RPlog:Guest of the Empire, part 7

A buzzer sounds on the detention block, causing the interrogators, prisoners, and guards to glance up as one of the cell doors slides open. Two guards, dressed in matching black uniforms, regard Kyrin with disgust as the senior guard nods to the other. "Move her out of there." The guard seems about to protest, but he changes his mind before he steps into the cell and none to gently prods Kyrin out of the cell as the senior guard glances at his datapad. "Prisoner X-1311. Transfer order to Sigma 2...execution order." He smiles grimly. "Looks in order. Let's move." They begin to walk Kyrin down the hall to the exit of the cellblock.

Standing off to one corner of the detention area's main control center, Korynn Fleming observes as the prisoner is marched through the checkpoint. His arms are folded over each other, and he regards her as she passes with a blank expression. The true confession is in his eyes. The way they watch her, the way they glare, sending daggers through the air as if he could will her heart to stop cold with a simple glance. The true confession therein, is that he signed the execution order. No words come from his mouth, and aside from the daggers in his eyes, there is no movement.

Kyrin had to be pulled up off the floor from under the cot. And then frog-marched out the door. Past where Korynn is. She doesn't resist anything, her wings and tail limp, her head down. She only stops when she senses she should be dead, looking toward Korynn. Her grey eyes look at him almost blankly, although her dirty silver eyebrows and sunken face tell a story of pity. Not for herself, but for him. Then, as the guards push her forward, resumes the eyes-front dignity of someone going to their death and knowing it. She offers no further attempts to pause or veer away, letting her captors make her go where they will.

The guards stop by the security desk, the more senior one conferring with the duty officer, before the gate rolls open and he gives Kyrin a firm shove to the back. "Move it, filth, before we drag you all the way to the hangar."

Kyrin only just about keeps her balance when she's shoved forward, her wings acting as a brake. However, she makes no other motion to fight her jailors, meekly submitting to the transfer. Execution on a prison world. Captain Caiton must not like her lovely ship having blood on its walls from someone being shot like that or something. The shuttle ride to the experimental ship is extremely boring. The prisoner doesn't offer /any/ kind of fun or anything, nothing to really require a guard to rough her up... Her eyes are downcast the whole trip, her weakened limbs hardly even bound. About the only thing she could do to them is breathe on them. The picture of abject defeat, Kyrin Sh'vani doesn't even seem to care what ship they're landing on. It's her own personal hearse. She just hasn't died yet, that's all.

As the shuttle approaches the VSD the comm system activates and an artificial sounding voice emerges. "Shuttle Wanderer, you are now within my control. You will be docked at the main hanger in exactly 5 minutes and 10 seconds. Please stand by." The pilots exchange a curiously glance at each other before they slowly move their hands from their instrument consoles. The shuttle flies on it's own toward the main hanger and, if anyone bothered to time does land when the voice said it would. The ramp is lowered and Kyrin is ushered off it with more of the brusqueness she's probably come to expect from the two guards by now.

Hangar. At first, there's no reaction from the Chyleni prisoner. However, the TIE racks, although empty, stir the memory. Some of the blankness disappears from her grey eyes, and her head rises a little bit, furtively sweeping her gaze around. Given how docile she's been since she was hauled out of the Broadsword's brig, her guards don't even really bother with the energy binders. She's on board a Victory Star Destroyer. You don't escape those. Except she helped some Jedi escape a Super Star Destroyer. With a sudden flaring of her wings and a leap off the deck, Kyrin breaks free of her captors, aiming for where the Malevolence had some ductwork she and the Jedi had clambered through. Tearing at the hatch, she throws the cover off to the floor below and disappears within.

The guards are, perhaps unsurprisingly, caught off guard by this. They are pushed backward by the unfurling of Kyrin's wings before they try to draw their blasters. When they do so, however, she's already through the duct and gone. The senior guard curses and flicks on his com-link. "We have a code 44-3A, I repeat, 44-3A. The prisoner is loose." The same voice from before responds. "I know. The ship is currently on lock down. Neither you nor the shuttle will leave until she is recovered. Compliance with this order is mandatory.

Kyrin is quick to use what little knowledge she remembers of Imperial ductwork to scrabble her way to a lift-shaft. Thankfully, the lift itself isn't in use, so she leaps out into the open space and spirals her way up and up and up until she can disembark into a corridor. Deserted. With a frown, the poorly clad Chyleni seems to have find officer country. Poking her nose into a random set of quarters, perhaps belonging to a lieutenant or something... or would be, if the ship had a real crew yet, she decides she smells. And therefore needs to wash. Finding the facilities, she takes the time to scrub the filth of her incarceration off, ditching the badly-fitting and falling-apart hospital gown they'd given her when she'd awakened on the Broadsword. The gown goes in the disposal. No evidence. Padding around to the bedroom, she pulls the blankets off the bed, wrapping them around herself almost like her native Chyleni monk-like robes, using one torn-off strip to serve as a belt. The two pillowcases are set through the makeshift belt to serve as pouches or pockets later, maybe. And then the prisoner goes in search of other things she'll need. Food and weapons. Not necessarily in that order, but either will do.

