Log:Traders Union: The Bottom Line

Traders Union: The Bottom Line

OOC Date: October 12, 2018
Location: In orbit of the 13th moon of Cato Neimoidia VI
Participants: Dae'shani, Hopp Nooram, Idan Jensa, Kostej, Merek, Netep Muri, Ria, Sajin, Traders Union

The sixth planet of the Cato Neimoidia system is an unremarkable gas giant, bereft of valuable gasses that might attract miners, and without any moons large enough to hold atmosphere. Far out of sensor range of the system's only inhabited world. To all perceptions the sixth planet and its moons are worthless.

Yet, as Netep guides her Ghtroc 720 into orbit of one such worthless moon, the scanners ping with the dark mass of an Action VI bulk freighter, well over a hundred meters long and half as much wide and high, drifting in high orbit of the airless rock. Running lights are dark, and the aft hangar sits open. Shields are offline and no hint of power registers on approach. Had they not known where to find it, the ship could have sat undiscovered for centuries.

Idan manages to look skinnier than normal, having exchanged his fine robes for a dingy, vacuum-rated enclosed flight suit. The Neimoidian peers out the canopy from behind the pilot's chair.

Ria is chillin oogling the ship she is in, those flight controls..sexy to a pilot. Even still she takes a moment to look out the view ports at their prize and grins. "Yeah, niiiice."

Merek had been hired to assist with the Union, and is dressed in nice black robes with a cloak around it. With hood up, he is watching the cockpit and waiting to be required by the others to work, as he checks his belt and some of his supplies.

Sajin had no buisness being here. None at all. Just like the metting which he crashed much to Idan's chagrin. Why have a flight suit when you could wear POWER ARMOR. The Handsome Hapan was decked out in his usual outfit, ready to do a boarding action. He had been contracted to come along incase some bad poodoo was going to go down. Hopefully King of Drik's large presence would deter any wrongdoers and he could walk away with an investment or some money to help put towards his planet's causes. OR something...

"I'm too old for this shit," an old man is grouching from the back of the cockpit, adjusting the fit of one of the gauntlets on his environmentally-sealed Mandalorian armor, the belligerent fart glaring out of the canopy at the derelict wreck they're here to salvage, the domed helmet held in his gloved hands. "This- this better be good, Muri, I- I don't push pause on my work for nothing, alright, you promised- there better be some damn good stuff on there, and... Beady eyes glance toward the Neimodian, the de facto leader of this expedition, OR SO HE BELIEVES. "And this overgrown caterpillar better not try to stop me from getting my fair share!"

Straightening up with a crackle of his spine, he lowers the helmet over his head, the visor gleaming dully in the light and sparing them from his rambling wo- "And another thing," the voice now louder and electronically amplified, "I didn't come out here to die and- and- I'll leave you all behind if I have to, okay, I- I still got things to do, important things!" Turning to adjust his utility belt, a bony elbow bumps into Sajin. "What- what're you supposed to be, a human can opener? Watch where you're going."

Muri shifts around in her gel seat pad - a feature herself and 1 other lucky person riding copilot get to experience. The other two seats behind are skeletal frames - functional but not yet decked out for comfort. Sorry, butts. As the Doaba Hermi cruises in a little closer to its target, she performs a second scan of the area...just to be certain. A fine bead of sweat has gathered on the pilot's blue brow and she ignores the babble of the J-9 unit formerly evicted from its seat to make room for organic rumps.

What's with the hesitation? Pirates. An ever-lingering haunt in the back of a lowly pilot's brain. She's trying to ensure there are gone and that she needn't cut around and blast outta here lickity split. "Okay so here's the deal," she speaks both to those seated here and those down in the lower deck lounge - via intercom. A long look goes over shoulder to Hopp, then forward to viewport again. "Far as sensors can tell and naked eye can tell...from this great distance...that ship's kaput. Powered down. Whether that was an intentional cut before the former owner hightailed it outta there or an incidental one due to mynocks, shiprats, or two-legged scavengers, it means life support systems may also be offline. Permanently. It means there might be a hole in the hull somewhere unseen and there's nothing but icy vacuum in there. Therefore..." she begins to power the Hermi a little faster on approach, "Only people goin in first are those with vac-sealed suits and fully contained, operational life support, got it? Now my ass is too big to squeeze into that hangar, as wide and inviting as it looks, so I'm gonna search for a place to dock. Order of business is this - get to its bridge, check the status of the computers. If we can bring them online, run systems checks, confirm life support's a good deal then great. Everybody else pile in. If not, we head aft. If hull breach is the issue, we patch that first, then tinker with the life support. If all it needs is a little juice, then that's the priority. Seal in the atmo - bring on the O2. I've got two extra vac suits in my cabin. Can't guarantee it'll fit all or any, but draw straws and 2 of you try'em on for size. Preferably somebody with engineering or mechanical expertise."

