Chapter 3 - The package

A casual glance at the rest of the team tells Rena that they're all thinking as desperately as she is. There's a very small chance this is some kind of test. is a thought that keeps crossing her mind, but it seems incredibly unlikely given the circumstances. Leaning on the edge of the boat, she looks out at the frankly beautiful vista and tries to arrange her thoughts more productively. First things first, gather the facts, then formulate a plan after.

They were making some huge assumptions that this warning could even be treated as genuine. They knew no more of the mysterious labcoat than they did anyone else on this planet, and taking such a cryptic warning at face value was amateurish, foolish even. There must be a way to verify the fact that they were even in any danger to begin with... The good doctor pulls out her comlink and checks it nonchalantly, sending a message to each member of the team on an encrypted channel.
[They'll be watching this boat in at least six different ways. Even if we were to commandeer it, where is there to go? At least if we reach our destination we can attempt to talk our way out. And that is assuming that this threat to our safety is real in the first place. Thoughts?]

After the crew boards the ship, Mr. Cheng undoes the ropes and pushes the ship of the pier. A quiet motor starts pushing the boat first towards the middle of the hall and the out of the port onto the open sea. The view of the Freyer headquarters from this perspective is impressive, almost intimidating, which is probably also not entirely unintentionally. The enormous construction looming over the boat making its passengers feel like sitting in a dried leaf. Ships and drones fly in and out of the starport, the sun reflecting from the white facades.
The sea is calm, the weather warm and were it not for the ominous messages this would be a very enjoyable excursion.
The ship quickly leaves the complex behind and heads for the coast.

The previously mentioned Mr. Ilic is a rather small nondescript older man, dressed in a suit and coming around offering drinks to those interested. Mr. Cheng stands quietly next to the cabin and stares out towards the coast.

Thelonius wrote:

Her head is spinning, she tries to open her eyes, but she only sees a bright blur that hurts her head, so she closes them again quickly. From somewhere she can hear voices. "This is already the third time according to her file. Somehow the cocktail seems to be problematic with her. I've seen that occasionally."
"So what's the worst that can happen, I mean so what if she gets pimples or a headache. This is not a spa, for fuck sake."
"Haha, yea, absolutely. I am more worried about the effectiveness of the stims. Just imagine she decides to make a decision by herself in the wrong moment. So far it only happened during drills, but during a mission, we don't want that to happen."
"True, that would be bad. What do you suggest we do?"
"Well, what options do we have. Decommissioning."
The voices fade away and Lola drifts out again. She wakes up with a skull splitting headache. She tries to rub her temples, but her hands are too heavy. Why are they heavy? She opens her eyes a tiny bit and sees her hands bound to a chair. What had happened. She remembers being due for her monthly medical. Everybody had to have a checkup monthly. That's where they also got their infusions. Oh fuck. She remembers the voices. But what did they mean? She tries to move, but her legs are also bound. Opening her eyes against her desire to shut out the painful light she finds herself in a small white room restrained to a chair, bolted to the floor. The room is gently swaying. She quickly closes her eyes again.

It was easier to think in the darkness. The splitting of her head didn't feel quite as bad, someone a couple of bunks away having vigorous sex, rather than the bunk directly above. Small mercies. Taking care to move as carefully and slowly as possible, Lola flexed her arms and legs against the bonds, testing for any give. It was more of a routine check, than one made with any expectation. The Silent Legion had a reputation for efficiency and if they were going to take the effort to bind her they wouldn't have made it easy for her to escape.

As she relaxed back into the chair, her headache came back full force and it took effort to force her face to keep still and show no sign. She'd never had this reaction before from the infusions, like an insect was trying to drill through her skull. Though if she'd heard right, what she'd been injected with sounded a little different. What rat fuckery were the bastards up to? 'Make a decision by herself'? They couldn't have been controlling her... could they? A cold hand seemed to grasp hold of her stomach and her heart started to beat a little faster. For the first time since awaking, she felt her nerves jangle. She wasn't particularly afraid of pain or violence and her inability to move didn't make her feel helpless. Her entire life till now had been one of minor rebellions against a vastly more powerful force. You were always vulnerable, and your blows had little to no chance of hitting those in charge. The binds being fully visible now didn't change anything. The think was to accept all this and wait for your moment to strike back. There was always a moment.

However she'd at least assumed that her mind and body could be trusted if no one else. The only thing she had was her ability to choose. As her heart continued to pound, adrenaline started to be pumped around her body, and she flexed her muscles again.

"Come on you donkey sucklers. When you planning on removing your thumbs and moving on with this?"

Once aboard, Taelor finds a spot near the prow and leans against bow pulpit, her back to the water. She checks her dataslab.

Faanku wrote:

[They'll be watching this boat in at least six different ways. Even if we were to commandeer it, where is there to go? At least if we reach our destination we can attempt to talk our way out. And that is assuming that this threat to our safety is real in the first place. Thoughts?]

//Fuck that. We dont know what they got waiting for us. Best to take em while we can.// Taelor messages back on the encrypted channel.

