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Precious Cargo; Open
Topic Started: Aug 9 2009, 10:21 AM (1,069 Views)
Vrikk
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Precious Cargo

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Participating:
(It's "Open", so to join, just post!)


Vrikk (Lance Decker)
Andromis (Andromis)
Valaba (Valaba)
Ghost (Russell)




A disheveled Lance Decker released a defeated groan as he gracelessly rolled the heel of his wrist against his forehead, attempting to coax a solution out from behind it. The task was being made difficult by the resonating pain which seemed determined to split his head wide open. Helplessly, he felt as every muscle in his body tensed in reaction to the pulsating music blaring behind him, as females of a variety of skin colors rhythmically gyrated behind clouds of smoke and blinding neon strobe lights.

He shifted in his dilapidated bar stool seat. "Please, just get me something strong," he shouted to who he hoped was a bartender without attempting to part his eyelids. His assumption was confirmed when his order was met with an equally dispassionate grunt, subsequently followed by the splash of a cold liquid to his forearm, letting him know that his drink had been served, and was now less than full. With one swift, aggressive motion, Lance firmly gripped the cool glass and flung its contents down the back of his throat, slamming it back down to the steel counter-top. A single sharp, unforgiving cough immediately preceded a choked gasp, as he prevented the liquid from retracing its fiery path back up his esophagus.

Straightening his back and extending his outstretched palms towards the counter-top, Lance forcefully blinked his heavy eyelids open. An animated shake brought him back into his surroundings, and a light push from his leg against the side of the bar sent him into a graceful spin, his stool coming to a squeaky halt upon completing a half-turn. His senses met an unintelligible barrage of motion, light, and sound as his unfocused eyes began to give shape to the dark sea of figures spasmodically traversing the club floor. Lance subconsciously held his breath as his attention was interrupted by a squat, wrinkled alien, meandered past Decker's seat. The drunken migrant's pipe left a billowing trail of colorful smoke as he waded past, which proceeded to engulf the whole of the bar.

With one hand tight over his mouth and the other making wide fanning motions through the opaque air, the man slipped down from his elevated seat and began searching for an area as free from distraction as was possible in a bar located on the notoriously lively planet of Tatra Prime. Before reaching an abandoned table at the far end of the large establishment, Lance recalled the details of his coming here. He had just remembered, though still quite hazily, that he had come to this bar with his crew, in hopes to forget about the bleakness of their current predicament. Leaping onto an unsteady chair, he put a cupped hand to his brow, as his blurred vision attempted to sift through the thick haze in search of the familiar faces. He and his crew had all been stuck on this planet for days, with no cash to pay for fuel. Their ship was a mid-sized long-range cruiser aptly named Prosperity, as her purpose was the pursuit thereof. This crew was one which garnered their livelihoods in the less than safe, and less than legal, practices of free-lance smuggling. In an intergalactic society as teeming with criminals as this, the profession was inexhaustibly profitable. Normally.

Things had changed dramatically in the course of a few short weeks, as the crew of Prosperity have had the recent misfortune of being at the unlucky end of the United Federation of Planet's new anti-smuggling policy. Beginning roughly two months ago, the UFP had enacted this new policy with an astounding show of force, to the extent of pursuing the arrests of near every man to have ever shown to have been involved in the shady profession. This is part of the reason he and his fellow crew members had chosen Tatra Prime as their hiding place; the planet boasted the highest crime-rate in the galaxy. Were the UFP to show up here they would need an army to make any arrests within this tight-knit community of thieves, mobsters, and criminals. This new policy frankly had the galaxy confused. Everyone knew the UFC didn't possess the resources to fund this new-found productivity, and it had citizens asking questions. Those apt to believe the government conspiracy theories thought them to be searching for something; something they wanted very desperately. Though right now, all Lance Decker cared about was finding a job, and quick, for Prosperity was due to be towed in a matter of hours unless he could come up with the money to pay the docking fees.

