RPlog:Rescued In Transit

Cracking his jaw absently as he does a standard sensor sweep, Captain Ryder of the prisoner transport shuttle 'Justice' leans to the side to snag the cup of caf sitting in the cup holder to his left. The chair creaks a bit as he moves, his co-pilot, Terin, jokes, "You're going to break that chair someday." Ryder grins, empties his cup and shrugs, "So I'll put in a new one. They build this stuff too cheap sometimes, lowest bidder builds all." Both laugh, conducting the usual in-flight routines while keeping an eye on the system that monitor's the individual cells that the prisoners are kept in, each one in solitary confinement. The guards patrol the length of the corridor that runs along the cells, so far their task made easy by prisoners sedated while in transit.

Strolling down the middle of the holding compartment, Sgt Tycho swings his shock baton around. Looking from side to side at the prisoners hanging from the ceiling half a meter off the ground. Their hands are cuffed and from those cuffs a strap rises to the ceiling holding them in the air. He chuckles to himself as he nears one of the sickest looking prisoners. Cocking his head to the side the grizzled veteran quirks a half smile as he sticks the shock prod against the prisoner laughing outright as the man convulses in pain.

A sort of un recognizable sound could be heard from Wolf as he began to stirr. The sounds of the man being electricuted in a cell nearby was enough to wake him. "Damn.." he said, not remembering how he even ended up cuffed and hung from the wall. Where was he? He didn't know.. But by the sounds of the ambient noises he figured he had been transferred to a ship. The next thing that seemed to be the typical thing todo for any prisoner, was try and move and Wolf did exactly that. The straps twisted and buckled as he tried to move his wrists but all he seemed todo was hurt himself even more, the cuffs had begun to dig into his wrists.

Unbeknownst to any aboard the prisoner transport, another group is gathered upon the barren planet named Caluula, along the route the ship is using to arrive at the penal colony. Tritus sits, back against a rock, hiden from view, along with two other miscreants. A Twi'lek girl, and a human woman. Clad fully in black, his longcoat, heavy boots, and even his raven hair, slicked tight to his scalp, the man clears his throat. "They should be here shortly."

As though on cue, the distinguishing hum of the craft is heard on the horizon, and a rare smirk splits the lips of the black-clad man. A hand reaches over, taking up the rather hefty piece of weaponry, and he nods to the other two. "Well, here goes nothing." he states simply. The anti-air rocket launcher is hefted onto his shoulder, and he stands, turning about to face the oncoming vessel. Sighting is opened, target is established, and even as the sensors blip to alert them to his presence, Tritus squeezes back the trigger, loosing a volley of hellfire on the hapless pilots of the carriage.

The human woman smiles as the rocket flies off, the sort of smile generally found on those who think it's likely that a terrible lot of violence is likely to ensue and who are probably going to enjoy it more than they should. She also takes several steps away from the man with the rocket launcher and tracks the ship with her SS-V. "Any reason not to kill the first thing to come out of that ship?" she asks in an undertone.

"Man, sometime's I wonder about these guys," Ryder mutters as he eyes the monitor screen, watching Sgt Psycho enjoying himself and his work. Terin nods in agreement, both pairs of eyes moving to the image with a sort of sickened fascination. Distraction is but momentary, it lasts long enough that they don't notice the sensor warning immediately and by the time the system warnings go off the rocket has acquired their position and is homing in with unerring ability. "Crap!" Ryder calls out, trying to maneuver the shuttle out of the flight trajectory of the rocket, but no luck. No words are sufficient to the task at hand and by the time the Rocket hits the shuttle they are far off their usual flight plan. The shuttle rocks violently at the rocket impacts against the forward section of the shuttle, both pilots fighting both gravity, inertia, damage and nonfunctional systems. "All hands, brace for impact!" Terin shouts mere seconds before they plummet into the dense canopy below, the trees - miraculously - are so closely entwined that the steep fall is somewhat slowed but the shuttle crashes - nose first - into the soil. The forward section bears the brunt of the crash, crumpling like so much foil until the nose is flush against the first then the second bulkhead.