That door worries her, though. What if they've got bunch of security guys waiting for them? They needed to know. She looks up, trying to find Elan. Once she spots him, she casually walks over and sidles up to him.

"Cool boat. It'd be nice to see what she's packing, don't you think?" She asks, keeping her voice low and a smile on her face. "I'm thinking I'll 'go looking for the bathroom'. If they prefer to keep it employees only, they'll let us know. I'll keep the conversation going so you can relieve yourself?" She looks at Elan, wanting to be sure he gets the message before acting.

Graham wanders towards the front of the boat. It's quite a sight, definitely beautiful out here. He takes out his compad, and turns toward the rest of the boat to get a few pictures of the boat with corporate HQ in the background. He checks for messages, as he admires the view.

He responds to Taelor's message. //They have our ship and possessions. Sure, we can win a fight on the boat, but they have flying drones and who knows what else, besides control of everything on this planet. Our best play may be to talk our way out, but if they get aggressive on the boat, we won't have a choice.//

He suddenly wishes he'd stayed on the ship, but it's possible that could have been worse.
"We're fish in the proverbial barrel."

Elan leans against the railing, but instead of looking at the water he's studying the boat.

I'm a terrible swimmer, he reminds himself. I should work on that. Climbing too. He mentally resolves to exercise more should he survive the day.

He appreciates Rena's text. It's scientific, methodical, and makes sense. And she's right. Her "Trust, but Verify" approach to the secret messages is prudent and absolutely correct. Mr. Lab Coat could be using the Tsunami crew for his own purposes, a diversion while he steals rare indigenous embryos, or who knows what. Why would Mr. Lab Coat care anyway? Unless he wants to escape too.

Unfortunately real life doesn't always allow for the necessary time to accumulate data, make and test hypotheses, and reach statistically significant conclusions. Real life often involves improvisation and making decisions on incomplete information. Luckily Elan is reasonably good at gathering intel.

"Yeah," he agrees with Taelor. "I gotta hit the head." It's unclear if he means it figuratively or literally.

We walks toward the cabin, where he presumes the bathroom would be. The scene is a bit odd, since the Tsunami crew so easily outnumbers Mr. Cheng and Mr. Ilic. Elan could silently and invisibly line up an execution attack well in advance that would improve the odds even further.

But then what? To Graham's point, they're on a boat on an ocean on an unfamiliar planet. The planet is uninhabited so getting to land doesn't help. The only way off is through the headquarters.

If you're going through hell... keep going.

While he's at it, Graham goes ahead and pulls up the network location on his compad again. Mr. LabCoat may have provided an update in recent minutes.

Again, Graham makes a show of taking pictures from the bow, and sees Elan moving toward the cabin.

"Mr. Cheng, you seem to enjoy your work here. Does Freyer treat you well, you know, besides sending you out on pleasure cruises every now and then?" Graham smiles, arms still crossed, his right hand near his semi-auto.

"When you are out on the water you have a chance."

With Elan heading for the cabin and Graham engaging Mr. Cheng in conversation, that left Mr. Ilic. Taelor spots him, wandering the deck with his tray, and waves him over.

"Hi, Mr. Ilic, right? I'd like a drink, but I'm not quite sure what to get. What do you have on hand? Do you have a specialty? I like strong drinks, but that don't, like, taste strong, you know? Like, I'm not trying to get hammered, but it needs to have some punch. Fruity, but not too sweet, maybe with a touch of bitterness? Not sour, though. I can NOT deal with sour drinks..." she goes on, and on, doing her best airhead impression, trying to keep Ilic's attention on her while Elan makes his move.

Graham tries to check the network location once more all the while taking pictures. There is a ten minute video named "PI465 Demonstration" and another text file.

Quote :

Help me getting back the Imprinter. It must be returned.
Freyer must not have it. The possibility is too frightening.
I can help you get out.
Drop me a message before you are back if you want my help.

Graham starts the video, it seems to be about the helmet.
He closes the video for now and starts a conversation with Mr. Cheng.
"Right, pleasure cruise. Aye, Freyer is alright. I got no complaints."

Mr. Ilic listens patiently and nods with an unemotional smile. After Taelor cannot think of more meaningless monologue material, he walks off to the bar, picks a specific bottle and pours her a finger of a clear green liquid, adds a cube of ice into the tumbler and bring the drink back to Taelor. He places it in front of her, nods and walks back to the bar.

