This is the heart of the Nighthawk-class ships. A powerful compact fusion reactor generates immense energy for a ship of it's size across a robust power grid throughout the vessel, mostly being directed to the insatiable hunger of the spike-drive. The Maxim Shipyards TriPhased Spike-drive ate up most of the power generated by the reactor, especially when used for FTL jumps.

This section of the ship is litered with tools lockers, overhead panels, bundled cables and power conduits. Even more cramped that other sections of the ship you have to partly crouch, partly crawl or swing yourself along to get to anything.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:16, Sat 19 Jan 2013.

Focusing on his footing, making sure not to trip over any wires on the ground, Luth manages to knock his head on some low hanging wires instead. "Son of a.."  He rubs his head and takes a look around, taking extra caution to all low hanging spots.

He ducks and crawls around different areas, looking at all the different flashing lights and control panels.  This wasn't anything like the pilot seat.  Much more...complex, at least to the untrained eye.

This part of the ship is incredibly loud. The further aft you get the more the noise fills the compartments of the vessel. You find ear protection on some of the equipment trollies and wisely secure it to your head.

There's not much in the way of life back here, underneath one of several spinning devices you think might have something to do with stabilizing the spike phase level a young deck crewman is lying with the chief engineering officer, with a glowing fibre optics circuit between them. You think they're talking about it, but it's impossible to hear over the pulsing roar of the primary drive cylinder as it maintains your metadimensional vector.

Luth looks intently at them for a moment, and shakes his head.  I've never been good at reading lips, and it's so loud in here, I probably wouldn't get much from them...not that I'd understand much of the jargon he thinks to himself.

He ducks under a few more low spots, and manages to get back to the passageway leading to what he believes will be the mess hall.  Luth removes the ear protection and places it back on the wall before heading off in the new direction.

To the mess hall

Annie missed Luthar by the narrowest of margins as she went off duty, stepping over her chief and giving her a handsign to let her know. She eyed the deckhand suspiciously, after all, their kind weren't real engineers and who knows what kind of a mess he might make? She pushed her goggles up and popped her aural filters out, tucking the silver earplugs into her breast pocket, before pulling her red ship-robe over her head and smoothing it into place.

She practically lived in the engine room. The rest of the ship was cold in comparison, but it also had food. Not knowing that she was only a turn behind the co-pilot, she followed him towards the mess hall.

OOC: Arik, you're in this section now.

A few tense moments pass as you advance deeper into the engineering section. The thrum and pulse of the machinery hides any indication of who came through here earlier but equally conceals the bulk of your armor which might give you away in silence. Instead, you are able to pick your way between various engine components and over piping to reach the main control deck for the Shackleton's inner works.

You round a corner and there before you is the primary control console with it's attendant workstations about 8 meters away. Crouched over one of the secondary consoles is someone in a luxurious black and crimson robe, with a lithe athletic body and short white hair. A long curved skana blade has been thrust into the deckplating by his side and blood is dripping off it onto the ground in a small puddle.

He seems not to notice you, absorbed in whatever task he's undertaken on the console.

Whoops. Didn't realize there was a second thread.

At the sight of the robed man, with the bloody knife beside him, Arik didn't hesitate. Those robes weren't regulation, and the bloody knife sure as hell wasn't either. Whatever the bastard was doing on the console may have caused the comm blackout.

So he didn't cry out a command to stop or a warning, he simply took aim and squeezed off a three-round burst, just as he'd been trained.

16:26, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 2 using 1d8+1. Initiative.
Rolled this just in case.
16:27, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 13 using 1d20+3. Combat Rifle Burst Fire
+1 Attack Bonus, with +2 from using Burst Fire. Forgot my Dex mod to the attack roll, so the result should be 14.
16:29, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 9 using 1d12+3. Damage (With Burst Fire).
This message was last edited by the player at 21:31, Mon 04 Feb 2013.

The white haired man flinches a moment before you squeeze the trigger and twists out of the way, the first two rounds catching him on the flanks, tearing through the robes and recocheting off an armorskin hidden beneath as the third round barely misses and plinks into the control panel and sends out a shower of sparks as the isoholographic crystals are shattered and the energy is released into the structure.

He ducks and weaves like something out of an advanced holo-training simulation, movement almost too fast and precise to be entirely human. His crimson eyes flash cruelly at you for a split second as he recovers even faster than you can, crossing back against his original path and seizing his sword from the deck.