The shades of pink remain silent within their bed of darkness. Standing off to the side, the Twi'lek female merely watches the ongoings about her. Obsidians orbs grace their presence onto Tritus as the rocket launcher is heeved upwards. One boot skids back, then the other joins in a wary movement to draw herself further back. Chez'na offers but a quick glance towards the woman before turning attention back onto tritus.

Laughing still as he moves to the next prisoner, smirking to Wolf as he nears the hanging prisoner. "Well, scum, I hope you are enjoying your accomidations." Reaching out he pokes the man once with the prod watching as the shock is emitted. "Is there anything I can get you? Some tea, maybe a few crumpets? Anything?" As he reaches out to shock the man again, the deck under his feet rattles with the ship and he holds his hands out as he tries to balance himself after the blast impact of the missle. Looking back up, eyes wide, Tycho screams as the ship impacts hard against the ground. With the impact he flies through the air impacting one of the walls of the compartment. Slamming hard, he goes quiet for several moments losing consciousness. Suddenly his eyes shoot open and he tries to look around. His entire body is in pain.

Wolf was about to have a really hard time. Wolf knew exactly what was going to happen as the guard reached out with his batton and sent the pain coarsing through his body. Wolf's body felt like it was being torn apart as he moved as violently as the restraints would let him. The sound of the pilots warning rings through the ship and he did what he could to 'brace' himself, though he wasn't too sure if he was going to survive any of this, especially after almost loosing himself to the shock batton. As the ship hit the ground, Wolf hung onto the straps as best he could, which seemed to be all he could do. A laugh mixed with pain echoed around the ship as he watched the 'guard' take flight and his the wall.. "That was.. easier then i expected.." he muttered to himself, looking up out the bars as best he could.

As the ship comes crashing down, Tritus merely nods to himself, tossing aside the weapon. "Well..." he murmers to the two women with him. "Let's go confirm the kill. And, should anything move... kill it."

And so, the black-clad man begins his relatively short trek towards the wreckage of the prisoner transport, a Bi-Polar Blaster Carbine held within his grasp, a look of intent upon his features, and a chuckle on his lips as the trio come upon the still smoking hull.

With both pilots dead, the ships systems rather efficiently pulverized into so much mulch, the shuttle is firmly embedded into the ground. Coming to rest at an angle, the aft end of the shuttle is a good three meters off the ground whereas what's left of the cockpit is (as previously mentioned) smashed flat into the ground itself. Smoke plumes upwards in a steady trail, a ragged beam of sunlight knifes through the opening in the treetop canopy that marks the entry of the shuttle. The prisoners, those that survived the landing, are bruised, bumped, a few have broken limbs and at least one died in the landing. Those that were sedated still seemed to have fared better, being unconscious and all that. One of the guards, NOT Sgt Tycho, slid to a halt against one of the cell doors, debris falling around him and, at first, covering him entirely. It's only with some effort that he manages to get enough of the stuff off of him to get a good look around. "Marines, sound off," he says, coughs, into his comm, waiting for a few moments for any answer on the channel.

Lierra follows after, firing a few shots towards whatever opening there is on the prisoner transport, no doubt hoping to remind anyone inside that coming out is an inherently bad idea (though there are those who might note that staying in is probably just as bad of an idea.)

Remaining still Tycho groans in pain. Placing his hands on his sides, palms down, the man tries to rise but falls back screaming in pain. Turning his head from side to side he sighs as it seems he is stuck there.

A simple nod is given by the Twi'lek female as the boots come to grope across the ground. The sound of clicking emerges swiftly in the air as a steady pace is taken behind the black-clad man. Obsidian orbs begin to dance around wildly, never staying on one place long. The shoulders roll back slightly, straightening her posture a bit more as the muscles twining about Chez'na's lithe form tense.

In the low light, it almost looked like everything was lost. A small pillar of light shot through a new hole in the bulkhead too close to where Wolf was restrained. Hanging, Tired and even more beaten up then he thought possible, his head fell backwards as he took in a few breaths. Now what was he going todo? All he could do. Hang there. He was so secure it would take someone to /let/ him out. And to his knowledge there was noone out there that could do it. He looked around, hoping though drawing nothing out of the situation he was in. Cries of pain echoed around the ship along with the voice coming from a pile of rubble. He didn't know what else todo but smile at Tycho's situation.