With Mr. Cheng and Mr. Ilic distracted, Elan has no problem to quickly slip into the door. Behind the door is a narrow hallway, clad in wooden panels and lit with bright spots integrated into the ceiling. Elan silently closes the door behind himself and carefully walks down the hall. He tries to be as quiet as possible without obviously sneaking around, should he be surprised. Luckily the hallway is carpeted and his steps are muffled without much effort. Ahead there are two doors to the left and the hallway ends in steep steps into the belly of the ship. The first door is open and leads into a tiny kitchen. A metal counter with sink and stove on the one side of the room and a shelf and a fridge on the other is all the room has to offer the interested chef.
The next door is closed. Elan puts his ear on it and listens intensely,but no sound can be heard. No risk no fun. He slides open the door ready to give his line about trying to find the head, but the room behind is empty again. It is even smaller than the kitchen and seems to be the cockpit. A computer, several screens and controls, plus a chair are all that fits. But the station is unmanned. On the center screen Elan sees a large red notification AUTO
He shrugs and continues making his way down the hall and reaches its end. The stairs are just a few narrow carpeted steps down. They end in front of a door labeled engine room. It's locked. Behind the stairs the hallway goes back a few steps with two more doors. He doesn't have much more time. The gloomy hallway, check or not? He hasn't found anything of use yet, he has to continue.
The first door is the head, finally. Elan considers making true on his initial proclamation, but scrubs that thought quickly. One more door. He opens it and stops in surprise. The room is empty but for a chair with restraints. In the chair sits a young wiry woman with short black hair.

Graham has trouble keeping Mr. Cheng engaged. His conversation 'partner' gives only short one sentence answers and often tries to return to his post. Every time he tries to look around, Graham asks another superficial question. Suddenly however Mr. Cheng yells "Hey, where is the other guy!" He turns around in alarm trying to locate everybody.
Mr. Ilic looks up from his position at the bar. For the first time he seems interested in what is going on around him.

At the sound of the door opening Lola opens her eyes, but is quickly blinded and so has to squint her eyes almost shut to try and see anything. There is what looks like a blurry figure standing in the doorway, but she can't tell anything more about it. She should have opened her eyes earlier, acclimatized them to the light before something like this happened. Kanden headache.

"Ah you've come back then to finish what you started then? Tell me, how exactly is this 'decommissioning' going to go down?"
Her tone was faux curious, just on the edge of sarcasm, and it was one she'd used on many senior officers in the past. They always liked to take everything so literally. Anger was rarely a good idea immediately. At the same time, she relaxed her body as much as she could in the chair with the adrenaline still pumping. It wouldn't do much help with her being bound to the chair but a limp body could take a hit better than a rigid one.

Thelonius wrote:

Graham tries to check the network location once more all the while taking pictures. There is a ten minute video named "PI465 Demonstration" and another text file.

Quote :

Help me getting back the Imprinter. It must be returned.
Freyer must not have it. The possibility is too frightening.
I can help you get out.
Drop me a message before you are back if you want my help.

Graham quickly copies this message, and sends it to the group.

Thelonius wrote:

Suddenly however Mr. Cheng yells "Hey, where is the other guy!" He turns around in alarm trying to locate everybody. Mr. Ilic looks up from his position at the bar. For the first time he seems interested in what is going on around him.

Graham calls to Mr. Cheng, "He said something about finding the head. You know, the bathroom. He has kind of a weak bladder -- you don't want him peeing all over your boat, do you? We've been on a ship with him for weeks, trust me on this."

Graham grins, looking for Mr. Cheng's response. "If Cheng is really worried about somebody using the restroom, then Cheng has bad intentions." If there's the slightest hint of a panicked response, it may be time to move.[/quote]

Taelor takes the glass from Mr. Ilic with a smile, but doesn't drink, holding onto it as a prop. She leans back against the railing and keeps an eye on the shifty bartender. Was he a threat or did Freyer think Mr. Cheng was enough to deal with rabble like them? Either way, she had to take him into account. Worse case scenario, it was 3 against 2, but she had to admit, she would have preferred an even matchup with Elan watching her back than the current arrangement.

Captain_Hoyt wrote:

Thelonius wrote:

Suddenly however Mr. Cheng yells "Hey, where is the other guy!" He turns around in alarm trying to locate everybody. Mr. Ilic looks up from his position at the bar. For the first time he seems interested in what is going on around him.

Graham calls to Mr. Cheng, "He said something about finding the head. You know, the bathroom. He has kind of a weak bladder -- you don't want him peeing all over your boat, do you? We've been on a ship with him for weeks, trust me on this."

Shit. Taelor stands up straight and tenses up. Her eyes shift between Ilic and Cheng, looking for the first sign of trouble. She keeps a hand close to her knife, the other loose. Her pistol feels heavy under her jacket. Am I going to have to kill again? She feels nauseous at the thought. Somehow, she'd managed to leave Astyoc without blood on her hands. She had a feeling she might not be so lucky on Specinc...

Elan tenses a bit when he sees the woman. Who is she? The Silent Legion soldier who will kill us single-handedly? His telekinetic defenses snap into place.

But then she speaks and it's clear that her fate was going to be the same as his. He thinks back to the old proverb: The enemy of my enemy is my temporary ally of convenience.

Elan, deciding that decisive action is the best course, strides purposefully across the room and undoes her bindings. If he can't undo them, he'll cut them mentally.

"I'm a captive on this boat, like you," he tells the woman as he frees her. "But the inmates are taking over the prison."

He helps the woman up, as it looks like she was drugged.

"My name is Elan. I usually steal things like jewelry and electronics, but I'm working my way up to Grand Theft, uh, Hydro. Care to join me?"