His other arm comes up and he aims it at you as if he's pointing, makes a fist and a shot comes from a weapon hidden on his wrist beneath the sleeve of his robes.

You recognize him now. He's from a minor family who owes vasselhood to the Indari directly, the Meyrink Clan. His pale skin and gene-altered eyes give him away at once and his robes are that of a lesser noble, perhaps a minor count or knight. His weapon, the blood-soaked Skana was common amongst the houses of the Indari, but it was a sign of duty rather than status. No high-born heir to a Housethrone would carry such an implement, they were tools of execution and fear to be wielded by the proxy agents of the Lords and Ladies of Hegemony who would use them to eliminate rivals or obstacles to their own success and power.

This individual is an assassin of the Hegemony almost certainly.

A pistol round punches into your chest and bounces off, deflected by the advanced overlapping weave of your Skyplate as the assassin takes cover behind a cluster of pipes.

Hoping that the gunfire would maybe draw some attention, Arik took cover behind another console and popped up to fire another burst. There was no time to dwell on the ramifications of who this man was or what he was doing: there was only the fight to survive.

22:54, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 18 using 1d20+4. Combat Rifle Burst Fire.
22:55, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 4 using 1d12+3. Damage (With Burst Fire).
Also note that I want to use my Warrior's Luck class ability the first time an attack would hit me. My HP is so low, so any hit would instantly be fatal.

The infantry rifle barked again and put more rounds at it's target, this time Arik was rewarded with a splattering spray of dark red blood over the deck and one of the flickering consoles.

There was a few moments of silence as you lost track of your target, unsure whether or not you landed a killing blow.

A shape flashed in a corner of your vision and you leapt back at the last moment, a stroke from his skana sword that would have opened your throat instead gouging a scar into your pauldron and bouncing off harmlessly. You see him more clearly now as you struggle to get out of range of his deadly blade and turn your weapon against him.

Having discarded the robes he wears only a smooth undersuit with wrist mounted pistols. Though visibly wounded, he recovers quickly and darts erratically closer towards you.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:42, Tue 05 Feb 2013.

Gritting his teeth, Arik fell back a few steps, raising his rifle and firing again. Fear coursed through his veins; he was alone, against an assassin who seemed to have shrugged off a full burst, and was still moving as quickly as a snake. But this was no time to let fear take hold.

Moving back a bit and firing again.
15:00, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 4 using 1d12+3. Damage (With Burst Fire).
15:00, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 12 using 1d20+4. Combat Rifle Burst Fire.
Not sure if that last round triggered the Warrior's Luck: if not, still keep it in reserve to use when hit.

The next burst missed him entirely, the snake-like assassin taunts him, licking his lips and swaying swiftly as he moves, an almost hypnotic dance with his sword as he get in close again and strikes, this time with a thrust aimed at Arik's groin.

The tip of the blade rebounds off the thigh plating, scarring it but not penetrating and Janus, spins, recovering yet again from a failed stroke. Gleeful malice in his eyes as he sets up another strike, almost serenely given the intensity of the combat.

Arik vaulted over another console, putting some more distance between him and the insanely-calm assassin. His mind didn't race with questions as to the man's identity or purpose: the assassin was simply a target. Another step back, and another burst, just like the training holograms he'd seen, to instruct soldiers on how to face melee opponents or vicious beasts.

15:16, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 12 using 1d12+3. Damage (With Burst Fire).
15:16, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 22 using 1d20+4. Combat Rifle Burst Fire.
Again: Warrior's Luck on standby if needed.

The shot should have hit, you had him dead-to-rights. Just as you lined up your shot he dodged, tumbling through a half somersault and landing ready to strike, he looks up at you, sword arm outstretched and there is hatred in his eyes now and he seems to be breathing harder than before, chest hammering quickly as he makes his next strike lunging foward like a striking cobra and bringing his skana around for your head.

The cut should have cleft your head in twain, but in a flash of instinct your rifle came up and the blade struck the stock instead of your head, the assassin wrenching it clear of the weapon and circling around you rapidly to put you off balance. You feel the burning exhaustion of the fight beginning to fatigue you.

OOC: Both your warrior's luck abilities were used up that past round.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:26, Tue 05 Feb 2013.

Arik breathed in deeply, staggering back a step and firing again. He needed it end this, quickly; he doubted his luck would continue to hold.

Where is the rest of the damn crew? he thought, his fear mounting.

15:36, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 9 using 1d12+3. Damage (With Burst Fire).
15:35, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 10 using 1d20+4. Combat Rifle Burst Fire.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:38, Tue 05 Feb 2013.