He had just found the face of one of his fellow crew members as the club doors ominously slid open. Behind them, in the dark and littered street outside the bar, resolutely stood an organized mass of UFP soldiers, laser rifles pointed threateningly towards the half-cognizant crowd. Lance choked. Several rounds of shimmering laser-fire silenced the music, as the startled party-goers looked towards the smoldering holes which now adorned the ceiling. A cool wave of fear washed over the now-lifeless dancers as a frozen stiffness rippled it's way to the back of the large room, the disembodied echo of a few moments earlier dieing with all movement. The collective body of armor-clad soldiers proceeded to soundlessly and seamlessly flow through the glass doors, commandeering the entire front end of the building, forming a blockade upon the only exit.

A dark figure authoritatively stepped forward from the center of the formation, a screened helmet drowning his face in shadow. The man was Human. From his mouth came a smooth yet commanding voice, "Citizens of Tarta Prime, all residents are being collected for questioning by decree of the United Federation of Planets. Line up against the walls and you will be escorted to a police headquart-".

Shots from the commander's own laser rifle disrupted his speech, as three bodies dropped to the floor with a thud, pistols falling from their convulsing fingertips. "-And you will be escorted to a police headquarters," the man finished coolly as he began pointing threateningly towards the closest members of the stationary crowd, who then began to proceed towards their nearest wall.

Lance's gaze met that of the crew member he had spotted previously, exchanging panicked glances. He was correct in thinking the United Federation of Planets would need an army to find them on Tatra Prime, and it seems that's exactly what they'd brought... They needed a plan, and quick.


OOC - First post of the first RP of the board! Sorry it's a little long, I had to give the back-story. It's now open, so crew: introduce your characters and let's get out of this bar!
Edited by Vrikk, Aug 12 2009, 10:20 PM.

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Andromis
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OOC-So is your name Lance, or Vrikk?

BIC-It was defiance. The only reason Andromis flew with the smugglers was in an act of defiance. He hated the UFP, he hated the United Market System, and moreover, he just hated government itself. Andromis was an annarchist, believing in a system where the people controlled the system through basic means of interaction; and from what he had seen on Tetra Prime, the "system" of annarchy flowed quite smoothely as long as no one bit off more than they could chew. He was twenty-one years old and had been working with Lance as a Mechanic for five years, having learned of the mechanical arts as he travelled throughout the Galaxy. Andromis left his family in the slums of Kardia IV after seeing the biproduct of the UFP's UMS--poverty.

Now he was to meet Lance at a tavern with good news--all things considered. The operations manager at the dock had strangely dissapeared overnight--along with many others on tetra prime--leaving the dock a free port with no fees. However, they still lacked power on their ship, and needed money. As Andromis rounded the corner he felt a sudden atmosphere of tension. There was absolute stillness. No one was out in the streets, and no music resounded from the bars. His hair stood up, and as he walked past a bar he noticed why. The UFP had arrived.

Just then, there was the sound of gunfire coming from the tavern he was to meet lance. Three shots, and then stillness again. Andromis raced down the street and exploded into the bar to see a group of UFP soldiers facing the people in the tavern, Lance and another crewmember among them. The soldiers' backs were all turned away from him, assuming that the other UFP soldiers had secured the area. They couldn't see him. Without thinking, his trembling hand pulled out a pistol and fired at the nearest soldier--and missed. The entire guard turned to face him. Andromis felt as if he couldn't move for what seemed like an eternity. Pulling out of the trance, he yelled "Lance! Run!" and bolted in the direction of the docks. In the state of chaos Lance and the other crewmember charged through the confused mass of soldiers, followed by the rest of the bar.

The unorganization spread through the street as other UFP guards rushed out of the buildings to see what was going on, and were stampeded by the people behind them as they sought to overwhelm the guards. Shots were fired from both sides, and a horrifying form of close quarters warfare ensued. With the state disrupted due to the UFP's organization, the three crewmembers ran into the night in hopes of somehow meeting with the rest of the crew and forming a quick plan of action.

The sky was lit up with UFP Battlecruisers encircling the planet.
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Valaba
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Valaba was a native of Tatra Prime, she came from a poor family with many siblings. Valaba was being forced to marry into a higher family for money instead of love. Convinced she would get away, she left her parents home in the night when crime flourishes in Tatra Prime. Valaba knew of the UFP's new anti-smuggling policy but took no heed to it since she was not involved in smuggling.