Hearing the footsteps and dimly seeing the figure come towards her, Lola tried to empty her mind and prepared to go with the oncoming blow as much possible. Instead though she felt someone at her bonds, which were immediately becoming looser. She blinked again and turned her head to see that it was a young man who was releasing her, a fellow captive apparently. She had a split second to make her decision, and she went with trust. This could all be an elaborate plot, but why would they bother? Released she was only likely to cause trouble. And she wasn't really important enough to risk complication on.

"You're a sight for sore eyes comrade I'll tell you that."
Her first step up was a little unsteady, her legs were a little numb from their bindings, and her head immediately started to shatter as she moved. She accepted his help as she stood up straight and gave her arms a little shake. Eyes finally focusing now, she gave her rescuer a grin.

"Hunt's luck Elan. I'm Lola. Discovering today that I'm a former Silent Legion sniper whose superiors obviously felt was more trouble than her worth. I've only peddled in minor theft but I'm excited to add Grand theft to prison break. I'm still a little groggy but tell me where you want me and I'm there. Lets take over this prison... boat I'm guessing?"

Stretching her shoulders back, she cast a quick glance around her for anything that could act as a weapon.

Rena in the meantime checks the rest of the video to see if there is anything useful in there, anything at all that might help them get out of this situation.

Afterwards, she sees Graham struggling to keep Cheng occupied and attempts to assist, approaching the two with a practiced smile. "Perhaps Mr Cheng is just surprised that Elan is housebroken; I know it took me by surprise when I first found out."

Elan whips out his compad and tries to update his team quickly: <<found a restrained prisoner scheduled for 'decomissioning' ... freed her>> To himself he wonders if she might be an inside woman who can help them navigate headquarters.

Meanwhile, Elan tries to update Lola on the situation on deck: the seemingly limited opposition, the composition of the Tsunami team, and a brief overview of the boat.

Elan knows that freeing a prisoner will tip his hand. "Let's wait for the all-clear from my crew," he tells Lola, "or a sign that it's time to execute a pincer movement. Here, check the cockpit for something you can use."

The locked door to the engine room makes him a bit nervous. He wouldn't necessarily think that there would be a High Threat Response team hiding in there, but he's still deeply suspicious about Mr. Cheng or Mr. Ilic. Are they veteran Silent Legionnaires? Murderous psychics? The Tsunami crew has a 3-to-2 advantage right now, but 4-to-2 or even 5-to-2 would be even better.

Whatever was trying to splinter into her skull hadn't eased off, now that she was moving. It might even be worse now with her eyes open. At least the blood had returned to her limbs, and she was able to move relatively easily after Elan into the cockpit, looking at everything as a possible weapon. Physical combat wasn't her specialty, but anything would do right now. Bastards would feel her fists if nothing else.

She tried to listen intently to what Elan was telling her, but split wheel, it was difficult with her head like this. Like swimming through slurry in a dress.
"There's just the two of these Freyer arses? One big and one small?"
The two names didn't make an immediate connection in her brain.
"Freyer being the donkey sucklers they are, I doubt they'll be what they seem. Ideally you'll want to hit hard and tear the heart out of them before they get a chance to do anything. Though a wee intimate chat after probably would be useful too."

She closed and formed fists for a few seconds before looking back at Elan.
"You any weapons on you right now?"
If he had a gun of some kind, she would act as his blocker, and try to keep him from hand to hand fighting. If he was up close and personal then she'd just have to watch his back. Her heart was beating again and she was feeling that pleasurable buzz that came to you before conflict. It had been too long since she's been able to bring direct violence to Freyer. They had the element of surprise right now though and it was important not to lose it. She'd wait till they were ready.

Mr. Cheng listens to all the comments with an alert face, walking over to the door by the bar. He exchanges a look with Mr. Ilic who seems like a different person. Gone is the fragile grand father routine. He continues what he is doing, but his eyes are alert, interested. His movements are slightly more fluent and precise.
After their visual exchange, Mr. Cheng enters the cabin, closing the the door behind himself and Mr. Ilic remains by the bar.
The cheerful summery music in the background suddenly feels very out of place.

The trained soldier and the seasoned thief, both subconsciously alert to background sounds, both stop midsentence, when they hear the unmistakable <click> of a carefully closed door. Lolas headache is gone in an instant, as the rush of adrenaline clears her system of everything that is unnecessary for survival.

Taelor reaches for her dataslab, sees Elan's message and sends a quick message back: //Cheng incoming//

Feeling a bit better about Elan's chances, she puts her dataslab away and walks closer to the bar. "What's the deal with him?" She asks Ilic, gesturing towards the door. "Afraid Elan's going to take us for a joyride? I don't think he knows how to drive a boat. He just went to find the latrine. Was he supposed to just shit off the side?" As she talks, she looks at Mr. Ilic and around the bar, searching for hidden weapons.

Nitafrong wrote:

"You any weapons on you right now?"

"I have some tricks up my sleeve. Get behind me."

This, of course, is ridiculous, as Lola is far sturdier than Elan. Is he being chivalrous? Perhaps, or maybe he doesn't want to hide behind an unarmed, unarmored, drug-addled woman.

