Arkady bursts into laughter and coughs a bit afterwards then takes last sip and sticks the cigarette on his lips letting it loosely hang off the corner of his mouth. He gives a grin to Jonesy and shakes her hand.

"Cheeky bastard! Make it a deal. Vice versa if I fail at failing! Ha!"

He afterwards finishes his cigarette and drops the stump in his glass.

"Do you have any fucking idea when'r we steppin' off? I fucking don't... The cap'n didn't care to elaborate me with such minor details."

"It's a goddamn deal, mate,"  She grins at him as she cheerfully pumps his good hand with a vice-like grip. "Righto!"

"Probably five minutes, knowing the Spiderweb." Plato tells the two, 'cleaning' a glass with a rag so oily it probably just swiped an engine.  "Ship's tuning up to jump.  Can't you feel it in your bones?"

He's right; the engines are revving up. It's a subtle thing but an engine man, a mechanic, well, they can feel it deep.  Soon the ship will make the bowel-clenching jump towards the enemy frigate.

"Last chance to get somethin you need," Jones looks Arky in the eye, "Cuz after that, all hell breaks loose."

"Well now that you mention it, my stubs for arms are aching like fuck. Probably was too drunk to notice it beforehand... Shit."

Arkady returns Jonesy's gaze and replies:

"I think I oughta meet the crew I'm gonna be leading in five and try to convince them that they all ain't gonna die." He lets off a slightly nervous laughter "Cyyyyka blyaaaat... I'f I somehow make it outta alive, I'm gonna drink myself to death... just to avoid the massive repairs and maintenance those ghastly motherfuckers are gonna dish out. They should stop breaking our shit."

He quickly checks what he's wearing and notices some straps out of place. He tightens his toll belt and drop-leg pouches and tucks the excell straps so they're out of the way.

"A gear check could be in place too... I also gotta check all my tools are where I want them to be. I don't have time to start shuffling through all my pouches on that fucking tub. Go pro, or go home! Ha!"

He finishes his statement by straightening his back and taking a serious expression, looking "as professional" as he can, which almost immediately breaks into a wide grin as his poker face fails... miserably.

"Bah, you know everyone here anyway.  They know you.  There's nothin you can say that'll amke them feel better.  Just do your job, eh?  They'll do theirs.  Then you get paid, get your ship.  Shit, you should know better.  Don't overthink this."

She slaps his back, "You go out there and get ready, okay?  And sober up a bit, shit, just a little bit.  No fallin over the salt lines."

The engines spin up and the gut-wrenching jump twists them inside out.  Almost immediately they feel the thunder of their ship's lone gun firing, feel the shudder as their ship maneuvers.

"Shit, the zone's hot!" Plato barks at them, "Get to your stations!  Who knows what we're up against!"

"RED ALERT.  RED ALERT. WE ARE UNDER FIRE,"  The Captain announces over the intercoms, "THE PADDY WAGON IS GETTING BRACKETED!  THERE ARE TWO FRIGATES OUT THERE!  GET TO YOUR STATIONS AND PREP THE BOARDING CREWS."

"Fuckin shit!" Jonesy snarls, "Come on, follow me!" She rushes down the hallways, heading for the little boat that'll take them onto the frigate once disabled, "Spiderweb better get off her ass and zap those things!"

Arkady leans against the counter as the jump and the gun firing shake the ship, and manages to maintain his balance. He's had rocky rides before.

As they're rushing in the hallways Arkady shouts over the rumbling "TWO FUCKING FRIGATES?" continued by a concert of elaborate swearing words.

"Well fuck, no use crying. We have to improvise. our tubs don't have the firepower to  take 'em both out without losses..." Arkady goes silent for a moment of thought.

After a short moment of silence he opens his mouth "Spiderweb wanted to capture only one. Right?" A wide grin sets on his face as he reflects on his own genius... or insanity, and he bursts in to laughter while trying to keep up with Jonesy.