Idan Jensa turns a flat look from Hopp to Muri. "Netep, is he insane?" the 'overgrown caterpillar' wonders idly, before voicing to all assembled, "To be clear.. the rights to the vessel ahead of us have been secured on behalf of the Traders Union. Independent contractors shall be compensated in keeping with their negotiated rate, or in recompense as mutually agreed upon based upon services rendered at the discretion of the senior partners. With that verbal fine print out of the way.." For as slow and deliberate as he usually speaks, the Neimoidian rattles off fast talking terms and conditions as if they stood between him and profit. When Muri issues marching orders, he nods. "As you say," Idan agrees, his balance briefly threatened by a slightly harder than usual docking. "I will.. bring the diagnostic equipment," he notes once standing stably again.

Merek looks up and towards Muri as she speaks, and lifts up a hand, "I'm here to work on any computer systems that are on there if required, so put me where you need me," he offers, as he takes a moment to shift his cloak about him and waits to hear more as he waits.

Sajin turns his head and looks to Hopp, though this the Power Armor's helmet over his head there's no real telling what his expression is. "I didn't... uhm... sorry?" He wasn't naturally confrontational and found it easier just to appologise when people were being beligerant. He was also dumb and prone to misinterperate what exactly was being said or requested of him at any given moment. He looks to Netep, "I'll just hang out with you until they confirm or fix it." Or man the guns if need be. He looks to Idan and gives a simple thumbs up before taking an uncomfortable sit in one of the uncomfortable chairs, shifting now and again with a grunt or two.

As the Doaba Hermi is guided in to dock, a closer view can be had of the dead bulk freighter: carbon scoring and visible hull damage are notable on the aft section, near the engines; evidence of pursuing cannon fire. A shudder passes through the light freighter as sluggish clamps and airlocks seal in place, allowing the assembled crew to board the hulking derelict.

Having been one of those who got the squishy seat, Ria's butt is happy as she pops up. "I got some skills in repair and engineering and stuff. I can try and go." she pipes up more or less ignoring all the grumbling and or randomness going on.

"Good enough," Hopp decides from inside his hermetically sealed armor. "Looks like I'm on the boarding party, you- don't everyone cheer at once," the old coot growls, the helmet making his voice even more distorted than the decades of smoking already have. Instinctively, he moves to pull a cig from the pack that usually rides in his breast pocket, and instead scrapes his fingers over one of the armored plates for a few moments. "So uh, what do we expect in there, anyway, I mean, if the hull's been breached who's to say we got the gear to patch a hole of that size? Do any of you know what kind of strain the inside of a pressurized spacecraft puts on a hull? Do you? Any of you? No? Well it's actually not that much, we- we got this covered," he announces to the others, heading towards the airlock already. "But if all else fails, the least we can do is blow it up so no one else can have it, I mean, I'm not a vindictive man but- I mean, well, maybe I /am/ a vindictive man, and- and there's no way in hell we're letting anyone else get their hands on this ship."

Kostej has remained silent and in the background for most of the trip. However, as he is examining the situation from the safety of the Ghtroc, he does finally speak up. His voice is low and crackly in the comms. "If we can't repair it, we move on to the backup plan. Salvage. Even if the choice bits have been ripped out, this is a scav fortune."

He types some information into the datapad on his left arm and presses his lips together thoughtfully. "Worst case scenario, I suppose our cult meetings can happen here. Not a soul would suspect."