Instinctually he might have gone straight for a killing blow, but Lola makes a compelling point about having a little chat with Cheng afterward. That won't be possible if Elan tears Cheng's heart out - which, for the record, he can do - so he summons a massive telekinetic hammer that will hopefully bonk Cheng in the brainbox but leave him sensible for a later conversation. Just a mild concussion, just a mild concussion, Elan keeps coaching himself.

Then he strides purposefully out of the cockpit, looking to surprise his target and get the first strike in. He sees Cheng but his attack is clumsy: he "drags" his attack along the ceiling before bringing it down on Cheng's head, leading to a less-than-decisive strike.

Graham watches as Mr. Cheng turns the corner and goes through the door. He's vaguely disappointed that his conversation wasn't interesting enough for Cheng to stick around, but Cheng's absence told him all he needed to know.

The pistol comes easily out of its holster, its heft reassuring in his hand. A few steps forward, and he spots Ilic to his right at the bar. Rena and Taelor are both moving, it seems they've made their decisions...

Graham brings his pistol up quickly and fires, maybe too quickly. The shot shatters the peace of their idyllic boat ride, as the bullet bites into Ilic's right arm. Graham ducks back behind the wall, and drops to one knee, ducking low in case of return fire. He listens to the action, and waits for his next chance.

"Dammit, I had him!", he berates himself at the missed opportunity for the quick kill.

As Mr. Ilic recoils from the impact of Graham's shot, Taelor draws her knife and pistol. She was hoping to keep their foe penned in, and away from her less martial colleagues. She holds her knife in front of her, her arm extended, creating space for her pistol, which she keeps close to her body.

Taelor shoots, but the shifty bartender ducks behind the counter and she blows up a bottle of vodka instead. "Shit!"

Noticing the two moving subtly to surround the older suit, Rena slowly puts away her comlink and flexes her fingers. In all honesty, the las pistol she wore was as much for intimidation than anything else, though her parents had made sure she completed a course named Practical Safety for Modern Youth which dealt with basic firearms education. In fact, it was just one of a plethora of eclectic courses and youth education programs Rena has completed during her years in the Spires. I guess I should be thankful, really. she decides, drawing the pistol and flicking the safety off in one movement, drawing a bead on the suit and lamenting the fact he had begun moving after Graham's attack.

I've only ever fired at standing targets before. laments the good doctor, throwing herself behind something solid and hoping the other two were more proficient at killing than she was.

The fresh pulse of adrenaline finally cleared her head and for the first time today she felt back to her old self. Her face broke into a broad excited smile, and she nodded back at the young man as he took a position in front of her. He was both younger and slimmer than her but size meant nothing. He spoke with confidence and for a moment she wondered what he was going to attack with. Psi-melter? Martial artist? Or some artfully hidden blade? She would likely find out soon. More important was what she going to do. Go at whoever was outside with fists or head along to what had looked like a kitchen and look for a blade? Though a sniper, she'd had her share of fist fights. Mostly in bars and taverns, but few carried a real likelihood of death. She hadn't won all of them either. She did her killing at range.

There was no time to debate it. She just had to choose. Closing her hands into fists, she focused on Elan's back, taking deep breaths, flooding her system with additional oxygen, ready for the sudden violent action that was coming. Time to kill.

As soon as Elan moved, she was after him, a step or two behind. Entering the corridor, she caught sight of a large man, and to his right the kitchen. As the younger man paused and did something..., she instead sprinted hard and fast to the side heading for the kitchen. Once inside she looked for anything that could be used as a weapon. Preferably sharp and and bladed, but she'd even settle for something hard to brain him with. Bastard was going to regret leaving her alive.

The previously subtle tension explodes into action on all sides.
The bullet from Graham's gun hits Mr. Ilic's shoulder, but he barely reacts to it and receiving fire from all sides he jumps the bar, suddenly with a knife in his hand bringing it down on Taelor. He lands on port side, bringing Taelor between himself and Graham.

Mr. Cheng comes down the hallway, when out of nowhere an invisible force slices at him. Reflexively he turns to the side, the invisible sword only slicing his suit jacket and drawing a little blood on his left elbow.
From the corner of his eyes he sees his former captive dart out of the room, disappearing in the kitchen. Only then he realises Elan, standing right next to him.
He turns and punches Elan on the chest sending him tumbling backwards. Then he turns towards the way Lola disappeared.

Taelor tries to twist out of the way of Mr. Ilic's knife, but he's faster. The blade cuts through her T-shirt and scrapes against her armored undersuit. The force of the blow pushes her back a step and she grits her teeth against the pain. She'd have a nasty bruise in the morning, and possibly much worse if she didn't take him down soon.

She feints with her knife and shoots again, but Mr. Ilic doesn't fall for the trick and her shot goes wide, singeing the wall behind him.

Graham ducks out from behind the wall, ready to plaster Ilic with a perfectly-aimed shot between the shoulder blades. With Taelor in hand-to-hand with Ilic, Graham gets too cutesy with his shot.

*POW!*

And just like that, Graham manages to find the only ficus plant on the boat, in a small planter under the bar. The planter explodes in shards, topsoil spilling to the deck.