"TWO FUCKING FRIGATES," Jonesy curses along with him, "She better pop that second one quick, huh!"  They rush to their station, a glorified airlock that attaches to a frigging garbage pusher with additional air tanks and no atmosphere.  It's the bare minimum required to move a bunch of people in environmental suits, and they're no fun.  As lifevessels they'd keep ten people active for maybe half an hour.

After all, nobody really expects to survive if the ship goes down.

"OK, suits on!"  One of the men barks out as if he's in charge, "This is gonna be a hot insertion like the kind I gave your mom last night!  All your moms!  It was a hell of a night!"

"AH SHUT THE FUCK UP!"  Someone yells at him.

"Oh you mean quick and dissappointing? HaHaha!" Arkady spouts as he pulls on the enviro-suit.
It seems to go well but he takes a small moment release a small piece of fabric that got stuck in his arm joints, and quickly checks if he tore it.
"Fuck, I hate these overall shitbags..."

He looks around the bunch of misfits he's going to be holed up with and shouts:
"Engine crew! Did everyone pack all the shit you need? Now there's two frig's and we're expecting a pounding, especially if we succeed so I really fucking hope you have nice sea legs blyat! Ha! And no dying you fucks! There are whore's that expect company, and booze to be drank after this haul!"

He then looks back at Jonesy "And don't you die either. I need a first mate on my ship." and grins.

The others aren't as quick as Arkady is, probably because Arky is fucking awesome and the rest of them aren't.  Even Jonesy is halfway into her suit when the first round hits the Paddy Wagon.  The round tears a hole maybe three feet from his head, a perfect circular punch in the metal that exposes atmosphere to raw void.

There's not even enough time for explosive decompression before the second round hits, a brutal double-tap from the Abyssal frigates.  Jonesy is just about to reply with something sardonic to Arky before this second round passes through her, reducing her to just her upper torso.  She doesn't even have enough time to look surprised.  She and a dozen others are pulled through the hole in a microsecond.

The only reason Arky doesn't follow them is because his suit is totally on, but not unmoored from the wall- every suit has a cable that keeps it attached to the wall, to keep it from becoming flying debris in just this sort of situation.

But the air rushes out of his lungs.  He has only a few seconds to get the helmet fastened properly before all the atmosphere leaves and he's stuck sucking vacuum.  The Paddy Wagon's sirens are no doubt sounding, but he can only hear the whirlwind force of escaping air.

Arkady quickly and instinctively latches the helmet on and pressurizes his suit. His millisecond panic fades away as his instinct for survival kicks in. He knows he has to close the airlock and de-pressurize it completely to prevent the air from escaping.

He can't detach from the wall as he'd immediately be pulled into the vacuum so he in a haste but focused looks for a release switch or explosive bolts for an emergency take off. Getting back on the Paddy Wagon is not an option. With the Frigates pounding it it's only a matter of time before that rusty piece of shit goes nova unless he somehow miraculously manages to disable even one of them.

Another hole is made in the wall behind him as he manages to start pressurization.  Blessed air fills his lungs, but it's not as strong as it should be.  He can feel the hiss of air escaping his suit- a small piece of shrapnel has opened a thin gouge on his left arm.  Thankfully every suit comes with plenty of Strategic Self-Sealing Tape (otherwise known as duct tape).

But the Paddy Wagon is getting shot to pieces faster than anyone could predict.  This is wrong; he's been under fire before and even the rustbucket transports he's in can take more than a few hits before their tin foil armor caves like this.  It's almost more like getting shot by a cruiser instead, something he's fortunately never had to deal with.

One of the bulkheads rips open.  Another body flies past, mouth open, eyes bugging out and screaming as he reaches futilely for Arkady and then flies off to his death in the void.  The shuttle's door has a sign blinking *ENTER ENTER ENTER* in angry red.  He needs to detach, open the door, and get in.  That's no easy feat.  It means either detaching a wall, making a jump for it and wrenching it open, or waiting until the Paddy Wagon has lost all of its air- and likely exploded.