Another wide miss, panic was setting in and you're having trouble controlling your shots. No matter how much you tell yourself that this is just like training it's a lot more real.

You count off your shots.. how many more bursts left until reload? Three? Four? How long has it been? You sent the deck crewman to the bridge. What if he didn't make it? What if the bridge crew is already dead? What if it's just you and this slimy bastard left and- SLLIITT -how did he get so close? You were just about ready to fire again and now he's less than half a meter away and... his skana blade is buried to the hilt in your abdomen. The point stabbed through the weaker abdominal plating and went all the way through you.

There's a burning agony in your stomach as he pulls the blade back out and pushes you down to the deck. Everything is getting dark and hazy. Your thoughts are clouded... but... you remember you're still holding your rifle in one hand, clutching it to your body as you bleed and your strength ebbs away.

He's still standing over you, wiping off his blade...

He sounds very far away...
Sleep, son of Aesgar. Sleep."

12:47, Today: The Void, on behalf of Janus Meyrink, rolled 4 using 1d8+1. Skana damage.
 12:45, Today: The Void, on behalf of Janus Meyrink, rolled 27 using 1d20+8. monoskana attack.
OOC: You can make one more attack against him at minus 2 your normal bonus.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:59, Tue 05 Feb 2013.

Vaguely and dimly Arik saw a shape above him. As the pain faded away to numbness, his weak arm repositioned the rifle, his trembling fingers squeezing the trigger one last time.

This is it. Over. Were Arik's last thoughts before darkness overtook him.

16:01, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 5 using 1d12+3. Damage (With Burst Fire).
16:00, Today: Arik Aesgar rolled 8 using 1d20+2. Combat Rifle Burst Fire.

You arrive in the Engineering section of the ship, noticing that the alarms are still blaring throughout the ship. The saboteur would have been able to disable those if he or she wanted to, meaning that either the saboteur was out of action... or they wanted the unsettling sound drowning out all other noises.

You find your first signs of the attacker. Chief Medical Officer Venn's voidborn daughter lies with her left carotid artery opened by a very precise incision. Her mother pales as she sees the blood and chokes up as she attempts to revive her for a few moments until Junior Medical Officer Hael reaches down and stops her.

The body is already cooling.

Ten meters later, the body of Chief Engineering Officer Shubai with the same laceration across his windpipe and left carotid, slumped against the bulkhead in a pool of drying blood.

A set of bloody bootprints leads into the main engineering section.

Master Farhenra singles everyone to be quiet and keep their weapons ready as they move into the crowded chamber.

OOC: perception check

--> From The Bridge-->

The sound of the klaxon was obnoxiously overbearing, but Justor was used to focusing under stress, so he managed to drown out the background noise with his own thoughts.  Unfortunately, his thoughts turned towards the disturbing as they entered engineering and found the two dead crew members.  He watched as Medical Officer Venn tried to resuscitate her daughter, his face passive as he inspected the wound from afar.  When they reached the Chief Engineer's corpse, Justor was already forming hypotheses about what had been used to make the wounds.  Whatever it was, it wasn't a standard firearm, or even a laser or microwave weapon.

Spying the footprints alongside Farhenra, Justor falls in and begins advancing on the Main Engineering section...

OOC
18:03, Today: Justor Reson rolled 13 using 2d6+2. Perception.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:13, Thu 07 Feb 2013.

Your methodical nature and analytical mind serve you well in this situation. Around a corner you find the main engineering center with all the consoles and control stations. You immediate recognize a fight happened here. Indari made rifle rounds had been sprayed into nearly everything. Someone had been firing and missing their target repeatedly. No evidence of any return fire though.

There was some blood spattered on one of the consoles and... over to your left you notice a body wearing Aesgarian Gold, a standard suit of Astral Trooper armor from the Aesgar House forces. Still twitching but bleeding out, maybe 10 meters away.

Which meant that...
Just in time you saw a shape crawl out around a bundle of cables to your right and stalk swiftly towards you.

OOC: Roll initaitive!

The moment Justor saw the body on his left, he turned slightly to call out to the medical officer, but before he could complete his turn, a sudden movement caught his eye.  He swung back and lifted his pistol, his eyes fixed on whatever it was rushing at him from the darkness.
"Halt!"
He called out at the form to stop, both to give it a chance to cease what may not be an act of aggression, and to alert the others.