He takes cover behind the wall again, and as he prepares his next miracle of marksmanship, he flashes back to the starport lobby on Astyoc, and absentmindedly wonders if he can find work as a houseplant assassin.

Rena takes a deep breath and steadies her aim this time, fortunate that Graham and Taelor are proving a distraction for the suit. She leans out of cover and pulls the trigger, this time her bolt catching Ilic square in the chest.

As Elan staggers backwards, the parallels to the hallway underneath the community center on Astyoc are not lost on him.

Tight quarters, I'm in front, new teammate behind, I miss an easy shot and get punched straight down the middle for my efforts.

He's not as good at deflecting these straight attacks, it seems. He can reflect on that later, should he survive. Right now he's hoping that the parallels continue, because last time this sequence happened he clobbered that chick in the head with an invisible frying pan and she dropped like a rock. He tries that trick again.

WHANG! It feels like he connects this time, but the trouble with invisible telekinetics is that you never know what the effect is until the other person reacts.

The kitchen was no great space, one glance told of all possible weapons on display. Lola's eyes were immediately drawn to the light blinking off a small blade lying on a cutting board next to a sliced green fruit. Her face lit up with a wolfish smile and she went straight for it. It was possible something bigger might be hiding in one of the drawers but she didn't have the time to search. There was a big old bastard outside who was desperate for an introduction.

She grabbed it by the handle standard style, and spun on her heel. Feet away from her was her target, face turned towards her.
"Time to bleed boyo."

Springing forward, she planted her left foot forward and then swinging her hips with a forward snap. she stabbed at his neck. Pulling back, she bounced backwards lightly on her toes blade infront of her waiting for his reaction, her smile still in place.

Mr. Ilic looks in surprise on his chest, a scorch mark documenting the source of the radiating pain. His face becoming angry, he violently stabs at Taelor slicing right through he defences.

When Mr. Cheng starts walking toward the kitchen to catch up to his former prisoner, he receives a powerful punch in the back sending him staggering. Lola sees the opportunity and leaps out of the kitchen and stabbing at his throat. But his stumbling makes him a hard target for the unexperienced stabber and she only scratches him a bit.
Catching his fall, he rises up toward Lola, suddenly a monoblade in his hand. With an devilish smile, he slices at the young woman, but Lola is prepared and his blow does not connect.

Mr. Ilic moves with practiced efficiency, ducking and weaving. Wait for him to attack, he can't dodge when he's lunging, Taelor tells herself. She keeps her eyes on his shoulders, looking for the telltale signs of a coming blow.

Mr. Ilic strikes with the speed of a cobra, seeming to materialize close to her. She pulls the trigger, but her pistol is pushed aside in the tussle. Taelor stumbles backward as her assailant pushes himself away from her. She regains her footing and sees the blood on the blade of Ilic's knife. Her breathing is starting to get ragged. Hold on, T. You just have to hold on...

Hearing the ruckus from around the corner, Graham steps back out, this time determined to put a bullet Ilic, before he does irreparable harm to his shipmates.

He makes no effort to hide as he squares up, aims, and fires. The bullet, unnoticed by either combatant, splashes in the distance and sinks to the bottom of the bay.

"You've got to be kidding me" he mumbles to himself, as he takes a frustrated look at the end of his gun barrel.

Rena steadies her aim for another shot, this time aiming a little higher and hoping to drop the suit for good...

Elan watches Cheng mixing it up with Lola. Now's my chance!

But he misses. Is it the confusion of Lola and Cheng jostling for position? Or the fact that Elan keeps dragging his strikes along the walls and ceiling of the confined quarters? He's doing a good job of tearing up the woodwork but a less-good job of tearing up Cheng. There's an explosion of splinters and sawdust that clouds the air. Who knows, maybe Cheng will get a sliver in his eye. But, of course, the same could happen to Lola.

Her target was fast. Almost as soon as she'd attacked, he was on her with a monoblade in his hand. He looked ches'n pleased about it too, the turnkin. She almost allowed herself to focus on this and her anger for a second too along, but at the last second she'd been able to twist her body to the side and avoid the full force of his strike. He might have nicked her, but anything he'd done wasn't currently registering with her adrenaline peaking body.

Her eyes bored holes directly into his, offering a deliberate challenge. Based on the fact that she hadn't seen a weapon in Elan's hand, he had to be attacking with something psi related. Which meant she had to keep this bastard's focus on her. She only had a piddly little stabber, he surely had something better.

"You look awfully pleased to see me. Almost as pleased as Grandfather Cheng was last week for a session of domination with F troop. Bit of a weeper though."

She attacked midway through her last sentence, counting on the fact that she'd distracted him, her new blade aiming straight for his neck again, before stepping back in defensive stance again.

Lolas thrust catches Mr. Cheng moving to the side and blood sprays out of the throat. Mr. Cheng yanks his hand up, feeling his own life running out between his fingers. His eyes widening in surprise and horror, he sinks down to his knees, turns and slumps down on the wall his strength fading.

