In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 245):

Bridge

The captain glances at the note, frowns, and hands it back to Rebecca with a shrug.

OOC: All players would likely be aware that there are 3 capital ships not too far away. They likely outmatch the Mastodon in a slugout. However, Battalion's shuttle has been equipped with a very powerful engine. It could likely escape if push came to shove.

The boarder commander gives the little girl a long, hard look.

"What makes you think you're more capable than we are of making use of the technology?"

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 246):

Oh God... philosophy... one of the Battalion Corps sighs, smacking his palm to his forehead.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 247):

Because I'm not an NPC
This message was last edited by the player at 20:31, Thu 10 Dec 2015.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 248):

Docking Bay

"It WOULD be time for beer and pizza if the power weren't off," Flux grumbles, then brightens up. "Wait, nevermind. I hooked the hyperkeg up to the emergency power generators a few weeks ago, just in case. It's this awesome thing that can ferment and perfect beer at the bottom damn near as fast as you can empty it from the top."

He grins at Battalion.

"So what do you say we go enjoy a little science?"

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 246):

She takes the doll looking slightly shaken but still manages a withering glance for the Battallion corps.

She squares her shoulders and with all of the dignity she can muster she simply says

Me.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 250):

Docking Bay

The suited-JJ shrugs and continues to work his way toward the prisoners.  Once there he will begin to question them.


Shuttle

You kidding me?  That sounds fantastic.  Bring it on in here.


Bridge

The Battalion Corps stands around looking bored.

In the back, one of them pops out of existence.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 251):

When seeing the commander unmoved she flicks her hair back.

Fine... if you want something objective... then I have already improved upon the propulsion drive.  Although I'm not concerned for myself I am fond of the captain as well as the other scientists and I do not believe that an encounter with the otherworld would result in a similar transition as it did for me. 

He fixes the commander with an unnerving glare.

I am willing to negotiate with your superiors to prevent loss of life.  However NEGOTIATE is the key word.  I will not be bullied, nor will I succumb to the machismo of 'hand everything over or I'll blast you out of the sky'.

You do realize that your companions have fought and been injured needlessly as we have arrived at a spot of negotiating that we could have arrived at without fighting.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 252):

Bridge

The commander taps his helmet and another voice projects from his voicespeaker.

"This is Dr. Dorian Pryor, captain of the SCV (SAGE Capital Vessel) Dichotomy. We have triangulated your ship with aid from the Juxtaposition and the Eureka. Escape is impossible. We wanted to reclaim the stolen designs without incident, but it was sadly necessary to disable your electronics. Can't risk you transmitting the data elsewhere, you see."

There is a pause, and then the voice continues with a dry sense of humor to it.

"Now that introductions are settled...hand everything over, or I'll blast you out of the sky."

Docking Bay

Batallion and Flux clink the first of what may become many glasses together as they lounge near the hyperkeg that Flux has dragged aboard the shuttle.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:55, Fri 11 Dec 2015.

Xander's voice crackles over the general frequency. Is that technology worth killing your own employees over, Dr. Pryor? We have a bunch of...I hate the term hostage. Disgruntled unexpected passengers? Let's go with that. You blow us out of the sky, and your own people die. You jam our electronics, you render our sickbay incapable of treating your injured.

In reply to Xander (msg # 254):

Battalion raises a pint and begins the important work of knocking it back.

While doing so, Xander's voice interrupts him.

God damn it they're dumb... Battalion chokes.

He wipes the foam from his lips and sets his pint down on the console, then carefully clicks on the intercom, using the same general frequency as Xander.

Idiot, they don't care.  If they're willing to kill us and let their own teams die, they're willing to kill everyone.  That goes double if we give up the goods.  We give it to them and they kill us. 

I'd like to hear it from the good doctor himself, Xander crackles back. He makes some adjustments to his media console, intending to rebroadcast Dr. Pryor's reply throughout the whole ship.

In reply to Xander (msg # 256):

This should be good...

Battalion leans back in his chair and smirks at Flux.

The other Battalion puts his feet up on the console and takes a pull of his beer.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 257):

HA HA HA... very funny.


Doctor?  Really.  What is your field of expertise?

