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.