Mr. Ilic, again hit by a laser bolt from Rena cries out in rage, his face distorted by anger and annoyance. He thrusts his hand into her direction and suddenly Rena feels the ground slip under her. As if she was standing on the ice ring again, like when she was a child. In horror she sees the gate of the ship rail open behind her, as she slips toward it.

As Mr. Ilic thrusts his hand out, Taelor takes the opening and lunges forward. She feels resistance against her knife and grins savagely and she pushes harder. FINALLY! She pulls it out, taking a step back and getting back into a defensive stance.

Not having to jump out from behind cover seemed to steady Graham's hand this time. He sees Taelor's blow with the knife land, and in that stunned moment, Ilic seems to freeze. That's just the moment Graham needed, and the crisp 'pop' from the pistol rings out. Ilic hisses a sharp intake of breath as the bullet hits him in the side, his hand involuntarily moving to cover the wound above his left hip.

Rena starts skidding towards the open sea with her hands and feet sliding uselessly over the floor. Just before she is about to shoot overboard, she manages to stop her sliding by putting her feet on the rail on either side of the gate. Stabilising her position like that she turns back to the scene. Taelor triumphantly pulls her bloody knife back from Ilic who is now out ride furious.
Then Ilic gets punched to the side by a bullet from Graham as the sound of it thunders over the boat. Rena pulls her gun forward and uses the fact that she can stabilize it on the floor and fires one more bolt into Ilic. The recipient of that last bolt collapses lifeless next to the bar, he was serving cocktails from only moments before. A puddle of blood quickly spreads under him.

"Did we get him?"

Rena's voice is quiet, tinged with concern, as she pulls herself to her feet and looks at the las pistol in her hand as if for the first time. That last part was definitely not covered in Practical Safety for Modern Youth, and neither was the uneasy feeling in her chest, as if her lungs were trapped under a ton of lead. She takes a few deep breaths. Self-defence, that was us or them. There was no choice.

After calming down a little, she notices the wounds Taelor has sustained and medic mode kicks in, overriding everything else. She rushes over to the pilot and tells her to sit down, producing her medkit and peeling away the bloody clothing to access the wound. "Must hurt like a bitch." she offers with a reassuring smile. "Doesn't look lethal though, just a collabital abrasion, slight tissue exposure. Here." Rena shows Taelor a stim applicator before placing it against her patient's forearm. "A little something I came up with for the hoodrats that used to come to me after knife-fights. In a few seconds you won't feel a thing."

After administering the painkiller, the good doctor gets to work cleaning and suturing the wound, chatting away happily to Taelor as if over coffee.

After Mr. Ilic crumples to the ground, Taelor nudges him with her foot, but he doesn't react, either dead or passed out. She wipes her knife on her torn T-shirt and sheathes it.

Faanku wrote:

"Did we get him?"

"Yeah, I don't think he's getting back up." She can't help but feel a bit sad. If Freyer had just payed them and sent them on their way, none of this would have happened. A man was dead, maybe two... Oh, shit. She rushes to the door next to the bar and pulls it open. Elan and a stranger are standing over the limp body of Mr. Cheng. Taelor nods. "Alright, then."

Faanku wrote:

She rushes over to the pilot and tells her to sit down, producing her medkit and peeling away the bloody clothing to access the wound. "Must hurt like a bitch." she offers with a reassuring smile. "Doesn't look lethal though, just a collabital abrasion, slight tissue exposure. Here."

"I'm fine, just bleeding a little," Taelor says, but she lets the doc tend to her wounds. She shrugs off her (thankfully undamaged) jacket and helps Rena remove her tattered T-shirt. As the doctor assesses her cuts, Taelor looks at the damage to her armored undersuit. The first blow didn't pierce it, but Mr. Ilic's second strike managed to cut through. It's nothing a couple of hours with her toolkit can't fix.

Faanku wrote:

Rena shows Taelor a stim applicator before placing it against her patient's forearm. "A little something I came up with for the hoodrats that used to come to me after knife-fights. In a few seconds you won't feel a thing."

After administering the painkiller, the good doctor gets to work cleaning and suturing the wound, chatting away happily to Taelor as if over coffee.

Taelor winces at the injection. Funny, I reacted more to that than the stabbing. She looks at Rena. Taelor wonders if she's ever killed someone before. The way she's talking, keeping her back to Ilic's body, Taelor figures she probably hasn't. Best to keep her mind off that for now. The guilt would find her, but it could wait its turn.

"Know any good places to shop in this sector? At the rate I'm going through my wardrobe," she says, jerking her head towards her blood-soaked shirt, "I'm going to need a new one."

Lola watched her target warily for a second, suspicious that it might be a blind. She's done in the same in a bar fights before but as he slumped back, knees buckling it was clear his life was slipping out from beneath his fingers. The knife still in her hands she darted forward to him. Bringing her left foot up, she stamped down hard on his wrist and if successful kicked the monoblade to slide down the galley and out of his reach. Bending down she pressed her knee hard into his chest, her left hand pressing hard over the wound and held the knife close to his face. Her own face was even closer though, nose touching his, eyes staring hard into those which were already fading before her.

