Misfit Writes:
# You two okay back there? #
Rusty clung tightly to a heavy metal buttress. 'Is she serious?'
The small cargo hold was densely packed, the two scouts squeezed into whatever space they could find among the crates and magazines blazoned with bright warnings. Grimar squirmed in place to face the smaller canine, flashed a quick thumbs-up. 'We're fine.' He called back over the com. 'Appreciate the lift.'
# Hey, no problem. #
The pilot's voice sounded oddly modulated. Rusty frowned to himself. Perhaps a translator of some kind, he'd heard this mercenary team were mostly non-alliance races. He supressed a shudder. All non-fenrir were weird, of course, but some aliens were just... alien.
Grimar broke his train of thought, leaning forward to tap a claw against a large bomb hanging between them. 'Think this is really a nuke?'
Rusty blinked, his eye drawn immediately to the yellow markings all over the device. He swallowed. 'I hope not. Why not ask our pilot?'
'Good idea.' A click over the com signified another channel being added to their link. 'Is this really a nuke back here?'
# Only a little one. Why? You guys wanna blow something up? #
* Yeah! Blow something up! *
That last was Khayone, of course, still patched into the scouts' com channel.
Rusty grit his teeth, listened. Nothing. 'Grimar?'
'We're climbing.'
# We'll be on our way in a mo, guys. #
Grimar nodded to Rusty. 'Right. What's happening?'
# Droids closing on the other LZ, I'm gonna go help out. #
Sparks and lightning crackled over Derah's mesh-mek as she sprinted toward the access hatch and leapt. Her claws skittered for a moment on the irregular surface, and then she was inside. The short tunnel of the entryway convulsed, shuddered beneath her and then flowed smoothly together, closing the opening as though it were never there.
Eyes narrowed, Derah leaned forward, reached a hand toward the newly-restored surface. A click, another shudder, and she snatched her hand back as a dozen scythe-like blades slid across the curved surface to form a reinforcing cage of razor-sharp edges.
That's just... psycho. Cool, but psycho.
A twitch of attention, and the suit's amplified optics brought her surroundings into sharp focus. Even so, it took her a few seconds to get her bearings. The corridor led vertically upward, with no apparent handholds or assistors. An opening at her feet was bathed in green light, a sickly yellow fog creeping from within.
I'm not going in there. I guess the only way is up.
The walls were smooth for the most part, rippled in places but nothing enough to grab onto. The surface was a drab brown, mottled in places with green and black. Derah laid her hand flat against it, and decided against digging in with her claws. She could simply leap to the top, but what was up there? Safer to make a more measured ascent. Perhaps she could brace and squeeze, levering herself up against the narrow walls?
The ship rose, sharply, and Derah buckled with a yell, falling forward to slide up against a wall. She found herself on all fours. Perfect. Moving quickly, she scrambled up the corridor, pausing at the top to take a look around.
The upper cabin was like an ornate and barbaric temple, every surface covered in twisted alien text or hanging with trophies and weapons. Derah took a breath before heaving herself the rest of the way up and onto her feet.
'Hello?'
Nothing. The suit's passive sensors located a lifeform up ahead, while the environmental systems warned her of numerous toxins and hallucinogens in the smoke that billowed across the deck.
'Command, do you read?'
Again nothing. She flicked up a comm diagnostic and found no system faults. Frowning, she requested a bandwidth scan, and got nothing. There was background radiation from a the ship itself, but nothing that could be originating from outside. Either they'd dropped into hyperspace, or the shields were blocking all communication.
Glancing around, there were no windows in evidence, or indeed any obviously discernable computers. Ornate lamps bathed portions of the room in coloured light, each casting thick shadows in the pale fog. Ducking beneath a freestanding archway bedecked with blades and chains, she lost her footing and stumbled. The meshmek prevented any injury to her ankle, though her pride took a dent as she slipped down two shallow steps and splashed into a pool of dark water.
At least, I hope it's water. Cursing softly, she stomped clear of the pool and headed toward the front of the ship.
'Jalya Unekei Arzu? Are you there?'
The room narrowed ahead of her, the deck rising slightly as it led to a doorway in the form of a monstrous mouth, the sculpted visage of some alien nightmare creature. Following the lines of the doorway, she noticed four mandibles sprouting from the sides of the beast's head, blended into the lines of the room itself, as though the whole ship were being gripped by the creature.
Derah blinked. Of course, the ship was designed to resemble the creature, some mythological or religious crap. It figured.
A peircing cry rang from ahead, a hissing shriek of rage and frustration. Bracing for an attack, Derah grabbed for her weapon, then dropped it as the deck lurched beneath her. The vixen growled and dug in her claws, scattering a pile of bones as she scrabbled for purchase. Her hand clamped fast to the deck, suddenly heavy, and closed around a circular shape protruding from the deck. localised pressor fields, keeping all this junk in place while I get tossed around like a salad. She scowled. I've had enough of this.
'Dammit,' she yelled, 'what the hell are you doing?'
Ruchai Trammerden rubbed his temples, staring intently at his console. Contact with the girl, Derah, had blacked out as soon as she'd boarded the ship. 'I should have known, I should have anticipated this.' He glanced across the room toward Smith. The human was frantic, haranguing the monitoring staff in a most unprofessional manner.
Futile. If Jalya's ship blocked Derah's comm, that was that. All they could do now was hope she had the sense to stay out of the Deathseeker's way. Again he glanced over the scout's file, and again he rubbed his temples.
'Agent Smith, sir!' One of the vendorians yelled, and Trammerden sat up. A flashing red marker on the tactical display, was the extraction compromised?
Loh'leih moved to his side. 'Ruchai?' He turned in his seat, the androthi woman sounded almost alarmed, something he'd never heard before.
'What is it? What's wrong?'
Loh'leih glanced around, before continuing, her voice a whisper. 'Jalya has opened fire on Kaylie.'
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