As Valaba was walking by the bar on her way to get on a ship that would take her to a new planet she heard the three shots fired by a UFP soldier. Then chaos broke out and she met up with a few delinquents who said they were also trying to get off the planet. They introduced themselves as Vrikk and Andromis along with some other crew members. With the sticky smuggling situation they were in they were anxious to get fuel for their ship prosperity.

Since UFP soldiers were still roaming all around the town they decided to find a small shelter to form their plan. They came upon an abandoned cellar and decided it looked safe enough so they entered cautiously but they were all so tired they fell asleep.

Morning came and a farmer came into the cellar and startled the crew. The farmer asked what they were doing in his cellar and Andromis said "We are. Um... Trying to find a way to get off this planet." The farmer, Henry said "You better get out of my cellar you crazy kids and don't come back."

Out of a place to hide, the crew made their way off the farm in broad daylight and had to find a new place to hide from the UFP and a way to get fuel for Prosperity.

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Vrikk
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OOC- Good post Valaba. ^_^

--------------------------
BIC-


"She's got nowhere else to go," Torc retorted blatantly, pushing an insistent finger hard into Lance's chest. Torc was the ship's medic, one of the four crew members aboard Prosperity. He was a large man, approaching his mid-thirties. He had met the three others on the planet of Rekklin, after they had found themselves in a heated barfight. Luckily, the out-of-work medic was there to help, after recognizing them for being on the honorable side of the fued. The crew then agreed to offer him a full-time job, adding an extra head to the smuggling trio some number of years ago. "We can't just leave her in this Hell-whole!"

Lance looked questioningly around the tight circle of crew members, now standing in the shadow of Tatra Prime's golden sunrise, on the far outskirts of the city. "We've already got enough trouble on our han-" Lance paused mid-sentence, realizing his voice was carrying farther than he would have liked, and threw a quick glance in Valaba's direction to confirm that she was still asleep. She shifted underneath her make-shift blanket, and turned over on the bed of cardboard that the crew had constructed the night before, after making sure that the alley that they deemed their hide-out was far enough off the trail of any UFP patrols.

"Look," Lance continued in a whisper, "it's not that I don't want her around, but we just can't start babysitting every straggler we find on the street..." Upon reading the unconvinced faces of his fellow crew members, Lance realized he was on the loosing side of this battle, and ran his fingers through his unkept hair.

"Come on, Lance," Russell pressed. "She's just as desperate to get off-planet as we are; she's on our side. That's a rare thing, given our current situation." Lance put his hands to his sides and lowered his head. It was true she had told them she was looking to leave Tatra Prime, but had not said much else. She was, in essence, a mystery to them, though by her wardrobe it was obvious she was from a wealthy family. In truth, Lance really didn't mind her traveling with the band of smugglers, but the last thing he wanted was to be charged with kidnapping when her parents sent out the search team.

The circle of four's attention was drawn down the dark alleyway as Valaba began to rise from her slumber, stretching her arms as she released a high-pitched yawn. She blinked confusedly as she noticed the formation of crew members peering back at her from the entrance to the street. Realizing the reason for her staring, the four men awkwardly shifted around in the cramped alley, a few beginning to act as if rummaging through the nearby garbage dumpster.

Silently amused, the young woman stood and began to walk towards the amassed congregation. "We should try and find a way to get off Tatra today..." she spoke bluntly, rubbing her eyes.

Lance released a deep sigh through his hand, pressed thoughtfully to the side of his face. Without warming, he threw his arms up, shouting a defeated, "Fine!", more to the crew than to the, now perplexed, Valaba. The three men exchanged knowing chuckles.

-------------------

OOC - Let's work our way back to the dock. Just make sure we don't leave yet. :]
Edited by Vrikk, Aug 12 2009, 12:38 AM.

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Valaba
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Valaba realized she would be searched after by her fiances men, but would she tell her crew who she was? She decided not to tell them for fear that they might turn her in just to get cash and be able to escape Tatra. In reality she wanted to be treated as a human being with emotions, not just a money figure, and if lying and deceit were required then so be it.