"Yes," Netep answers simply to Idan, just before she embarks on a quickie fly around the bulk freighter to illuminate its nooks and crannies and confirm the possible worst. Definite hull damage. "Scourge of the seven dunes..." she mutters to self then reorients the Ghtroc to get up close and personal with one of the airlocks. A little too close and personal. It's hard, with the lights off.

A hiss issues forth in lieu of crummy apology while Muri mates ship to ship juuuust a little fumbly like. It'll be fine. Probably. "I guess that's that," she sighs and unbuckles her tri-strap harness to fish out her own helmet and stuff the oversized puff braid she's wrestled her hair into inside it. Helmet nests down into rubbery seal of high neckline and she pats down the flightsuit to ensure all tubes and belted gear is attached while listening to Kostej. "Yeah. I've kept the hold nice'n empty for that worse case scenario. Merek, why don't you team with Ria," she gestures to said Ria. "I've got a P2 onboard that'll help with any heavy cutting if it comes to that. So long as the life support works, engines can be brought online, and hyperdrive is functional, we can seal off any damaged compartments internally till we get it to a proper shipyard if need be. Save time. I don't wanna be stranded any longer than we have to, yeah? What are the odds Jensa's the only one who knew 'bout this ship?" And with that, she starts pushing her own way out to pursue Hopp "J'ni (J-9), stay here and online." A second glance goes to Kostej on her way out to the docking tube.

Idan Jensa hefts an array of systems diagnostic devices, leaves the cockpit and makes his way toward the docking collar, repeating to himself in order to commit the plan to memory, "Bridge, diagnostic, power, hull integrity, life support-" he pauses, inquiring with a frown, "Netep?" Which would you prioritize: hyperdrive... or sublight?" As to odds that only he knew of the ship? "Quite poor. Let us begin."

Merek walks to a suit and begins to put it on. Once he has placed each piece onto him, he shifts to the support systems so that he can move to gather with the boarding party. He holds up a thumb to the others to show he is prepared as he places his repair tools to the front of his belt.

As Netep gets up to go he move up into the co-pilots seat, not taking her seat. "I'll be here if you need a quick exit for anything. Let me know if you get life support up." He turns and looks over his shoulder at his R2 Unit, "Buckets... go with them. Listen to Netep." The droid whines begrudingly but turns and starts to wheel along with the rest of the group. Sajin waits until the others leave the cockpit then totally puts his feet up on the console like a horrible house guest.

The truly massive cargo hold of the bulk freighter had once been modified to serve as a heavy troop transport, before ending up a freighter. The hold is littered with hundreds of tons of salvaged scrap durasteel, and ten bulk shipping canisters marked with shoddy stencils reading 'Medicine'. Against the port bulkheads another line of unidentified shipping crates are time-stamped (months overdue) and marked for delivery to Socorro.

"Your home planet's in the system, right?" Hopp questions of Idan as he gives the switch next to the airlock door a flip, getting ready to traverse the divide. "Cato Neimoidia! Wonderful little vacation spot if you're into green people," the old man rambles, not carrying any helpful gear like some of the others. "Personally I'd say you go with the sublight drives and coast this puppy over to the nearest spacedock, alright, then you- you- they'll fix it up and get it to where we know it won't unexpectedly vent atmo on us, which sounds like even less fun than I'm gonna have later when I can take off this wedgie-inducing vacsuit," he continues, pausing to crack his back, leaning wayyy back. "You- you two lead the way, you kids got better eyes than me, I- I can't wear my glasses in this helmet, alright."

What does one do while waiting to see if your comrades are eaten by horrifying space monsters? Pour some wine, apparently. Kostej watches the screen as he swirls classy one in a stained duraplast cup. He takes a sip and ensures he's not hot-mic'ing the comms.

Glancing over at the man in the co-pilot seat, he asks, "Care to place a wager on what they discover inside? I'm in a gambling mood." He doesn't seem anxious at all, but he is standing in the safety of a ship that isn't a wreck.

"I'm with Hopp on this one," Muri comments to Idan and moves in front of the old coot. "Sublight, if we've got to choose." Somewhere along the rear of the boarding party assembling is the hulky, bulky P2 astromech. Old, outdated, much like this ship. Also, it's huge. The optical sensor glows brightly and it swivels to and fro while wheeling along obediently in search of work.

"Well, that seems a bit expired," Muri pauses to tentaively toe the condensation puddling around one of the 'medicine' pods after exploring the first stretch of cargo-turned transport-turned cargo. "Refrigeration died a long time ago, but fact that it's liquid and not /ice/ is comforting." Marginally.

Meanwhile, J'ni has re entered its cockpit domain and stares with large, multifaceted eyes at the two men occupying his new master's throne room.

Idan Jensa answers Hopp belatedly, "No. Cato Neimoidia is one of the Purse worlds, I come from Pure Neimoidia," he corrects, adding, "It was... not a pleasant vacation spot. Or homeworld." Looking with his helmet mounted flashlight around the cavernous hold, he muses, "Does anyone else have the reflexive doubt that those cargo modules actually contain medicine?" A shake of his head. "Gravity is weak, but still present." He looks to Muri and nods. "Very well. But first.. cockpit, and systems diagnostic."

Merek looks around a bit as he walks through the medical pods area to view each one. "Hmm..." He nods a bit as he looks to Muri and seems to consider, then he walks to one of the pads on the wall should such be there, and tries to connect to it to check the atmospheric reading for the room if possible, if the thing is even functional.

Buckets tweets a reply agreeing with Netep as he continues to follow the group along ready to use his skills if need be.

Sajin looks back at Kostej, his helmet disengaging to reveal his handsome face, pouty lips, and dreamy hazel eyes. "Oh... I dunno," He says in a deep and raspy voice, "Maybe a Rancor... I helped kill a Rancor once... a Cyborg Rancor. It was nuts... then I took a guys legs as a trophy. It was pretty sweet." He then looks to J9, "Don't give me that look. I fly better than you. Take a seat."

"So, do we know who this wreck belonged to before it ended up here?" Hopp asks the others through the magic of radio technology or however their suit's comms are hooked together. "Or did you kids just get a note in class that said 'meet me behind the third moon after lunch'?" The lanky old man wanders along behind, using the night vision in his suit at a low level so there's less risk of being blinded by an errant flashlight. "Anyone got any qualms to me opening one of these?" Before anyone has a chance to answer, he latches onto the seal of the nearest pod and puts his scrawny back into it, using all 6'4" for leverage to heeeave the thing open.

"Both of his legs as a trophy?" Kostej asks as if he is in the trophy collecting business. "That seems a bit redundant. Why not just take one? Or maybe a femur. You could have it cleaned up, inscribe the datetime stamp and the coords of where it happened, seal it, and mount it in your room." He sighs softly. "I think I chose the wrong line of work."

"Hopp N--" Eh, too late. Netep starts putting a good bit of distance between self and unknown contents...just in case. "Please don't taste it," and that's all she can do. To the others, she motions on along and aims her light ahead with casual sweeps left and right as they push on forward presumably toward the bridge. It's hair-raising, creeping about in any desolate ship, not to mention one this size.

"Is cannibalism as profitable?" J'ni inquires, possibly misinterpreting Sajin's story a bit. "I find the nature of that line of work may not align with Captain Muri's guiding principles of operation." It click-clacks back into a seat and swivels its head to scan Kostej's bottle of wine. Just one of the dudes...

Merek lifts up a light he has with him to shine upon the place, as he watches the direction of Hopp when he opens the container and moves out of that way. "Please don't do that," he states, with a frown that's beneath his helmet. He then moves to follow Muri to the bridge, "I can work with computers, but any engineering and full-on repais will require someone else," he offers.

Idan Jensa answers in a flat, droll tone, "The most recent owner was an independant trader, who acquired the ship second-hand from a yard in the Deep Core. The prior owners are not known. Perhaps records might remain in the databanks," he muses as they pick between cargo toward the long corridor that leads through the habitable sections toward the cockpit. Hopp's question draws a sharp, "No, I do notrecommendthat-" too late. A long sigh. On to the cockpit, where the Neimoidian begins plugging the diagnostic machinery into the ship's command terminal. "Power modulators are intact, the electronic subsystems are not showing any overload. No reactor leakage. Everyone take a terminal and lets see what is left intact.."

Dae'shani had been her all along, but went to nap during the flight there, and well, she's very cute when she's sleeping, so who has the heart to wake her, really. Besides, her particular skill-set is mostly useful if they run into people. So now she's here, stepping along into the cockpit, stretching. Wearing that skin-tight red suit and her golden belt, for all the world looking like she prefers to be around in the nude, at least until the eye catches up with the details. She manually adjusts one of her lekku across her neck, and looks out the viewport. "...What'd I miss? That's a big ship."

Idan Jensa exhales slowly, voicing over the comms, "Inputting commands to bring reactor online.." Now to see if it works...

Merek works on the computer systems that he is at, though it is an old freighter which makes it a bit less likely he can manage a lot, at least for the moment. Either way he seems content with his work.

As the reactor springs back to life, Ria jumps to work doing THINGS! There is happy singing and half crawling into things and damn is she chipper but she manages to jumpstart the life support system and even prevent everyone from being vented into space. YOU ARE WELCOME PEOPLE!

Buckets whistles triumphantly, his computer port plugged into one of the consoles. Lights flicker on and the roar of the reactor can be heard. This all happens just as Idan is imputting his commands. That droid works fast. Pulling away, Buckets whistles a continious stream of toots as he starts moving down a corridor toards engineering. What he was saying, those who knew Binary might know. Something about checking out this things sweet booty. There's just no stopping him.

Back on the bridge of the Hermi, Sajin is looking out over the gas clouds as he answers. "No... the guy that got killed. I got his legs because he was the only other Hapan I knew out Nar Shadda. I'm the Alpha Hapan now..." He stands and moves out of the cockpit, "I'm going to go check on the hatch's seal."

"I do what I want, kid," Hopp tells Merek sourly, reaching for his cigs on his chest again to light one up out of habit, but again he's in armor and there's no cigs there, and the helmet would stop him smoking it either way. There's no stench to be smelled yet, but just wait till some oxygen is back up in this place for the sickly-sweet stank of what the scientist has just opened to hit you. Looking in the top, a gravelly barking laugh shoots out of the old coot. "Oh /baby/, we got ALL KINDS of bio-regulating gel in here, Muri! You can- Muri, you can get high for weeks with this much gel, alright, you can- well krif, some of it's probably no good, I mean, most of it's probably no good, but- but- but no one will know if we don't tell 'em until they open it up," he rambles, heading for the nearest terminal as Idan starts up the reactor core and screens start flickering back into life, long bony fingers starting to tap away at the console. "Look, I'll- we can- there, the refrigeration is back on, they're- they're totally stable, Muri! All of 'em! It's too late, but- but- but they're stable! And we can sell 'em, Muri, sell the bad ones and- and get high off the good ones! Tell your boss, Muri, tell him my plan, we're- we're gonna get rich and high at the same time, Muri!"

Muri's busy at her own little screen, tapping hopefully away and attempting to access a system she has zero clearance for...

"Got fifty-fifty on the shield generators," she sounds off her own update. "Fore is functional but aft is...toasty. Must've overloaded when it took those shots up the tail." Hopp's celebratory report comes over comm to her ears and while it isn't exactly music, it /does/ bring a little smile to her otherwise frowny lips. "You the man, Nooram. In show of my appreciation, I'll gift you my share of the high, yea?" Her face lifts from her work to turn and see if she can catch Idan's eye, one brow aloft and pearly whites flashing crookedly. See what kind of people they attract? "Good work, Ria" Muri isn't super chipper but she IS relieved. "Muri to J-9, relay to those on board that they're welcome to join the party in ten. Give it time to circulate." 10. It's a number she's made up. She honestly doesn't know how long it'll take to permeate a whole freighter this size with adequate concentration of O2, but figures the computers will! "Buckets, if you're still listening, locate the aft shield generator and see if you can't work a little magic. I'm sending P2 to help."

Idan Jensa turns a flat look aside to Netep as Hopp's excitable rambling reaches them. Answering his own earlier question, the Neimoidian decides, "He's insane." Sigh. "I'm leaving the helmet on, I dont want to smell that," the nose-less alien states. Ria's report draws a bit of good cheer. "Excellent. Ria, take the pilot's console and see whether the thrusters are functioning?" He glances back to Muri, who gets a grudging grin for her wild smile. "I am reading six of the nine subthrusters offline. The remaining engines shut down to prevent a cascade overload. I'd like your astromech to assist me in trying to restore engine function."

