Log:The Gand for the Job
Piracy cannot stop This Gand from securing data for Black Sun.
OOC Date: March 21, 2016
Location: Deep Space
Participants: Xizor, Oozlevort, Black Sun
The job came from a reputable agent, the sort who posts bounties and finds people to perform dubious tasks when the ones needing the job completed doesn't want to soil themselves with the process. This one, marked Urgent, needs to be begun within two hours or it will be withdrawn. Due to the mission profile, he sends it to Oozlevort.
OBJECTIVE: Infiltrate the luxury starliner Desert Zephyr and download the Zygothan diplomat's encrypted files.
COMPLICATION: The Desert Zephyr sent a distress signal indicating it is being boarded by pirates. A ransom demand from the Hzrean pirate gang followed.
SET:
The ship is located where the mission data said it would be, several light years away from its scheduled course. No vessels are present, save the long luxury starliner, one of the foremost cruise liners for the non-ox species of the galaxy. There is no vessel attached to any of its docking collars, and its small hangar bay is aft. The hangar is toward the rear of the vessel; the Zygothan diplomat's VIP quarters are near the front of the ship. There is a docking collar that is closer to those quarters.
Where would you like to land, and how do you do it?
Oozlevort received the job, as the Findsman often does, and hopped into his large starfighter to jump from his base on the smuggling moon to the Desert Zephyr. Once in realspace the Gand pilots his vessel, shifting its maneuvering ailerons to sneak up on the midship docking collar and gently click against it. The Gand prefers stealth. Though his ship is filled with ammonia atmosphere, he still wears his breathing apparatus, as when the docking collars meet there is an exchange of gases. He rises, taking two pistols with him, and moves to quietly enter the luxury starliner.
There is a brief popping sound, and then a human-sounding voice intrudes in Basic. "Comm check." It's low-pitched, a voice that reverberates. It would if it were not constricted by the output device, anyway. "Do you read, Gand? This is Control. I'll be telling you what we know, as we know it."
The main atmosphere in the Desert Zephyr is a mix of ammonia and several other gases. A Gand could breathe in it without much trouble, especially for short periods. Past the locking mechanism, there is a T-shaped intersection: a broad corridor continues to the left and right, and smaller service hallway for staff lies ahead. There aren't any sounds, but the lights are all on, as are red and yellow warning lights, and illuminated arrows on the lower hall leading to escape pods.
Either right along the main promenade of the ship or through the service hallway would lead closer to the stateroom that is the objective. The silence is almost eerie, given the number of passengers.
Oozlevort keeps a small comm unit in his breathing mask. It clicks on and he mutters, "Control, Gand reads you." Moving silently, the small bounty hunter slips through the public corridors, moving toward the quarters where his objective is likely stored.
All is well until the first chokepoint. The VIP staterooms are not locked off, but they are a bit barricaded by design. A tasteful row of five miniature trees, each a different color, means that you only enter the VIP area along a ramp. The ramp is watched by two different surreptitious security cameras, one looking straight down at those who travel via the ramp, the other watching the approach to the ramp from this side.
"This is the main way in. There is also a ventilation system with a grate in the entertainment center to the starboard side." Control's voice flows, seeming unhurried. "This ship is not built to be a prison, though. If you hurry and minimize the time you spend in view, they might miss you. Your call."
Oozlevort has to reach to pry open the grate, and then he has to reach to lift himself inside and slither into the ductwork. Hopefully it is sturdy. He replaces the grate with some care, not wanting to leave anything out of place, and proceeds to very quietly slide toward the fore diplomatic cabin. Or what he thinks is the direction of the fore cabin.
It's a slog forward. Being quiet makes every gesture and movement a careful one. As you pass towards the VIP section, you start to finally hear some noises associated with sentient life. There are words that are difficult to make out, and someone is walking heavily just below the vent, who clinks as he moves. The smells come, too: lots of sweat and other anxiety-related chemicals, and what smells like a freshly-lit deathstick.
The first grate opening within the VIP area shows a bedroom that must cost a fortune. Custom-grown wood forms a natural base and ceiling for the bed, whose covers have been cast aside onto the ground. There are signs of struggle, but most of the room looks as the guest left it. A few pill bottles, a makeup popular among some insectoid species, and a well-made bag lined with fur.
This is not the room you're looking for, but it should be two further to starboard from this room. Do you want to leave the vent here, or continue onward to find a different exit?
Oozlevort remains quiet. He peers through the grate opening for a time, his compound eyes taking in the various accoutrements of wealth, but rather than exit he continues slithering toward the cabin that is indeed his target. He is taking a gamble; some designers would put a vent exit directly in the largest VIP cabin, because it would require more airflow due to its size. But other designers might not, for security reasons. Or perhaps it has its own ventilation unit?
Further up the duct system, the grumbles become louder, and the smells more intense. The next large grate looks down upon the edge of a circular hallway, where a Zabrak with a blaster carbine over his light armor is using his breath mask to smoke a deathstick.
"You are such an idiot, Sner. We can't breathe the air, and you keep movin' that mask around." The voice comes from somewhere to the left, where you can't see.
Sner considers his words carefully before saying in a bored voice, "Fuck you." He begins to walk right along the hallway. Footsteps indicate the other pirate is, too.
"Looks like you're heading towards the central hall of the VIP disc," Control says quietly. "The Zygothan diplomat's rooms are about eighty degrees to your right. The second door. Heat readings indicate most of the crew and passengers are in that central hall."