There had been a slight flicker of pride within her as she'd watched him fall. They'd been fighting to the death and she'd bested him. Beyond seeing the value in her own martial achievements, she didn't glory in death itself. It was just one of those things which had to happen sometimes.

"You aren't dying until I let you. Answer my questions truthfully and I'll let you turn up to the final ferry with your facial features. The Silent Legion gets what it requires. Are there any traps on this boat? Is it being tracked and is there support nearby? Who ordered my Decommission or these guys murder? Have you any way of communicating off this boat?"

There was movement in her peripheral, and she took a chance and didn't turn her head from her target. If it was the other man, Elan should have her back. She couldn't risk this bastard doing something foolish, like dying.

Mr. Cheng looks at Lola with foggy eyes, his breath raspy. With a gurgling voice, he croaks out "No traps... No tracking..." A coughing fit interrupts him for several seconds. "No support..." He takes a few hard breaths and then spits out "Cox" . His breath starts going harder. He coughs again.

Looking over Rena's shoulder Taelor can see the concern in his face. He'd watched as she took the brunt of the attack from Ilic, and he knows how fortunate she is that she's not the one laying face-down in a pool of blood.

The pool of blood. Graham tries to get his mind off it. He watches Rena working on Taelor's forearm, and catches Taelor's eye. "Are you ok? That got a little more dicey than expected." Hi gives Taelor a smile and says, "I'm not sure I like your employer. Want to come work with us? The pay is better, and the boss doesn't try to kill you on payday."

He looks around to see if the boat is getting too close to their destination, in case he needs to hurry up and get control of the boat. He also checks his compad for messages from Mr. LabCoat. He hates putting any faith in him, but it seems like he was right about their 'destination'.

Taelor laughs, spurred on by the drugs coursing through her veins or perhaps the frayed nerves from the fight. "Yeah, I guess I should have figured out he was a dick, with a name like MiStEr CoX." She says the last two words mockingly.

"With the doc's help, I'll be fine. This doesn't feel half as bad as what Cerebrus' drones did. Although, I didn't have much in the way of painkillers, then..." Taelor shrugs, then winces, but the pain isn't too bad. Rena's injection is kicking in.

"Heyyyy... should I be operating heavy machinery on this?" she asks the doc.

Lola nodded her head at the man. He might be lying of course, but in her experience people didn't tend to when they were dying. Truth as a concept often seemed more important than other duties and obligations. His words were hopeful though, no tracking, or further support. And a name, Cox. They had some time at least. General conversation had started up over her shoulder from where she presumed the deck was. She couldn't quite make out the words but the tone of it was without particular tension or anger. Elan's companions must have dealt with the other enemy.

Blood was still pulsing through the tight press of her fingers, but with less and less force. This man didn't have long to live. He may have said his last, but noone could answer something not said. Her head still pressed against his, she asked.
"Where is Cox?"

The boat hums gently along, elegantly slicing through the waves. The coast is much closer and the mysterious bay is likely not much further. Graham throws a glance over to the mainland. Maybe another half an hour at this pace.

Faanku wrote:

Rena in the meantime checks the rest of the video to see if there is anything useful in there, anything at all that might help them get out of this situation.

The video is a half promotional, half scientific documentation about the helmet the crew delivered. It shows a middle-aged woman talking about the medical benefits of the helmet. A young man is shown, his face cheerful and relaxed. The woman narrates over the pictures of the man apparently being treated with the helmet. "The subject is a veteran from the war on Mati Sanyura in the Thurid system. He suffered severe trauma and had been experiencing strong episodes of PTSD. He has tried suicide on three separate occasions.
However, after only a few sessions with the Psychic Imprinter we were able to reprogram his memory to block out the negative, destructive experiences he suffered and he has since been free of any PTSD or suicidal episodes. He is more optimistic and on track to integrate with civil life. " The video continues about popular scientific details on the functionality of the Imprinter and lists other possible applications of the device to treat depression, paranoid hallucinations, schizophrenia and others.

Nitafrong wrote:

"Where is Cox?"

"Al... de... ga... Court"

"We'd better get on with it. Don't want to be close to the destination by the time we get this thing turned around."

Graham heads through the cabin door, where Elan and Lola are working with the rapidly-fading Cheng. He steps past them, then halts in his tracks. He holds up a finger, open his mouth to speak...then closes his mouth and puts his finger back down.

He turns around. "Elan, who is this?" He looks at Elan. He looks at Lola. He looks at Elan.

"Never mind, where are the controls to this thing? We can get caught up later", and he heads down the hallway looking for the captain's console.

moarhair wrote:

"Heyyyy... should I be operating heavy machinery on this?" she asks the doc.

"Believe me, Ms Chen; for the next few hours you'll feel like you can do whatever you please." Rena gives Taelor one of her customary winks as she clips the end of her suture away, leaving a clean stitch that's already barely visible.
"Just don't get too used to it, my supplies have been dwindling ever since I left for Astyoc."

Rena nearly speaks up when Graham mentions work, but decides to hold off for now; she was already eating their supplies and breathing their oxygen, but she was in desperate need of restocking.