Heavy boots fall upon the ground, raising small puffs of dust upon every step. As the ship is reached, Tritus soon begins to hike up the hull of the ship towards the recently developed hole. Bi-Polar at the ready, he waits until Lierra is in position, then nods to her. A hand raises, signalling he will go first, and for her to cover him, and he soon peeks into the hole, the muzzle of his blaster leading the way.

As no resistance is found immediately, Tritus slides into the hole, blaster shifting this way and that as he secures the immediate vecinity. Once satisfied no one lies in wait in the tiny area he is in, nor within direct distance to fire at him or his comrades, he motions the other two down.

"Tycho, stop complaining and list your wounds," the so-far unnamed marine says as he tries to sit upright, the angle of the shuttle making it difficult. By the time he's sitting upright he's light headed on his own, a steady seep of warm blood running down a laceration along his hairline. The open end of the shuttle looms impossibly far away, and it's only when the sunlight is briefly blotted out that he realizes what's happening. Fumbling for the blaster at his side, he speaks in a lower voice to Tycho, "Incoming, looks like we've got company," in warning.

Another smile creeped up his face as the warning is shouted down the hallway. Obviously, they had already made their position clear and the marines that Wolf could see hadn't made themselves public, he took in a deep breath and did what he could to shout at the invaders, "Watch your step!" he said, painfully, "You shouldn't be shouting things like that, all it does is give your position away." he wanted to have a small bit of fun before whoever it was finished him off.

A few twitches emerge from the head tails in response to Tritus, though no spoken words emit from Chez'na. Contious is she to mock the movements of both Tritus and Lierra, as they slip within the opening. The lithe fingers curl a bit tighter around the borrowed Sawed-Off blaster rifle within her grasp, almost hesitant to even come close to the trigger, though looks can be deceiving. The obsidian orbs squint lightly as a quick glance is given towards the female as she barks out the orders.

The unnamed marine manages to get his hand around the grip of his blaster but the warning shots AND the issued fair warning, on top of his own injuries, are enough to make him ease his hand back from the grip. "Okay.." he coughs again, "okay. I'm unarmed," he adds for emphasis.

Speaking quietly, he says to the others, "Shoot any resistance first. Then our target. After that, I want anyone left alive to stay that way until I speak with them." Without another word, Tritus glances both ways down the hall, looking cautiously about, ere finally eyes alight upon the unnamed marine.

A faint smirk rests upon his lips as Tritus steps out into the hall, taking a few steps forth towards the wounded, unnamed marine. Bi-Polar cradled in his arms, he nods. "Good." he says simply, ere the muzzle of the carbine is brought upwards, and the trigger is squeezed, releasing a 'WHOMP' as the weapon looses a bolt which hurtles without mercy towards the chest of the man who stood up.

Now standing outside of Wolf's cell as he does this, no emotion plays upon the features of Tritus. He kills without mercy, without care, should the bolt succeed in it's objective. He is devoid of any compassion.

Lierra offers something resembling a smile (though not very much) as Tritus fires at the marine. She keeps her carbine pointed down the hall, but doesn't bother paying a lot of attention. She is apparently looking at the prisoners. "I like giving away my position," she responds, "that way they know I'm here." She shoots down the hall once more as a deterrent to other marines.

A shake of his head as the Marine falls to the ground like a ragdoll. Thinking himself of the same fate, Wolf twisted his wrists in his restraints and eyed the man. There was nothing he could do if he was going to die. He felt no sympathy for the Marine or anyone that was going to die serving on this ship. Wolf's Imperial mentallity still hadn't failed, and the sight of them dying brought his head back together almost as efficiently as an ISB re-education.

The unnamed Marine had one hand held up, palm open, the universal signal for 'unarmed', though he'd already said it. The end of the carbine looms suddenly in his field of vision, the WHOMP of sound is followed by the burst of light before it impacts the marine dead center of his chest. His breath rattles, eyes bulging for a moment before they slowly begin to glaze over. He collapses backwards, crumbling like so much meat and bones and the scent of scorched flesh.

Another bolt is loosed, swiftly dispatching Tycho, and soon, Tritus' attention shifts to Wolf.