OOC:
18:23, Today: Justor Reson rolled 1 using 1d8-1. Initiative.
Ugh. =w=

The white haired civilan Observer was fast, too fast for Justor to track with his pistol and the scientist froze up as Janus leapt towards him, his own skana blade lifted up over head ready to bring it down on the hapless non-combatant.

Justor Reson didn't have a fire's chance in the void.

There was a metalic ringing and a visceral tearing noise followed by the sound of something heavy collapsing to the ground.

Zenner Farhenra stood between Justor and Janus, his own skana sword held out, tip down and dripping with fresh blood. The white-haired observer lay on the ground, convulsing and clutching the neatly ruined stump of his right arm, the severed part of it lay a meter or two away, still clutching tightly the hilt of the blade that had ended several lives aboard the ship today.

Justor was vaguely aware that the medical crew had gathered around the body of the Astral Trooper but he found it hard to keep his eyes off of the Executive Officer as he stood from his crouch and straighted, flicking blood off the end of the curved sword as he walked in a slow circle around the maimed saboteur.

Farhenra placed a boot on Janus, rolling him onto his back and holding him there as he raised his blade up high again with two hands. Before he had even seemed to finish his flourish he had already completed his stroke, opening the cartoid artery on the left side of Janus Meyrink's neck and releasing a spray of blood, the life leaving his crimson eyes after only two breaths.

Justor could have sworn that Janus had been smiling as he died.

"Are you alright, Mr. Reson?"

For a moment, Justor felt as though his life had passed before his eyes.  The red light of the engineering section flashed off of Meyrink's blade as it descended towards Justor, only to be flung away by the timely reaction of Farhenra.  He watched, as if he were frozen, as Farhenra coldly laid open the assassin's neck, leaving more blood to pool on the deck.  At the sound of his name, Justor blinked hard and looked down at the pistol in his hands, finding his mouth dry as he tried to swallow.
"It...it's Doctor, actually..."
His hand was shaking almost as much as his voice.  He looked back at Farhenra, even if the man wasn't facing him.
"Thank you."

Almost like a sheet had been pulled off of his eyes, the blaring of the sirens brought back Justor's senses, and he shook his head.  Nerves might have been warranted in such  a close call, but there was no telling what damage the sabateur might have done, and with the Chief Engineer dead and his junior on the shuttle...Justor took a deep breathe, and he was all business again.
"We need to find whatever damage Meyrink caused and restore power.  Where is the rest of Engineering?"
He hadn't noticed before, but the main engineering section was oddly vacant considering the persist alarms going off in the ship.

He calmly slid his Skana back into the sheath and stooped the pry the saboteur's weapon from his lifeless fingers before responding.

"The chief engineer is dead. We need our junior engineering officer back here immediately. She is currently down on the planet. The Deck crew can handle some of it... but we'll need Voidmaster Grey." he looked around gravely. "I will sweep the ship for additional saboteurs, but I doubt we'll find any... take the comms officer back to the bridge and tell them to return to the ship immediately. The door code is ZW8291."

Justor listened to Farhenra's orders with gravity.  This betrayal had been costly indeed.  So many crew members dead.  Justor nodded to Farhenra.
"Understood."
He turned back to find the Comms Officer, disregarding the medical personnel attending to Meyrink's last victim.  He was a lucky man; a few more minutes and he would most certainly have been dead.  When he got to Comms Officer Donnel, he tapped his shoulder and motioned towards the entrance to Engineering.
"Come, Mr. Donnel, let us guide our comrades home."

Not waiting overly long for the Comm Officer's response, Justor made his way towards the exit of Engineering to return to the bridge.

--> Exit to The Bridge-->

-- Bridge -->

Annie was somewhat out of breath as she appeared in Engineering, still clad in her void suit for the most part, although her helmet was under her arm.

"Sta-" Her request for a report was cut off by the sight of her old boss and Sami Venn laying dead. She stared for long moments, then her eyes flicked to Janus' body, hardening slightly. "Do we know where he was working from?" She asked the attending people.

Master Farhenra approached from the shadowy corners of the engine room, his harsh features illuminated strangely by the crimson emergency lighting.

He carried a curved sword in a relaxed reverse grip, a ceremonial skana blade and another one sheathed on his back. He wore a Commander's cap now, which you realized used to be on Commander Valna.

He stepped over Janus and came to a stop in front of Voidmaster Grey.

"Killed three. Wounded two. Critical condition. They're being frozen right now..." His voice trails off, distant. He's covered in blood.