Valaba stood there in the alley as Lance muttered under his breath something that sounded like: "I'll regret this soon," and "She is just a heavy baggage to carry around and will most likely cause trouble." Andromis decided that they should find some cash to get the fuel needed for Prosperity. The 4 men roamed around the alley cautiously til they spotted an older looking man, sick with a virus no doubt from the appearance of his skin and the hoarse cough he was emitting. Torc decided to put the man out of his misery and killed him point blank, Torc may be a medic, but he was a shady fellow none the less.

The crew searched the old man and found surprisingly enough a good amount of money, enough for the fuel. To get the fuel and make it to the docks without being caught by the ufp was another story. Lance stepped up and went into town to find fuel. Stealthily he walked through the town and found a store that seemed promising. He entered and talked to the store clerk who was rumbling about the ne'er do well delinquents who were running around town. Lance acquired the fuel with the cash he had, but not being able to talk him down in price, Lance had to barter off his jacket to be able to pay the full amount.

Heading home Lance was busy thinking over his lost coat and trouble Valaba might be he didn't notice the UFP soldiers lurking around town by him. Glancing up from his concentration he spotted a soldier who was looking at him suspiciously. Thinking quickly Lance moved some what faster towards a hidden shortcut back to the alley, but also tried to not show his anticipation to escape the soldier. After reaching the passage Lance ran to the crew while checking his back ever so often to make sure he was not being followed. Upon arriving at their hideout Lance told the crew to pack up because they had to leave quickly because he feared the ufp was on their tale.

Valaba still not fully aware of the extent of trouble the crew was in fled quickly with them on her own accord to escape her own search group. As they rounded a corner and the dock came into view another hitch in their plan came into view also: Prosperity and the rest of the dock was guarded by the ufp. If any of them wanted to live they had to leave Tatra, but how to do that with out being caught was becoming an ever apparent problem while they lost more time for planning.

OOC- Sorry Vrikk for kinda controlling your character a lot in this post but it was necessary for where I was trying to direct the story.
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Vrikk
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OOC- It might seem long, but it's mostly dialogue. Another good post Valaba. B-)

BIC-

-----------------------

"Damn," Lance muttered harshly as he peered through the broken glass window of the building they had recently found themselves taking refuge in. The flickering neon sign had read Captains' Corner; it was a small restaurant which resided on the docking platform nearest Prosperity, dark and abandoned, with several overturned tables. The capital of Tatra Prime now looked as if it were a ghost town, this group of five being some of the last to remain free of the UFP's grasp, though it seemed the Space Dock had met the worst of the UFP occupation. Lance counted dozens of UFP patrols robotically marching up and down the gargantuan space port, and estimated the headcount to be in the hundreds. Half of the soldiers stood fixedly in front of the 50-odd spaceships, impounded by this brutal show of military authority, no doubt with orders to keep anyone from leaving the planet at all costs. They definitely aren't doing this to clean up the streets, Lance found himself concluding. They have to be looking for something... Something they know is here.

"Lance," Torc's annoyed voice bringing his attention back to the crew. "We're out of water. If we wait here any longer we'll be as good as dead." The pudgy man groaned as he lifted himself from the dusty floor of the cantina where the crew had gathered, and made his way into the light being given off by the window. "I say we make a run for Prosperity, take 'em by surprise." He turned his back to look towards Russell, Andromis, and Valaba, in hopes of receiving affectionate agreement. There was none. "Well I'd rather be a prisoner than a dead man!" He finished with a theatrical shrug.

"No." Lance stated bluntly with a cool, expressionless look. While every crew member had equal authority aboard Prosperity, his patience had been wearing thin on Torc recently, ever since his abrupt killing of the homeless man on the street. 'He had been dieing,' Torc had defended after-the-fact to his awe-struck crew members. 'It's my duty as a doctor to end suffering, even if it's through death.' The crew had bought his explanation at the time, if only to prevent hostility. They knew his intentions to be less honorable, however, when they found him looting the body of the man he had just 'healed'... While Decker and the two other crew members had refused to take part in Torc's looting, Lance made a silent vow to one day make up for what Torc had done. They may be smugglers, but they thought themselves to be above killers... The stress of their desperate situation was getting to all of them, though Torc had only reciprocated it.