Waving the others passed, Tritus comments, "Vrayic. Bring me his head." Pausing a moment, he looks Lierra in the eye. "Make sure it's recognizable." And, paying no more heed to the other two, he turns his attention, and the muzzle of his carbine, fully upon Wolf.

Looking him over stoically, Tritus comments, "You seem little disturbed with the situation you now find yourself in. Tell me your name, and why you're aboard this piece of junk."

Lierra nods and steps forward, drawing the pistol from her left thigh and looking around for her target. Upon spotting Vayic she puts the gun to his throat and says, "Bad luck for you," and squeezes the trigger. Then she steps back and holsters both weapons. "Anyone else?"

"Disturbed? Only that I can't move." Wolf said with a smile, his head raised slowly into the light making his face a little more visable. Well, as visable as shadows and light make his face. The left side of his face healing nicely, the only thing left was his eye. Who cares.. he thought. "Commander Seifer Wolf of the Imperial Navy.." he stated aloud. "Well.. Ex." he said, another smile creeped up his damaged face.

"I see." says Tritus impassively. Long moments does he watch the man, even through the blast that comes from Vrayic's cell, and as the head is presented, he nods. "Kill everyone but this one." he states calmly. "You help him." he says to the Twi'lek girl. "Make sure she kills at least one." he adds to Lierra.

Then, his attention is fixed upon Wolf once more. "Ex-Imperial, hmm? And a Commander, you say." Watching him, studying almost, Tritus seems to consider this for a moment. "Well, then. I suppose the question is simple. What do you offer me for your freedom?"

"What is there for an Ex-Imperial hanging from a cell have to give you?" Wolf asked, not moving much of an inch as the head is presented. Help? he thought.. /they/ were going to help him? "I might have some credits left laying around.." he said, his head dropping in thought.. "Though, it might be a good idea to discuss this when my arms don't feel like they're being ripped out." Lierra's carbine is drawn again as Wolf identifies himself, and she turns back to face Tritus. "He's mine," she says. "Consider it payment for helping you deal with these damn Rebel prison-keepers." It's not pointed at him, exactly. "You have Vrayic to worry about, after all."

His own carbine is brought about swiftly, and Tritus lowers it's muzzle directly upon Lierra. "I don't think so." he says calmly. "Go about your business, as instructed, or be in your grave. You decide." There is no compromise within his gaze, as he adds, "Now."

Chez'na features still do not display the emotions that run rampant beneath. Everything going on around her sends the obsidian orbs to skitter about, never laying upon one thing for too long. The strewns of muscles surrounding her mandible tense, clenching teeth together as the order dispels from Tritus. A wary glance is given towards Lierra, then back towards Tritus, staying in her stance for now.

Lierra sighs and shakes her head slowly. "Never did like you." And then she swings a left hook for Tritus's jaw, eyes narrowed. "Not in the mood to be messed around," she says through clenched teeth.

The eyebrow that wasn't attatched to a non-existant eye socket raises slightly. These people were un-organized. Ruthless. Another smile reached up his face, "I'm not a normal Commander.." Wolf said, "I'm not one to sit behind a damn desk.. don't think I'm a padd-pusher." Wolf's humor was placed for himself only, he was fighting the pain he was in, though what seemed like he didn't need to as it looked from his point of view, that the two were fighting over him.

'' Lierra rolls a 11 for her BRAWLING skill. Lierra boosts this roll with a Character Point for 11, for a total of 22. An Excellent roll!''

'' Tritus rolls a 21 for his BRAWLING skill. An Excellent roll!''

'' Lierra rolls a 11 for her STRENGTH skill. An Average roll! ''

'' Tritus rolls a 18 for his STRENGTH skill. A Good roll! ''

The woman swings, and a good swing it is, catching Tritus off guard. The black-clad man, however, seems prepared as always as his head swivels to the left, the punch just cliping his jaw.

Tritus, however, is not a compassionate man. His Bi-Polar lowers a fraction, and he soon releases a blast for the woman's right thigh, his head meanwhile turning back about to face her, should she try anything further.

'' Tritus rolls a 17 for his BLASTER skill. A Good roll! ''

'' Lierra rolls a 13 for her DODGE skill. Lierra boosts this roll with a Character Point for 7, for a total of 20. A Good roll!''