There is no sign of anyone else in the chamber, but Janus and the other two bodies have been mostly sealed up in cadaver sleeves.

"Three..?" Annie whispered, then her eyes flicked to his cap. She saluted. "Then, Commander Valna is also..?" She asked, worried.

"She is badly injured. Officer Venn has her now, she will live only because of that. I found her stuffed into a ventilation shaft with her throat slit. If I had been a few minutes later..." The normally stoic Master seems shaken by the events of the day.

Grey nodded, grimly.

"You did well, then. Now, what did that waste of air do to my ship?" Annie went over to one of the consoles and started calling up diagnostics, coaxing the ship to tell her its woes.

00:40, Today: Annabel Grey rolled 8 using 2d6. Status.

If the bridge was a mess, engineering was a garbage dump.

There were bullet holes everywhere, several consoles were blown through completely. Pipes had been punctured and had been sealed down the line to prevent deadly gasses from building up. Cables were cut by stray rounds and in several cases might have been severed deliberately by a cutting tool of some kind.

There was a great deal of blood, roughly four bodies worth spread all over the place.


The computer system wasn't much better.

He'd tried to shut down systems and when he couldn't figure out how to alter the system settings he'd cracked the security barrier in seconds and uploaded some kind of intrusion worm which had given him access to functions one by one as it did all the heavy lifting and seemed to have been designed to attack and disable star ship functions.

Pretty much everything but life support and comms were off, but he had been part way to working that too. The worm had been erased as soon as he'd been discovered but before he'd died.

He didn't want anyone to know where he was coming from or what his goals had ultimately been.

--From Moonwing Shuttle-->

"Meyrink was a saboteur!?" Dizzy's voice picked up a few decibels as Maire intimated that particular detail to her.  She made a slight hissing sound through her teeth at the thought, "Gorum strike me for a blind fool!  I should've known! non-military personnel with full access to the ship?  Even if I we couldn't restrict his movements, I should've had one of the Astrals with him at all times, ostensibly for his protection." Dizzy slammed her fist against a wall, gritting her teeth.

Politics weren't exactly Dizzy's strong point.  Where she came from, disagreements tended to be handled blade to blade in the circle of honor, or in the chaos and fire of the field of valor.  Subterfuge, assassins, saboteurs?  Few Garesh employed such tactics, because those who were caught tended to be turned over to the Church to be made a proper example of.  But she'd been in space for months now, she knew that things were different in other parts of the Hegemony, she just hadn't been smart enough to anticipate that the vaunted Indarian house would want to sabotage their own project.

"You know what this means, don't you?  Someone wants Rangers' mission to fail, to make the Indarian nobles lose face.  With the expense that's gone into this initiative, if it flops the political fallout might be enough to rattle Indarian supremacy in Hegemony space."

She took a breath and shook her head, ordering her thoughts and trying to get her mind back on task.

"Do you think you're going to be able to sense the Commander and the Pilot?  Or are we down to the ol' Mark I eyeball?" she asked, pulling the shoulder strap of her rifle over her head as she got a look at the damage the fighting had done down here.  She whistled softly, "Grenth's smile . . .", she sounded almost impressed.

Maire jumped and barely strangled her scream when Dizzy's fist hit the wall, and almost slumped back to the ground when she was able to stop herself from  dashing in the opposite direction. "Sorry... you startled me..." She said with a gasp, but she continued to move down the hall with Dizzy at a slightly increased pace. WHen they got to Engineering, she groaned inwardly at the sight of everything in wrecks. And the blood... gods, all that blood made her want to barf right now... She quickly took in Master Fahrhenra, and remarked to Dizzy as she set a course for him, "I think he found commander Valna." She then turned to him. "Dead or severely injured?" She asked, expertly hiding her previous loss of composure behind a facade of actually knowing what to do. Even though that was fake too.

"That still leaves the pilot."  Dizzy responded as Maire noted the cap that Master Farhenra was wearing, "Until we find him, we have to entertain the notion that he may have been Janus's co-conspirator instead of his victim.  Play it safe."

She drew herself up straight and brought her hand up in salute to the XO, though she was content to let Maire lead that conversation for the moment.  Given the pang of responsibility she was feeling, she didn't particularly want her superior scrutinizing her too closely.

"Pilot Eastfall is dead. The Commander is alive, but barely."

He seemed a combination of weary, sad and exhausted.

"The only thing to do now is clean up the ship and see if we can get her in working order. The Commander is currently being frozen in the medical bay, which places me as the acting Commander of this mission. I expect you will all follow my orders just as you would hers."

Zenner Farhenra turns to Dizzy now.

"I understand you performed admirably on the planet's surface. You crewed the guns that took out the remaining drone fighter and saved your team members despite being unfamiliar with the technology and the weaponry. I have heard high praise of your people, Desna, and I am not disappointed." His weathered face contorts into a tired smile, something none of you have ever seen before. He holds out the hilt of the sword and offers it to you silently.

"Understood, Commander." Dizzy nodded, still standing at attention as Master Farhenra explained the new reality of their situation.  The man was shouldering a heavy burden, delivered to him with a side order of grief.  He was going to need a little time to settle into the role, a display of due difference would only help that along.  She relaxed her posture marginally as he informed her that what they needed was a clean up detail, not a search party.

"I'll save the details for the official debrief, Sir, but it was the efforts of the entire team that saw us through." she stopped short of singling out the Voidmistress's contributions for the moment, given that she was within ear shot, "I'm honored to serve alongside such capable companions."  She blinked a bit as the Master Farhenra turned the blade in his hand over and offered it to her.  She looked at it for a moment as if unsure at first, there were few things prized more highly than weapons among her people after all, receiving one as a gift was generally considered a significant act.  Still, she looked at the tired smile on his face, and accepted it with a surprisingly ginger touch.

"I am not yet deserving of such recognition." she said, though there was a slightly formal clip to it as her eyes traced over the blade . . . lighter than her people tended towards, quick, graceful, "But I will strive to become worthy of it." she finished.  It was a common enough sentiment among the Gareshi, the notion of noblesse oblige did not exist on the harsh world, tributes were traditionally passed up through the ranks rather than gifts passed down.  So, when an exception occurred, it was important to bear it with the proper humility, as it tended to imply a "superior" thought you had it within yourself to become a "peer".

Of course, she'd make a brief inquiry into the significance of the act in Farhenra's culture before jumping to any conclusions.  She glanced around for something she could use as a sheathe, not particularly wanting to stalk the berths with a naked mono-edge.

"I suppose I can start by moving these bodies to the shuttle hangar where they'll be out of the way.  Can't have the crew tripping over them while they work."

Annie looked up from her mutterings over the computer to greet Dizzy and Maire with a distressed, fake smile.

"That would be appreciated. They're upsetting Shackleton..." She didn't look at the bags, although she did glance to the left before mumbling; "not to mention me." She closed her eyes for a moment, then shook it off and pulled her goggles down over her eyes, looking to Fahrenha. "I'm going to need a few days to get everything running, but I should be able to stabilise life support and get power back online before we fall out of orbit." She reported with forced cheer, before returning to the console. "If you can spare anyone from hunting down data-thieves, there's about a mile of cabling that needs stripping out and replacing down here."

As she spoke, she was already working on restoring the systems damaged by the worm from Shubai's personal backups, assuming the Chief had been that kind of competent Engineer.

The new acting Commander looked around at the group of you.

"Grey, Hargieve, that will be all."

He turned to Maire and fixed her with a stern look.

"Come with me."

"Of course, lead the way sir." Maire said mildly, no trace of anxiety present in any part of her body.

"We're going to medical."

He starts walking without waiting for you, showing no sign of concern or tension.

---> Medical Bay

Maire followed quickly behind Master Farhenra.

---> TO Medical Bay

Dizzy nodded a bit as she was dismissed, dropping into a more relaxed position.  She blinked a bit as he told Maire to come along with him, but she didn't comment.  Instead, she leaned the blade that had been handed to her  against the wall for a moment, just long enough for her to put her arms around one of the body bags that were arranged on the floor.  With a grunt, she lifted the body up until it settled over her shoulder, keeping it balanced with one arm as she rose to her feet again.  It was a bit awkward, the rifle hanging against her side from a strap on her shoulder, the body putting her weight lopsided, and her other hand taken up with the blade, but she managed it well enough.

"If you need any unskilled hands, or just a runner for tools or materials, I'll try to keep in earshot until they get the comms up and running again." she said to the Junior Engineer with a nod.  Annabel had enough on her plate, she didn't need to be screaming to get whatever she needed on top of that.  Besides, a little simple menial work would do Dizzy good . . . she apparently had a sermon to write for three comrades, felled not by the dangers of their work, but by foul treachery.  Her mind had always worked better when her body was working as well.