Neither give him particularly good options, but the tug is his only chance for survival now.  As it stands the tug is unpressurized, but at least it has enough air tanks for 20 people, 6+ hours each.

Arkady takes a deep breath, spreads his legs apart as he's hanging by the cable and aims his legs so he'd land his legs on something moderately safe and not be sucked into the vacuum of space. If he's sucked out uncontrollably, it would be impossible to control his momentum and he'd never be seen again. Thinking this through he feels a bit more confident. He wouldn't die just now.

"Fucking Jonesy. We had a deal... See you on the other side."

((8, 8, 7, 3, 1, 1 & 1.
31 to climb towards the door
28 + craft 10 = 38 to open the door))

He detaches the cable and attempts to land on the other wall by suction, climb on that side towards the door and wrench the fuck out of the door hydraulics in hope of a mechanical failure.

It takes sheer grit and determination to prepare for the detachment.  The vacuum's still howling and he's only got a small chance of detaching and then somehow sticking to the wall.  But he manages it through pure hysterical strength.  Wrenching open the escape pod isn't so easy; he's just not that strong to fight against metal and rushing air.  But he knows the right way to open the damn things, considering he'd helped install them.

Once open the venting atmosphere actually helps him, pushing him into the airless tugboat.  It's a simple matter to close the lock again and then detach from the Paddy Wagon.

Now he just had to A) get the fuck away from the Paddy Wagon and B) not get shot while doing it.

((10, 9, 8, 8, 5, 3 & 3
28 + learning 10 = 38 to figure out how to operate the tugboat
23 + awareness 10 = 33 to see what he's going up against))

Arkady Has no previous experience at piloting anything and he didn't really think he'd ever have to. He was apparently wrong.
He takes a breath and re-assesses his objectives, speaking out loud to himself.

"Tak tak tak... Okay Ar-kah-deeh. Start the engine and accelerate away from the Paddy Wagon, That tug is fubar, and attempt to establish comms to the rest of the fleet... Now... Let's see how to run this piece of shit..."

He rushes to what he thinks is the piloting interface and tries to figure out how to get this thing moving and away from the scrap heap that used to be closest thing to a home he had. He looks around one last time as he prepares for take off and tries to spot the thing that caused this fucking mess.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:49, Thu 02 Mar 2017.

The piloting interface is not unlike some forklifts he's seen people use before.  How hard can it be?  It's just a joystick, a button for "go forward", and a button for "stop".  A child can learn it, right?

It's pretty easy to fly what's basically a forklift with oxygen tanks and no armor.  It's not easy to deal with the battlefield.  The Paddy Wagon is mortally stricken; a glance through a rearview mirror confirms it as he sees it wracked by internal explosions.  The two Abyssal frigates look very wrong, a bit chunkier than they should be, with two turrets instead of one.  The bores of the turrets are also a lot bigger than they should be.  Hmm, judging by the shape of the barrel and the sliding aperture, they're recoil-less... Arkady quickly realizes he's dealing with two Abyssal frigates equipped with railguns.  Usually they just used some sort of explosive powder, like in WWII.

This isn't just a doubling of their firepower, it's a decupling of power.  They're taking hits like there's ten enemies out there.  The only reason the Golden Hind and the Trapdoor are even still intact are because the Paddy Wagon is still somehow still firing back and the enemy frigates want it dead, dead, dead.  Somebody's earning a lot of pay they'll never receive.

The Paddy Wagon explodes behind him, rocking his tub with the silent shockwave.  The guns of the frigates swivel towards the Trapdoor.  A golden comet of light shoots out the front tube of the transport, moving quick but too slow to be a simple projectile.  The Trapdoor and the Golden Hind then quickly retreat.

Arkady's lucky.  The frigates are firing upon the silver comet heading for them, focusing on that instead of him.  Either that or they can't see him as he's surrounded by pieces of his former home.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:38, Wed 22 Mar 2017.