Lance absent-mindedly looked over to their meager supplies, along with the small tank of fuel they had managed to purchase. It was enough for a few hours of spaceflight, certainly, though enough to escape the sea of UFP battle cruisers which had taken to orbiting the planet day and night? He did not know. As much as he hated to admit it, Torc had a point. They had split the last of their water supply this morning, and chances were they'd be hard pressed to find another drop with the UFP guarding every other building.
------
Without warning, a gloved hand lurched through the shattered window, and latched itself around Lance's mouth. A muscular arm extended around his neck as a gasping Lance desperately attempted to free himself, to no avail. The rest of the aggressor's body was quickly made visible, as he swiftly climbed through the window and into the Captains' Corner, with a UFP laser rifle pointed directly at the four others in front of him. The man's face was not visible, for he was wearing the helmet and uniform of the UFP military.

"Let him go!" Lance heard Andromis shout as he expertly whipped out his pistol, Russell and Torc following soon after. For several long, anxious seconds the UFP soldier held Lance in a choking headlock as he stared down the barrels of the Prosperity crew member's three guns. After what seemed like an eternity, the soldier slowly began to lower his weapon, and finally dropped it to the ground with a reverberating, metallic clank. With the three guns still on him, he released Lance from his headlock, who began gasping for air. Surrendering, the soldier began to raise his arms above his head. Just as his managed to do so, Lance turned, letting loose a powerful punch square into the screened eye-slit of his helmet, sending the soldier plummeting to the ground with a grunt.

"...I don't like people sneaking up on me," Lance spouted through a series of pants as he gently rubbed his knuckles. Kneeling down over the motionless soldier, Lance continued calmly, "I'll call us even, though, seeing as how you neglected to call out to your buddies out there." He made a gesture out the window. "It seems you didn't come here to turn us in. You'd best be explaining who you are."

Lance extending a hand towards the groggy man, sprawled out on the floor, who grudgingly accepted it. Sitting up, he pulled off his helmet, revealing a stern-faced man with buzzed, black hair. A scar ran down from his lip. "I'm on your side..." The man started hoarsely. "I couldn't take the chance you'd shoot first. It's a bee hive out there." He grunted, swinging his arm towards the window. After a long breath, and a moment to compose himself, he continued. "My name is Jack Harper. I can't tell you who I work for, but I sure as Hell don't work for these slobs." He brushed a hand down the uniform he was wearing with a disgusted expression. "I've been working undercover for months now." He shot a grave expression towards the five people closely huddled around him. "These next few days could define the future of the galaxy."

Lance butt in with a disapproving tone, "Let's not get all dramatic, here. Just tell us what's goin' on, and tell us straight."

Jack Harper shot a serious glance towards Lance, indicating that he was held complete seriousness. "The lives of millions of people rest with what is now in the cargo hold of your ship."

Lance was taken aback, and with a laugh, continued, "Our ship? That blow to the head might have rattled some things around in there." Lance's smile faded. "We're SMUGGLERS," he made a sweeping gesture towards the group. "Thieves. Criminals. Law-breakers. We certainly don't fall under the life-saver category, friend. Plus we were flyin' clean when we docked here, we don't have anything onboard-"

"My contingent secured this docking platform hours before the UFP arrived." The man interrupted. The knowing look on Andromis' face indicated that he was now putting the pieces together, for the Dock's Operations Manager's convenient disappearance had been just what he was heading to the Bar to tell Lance and the rest of the crew, before the soldiers arrived. "Your ship and your crew are known to be among the most elusive Smugglers in the galaxy. Any UFP officer would gladly sacrifice a limb to bring you in." It was true that the crew of Prosperity had made a name for themselves, though only by way of keeping themselves not much more than a rumor. The average lifespan of a smuggler in the galaxy was calculated to be somewhere around the age of 22, though these men intended, and were quite successfully, beating the odds."You're ship is already fueled. We saw to that before these hounds arrived as well. The only thing that remains is you getting there..." His expression turned dark. "It may not mean much to you, but the outcome of these next few days will decide the fate of many worlds."
Edited by Vrikk, Aug 12 2009, 07:39 PM.