As I mentioned I will not succumb to petty intimidation techniques, if you are truly a doctor and a man of science then you will see there is a middle ground we can find that would be mutually beneficial.  As you know more researchers on a project improves the probability of success... and I have already made modifications and improvements upon the sage equipment.  You need me. 
This message was last edited by the player at 17:14, Sun 13 Dec 2015.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 258):

If he says space proctology, I'm leaving now.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 259):

She beckons one of the Battalions over to here and whispers into his ear.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:49, Mon 14 Dec 2015.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 260):

The Battalion shrugs and goes back to keeping his weapon trained on the boarders the same bored fashion.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 261):

The comm remains silent for longer than strictly necessary before the good doctor's voice chimes in once more.

"Your claim to have improved our technology in the scant time you've possessed it is likely a tiresome bluff," he says. "However, you have displayed impressive technology while defending your ship."

Another pause.

"Here is the only offer of clemency you will receive: Place the battlesuit, the genetic aberrations, our data, and your 'improvements' on our designs in an escape pod and jettison it. Do this in good faith, and we will simply wipe your ship's systems and send you on your way. Are we agreed?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:36, Wed 16 Dec 2015.

Xander smirked, unsure whether or not he was included in the category of 'genetic aberrations.'

Careful now, Doctor. Such non-inclusive ableist language is offensive and hurtful. At any rate, I have a counter offer: power down your weapons, and back the fuck off. Once we're out of range, we'll send your men back, healed and healthy, on repaired freighters. Hell, I'll even throw in a free oil change. I'm kind of a grease monkey like that,  his voice boomed throughout the ship and over the electromagnetic spectrum into space.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:22, Wed 16 Dec 2015.

In reply to Xander (msg # 263):

'Doctor'... that must be a military term in your organization... well I am Dr. Rebecca Taylor and yes in the short time that we have had this we have improved your design.  Ask your commander if I look like I'm bluffing.

She looks like a teeny stormcloud

To sweeten the deal offered by Xander and in the spirit of collaboration I will offer free access to my schematics and improvements on this device until completion.  My improvements have been modest but I have still increased the reliability of the drive and we are poised to make more discoveries.

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 264):

Battalion considers adding something snarky to the conversation, but is ultimately too bored with the situation to even bother doing that.

In reply to Batallion (msg # 265):

Bridge

There is an audible sigh over the intercom, and Dr. Pryor's voice comes back sounding softer.

"Very well. How long will you need to complete repairs to our freighters and send our men home?"

Docking Bay

Batallion and Flux continue to drink while listening half-heartedly to the boring conversation. After a quick visit to the shuttle's head to relieve his bladder, however, Batallion notices a repetitive pinging sound coming from the shuttle's scanner...

Space

Xander had been hauling freighters into the docking bay, and is now outside the Mastodon en route to the third ruined hull. His triumphant grin is arrested midway through its ascent when his scanners flicker and flare to life with another series of blinking lights.

"Enemy marks inbound. Two each from three directions, six in all. Trajectory is consistent with impact weapons. A ship of some kind has been deployed as well. Hull is similar what you might find on a salvage rig," the synthetic voice says primly. "It's a bit larger than a freighter."

There is a brief pause.

"Mastodon could defend this salvo with her defenses intact. Inert, I calculate a maximum of two direct broadside hits before structural integrity is lost."

The voice gains a little warmth.

"I do have good news, however. If the Mastodon is lost, I calculate that Abraxis could likely maintain life support systems long enough that you'd die of dehydration before you froze, fried, or suffocated. So... don't worry about that."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:27, Wed 16 Dec 2015.

In reply to The Watcher (msg # 266):

What have you done?

In reply to Rebecca Taylor (msg # 267):

Battalion clicks on the intercom.

For anyone keeping score, I never do tire of being right.  Looks like they're about to shell us into oblivion.

He finishes his beer and hucks the glass out of the shuttle into the airlock.

Right then, plans beside running?  Or plans to run any more efficiently?

Dehydration, suffocation, hypothermia, heat stroke, or hunger...how could I ever hope to choose? At least I'll be in good company, Sof.

Aloud, he spoke over the coms. Well Doctor, that depends on whether or not you're shelling us while we're making repairs. What are you trying to prove, I thought we had a deal?

In reply to Xander (msg # 269):

"Back the fuck off is not a deal," Dr. Pryor responds. "And I'm unwilling to collaborate with thieves. Horace, secure the bridge."

The comms squawk off, and the commander glances at the other boarders for a moment. They eye Rebecca warily and the legion of Batallion clones with equal unease.

"Fuck that," he says at last, turning to Blaise. "How can we help?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:36, Thu 17 Dec 2015.