((10, 8, 8, 5, 4, 4 & 4
34 to Remain undetected
28 + awareness 10 = 38 to locate an opening for boarding))

Arkady watches as the "comet" lauches away from The Trapdoor and talks to himself again, but this time he's whispering: "Is that a boarding tug? Who the fuck would be so fucking stupid to attempt to board?" then he remembers the late cap'n Murphy's briefing "Holy fucking shit it's Spiderweb, isn't it? Suka bliet that woman is clearly insane... Weeeell shit. So am I."

A quick assessment makes it clear that he can't retreat. Those railguns are (in theory) deadly accurate and he'd be swiss cheese before he'd get even close to the retreating fleet and attempting to board and disable one of those frigates alone is almost impossible.

Almost. Those are his best odds, and being slightly drunk makes it seem actually doable...
His plan is:
1. Get in a frigate. Sneeki breeki.
2. Get to the reactor and make it go nova... Or highjack the targeting systems... or something.
3... Well he has no fucking idea how to get out... Oh yeah, they should have some fighters in the hangar... Improvise.
4. Profit?

He starts moving towards the frigates in the cover of debris, looking for a suitable opening to board. Like the crazy russian bastard he is.

((Detection:
7, 5, 4, 4, 3, 1 & 1
*Detect Tug 24 + Awareness 10 + AB 10 = 44 - Penalty 10 = 34, you lucky sonofabitch))

Yep, it's a tug alright, and it'd almost have to be Spiderweb judging by the anima burning around it.  It picks and weaves like a spider picking its way through a web, knowing just where to put its feet to avoid getting caught.   It's also highly visible.  The enemy frigates are too busy focusing on her to bother with Arkady.

Well, there's an opening.  She gets close and then WHAM, her tug collides with the enemy Frigate like a dagger.  A hole gapes in the side of the frigate.  That's his in- well, it would be if the other Frigate didn't stop firing.  It opens fire on its stricken comrade.

As he gets closer he sees his option.  An access panel just above the engine housing of the frigate that's mindlessly shooting up its own ally.  He can attach there and cut his way into the bulkhead and maybe, just maybe, survive.

Arkady inches to the access panel and attaches his tug to the side of the ship as carefully as possible. Once he's in place, he quickly switches his oxygen tank in case of him not being able to return to the tug (which he thinks is very likely) and wipes sweat off his brow... only to realize he can't... He's still wearing the environment suit. Blyat.

He inspects the panel carefully and looks for seams. To his knowledge, Seams are usually bad. The seams are the weakest point in any construct, and that's why seams are usually placed on top of reinforced beams on the chassis. If there is any wiring or other important shit in the bulkhead, He'd place them on those beams, and he doesn't want anyone to know just yet that shit's gonna go down like the Soviet economy.

((9, 8, 4, 4, 2, 1 & 1.
Craft:24 + 10 = 34 to cut the access panel))

He pick's a handy blowtorch off his belt proceeds to cut the access panel.

There's a seam, alright; it's how he noticed the sucker in the first place.  Maybe one man out of a hundred could've done it, at best.  He just has that great of an eye.

Cutting through the access panel, on the other hand, is tough.  Shit, what is this stuff made out of?  He's dealt with soulsteel before- who hasn't- but whatever this alloy is, it's strong as shit.  The blowtorch isn't having much of an effect.  Granted, it's not the strongest one he's ever had his hands on...

He can see the other ship getting riddled to pieces.  From the wreckage he can see a silver glow building in intensity.  Looks like Spiderweb's still alive in there.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:38, Wed 22 Mar 2017.

"Fuck fuck fuck... Think Arkadeeh think... umm..."

Seeing the other ship being pummeled to smithereens with Spiderweb inside makes him nervous. Not being able to cut the hatch with his shitty torch makes him even more nervous.
He know's he has to get in fast.

"I need a bigger torch. Blyat. That suka isn't gonna be sneaky."

He makes his way back to the tug and starts beefing up his hand torch in an attempt to make it burn hotter. Some piping, