Too Bad Tobali

[TAC]

The Captain's Revenge sputtered through space dutifully, a slow march towards the hulking wreck ahead of them. The light of the local star, Tor (R-6), eerily illuminated the unidentified ship. The forward projecting lights from the Revenge herself lit up patches of the damaged ship, searching by the naked eye as well as scanners for any sign of a trap that might lure unsuspecting crews into the clutches of some bastard mercenaries or bounty hunters. Aboard the heavy freighter, the crew moved furiously, well aware the personal and professional cost of a mistake while exploring in Imperial territory like this.

It has to be a trap.

Elizibeth Arienne stood in front of the Captain's chair of the Revenge, her arms folded as her left hand held her chin. Her eyes furiously scanned the wreckage that filled the viewport, aware within her peripherals that her crew was scrambling to search for the inevitable trap, sensing her wishes and executing them without the slightest indication from their Captain. This was a pirate ship - they had a code and an order, but they did not permit that to slow down their jobs. They were there to be the fastest crew, and when there was work to be done, they didn't need a directive to get it completed.

"Captain," one of Arienne's crew members reported, "nothing on scanner."

The woman did not move for a moment, continuing to survey the dancing lights before her. Then she pursed her lips together in a sort of grimace, tapping her pointer finger on her arm for a moment before returning to the Captain's chair. "All teams, prep for boarding orders," she announced throughout the ship. The crew around her exchanged glances - the pilot, co-pilot, and sensors and gunners chief rarely voiced any concern, and never on a mission. She dismissed the looks. Below them, on the second deck, the two fire teams prepared to board - each with five men each.

"Yes, it's a trap," she said as she stood to the bridge. The three looked back at her, the chief smiled, and then they all turned back and around and went feverishly to work. Elizibeth smiled as she grabbed her gear from the back of the bridge and headed down to the cargo hold. Clipping on the vest that completed her armor and securing her signature batons, she arrived in the hold at the same time as the two fireteams turned, fully prepared. She took a moment to double-check her own blaster pistol before replacing it back into the holster.

"Oxygen levels are good on the front half of the ship, which remains intact," she announced, "but grab a mask and canister just in case something goes awry. No shots unless we have confirmed bogies, we're not sure what the status of the ship is and we still lack an explanation for the sorry sight." Masks and oxygen (or other required gases for an array of species) circulated the room as the captain continued. "You run into a bogie or something fresh, you call it and pull back. You hit the jackpot, you call it in and then secure. No bantha business here, people, we want to hit this clean and blow out before the local patrols come around. Huh-pah." A chorus of 'huh-pah's responded as the teams broke rank, running final checks before they disembarked.

The captain accepted a mask of her own, securing the oxygen on her lower back and fixing the mask onto the vest over her heart. She ran a final check, and found her equipment to be in check. One of the fireteam leaders hit the lights and the room went dark except for guiding lights towards the exit. For most it took a minute or two for their eyes to adjust, and then the fireteams lined up.

"Ready and clear," the co-pilot's voice announced from the speakers. A sucking noise could be heard from the outside of the cargo bay door as a suction was created through the small, two-man wide door within the larger cargo door. "Away," the co-pilot announced, and a leader hit a button and the door swung open. Fireteam one went in first, and the radios crackled as they announced the first hallway to be clear. Fireteam one took a left at the first intersection and fireteam two took a right. The Captain took a right to follow the second team, but as they continued down the hallway she veered off left. While the other two teams went to secure the bridge and find any cargo or valuable, respectively, she was free to respond to either and do a little off-hand exploration of her own. She frequently stumbled upon important documents and smaller items that were either significant to her personal collection or fetched a fair price on the individual market.

The captain made her way carefully through the dark hallway of a corridor that held private rooms. Most of the light flickered - one beam behind her threw off an emergency light that flushed the corridor into red, while one normal light was partially functional, flickering at odd intervals. The corridor was a dead-end hallway, and the doors had been locked or sealed shut. At the least, none had. Arienne walked carefully down to the end of the hallway, the flashlight on the end of her blaster illuminating the broken remains of ship infrastructure and boxes. Arriving at the terminal of the first door, she knelt down and pointed the light at the control panel. Popping it off she shoved her a small cell battery pack into an opening, and the looped some wire around into it. Clamping the wire into place, the viewscreen on the terminal flicked on. She clicked it a few times, changed around a few more wires to bypass the low-grade security, and the door wooooooshed open.

She paused for a moment, taking a breath before standing up and turning her light into the 8x14 room. The air here was untouched, particles of dust stirred and swirling by the movement of the door. A double-bunk stood at the end pushed into the back corner on her right, the beds themselves out of sight, blocked by the combined headboards. Standard half-table and two chairs, a desk, a suitcase, and a security crate. The captain stepped carefully into the room, controlling her breathing with her blaster trained on the bunk. As she walked up, she saw half-decayed legs. She continued, her blaster raised, until the full body was in view.

The ship couldn't have been here for more than 24 hours, but this body was seemingly months deteriorated, the flesh melted away from the bones that still had perfectly preserved clothes still stuck to them. What the hell could do this? she wondered, before snapping her attention back to the task at hand. "CO-to-bridge, update?" she inquired as she walked over to the security crate, hooking up her datapad quickly while waiting for a response.

"Bridge?"

@TheCalmOne @RED-1 @Outlander

 

[Outlander]

The communicator crackled, the dull sound of static reverberating across the empty room. Somewhere deeper in the ship, gears whirred, and a dull whine echoed throughout.

Without warning, the bulkhead snapped shut behind her, sealing the room off from the outside world. Across he ship, the remaining functional bulkheads did the same, fulfilling their intended purpose of securing the different compartments against a breach into the cold vacuum of space. Unfortunately, it worked both ways, making an effective prison cell for anyone unwittingly caught behind one.

"Bridge to CO." A female voice, cool and uncomfortably monotonous, answered the captain's query. "I'm sorry to say, captain, that you're being detained until further notice."

Across the remains of the crippled ship, four decks above, Bria Tsuani and her small operations team patrolled the bridge. The small compartment had been covered with makeshift bedding, heating appliances, and various equipment that hung off of the stark walls. They'd been waiting for just under a week, making do with what supplies they'd brought with them as they monitored the traffic. Finally, just when she was going to call the operation a bust, something snagged in the net. And with that, they went into action. With the element of surprise, it hadn't been too hard subduing the bridge team, which lay unconscious and bound against the wall. The tough part was ensuring their captain's further cooperation.

"Now, we have no plans of harming you or your people. But, the Harvest of Sorrow is on our starboard side to ensure that you and your crew don't do anything hasty."

@TAC @RED-1 @Retroboy @TheCalmOne

 

[RED-1]

Vane was ready standing near a control panel on the bridge. They had been waiting it seemed for ever for this trap to be sprang. "Ready and clear" could be heard over the pirate comms. They let the two-man wide door within the larger cargo door opened with out any problems. Vane watched as the first pirate team, quickly moving down the corridor. they got to the first intersection the team stopped splitting and covering each direction. Vane could hear over their comms them announcing “CLEAR!”. Vane turned to the people on the bridge “They are at check point one, four man pirate team, two more teams fallowing.” he said to the Captain.

He kept his sight trained on the corridor as team two moved up, The pirate signaled for his team to move. Pirates team one lined up on the left corridor and moved down. The pirate team turned on their low light vision sights. They came to a bulkhead Vane watched as the pirate team leader signaled one of the pirate members to get the bulkhead open. The team member moved to the panel. Vane allowed the pirate to open the door. He watched closely the other team members cover the team member as he work .
The bulkhead opened in to a small supply room It had selves along the one wall and lockers on the opposite side. He had set this trap and Vane hoped it would work. They moved in the pirate team taking firing positions in the room. The team members each declared clear as they checked there zones of fire. To Vane this was to easy. The place was a mess there was a box everywhere on the ground. Vane put his finger on the button for closing the bulkhead. The pirates stood there just looking silently. Vane turned to the bridge saying “team one is contained" As the bulkhead slammed shut. As the team moved to the bulkhead Vane closed the blast doors “get out of that” Vane said to him self. The pirate team knew it was a trap, and Vane could tell they felt like a fool for falling for it.

The pirates teams communicator crackled "Now, we have no plans of harming you or your people. But, the Harvest of Sorrow is on our starboard side to ensure that you and your crew don't do anything hasty " said the Bridge Captain. Vane said nothing he watched the pirate team to take defective positions in the room. If it was not for the blast doors they could just blow the bulkheads thought Vane the pirate team did not have enough explosives to get out of the room.

 

[Retroboy]

Apophe sat on the bridge of the Harvest of Sorrow, one hand on the armrest, another on her belly. She wished so desperately that she could be there on the ground with them. It had been too long since she had felt the rush of combat, up close and personal. Commanding raids was good, but nowhere near as exhilarating as extricating a man's arm from his shoulder and watching the life jerk from his body as terror welled up in his eyes. That was what Apophe lived for.

She listened closely on the comms, a mild resentment in her gut. She resented that Bria was able to be out and about when she was restrained here like this. She didn't even mind the idea of having to camp out. She had done stake-outs before. Still, it was undeniable that the operation was in good hands, and besides, Apophe knew that even if she wasn't with child, they'd need at least one person commanding from a relatively safe position.

"Imperatrix," said one of the crew-men. "Do you have any orders?"

"Patience," she chided, though the boredom was clear in her voice. "We can't do anything until they do anything. Don't want to risk messing this up just because we can't keep it in our pants."

@Outlander @TAC @RED-1 @TheCalmOne

 

[TAC]

As she inquired for the bridge, Elizibeth heard gears turn from behind her. The woman dropped to a knee, her blaster up to bear as she fruitlessly watched the bulkhead to the door slam shut. There was a wizz sound and a click as the reinforced doors sealed. "Damn," she breathed out, letting her breathe exhale. She stood tentatively, her blaster at the ready but not longer aimed at the door. It wouldn't have much effect.

Suddenly her comms crack to life, an unfamiliar voice floating from it. Whoever it was sounded human, female, something like late 30s. Her voice was extremely controlled. Elizibeth cursed her bad lack. People with control were always the hardest to beat. Whatever was happening was bad news, and the pirate captain's mind went wheeling. What kind of trap was this? The ship name didn't sound Imperial, so that was good, but that meant it was probably scavengers or pirates. She wasn't gassed or dead or spaced, so that was either a good sign or a really bad one - too early to tell.

Looking around for a moment, Elizibeth spotted an air duct. She jumped up onto a chair and turned her ear to it. A faint whoosh sound could be heard, meaning that the central air conduit was still operating. The Pirate Captain couldn't but smile. She brought her comlink to her lips and clicked twice - ǀ ǀ - and then turned flicked the comlink to mute. Throughout the ship, barricaded behind their own sets of doors, the two teams responded silently. Working with their situations, the teams moved into defensive firing positions, covering all visible entrances or exits in case someone tried to bust through.

The Captain placed her blaster and comlink on her belt and then lifted herself into the air shaft. It was tight, but she was confident it could work for her. Her face held only the hint of a smile as she carefully, quickly, and quietly made her way through the shaft. By her estimates she was two floors down and somewhere between twelve to fourteen yards aft. But as she climbed through the tubes, she headed deeper into the hull of the ship. Minutes crawled by as she carefully made her way through the tubes, sweating from the exertion of stress of crawling quietly. Undoubtedly their supposed captors would be getting nervous.

@TheCalmOne @RED-1 @Outlander