting their rear and slithers up to hide near to Erinn. "We gotta quit meeting like this, Gourdie." The light he carries is clicked off then since trying to HIDE with a bright stinkin light is counter productive! Nervously he watches, trying to get some idea of what's going on outside of his and Erinn's hiding spot. Looking at Erinn's datapad he nods, agreeing but staying silent about the location of the engine room as she calls it out. "We'll make it. We'll take the engine room and the power and like, no one will be selling us into slavery, y'dig?" A pink hand reaches out to touch Erinn's shoulder briefly and he looks into her face, freaked out but clearly trying to reassure himself more than her.
Poe is leaning one way and then the other, emerald like eyes following the scruffy guy's dipsy doodle, leaving him looking at five pirates and his head cocks to one side while his shoulders hunch and he looks to those pirates that would now be shooting into the backs of those headed for the engines.
"I'll try to cover the rear, y'all." stepping forward, slipping into Soresu - darting forward with tight motions for his saber, feinting - albeit too far to one side or another when he makes his attempts to cause burns across arms, or short jabs for blasters to try and eliminate the means of using them. Losing track of conversations, such as they are behind him while he is shot past by the pirates.
"Bother..." shifting, thrusting and wincing when he manages to strike one of the pirates in the hand, cutting off thumb and forefinger in addition to destroying their weapon, sending them howling to the floor clutching their hands. Qutha's expression calm, though his movements more frenetic than they should be while he tries to follow the guidance of the Force, rather than be guided by the force.
Ektor charges out front with Poe, blasting wildly at the knot of targets obstructing their way toward the presumed bridge. His firing form remains very much a curiously effective collection of bad habits, and he sends two of the seven to the deck with finality, before being distracted by Qutha's use if a "Laser sword! Hey, can I see that thing for a minute? I mean after the whole gunfight, yeah? Obviously." Oh right, the gunfight! Xer is reminded by a bolt screeching past him and he ducks a second shot.
As soon as they come out of the door and Poe picks a direction, Santos starts moving. Like a charging BANTHA - with sharp teeth bared! He makes the loudest ROAR maybe any of them have heard in some time and starts charing towards the end of the corridor indicated towards the engine rooms.
Who needs cover?! Not the Wookiee.
But running and lifting his long gun at the same time makes it harder to hit anything as he runs and keeps roaring. The intimidation part works very well! The shooting? Not so much. Two shots are fired but Santos misses his targets both times. You can /feel/ the deck plates thundering with his 600 lbs of weight as he runs!
At least it looks like he's scared some of them half witless as a lot of shots miss - but not all. A blaster bolt slams into Santo's back, right at the edge of his crossed bandoliers! There is suddenly the smell of burned flesh and hair. It does NOTHING to slow the Wookiee down even as he snarls with pain..
If anything, it seems only to have pissed him off!
Poe is trailing after the massive wookiee and firing blindly ahead. "Let's goooooooo!" By the end of saying that, Poe is winded, but he takes a spot to fire again, disregarding the shots from behind until they can ge this taken care of. At the end of the corridor is the ENGINE room, the door is already open. As Santo and Poe run, though, they no longer her footfalls but 'SPLISH..SPLASH SPLISH SPLASH!'
"LASKI.. PINK GUY, LET'S GO! THIS DREK IS SINKING! COVER THEM!!" Poe calls out comically waving the two toward he and Santo, and the engine room.
The troupe of less-than-combat-ready escapees follow behind in a hurried pace, keeping behind Tess with the currently useless carbine. They're all being guarded by Qutha and Khalim, the latter of whom steps in the path of harm meant for her and quickly nudges her off of said path. She is mildly offended -- but only at herself as she slings the empty rifle on her shoulder. "You've my gratitude."
Poe announces their route and also that the whole place is going under and that causes a bit of panic from the recently escaped strangers with her.
"Sinking?!"
"Maker, no! Get me out of here!"
"I can't swim!"
"I'm only two days from retirement!"
And such. Tess, wishing she had her injectable sedatives, tries to help the group rush after Poe and crew as the blaster fire erupts in the small spaces of their slowly submersing death trap.
"Yeah, that's right. We're going to be okay. Nobody's selling us into slavery or blowing us out into space. We're going to get you and all of these other people out. Nobody dies," she says. -KREW-. -Thump.-
"Okay, well, nobody on -our- side dies," she says. And then she grabs Zavr's arm and tugs him into the room. "Come on. Head down. Don't think, just move," she says. "On me. Ready?"
"Go go go!" Erinn rushes through the door and down the hallway past Poe and Santos and the three remaining pirates as fast as she can. She's looking towards her little computer diagnostic console as she moves, and it's beginning to pick up the misfiring pulse of the ion engines just past.