"Good job Ria, good job you two," To the other pair, even if only Muri is in hearing range, strictly speaking. Maybe her words will carry on someone else's comms. "Do you need me to do anything, or should I just keep looking pretty? Is that wine?"

"Weapons don't have a connection," Merek also offers to the update. He nods a bit as he taps on the console and seems to think a moment. "I will work on assisting you all with rerouting some power for you to work with to assist."

"On it!" Ria chirps and scurries to the pilots chair to do her first love, mess with piloting shit. She tries to check the thrusters.

"You got no vision, Idan, you- you gotta see the big picture here, alright," Hopp calls to the Neimoidian, busily bustling back over to the bio-gel barrels of enormous size and manipulating one of his gloves, sealing the sleeve off at the wrist and popping it off. "Time to test these out," he mutters, and begins the highly scientific process of sticking his hand into the container to see if he starts to trip balls or not. "Don't worry, I- I- you ain't seen nothing yet," he assures the rest of the crew, swirling the sticky stuff around while he waits to see what happens in his cognitive centers. "This one's -turned-."

J'ni(J-9) worker droid currently occupying Sajin's vacated seat - now having successfully worked his way up to pilot's chair - motions stiffly out the viewport for the Twi'lek's benefit. "The rest of the team has gone aboard to restore life support function and determine viable options for repair. Capt Muri says it will be safe for non-suited personnel to board in ten minutes. Do you wish to board, or does your internal computer require more sleep?"

"Copy that, Jensa," Muri also still has her helmet on. "Change of plans, P2. Follow the leader." A pause. "That one," and she points to the Neimoidian. "I've got a pair of hands I'll lend to whoever needs'em, but can't promise they'll do right by you. Goes to the highest bidder." Gloved fingers waggle. "If you lot have got this under wraps, though, then I'm going to go check on Hopp and ensure /my/ ship is in fact still here."

"This comm..." Kostej takes the thing off and taps it a few times. It has no effect. He flips it over and flicks it. Nothing happens. He glares at it with thin-pressed lips. Nada. He pulls back his hand like he's about to throw it and the thing lights back up and comes to life. "Really."

He presses it into place at his ear and asks, "Comlink died for a minute there. I miss anything important?" He turns back to the screen; scanning his limited view.

Idan Jensa walks back out of the cockpit, his footfalls heavier now that artificial gravity is fully restored. Over the helmet comm, he muses aloud, "As.. tempting as it is to enter a bid, by all means, Netep: see to it that the Hapan has not made off with your Ghtroc." Running a diagnostic on the engines, the Neiomoidian sighs (seriously, that might just be how he breathes, he sighs a LOT) and notes to Hopp, "I will see what remains of the big picture, shortly." A few minutes of work, and he lets out a terse breath. <Ria, if you can hear this, I have rerouted the power couplings to bypass the damaged subthrusters, but.. I cannot initiate power to the remaining engine nodes from here. Are you able to.. engage the engines from your end?"

Dae grabs the wine bottle, and then grabs the nearest approximation of a glass she can find, pouring herself a drink. "Unless they need a binary translator or we run into something to talk to, I don't know if I'll be needed on board. Let me know when they're looking for gawkers. My hands are slightly more delicate than that and I don't have work gloves, so not sure how much help they'll be," She points out to the droid - and the others listening. Taking a sip. "What's the bet?"

Merek takes up his gauntlet to work on the console, "... Alright, compensating for overflow. NOPs cancelled and rerouted, but I can't get the circuit's I/O to switch on itself," he mentions, while he speaks to his comm back to the ship, <How are things looking on your side, everyone?> He hums a bit to himself, and sings.

"Oh it." Ria chirps and forgets to close the com so there is off key singing, some trendy song that is likely discordant but that she is totally rockin out to while she goes about trying to get power to the engines. The singing pauses briefly as she struggles with something then, "Ha! You rat bastard, teach you not the work for me!" as power is restored to the engines. "There you go, welcome."