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"We can't take them on directly." Said Lance. It was in their best interests of leaving that they get on board as subtly as possible. As soon as they flew out of the hangar it would be impossible to not raise the alarm. "Once they see us, we have about a five minute window to get outta here." Paused. "The sooner we let them see us, the less time we'll have once we're on the ship. That means we have to be invisible until we get on the Prosperity."

"How long do you think it will take us to get out of the atmosphere?" Asked Russell.

"If we're lucky, seven minutes."

Everything else was understood. The crew picked up what gear they had: the fuel they no longer needed. A few weapons. Anything else they needed would be on board or would have to be improvised. Andromis strapped on a belt studded with amunition and his signature pistol. The rest of the crew got their weapons and crept up behind the half-wall of a destroyed building.

"Three guards at the entrance." Whispered Russell. "Two snipers on the roof. And I wouldn't doubt that there's more inside."

"Ok." Said Lance. "Call your targets and lets go."

They armed their weapons and picked off the guards. Five bodies fell. The crew slipped inside. The Hanger was completely empty. Ghostlike. There wasn't anyone inside except for the crew and the UFP guards. Ships sat in stillness by their ports, surrounded by masses of untouched, ransacked equipment. Welding tools.

They had come in through a side entrance. The Prosperity was to their left, Lance pointed. "I'll get to the ship alone." Said Lance. "The guards will be distracted by me. I will fly out slow and low enough for you to jump on board before we fly out. Once they see you, just start shooting, at whatever. Pray their weapons are the typical UFP crap."

Then Lance slipped away towards the ship. There were two other crewmembers--the only others besides Russell, Lance, Andromis, and Torc--who had stayed behind to guard the ship. Andromis hoped that they had survived and were on board, or they were as good as dead.

OOC-I wanted to leave spots open for other people to join the RP, so I say that we keep the spots for the crewmember blank until if someone takes thim

BIC-The engines started up and Lance accelerated down the strip. The Crew bolted for the ship. Shots from the UFP. Shots from the Crew. One by one they climbed on board. The doors closed and Lance throttled the ship out of the hanger and into the sky. Into the atmosphere. Into Space. They had gotten off the planet safely with only the injury of exhaustion. The other two crewmembers were--luckily enough--onboard. They had survived in the hold and had met the strange UFP turncoat who had given them their Precious Cargo. Now they had to make it through the UFP warship blockade.
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Ghost
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Russell watched the bleak cityscape grow smaller and smaller. The desert that it was located in seemed smaller too; the Great Forest was held back by the surrounding mountains, which at 20000 km, seemed to span forever. But he was uninterested in the Great Forest, he'd braved that before. He was rather thinking about the events that just transpired. How quickly the UFP troops had arrived, and with such stealth. Ships came into Tatra Prime all the time full of refugees from the UFP's tyrannical rule. With the war going on in the Fathra system, more refugees had arrived, by the shiploads. But of course, it was obvious. They sneaked in 'refugees'. No one would notice an extra ship or two. Russell wondered how long UFP troops had been riding as "refugees". But his thoughts were interrupted when the sky turned black and starry. He remembered what andromis said about the blockade, Lance should be saying something pretty soon.

"Russell, I need you up here NOW!" Right on que, Lance shouted into the holding bay's intercomm where Russ was staying with Jack and Valaba. He hurried up to the cockpit.

"What is it boss?" Russell asked. His reply was a finger to the viewscreen pointing to the blockade that awaited them.
Andromis powered down the auxiliary equipment and boosted the shields. "You need to get up to the guns, we'll probably see fighters before we hit hyperspace. Oh and if you can, please try and hit the missiles too this time." Russell saluted, one of the things he still retained from his days in the military with Lance and Andromis, back before the UFP took over. back when the galaxy was right. Thirty seconds and two fallen crewmembers later, Russell climbed into the too familiar controls of the top cannon and heard the all to satisfying whine of the cannons powering up.