"The engine is flooded. Ion coils must be oversalted and unable to bust up that tritium," she says. She goes to work on the side of the engine, peeling off the side manifold and starting to get to work. "Eeesh. -So- salted," she says, and starts to buff out some of the salt crystals from the ion exchange array.
"I need you to crank those pipes," she says to Zavr, indicating a set of small cranks on the opposite side.
"It will drain the salt solution into the ejection port, and you can thread in another. You got that?" she says, fingers never stopping their work on the engine.
Tess earns a quick side-long glance form the mirialan, and a look that says 'be careful'. As the party scrambles over and around limited bits of cover, Khalim does what little he can to keep non-combatants and fleeing prisoners shepherded. As the entrance to that engine room is neared, he shifts around a bit of exposed superstructure, pistol held forward, quick-sights and *squeeze-squeeze*.
Two more of those golden bolts lance forth, though the targeted pirate in question seems to have squirted a little extra space cologne this morning because he is SMOOTH AS KRIFF, and that slide away from golden-tinged obliteration is worthy of a holo-film contract.
Zavr Drick had been curious what that sound was when Qutha blazed up with his saber, and then Ektor's shouting about a laser sword! His expression is torn between barely masked fear and open curiosity! "A laser sword? You know someone with a laser sword? What sorta crazy people do you hang out with?! This is nuts!" Poe is yelling that it's time to move, and Zavr hesitates until Erinn grabs him! "Right! Nobody on our side dies! Not thinking is my specialty!" Surging up after the smaller woman he goes charging after her down the hall, chubby pink body a much broader target than the Gourd Lady's! If they can get past Qutha, of course!
"Crank the pipes! Desalt the ejection port! Thread in a replacement! Aye, heard!" And then he's jumping to it, using that wrench that was already in his hands to give a heavy CLANG to the pipes to knock out any already building minerals before the head of the wrench is fitted and he gives a mighty shove. The Zeltron has nothing more to say for the moment, an adrenaline equivalent coursing through his veins and a task he's actually good at at hand. If nothing stops him, he'll work to complete his task as quickly and skillfully as he can.
"I would if I could, but I'd be in considerable trouble!" Qutha is trying to cut off at least some of the pirates to buy the others time, brows knit and a bit of sweat mixing with the sticky semi-dried chlorophyl on his cheek and he dips to one side, blade out - trying to let go and let himself feel his next strike, not make his next strike, all the while breathing and murmuring,
"Bother!" another miss, trying not feeling. Glowing blade making things all manner of warm but making no headway at striking the pirates as another dips away from his attempts. "Bother and blow."
A hand comes down into his hair, balling up in husk-silk like material that makes up the Zelosian's before a fair chunk rips or is yanked free when an instinctive hand comes up under his extended saber-arm, fingers up but together and thumb tucked up as if to make a wall from the appendage, sending the offender into a wall to slide down and close their eyes.
"Bother it all!" still back-pedaling and trying to keep these ones from adding additional fire against his fellows, blade wheeling and arching in preparation for returning violence for his temerity. "Hope they're getting us outta this..."
Ektor curses as his 'brilliant' plan to steal the ship (his plan is ALWAYS to steal the ship) is being flooded with rising water. "Drek-" he blasts one of the pirates who shot at him. "Maybe.. maybe it's a submersible, yeah? I mean, ANY boat can be a submersible once, sure, but like.. on purpose? Maybe they was stupid and put cells in their ballast tanks?" He misses twice more while trying to rationalize this wreck still being worth stealing, before muttering, "Drek.. nah, it's just sinking." How this man ever existed in a professional military is a mystery. Qutha's Bothering draws a crooked grin. "Beanpole, you REALLY gotta learn how to cuss, yeah? No drek, you'll fight better if you cuss good, that's just science." Ektor does not understand science.
It seems that Poe and Santos made it to the engine room in the hard push but there's still slavers on this end and the other of the corridor. While the engineering sorts try to make a mad dash through, Santos ROARS again, then swings his Wookiee long gun around.
BOOM! It fires, blowing a big hole into one of them. Splatter of blood all over the bulkhead. Krrsantan makes it look easy to use the gun but it is long. He tries to turn it suddenly for another target but the end of the barrel scrapes the bulkhead in the slightly snug space. It makes his second shot way off, but rips a nice hole in the metal! The loud BOOMs probably make everyone at least half deaf. What the kriff?
Santos has wet feet and water sloshing back and forth. He looks down, surprised by this. He hadn't smelled the water when he sought to sniff for it earlier. Huh.
Ah well, back to shooting!
"I don't think this is Tatooine..." All this water? Yeah, probably not! The back of his shoulder hurts, growl....