"Ohhhh hell yeah, that's good," Hopp is muttering to himself on the other side of the chamber, swirling his hand around in the third pod of medical fluid. "Oh shiiiiit, Muri, we- we got a live one here!" Why does he only talk to Muri? "Oh man, I am... I am feeling it, kids," the old fart stepping back away as he lowers the lid on that one. "I'm gonna... you all know now, this one is good, I- you're on your own with the others, okay, you can- I have the utmost confidence in you, just- just make Muri touch them until she starts getting loopy and tells you about Boozapalooza, okay, you- you- you all want to hear that one, believe me," and then he's wandering back to the Hermi, leaving the others behind. "Someone say something about wine??"

<< I was more concerned about Nooram's motivation to abscond with the cargo than Sajin's, actually>> Muri relays for the record while wandering back out of earshot. As power systems are kicking back on line and emergency lighting/life support hums to life, there's little need for the tac light. She tucks the trusty thing back into belt and pauses somewhere along her march toward cargo bay to fidget with the little recorder strapped onto her armored chest plate and angle it up so there's a decent view up her nose, muchly distorted by the sheen of helmet. This is what you've been missing, Kostej!

<<She's alive, is what!>> Muri exclaims while preparing to break the seal of helmet. She gulps in a huge breath of air just to be safe before tuuuuggging the thing off her head. It requires some twisting and wrenching but the sudden POP sees her free. Disheveled mess, but free. One eye peeps open, then the other and she slooowly exhales and hazards a breath back in. Then another. Muri's not gasping and collapsing to the floor on cam, so evidently the life support system is indeed functional. "HOPP!" she yells and breaks into a run the rest of the way. "I am NOT touching that!!" (She totally is)

Idan Jensa affects a deadpan stare at the nearest featureless bulkhead. "She left the channel open. And is singing. I can't tell her this, because the channel is still open-" *SIGH* Finally she informs him that he is welcome and she fixed everything, and the Neiomoidian draws a slow breath. <<...Thank you, Ria. Sublight engines are online; Hyperdrive is functional, but fuel levels are reduced to three percent. Excellent singing, by the way. I had no idea you were an admirer of Sullustan opera.>> Muri's input draws a concerned, <<Netep, I am unconvinved that you are not going to make contact with anknown hallucinogens- Also, what is... 'boozalooza'?>>

"I have the wine," Kostej responds in his comlink. "Might even be able to comp you a bottle in exchange for some simple t- Adjust that angle, Ms. Muri." The tone of distaste can be heard in his voice from the moment he interrupts himself. "I can teach you how to mute people in comms, Mr. Jensa."

There is a few moments pause before he adds, "...I'm also relieved to discover that no one thought I was going to steal the ship."

<<Sullawhatnow? It's the kruptorats singing something I can't pronounce but it sure as hell ain't opera.>> Ria says in obvious confusion, << I would like to know this boozalooza thing too, that sounds amazing.>> She moves to get out then begins cursing as she is wedged between the console and the bulkhead. <<....little help here.>>

Dae drinks more wine. Listen to the comm system in the cockpit, as people talk and the camera comes on. "That wasn't Sullustan Opera, friend. That was a very tortured rendition of a Corellian drinking song, I'm pretty sure." She notes drily. "But I like her singing nonetheless." She hands the bottle back to Kostej, since he may need the wine. Digging into her belt satchel, she flicks it on. <<It's not a Corellian drinking song, Ria? Anyway, yes, I approve of the idea of a Boozapalooza, if my understanding of Galactic Basic indicates that it is what I think it is."

Merek takes up his palm to press on that armor, and he begins to take it off. Once he has, he places all that up and shifts his cloak about him a bit, "I'm... Going to check the cargo of the medical pods, I am going to try and salvage them and shift atmosphere back to ideal for them, while you work on the other things," he offers then to Jensa. The soldier walks to there to do so.

<< It was a night of many regrets, but a month of rewards to makeup for't,>> Muri sighs and gives the camera a downward /look/ before facing it forward again so Kostej can see all the cargo pods of fertilizer and biogel spanning before her. In front of her. REALLY in front of her. Muri's struggling to reach over the rim of that barrel to dollup up a little goop on her gloved hands for later sampling, following in Hopp's shoes because despite his quirks, she does trust his ability to sniff out what's good. His sobriety? No. His people skills? Nope. But the hidden talent is there. SOmewhere. A great deal of clattering about and static occurs before she backs off and stuffs something into a little pouch on her belt. For science.