"You read me?" Lance's voice sounded through the headset.
"I'm here, boss" came the response. "Incoming" It was Andromis this time. Russell swung the cannons around to the front. A steady stream of fighters came from the two largest ships. Lance angled the ship downward, no use in flying straight into those dreadnoughts.

"Well... that isn't good. You're going to have a run for your money here Russ." it was Lance. Those ships had grown in numbers. Didn't he just look at the controls for a second? Where did the UFP get all these pilots? He fired a warning shot, then was answered with a barrage of laser fire. He held the trigger wide open. "Concussion one, two, three, four!" the blast was enough to take out a few ships each. Pretty soon he had blasted a clearing for for a jump into hyperspace, leaving the Tatra system behind them forever.

"You hold the answers deep within your own mind.
Consciously, you've forgotten it.
That's the way the human mind works:
Whenever something is too unpleasant,
to shameful for us to entertain,
we reject it.
We erase it from our memories.
But the imprint is always there." -Understanding
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Vrikk
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A silent, even breathe of air escaped Lance's parted lips as he sat staring fixedly out of the cockpit's large view shield, elongated smears of white streaking past in the vast sea devoid of all color. Still not convinced, the pilot threw wild glances around that of his immediate surroundings, confirming they had indeed just escaped a full-forced UFP military blockade. After acknowledging that he himself had not been injured, Lance's arms quickly shot up into the air as he kicked his seat into a celebratory spin, releasing a blissful victory cry.

After he had taken control of his breathing, the pilot turned back to his controls, beginning a ship's diagnostics scan before establishing a comm link to the engine room. "How are the engines, Andromis?" Lance asked earnestly.

"Minor damage," was the young mechanic's buoyant reply. "Took a few hits, but we've got the parts to fix her up." Lance impulsively ran his fingers through his hair, a relieved chuckle breaking his contented sigh.

"...Damn good shooting, Russ," Lance found himself saying into the intercom before leaning back in his chair, sinking deep into the comfort of it's familiar curves. The hollow drum of the engines emitted a soothing resonance as the barely-audible hum intermixed with the chorus of electronics equipment in front of him... Ship's music; the creature comfort of any who spend more time aboard these boats than off of them. Lance had not realized how much he had missed it...

The immediacy of their current situation hit Lance's consciousness in a wave of anxiety. They were back on Prosperity, though they were not the only new things to grace the ship. They were now sitting on top of whatever the UFP had been desperate enough to invade a planet to acquire... and that was a discomforting thought.

"We have a problem," Torc's voice interjected, cool yet distressed, through a crackling speaker on his control console. "Everyone to the rec. room."

Lance pushed from the arm rests of his seat, leaping from the cockpit of Prosperity. He disregarded the burn of the steel ladder as he slid down it's sides, and hurriedly proceeded towards the middle of the ship. Upon turning the corner his eyes met those of Torc's, who was standing over the body of Jack Harper, his UFP military uniform now a matted red. The man turned his head to meet Lance, who stood frozen in the hallway. Fearing the man was dead, Lance released a relieved sigh. This relief was short-lived, however, as his gaze moved from the pained expression on the man's face, to the gleaming pool of crimson he was now laying in.

"What the Hell happened?" Lance demanded to know as he cautiously stepped closer.

Torc's attention went back to his patient, as he pulled a pain killer from his first aid kit, and injected it into Jack's bloodstream. "We were on the loading ramp," came Torc's shaky reply. It was then that Lance noticed that some of the blood on Torc's clothing was his own, though he seemed to be trying not to take notice. "That first hit knocked us back... there was a weapons discharge." Lance recognized the tone in Torc's voice, for he had heard it many times through their years of smuggling together. There was no point in dragging Jack to the sickbay; This man was going to die.

A trying smile spread over Jack's lips as Lance crouched down next to him. "Well," Jack coughed. "Doesn't this seem familiar...?" The defeated man attempted a laugh as he pulled his arm up, and swung it next to Lance's jaw, mimicking a punch.

The man's contagious smile traveled to the pilot's lips. "You'll have plenty of chances to settle the score." Lance's voice cracked with the heaviness of his words. His eyes watered with the knowledge that he was lieing. "Don't you worry."