With Laski and Zavr on the engines, the flooded section begins to cycle. It makes a sputtering noise, and water begins to drain from the chamber. It seemed the system was set to ALWAYS run, and when it didn't, water came through the pipes to begin flooding the engine and ship interior. With the pressure cycled, Laski could finally prime and turn over the engine, which sputtered and spat before roaring to life.
Power began to flicker back on, and lights cycled to on in sequential CLICKS all the way down the corridor.
The pirates dealing with the crazed 'man' carrying a lightsaber feel that they're not even getting paid enough for this drek and decide to dip out.
The escaped prisoners find that most of the ship was abandoned by the time they reached the helm. It was a yacht, Corellian designed and off the golden coast of Coronet, deep in the misty storms and out of view. They were subjected to a deal gone wrong, and a failed take over, as dead bodies were all over the place. Poe has the crew on the helm help him steer the large ship to port, having to smooth talk CorSec into letting them take a berth with the promise that, "You guys will really want to see this."
As the large vessel is guided toward the docking berth at Coronet, people begin to say their good byes and thanks. A younger teenager even hugged Zavr and Laski for saving the ship (because they couldn't swim).
Poe, at the helm, asks Xer, "Hey buddy, you got any booze? I feel like this is a booze moment, you know?"
Ektor nods to Poe. "Sure I do. But I wouldn't recommend it, yeah? Last time I drank it, I woke up on rekking *Corellia*."
"Wait I'm on Corellia!?"
Qutha stares in horror. The pollution. The industry. Where is his ship?
"Where is my ship?"
Where -is- your ship, Qutha? What was that drink? Now he needs to sugar-test or drink straight whiskey or similar to avoid the mix cocktails; if only to avoid getting caught up by pirates and having to swing wildly in hopes of trying to aid a proper mistake. With a sigh he reaches into his affects and pulls out a small dispenser, pushing back a tab to open the lid and making it expel a small tablet looking thing in his hand, smelling heavily of berries and mint.
Some people have flasks of liquor.
Qutha tosses the little candy into his mouth and sighs, looking out at the filth of the crotch of the galaxy.
rinn watches the water begin to drain from the engine and lifts up the manual ignition switch. It's a massive, fuse-like switch that requires her to push it up and then tug it back down. There's a -click- as it rotates and then a -shunk- as she pulls it down. "Hnnnnnh," the petite engineer struggle-sounds as she pushes it up, clacking it into place. It sputters. Belches. And then -roars- to life as it comes online.
She collapses backwards. Laughs. Cackles, even. "Gourdie," she says over to Zavr. "Don't call me Gourdie," she says.
Flash -FORWARD- to the end! Laski is in the bridge and being hugged by a teenager. She laughs a little bit. Though older by a few years, they have an inch or two on her, but she hugs them back all the same.
"I'm just glad we all made it okay," she says.
And then she's traipsing towards Poe and Ektor. She's got a bottle of whiskey she'd snatched from one of the rooms on her way from the engine room to the helm. She leans up against one of their chairs and takes a pull directly from the bottle. Her face scrunches up and she makes such a -face- before handing it off.
"Blech..."
Zavr Drick cranks out the pipes, clearing them of accumulated salt water. He snatches a hand held air compressor as well and blows out the area around the ejection port for good measure. Looking around, he finds where any good mechanic keeps their spares and quickly replaces the ejection port threading before sealing it all back up. "I think it's done, Laski!" he calls to her. And indeed, the power is flickering and coming back to life and the water starts receeding. The teen that eventually hugs him gets a pat on the back and a 'stay in school'!
"Wait, we're on Corellia? Man I hope my fighter hasn't been impounded." Looking to the Erinn he holds out a hand. "Hey, good work out there. And y'all, thanks for not letting me get enslaved. I know I've got the perfect body for labor but I just... I don't think it's for me, y'know? So thanks. Everyone. I'm Zavr, by the way." At least he's introduced now. To more than just the Wookie.
As the yacht is secured to its waiting pier, Khalim simply observes as CorSec agents wait to board. There's little to do beyond wait, and provide what little statement he's able. Khalim had been abducted off Tatooine, abducted off a world used as a secretive retreat. It was poetic, in some ways, that the mirialan couldn't even manage to run away without being countered, and punished.
Prior to finally debarking, he takes a moment to quietly converse with Tess. What words are said remain unheard, beyond her own ears, but there's a serious aspect to them. The others receive parting words of comeraderie, handshakes even in some cases. Black Krrsantan receives a quirked grin, and a very necessary look /up/. "Glad to have had you on our side." Simply spoken yet with intention. As he finally begins walking off towards the waiting gangway, he looks to Tess, then the rest of that motley crew. "Til next time."
He disappears into a throng of curious onlookers that didn't expect to see a damaged yacht heave to on this particular day.