Back straight, she made her way back to the shuttle bay, planning to make a detour through the Quarters to stow her weapons before she came back for the next body.

-->  Moonwing Shuttlebay -->

>> From Bridge >>

Luthar and Ludo arrived and it was clear they were mostly uninformed as to the full extent of the recent events that had unfolded in engineering.

"Egads," Ludo whispered as he examined the egregious nature of hardware and cabling that seemed to littler the area. "Wh-wh-..." he breathed deeply. "What... In all the void-"

Ludo eyed a discombobulated-looking Annabelle Grey.

"GREY!" blurted Ludo. "Logan and An'bhaird on deck." stated Astra Obvious. "What's the damage?" he asked with an odd, cold smile. [Private to Luthar An'bhaird:
Is this grimace style smile a habit when he speaks to anyone?]
[Private to Annabel Grey; Luthar An'bhaird:

Annabel, would you be so kind to briefly describe the current area? Like a recap of where we're at - with damage, etc? I know we're in downtime - but I'd like to finish RPing this through portion - get some Player on Player action :) Thanks ^_^ ]
This message was last edited by the player at 02:54, Fri 15 Feb 2013.

>>From Quarters and Mess>>

Hearing the hiss of the lift doors, Lanik looked up from adjusting his metatool and stepped into Engineering. His eyes took in the chaotic scene quickly before resting on the other inhabitants of the deck - Junior Comms officer Logan, Astra Prime An'bhaird and Junior Engineer Grey.

*Looks like a mag-train derailed in here. This isn't going to be an easy job.*

Avoiding the debris scattering the deck-plates, Lanik approached the group. "Officer Logan, Officer An'Bhaird... Officer Grey." He offers a cursory bow of the head to everyone present.

"I'm happy to help in whatever capacity you require. If you need anything from supplies, just let me know. Otherwise, I can help repair some of the machinery." He raises his right arm to show his metatool.

Luthar stared blankly at the Engineering deck.  Reson wasn't kidding when he said they needed Grey to come help.  When the Quartermaster showed up, Luthar gave a quick salute and turned back to the mess.

"Annie, what can we do?"  He had no clue where to start, but was willing to give his all to repair the ship and make it fly worthy again.

[Private to Aloysius Logan: Sometimes, yes.  Luthar tries to be a happy go lucky type though, and doesn't make cold smiles often...only in truly dire situations.]

Lanik sat in the cramped commissary office with a focused expression, going over the cargo manifests once more for good measure. In spite of his drawn appearance, his once soiled uniform was newly washed and pressed with the sort of precision that only comes from marine training. The toll of the last few weeks could still be seen in his face, drawn and pallid as it was. But despite such appearances, Lanik hadn't felt better than he had over the last week. Even in deep space, his job frequently took place behind a desk. If there was one thing he missed from his short-lived career in the corps it was the pressure. He never worked better than when under pressure.

Closing the manifest vid-'splay, Lanik raised his head and looked out at the bustle in the engineering compartment across from his office. No doubt the Shackleton would be underway soon.

Lanik was busy cataloging serial numbers on replacement parts, no doubt compiling a full damage report for the shipyard upon their return. Bureaucracy. You can't escape it, even out in the Black.

Annie stands at the jury rigged command console for the engineering unit core. So many things have been jumped, crossed, patched, re-wired, and bridged it makes her a little uncomfortable seeing it all, like she's riding a groundcar without breaks made from ration-tins.

Several warning lights are perpetually one and the software is continuing telling her the operating version for the Adjutant Protocol needs to be updated when you know very well it was updated before you left port weeks ago.

Some of the console housings still have holes in them from the bullets. Wasn't time to fabricate a new shell.

--jump drive. Start the clock. I want to be spun up and ready to drill in less than an hour. Farhenra's voice came through the comms unit. It was acting up now occasionally, not picking up the first moments of a transmission correctly. It needed to be calibrated further but there wasn't time.

Not time enough for anything out here, it seemed.

Annabel - Annie - depressed the call button, letting it click in for a couple of seconds before replying.

"Aye-aye, fukuchou" She replied. "I'll ask nicely." She released the comm, going to coax the spike drive to life. She had to wiggle a finger into one of the bullet holes to adjust a contact point between two leads, but it got the process started.

Chief Engineer. Diable, that was a scary thought. She had expected - nay, hoped - that her role would primarily be with the xenoarchaology, not patching the ship together. Her ship. Her Shackleton. She was hurting still, but time would lend them a better chance to repair things properly eventually.