On the bridge, meanwhile, the tech team is not in the best of spirits. They were not equipped to deal with a prisoner running amok all over the ship with no guards to protect them. One of the techs begins to walk toward the comm console. "We've got to contact the fleet, tell them what happened." He reaches for the console but the remote controller's voice, serene but with the oddly cold tone you hear so often, stops him. "This is a minor difficulty. Automated containment protocols are already in effect. The test will proceed as scheduled."

When the doors start closing, so do Kyrin's options. It's too much to hope that she'd find an armory. But find one she does. She doesn't need hope now. She's got two blasters to work with. Nodding to herself, the Chyleni heads toward the bridge, leaping out into the lift shaft once more before that door snaps shut, wings pumping with what remains of her strength to get her to the top level. She has to pull her tail in quickly to avoid it getting cut in two by the blast doors as she soars onto the bridge in fine style. "If I may have your attention..." she says calmly, holding the blasters in unerring aim on the two nearest members of the skeleton crew as she alights on the deck with her bare feet.

The techs are raise their hands Kyrin makes her rather startling appearance just as the bridge blast doors shut. The most senior one serves as spokesman. "Please, don't be hasty..we were just conducting the test. We're not armed."

"I will not harm you if you comply with my orders," Kyrin says in a calm voice. "You will direct this vessel to the nearest Republic system and I will guarantee that you will be repatriated... /without/ torture... to the Empire, if you choose. Or you may stay in the Republic if you choose to defect."

The techs look more then willing to do this, to judge by all the nodding, but there is a difficulty here. The new attachment to the command console begins to turn on before the remote controller's voice comes out of the speaker on it. "Perhaps you should address me, Prisoner X-1311."

Kyrin's grey eyes go up and up. "My name is Kyrin Sh'vani," she states, hunting for the speaker and finally finding it. "If you must address me by a name, you may use my rank... Lieutenant." Easily parking a blaster through her belt, freeing a hand to fish some energy binders out of one of the two stolen pillowcases... why they were in the armory, she doesn't know, and she doesn't care. A set of binders is tossed unerringly toward each geek within easy reach. Even girls can catch them. Her gaze goes to the skeleton crew, critically watching to see who buys that clue and actually puts on the binders themselves as she unships the blaster again, holding them with the sort of expert posture that indicates she does know what she's doing with them. "I am in command of this vessel as of this time," she continues, her voice taking on a note of authority that would make the NR brass proud. "Calculate a hyperspace jump to the nearest Republic system, so the crew may be released to choose their own fate."

The tech crew, who did not get to this point by being stupid, begin to fasten on the bindings. All except the senior one who, before doing so, clears his throat and adopts a solicitous attitude. "Lieutenant.. the controller will not follow your commands. But.." He glances from it to Kyrin again. "I could override its functions.

Kyrin frowns at the senior technician, arching one silver brow. "Remote control..." she murmurs thoughtfully, more and more understanding invading her beaten consciousness. "Override her if she will not do as I instruct. And then if you would be so kind as to join your comrades," she adds, gesturing with the muzzle of one blaster to the energy binders. "I swear that none of you will come to harm and you will be allowed to return to your people if you choose."

The tech nods, making his way carefully over to the command console which houses the "brain" of the remote control circuits before pulling a slim keycard from his pocket. He slides it into a slot at the top of the machine which causes a portion to slide back revealing a handprint scanner and a keypad. He presses his hand against the scanner, gets a green confirmation light, before entering the code. His team watch with glum looks and glances to each other as the head tech steps back. "The ship is on manual control now." He moves further back, joining the others, before fastening the cuffs on his wrists.

Kyrin makes note of that code as best she can, just in case. "Your courtesy is appreciated," she intones gently and then moves to the console that houses the hyperspace jump controls. With a frown and several weary calculations later, the Republic pilot looks up at the technicians. "I am ready to go home now," Kyrin murmurs softly... and it's telling that she considers the Republic home and not her native world.

With a quiet prayer to whatever gods she holds dear, Kyrin presses the command to enter hyperspace. The Star Destroyer responds promptly, although it doesn't respond the way she's used to. This is no X-Wing.

Jump to the Broadsword where Keline has been keeping an eye on the VSD like every other ship attached to this project. The comm officer has been fruitlessly trying to get a rise out of the tech crew after the shuttle crew alerted them to the prisoner's escape. Keline suddenly blinks as her console flashes an alert before she hurriedly types in some keys which bring the VSD into sharper focus. "Captain, the ship's engines are powering up. It's going to.." Just as she speaks, however, the ship slips into hyperspace and vanishes. "...hyperspace" She finishes, needlessly.