<<Merek, if you're coming back this way, grab up a torch will ya and reweld the lid back on this one, eh? May as well assume we're getting this lunk in motion.>> And then she's at the airlock, preparing to re enter the Hermi and delicately working her hand free of the now contaminated glove.

Merek looks to his supplies, to take a few samples with flasks from the biogel. He then takes his kit and finds a fusion cutter with a setting for welding. He takes out some goggles to put on while he gathers samples of the other as well. Afterwards he begins to seal them both up, "These two are salvagable, the others will have to be spaced, unless you all wish to have a real party when you dock this guy and people want to quarantine you."

He takes out a wrench and makes a makeshift switch to open the containers through the welding. The Knight takes a moment to shift all the containers to space to a side of the room where he begins a quarantine with some safety blankets he finds within a cabinet.

"Interesting cargo," Kostej comments once he can see something besides for a very unflattering angle of Netep's face. "Before we get too distracted by the cargo, though, what's the plan for that freighter? We going to get it to a dock so we can affect repairs, or are we going to fill up Ms. Muri's Ghtroc with valuables and then come back later? If we need a manifest created to get those materials into port, I might be able to assist..."

Idan Jensa sound mildly irritated for only a few moments as he returns to the comms, <<Once we can be certain that Mister Nooram has not just flooded the hold of our new collective enterprise with a toxic miasma->> keeping his suit sealed just in case, thankyouverymuch, <<Then Miss Ria will take the helm of this freighter, we will.. modify the trandponder to differentiate ourselves from the prior owners.. and we begin work in the new flagship of the Traders Union, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome aboard the Bottom Line.>>

Only after he says it do the pangs of worry creep in that the others will laugh at his offered name. This could get awkward.

"Can we slave it to the freighter and make it follow us?" Dae asks. "I don't know how these things work, I just watch the holos." She points out, as an aside. Gesturing to the complex panel before her. "I'd just press that button." Ooh. That button is a bad idea.

Without warning, the screens in the Ghtroc begin displaying the latest holovid starring action heroine Cyriana Nevran. The audio dfeed is projected over the linked systems, including the vacuum suit comm system. Witty one-liners and sound effects galore!

Idan states with exasperation, <<Mister Nesmertenly? I would like very much to learn how to deactivate the comms, now?>>

"Bottom Line," Kostej repeats into the comlink. "It's catchy." He pours a little more wine now that his bottle is returned, and immediately samples it. He's been sampling quite a bit, in fact. "Mr. Jensa, all you need to do is-"

His voice is cutoff by the punchline, "WAMPA WAMPA!"

Dae drinks more wine, taking a seat that looks marginally comfortable, to watch the vid. "This one's really good though!"

• Hissss*

The airlocks are doing their thing, admitting a body into the Hermi through the docking tube. Given the ease with which she punches through all codes, it's likely the Captain. Also, if Kostej is still watching his live feed, he'll note the surroundings have become much more...here. So much for getting to watch all the /out there/ action. "Mmmm, c'monc'monc'mon..." Muri step-tos a little faster through the upper deck before blurring by the cockpit hatch -- doubling back to peer briefly at the screens HAH wampa wampa -- and turning sharply to go down the ramp to the lower deck. Having to pee while on the job is a mite frusterating, but while squeezed into a thrice secured flightsuit? It's downright a state of emergency. The gooed glove is forgotten about, crumpled into the other when it's tugged off and get tossed into the hamper of her locker. Oh, frick. She can't reach it. Twisting in a full circle before determining that she isn't climbing out of this by herself, Muri thunders back up the ramp to the cockpit while barking the order of "SOMEBODY LOOSEN THIS!" Also "Where's Nooram!?"

"That works," Merek states to the comlink, then he walks to the bridge, "I can assist with some transponders," he listens to whatever is happening with Muri, and also listens to the news feed, "... What?" He then takes his headset and places that to the side.

<<Somebody?....pilot stuck...hello?.....nobody knows the trouble I've seen, nobody knows my sorrow.>> Ria sings that last bit assuming the comms aren't working since nobody actually responded to her call for help.