Lanik looked up from his dataslate as Annabel fussed with the console

"Any idea why the computer vocalization unit went down? It's a little weird not having 'her' talk to us." He licked his cracked lips. The air humidity had dropped significantly. The scrubbers had been set to collect 300% more humidity for drinking water and the result was a stale dry atmosphere in the Shackleton

For her part, the system was coming online, if slowly. Certain processes had to be suspended or restarted to get the drive running smoothly from the software acceleration end of the process. Every rotation and pulse of energy through the main drive was timed and adjusted dynamically instantly and near perfectly to compensate for variations in the local metaspace fabrics...
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:43, Fri 03 Jan 2014.

"She's hurting." Annie shrugged slightly. "Understandable really. It's a ghost glitch, so she'll talk again when she's good and ready." She added, adjusting a control at just the right moment.

"She's a tough girl. She'll be back with us soon enough."

"We shouldn't really be heading out again. I talked to the XO, er, acting Captain and told him my concerns. We don't really have the supplies to continue this. We lack replacement parts, some of our systems require a shipyard to be fixed and regulations state we should strip several of our systems completely and have them entirely replaced. I understand that the Nighthawk-class was purpose built for redundancy, but there's only so much a starship can take." He looks worn thin, just like the rest of you. Too much work, not enough sleep, stale food and staler O2.

"Anyways, he 'noted my concerns' and ordered us to go ahead with the Spike drill anyway. By all rights, we should be returning to the Hegemony to report back, repair and get some R&R. Thing is though, I think he's bucking for a commission. If he returns after beating the odds with a load of pretech and two charted systems he'll make Star Commander without any question. Probably get some medals and his own ship."

"True... but if we go back now, the whole mission will be declared a failure and Janus' faction will have scored a huge political victory." Annie replied with a grimace. "I'm starting to see where my parents were coming from, staying Rogue." She paused, then quirked a grin under her goggles. "Maybe once she's out of drydock when we eventually do go back, we should just steal her and make for the black. Do a cosmetic refit at Medina-Cow or somewhere like it and pass her off as salvaged."

He offers you a tired grin.

"I'll pretend you didn't just suggest mutiny and piracy, Voidmistress."

His hand runs over his shaven scalp.

"Off the record though, it's not a bad idea." Lanik winks and returns to his report.

A system message pops up on your console:
[Spike Drill imminent.]
Sounds like she's ready to go...

"There we go..." Annie sing-songed, before opening the link to the bridge. She waited a moment for the comm to click in before stating, "Spike drill ready, fukuchou. Engineering repeats, spike drill ready on your mark." She finished, before releasing the button.

"Donell here. All sensors reporting within acceptable parameters. A miracle, really."

A short pause and some data comes from the bridge to your console, confirming what Officer Donell reported.

"Gravimetrics are... gravimetrics are good."

Jonesy scampers wildly across the floor at your feet and disappears into one of the access crawlspaces.

"Pilot, lock final calculations in. Confirm vector."

"Engineering, release safeties and increase arr-pee-em to nine-hundred kay. Confirm final output within tolerance."

He syncs up with the computer and counts down in time with it.
"All hands, prepare for Spike Drill. Drill commencing in five... four... three... two... one... SPIKE!"

The whole world jolts for you and your stomach falls into your boots as your vision swims. You've all been on spike drills before, in metaspace, but you never get used to it. OOC: make a physical save not to be sickened

Spike drives were rough, and Annabel's lifetime of experiencing them had only taught her to have a biowaste disposal receptacle ready when they performed one...

then the cat ran into the access tunnel. She thought she'd locked down all the ones that could be dangerous before spinning the engine up in the first place, but that didn't mean she wanted to be cleaning up cat sick in a cramped tunnel. She darted into the access and grabbed the cat before going back to finalise the spike.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:18, Thu 23 Jan 2014.

The spike seemed to go well, systems were running a little hotter than regulations might wish for, but otherwise within operating tolerances...

FWEEE

FWEEE

Crimson lights begin to flash throughout the ship and an alarm sounds repeatedly, alerting the crew to battle stations.

Jonesy squirms out of your arms and darts away once again.

"How Shi Sung Chung," Annabel muttered, sarcastically. Jonesy would have to take care of himself. She opened the comm to the bridge. "Fukuchou, Engineering awaiting instructions." She informed the command crew, before dropping the link and looking at Lanik. "You with me, Mr. Greist?"