That explains the odor from in front. There might be a way to go forward and then right, to reach your destination via vent. Or the pirates below could be dealt with or followed.
What do you do?
Oozlevort goes still as he listens to the conversation of the pirates. Once they pass, the Gand whispers into his respirator's comm unit, "Yes. This Gand will attempt to find an enrance to the diplomat's rooms through the ventilation shaft." He continues his awkward belly-crawl through the ductwork.
As Oozlevort approaches the central room through the ducts, a slight hissing sound can be heard ahead, and the air pushing against the Gand's front becomes stronger and stronger. The reason is clear enough: there are rows of fans pushing air along a tunnel that opens from your left, which is then redirected to flow towards the staterooms and on down the ship.
There is a large enough space here for a Gand to stand up and move, looking to find the appropriate tunnel, which should be two over to starboard. The hard part is that this floor is an extended grating over a chandelier made of precious, easily-damaged stones suspended in chains of metal. The entire thing hangs by a single chain. It won't fall; it's much too secure for that. But stomping around up here above it could set the crystals to tinkling if they touch each other.
Oozlevort rises from his prone position, taking great care to tip-toe over the floor in his quiet way. His Gand martial arts have prepared him for this, and years of tracking through the mists of Gand honed his ability to move silently. Once above the stateroom he undoes the grate and sets it aside, then slips down into the diplomat's housing, looking for the appropriate data storage device.
The Zygothan diplomat seems to have been rudely roused from his sleep, as well. The door into the bedroom up ahead is still open, and the bed is unmade. Here in the suite's living room, there are multiple computer consoles. Some are the complimentary access to the Desert Zephyr's own computers. Some are not. It is not immediately obvious where the data in question might be, but whenever you do find it, you have a data stick preprogrammed to decrypt and download the right stuff.
There isn't time to use it on every terminal, though.
"Gand, negotiations between the Hzrean pirates and the owners of the Desert Zephyr appear to have broken down. I advise you hurry."
Oozlevort asks, "How many pirates are there?" over the comm. He begins to search the computers, starting with the non-public terminals, and also finds the rather heavy box and pauses to slip it inside his robe. The Gand then goes searching, overturning things in his pursuit of the combination, which he finds after a solid minute of searching. "Ah!" He inputs it on the heavy datapad-sized box to find whatever might be inside.
Within rests a small computer. It demands a fingerprint unlock. It does, however, have a slot in its side that the provided data stick can go in. Here's hoping!
"Gand." Control's voice is not anxious, but it is insistent. "New sensor cont-"
"Your people have chosen their credits morals over their conscience," an angry woman says over the speakers in every room of the ship. "If we die, you will too. Everyone to the hangar. Any 'guest' who runs instead of walking will be shot."
"- contacts," Control finishes. "Fighters and an assault shuttle, no official insignia."
His voice is dry as he says, "If you want to stay ahead of the sentient shields, you have about forty seconds to exit the VIP section."
Oozlevort plugs his datamining device into the slot on the side of the small personal computer. He slips it inside his robe and begins to flee, but his legs are short and the Gand is not as young as he used to be. The sentries fire at him as he goes but their shots hit the bulkheads. He flees back toward the public spaces, retracing his steps to his ship, running like the gingerbread man.
The ship is still there. Up through the docking collar, into the ship, to get it running. There's a small beep from within Oozlevort's robes.
But the sensor is alive with hostiles. There's the rub. There are six fighters on approach who are likely to see any departing vessel as an attempt by the pirates to escape, and the mission is strictly confidential.
"Gand. If you just run, your odds of being engaged before you make it into hyperspace are high." Control suggests, "If you shoot at the hangar, however, while you flee, you may cause enough confusion among the security forces to give you time to escape." What Control doesn't say is that it will also strand the pirates and their captives, and that panicked pirates might well do something rash, like execute prisoners.
Oozlevort hastily embarks onto his ship and closes the docking port. He sits down in the pilot's seat and disengages, swinging his oddly-shaped vessel around. He makes a sideways pass across the docking bay, his laser cannons deploying from the fighter's mandibles, and fires a staccato burst into the starliner's hangar. BRAP BRAP BRAP. The maneuvering thrusters on the ailerons then fire, turning the fighter 180 degrees, and it blasts off with engines burning bright blue on its way to an appropriate hyperspace vector.
The first fighter fires a salvo at the Fog Seeker, but when Oozlevort fires on the Desert Zephyr's hangar after disengaging, no more fire comes its way. Deciding to go for the small fighter would be a split-second decision, and the security force's commander keeps his focus on the main body of pirates.
The assault shuttle is making its landing inside the burning hangar when Control says, "Meet us with the data, and you will be paid as promised. I'm sending you information for a contact on Nar Shaddaa. If you are interested in working for us directly, get in touch." The nav computer finishes its calculations. "Goodbye, Gand."
Off into hyperspace! And when This Gand checks, the data stick's algorithms have unlocked the information he needs. It's still encrypted, but that's the employer's problem.
Oozlevort navigates his Aggressor assault fighter (which seats eight!) into the pre-arranged hyperspace jump point and flips the lever, causing the stars to deform and the ship to enter hyperspace with a zip. There is a stopoff at a random system to throw off hangers-on, and then back to the safety of Nar Shaddaa and Hutt space.