Jack's smile faded into a frown as his head shifted forwards, examining his wound. "It's too bad," A wheezing cough interrupted his thought. "It's too bad I have to die... in this thing." He set a hand atop his uniform. His eyelids clenched shut as he winced from the pain.

Torc's gaze shifted to Lance then back to Jack as he began coughing violently, blood dripping from his lips. Suppressing tears, Lance gently set his hand to the man's shoulder. Jack's muscles casually relaxed, and his head fell back to rest on the cold floor. His skin turned pale.

Without removing his grip from Jack's shoulder, Lance clutched the man's hand in his, in a stationary hand shake. Lance had not noticed the arrival of the other five now standing behind him. Lance no longer even acknowledged Torc kneeling across from him. His only thoughts were of vengeance, and hatred. Hatred towards this man's unnecessary death. Hatred towards the UFP. Hatred towards the whole of the Galaxy... Revenge had become his new prerogative.

As Lance retracted his grip from the lifeless fingers of Jack Harper, he was startled to find an object within them. It was a data chip, which the crew would later discover to be a map.
Edited by Vrikk, Aug 13 2009, 03:39 PM.

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Andromis
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OOC-Btw Darien, there are two nameless crewmembers on board. You can be one of them.

Everyone huddled around the ship's computer in the Crew Lounge. The ship was small, but had the basic needs (and wants) of a oppulent smuggling crew. Lance had cut the drive engines as they floated out in space after flying far away from any UFP system. The computer gave a low humm as it turned on. Russell slipped the datachip into a port. A map of the known systems appeared on the screen, with a red line showing the most direct route to be taken.

"Ok." Said Russell. "We are currently here." he pointed to the map. "About twenty lightyears away from the closest point on the route shown. If we are going to get to the end location on this map--which appears to be somewhere in the inner UFP systems--we will need to pass through UFP checkpoints-" He pointed to the checkpoints on the map. "-which would be the most direct path. However, as you can guess, if we go through the checkpoints we will be forced to come out of hyperspace and go through customs, which could pose a problem since the UFP has stepped up security recently. (The UFP required all ships to make routine stops at galactic outposts when entering and exiting systems--or sometimes in the middle of nowhere if distances between systems were too long--to check for smuggling).

"Now." Said Russell. "We could weave a path in between the checkpoints, as we have done before, but there is a chance that we'll be picked up by UFP scanners and caught and searched for failure to register at checkpoints." The Crew looked at the map, unsure of what action to take next. "However! There is a third option." Said Russell suddenly. "We can pass through Scythian space." The whole crew paused, shocked by the idea. The aliens known as the Scythians had been at war with the UFP practically since their first encounter. After about fifty years of "land grab" territorial conqests between the two sides, a borderline was drawn and neither side made an attempt at agression towards one another; both sides had been at peace. Few had ever crossed the border, and those lucky enough to return did so because they had managed to avoid contact with the scythians. "It would be much longer, and possibly even more dangerous," Continued Russell. "but if we are caught or killed, we can at least know that the cargo--whatever it is--will be out of the UFP's grasp."

Everyone in the lounge was completely quiet, uneasy with the idea and concerned with rumors of horors that they had heard about the Scythians. Though these were proably just propoganda myths created by the UFP to spur hatred and fear towards the Scythians, the stress of the situation made everything seem real.

"We will need more basic supplies if we are going to go through Scythian Space," Lance broke the silence. "since it will essentially require us to go around the bulk of the UFP territory. But I agree with Russell. If we are caught, we can know that at least the cargo will be out of the UFP's hands."

The Crew sat in silence for a few minutes more, each person debating their input. Each way they took could potentially pose death, danger in every direction. But this wasn't just about the crew's own lives, it was about the fate of the galaxy--or at least that's what Jack had said. If they didn't deliver their payload, who knows what could become of everything they held dear? This mission itself was a hazardous path to take, but they were all in up to their necks now, and had to do what they all thought was best.

"I vote we go through Scythian territory." Said Andromis. "Who's with me?"
Edited by Andromis, Aug 13 2009, 05:14 PM.
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