Quick to back off from this oncoming fight, Chez'na takes a number of back peddling steps from the brawling duo. The lithe fingers curl tighter around the rifle within her hands, its barrel turning to face Lierra just incase.

As the two begin fighting amongst themselves Wolf looked around again, looking for some sort of escape-plan of his own. Noticing the whole in the bulkhead had made the surrounding area around one of the attatchments on the wall, Wolf began to tug on it, his muscles flexing with his actions, sending his back into some exercise he hadn't had in a while.

Lierra smiles and shakes off her left hand even as she deftly steps aside from Tritus' blast, leaving an ugly charring on the floor a few feet from where her leg should have been. She continues to step behind Wolf in attempt to use him for cover, and grabs her pistol and puts it to his back. "He's mine or he's a corpse," she repeats. Her carbine continues to cover Tritus.

"Fine." comes Tritus' reply as he levels his carbine on Wolf, but at the last instant, it raises, and he lets loose another bolt. This time, he sends it careening upwards, blowing the restraints into tatters, and releasing their hold upon the prisoner. Even as this occurs, the weapons is once more lowered, training on Lierra's chest. "I suggest we do this... elsewhere."

Wolf smiled as Lierra put the gun to his back, "That was a fast run." Wolf said, grinning as the restraints flailed to the ground and as usual, Wolf's legs weren't exactly touching the ground at the time. (If anyone had taken notice, I was a fair bit off the ground.) The prisoner falling, even if it was a small distance, fell down and backwards onto his weak knees. Effectively falling towards Lierra.

Lierra instinctively winces as the blaster goes off, then notices that the shot was Not At Her and looks relieved until she realizes that six feet of Imperial officer are falling towards her. She makes her best attempt to catch Wolf without actually dropping either of her weapons.

'' Lierra rolls a 8 for her STRENGTH skill. A Poor roll!''

Falling back, Wolf is caught by the woman with great effort. He attempts to help her with his legs, and his arms shot out to the sides. He was now supported by Lierra. Was this it? Was he about to be free again? What was he going todo now.. Call up the Empire? No. He would have to think of something else. Maybe he was going to like wherever they were going to take him, either way.

Stepping forth as the woman's hands are full, and her balance is precarious, Tritus' Bi-Polar raises, pointed at her head. "I suggest... we get him to the ship, and take him back to Draga. -He- will determine what to do with him. Not you. And -I- will ensure his safe passage to Lord Draga." Pausing, he speaks directly to Wolf without taking his eyes from Lierra. "If you wish to submit to his authority and mercy. If not, we kill you now."

Lierra rolls her eyes. "I need a co-pilot. I'm flying him back." She smirks. "I'm sure you and your scary black trenchcoat can come kill us both if we don't go back to Tatooine straightaway. But you owe me. This one's mine." Meanwhile she has not released either weapon and has ducked her head mostly out of harm's way.

Wolf grinned, it was either /say/ he was going to submit and have a chance, or die. He lifted a hand to Tritus' blaster, placing his fingers over the barrel of it and pushing it away as quickly as he could. "Get that thing outta my face and get me the hell outta here. Noone is going to get anywhere from fighting amongst themselves. Rebel forces will be here soon." He said, attepmting to stand, "You two sort your shit out later when I'm not involved, and I'd love to be behind the controls again. Take me to Draga."

Tritus allows Wolf to guide the blaster aside, and he nods once. "Fine. You take him back there, but he better make it there alive, unscathed, and once there, he's Draga's business." Without another comment, he turns about, calling over his shoulder, "You carry his sorry ass on your own." Then, the black-clad man is up and out of the extra hole in the hull, beckoning Chez'na to follow close behind, once all other survivors are relieved of breath.

The lithe fingers uncurl slightly from around the rifle, though still keep it within her grasp. Chez'na's boots come to grope across the ground swiftly, as she follows in turn behind Tritus.

"I'll try." Wolf said, "Pleasure to meet you too." His legs were straining, but holding him good enough to get to a ship soon. "Let's go.." he said, raising a hand to his face and over the wounds. "Good.." he muttered, looking at Lierra with one eye.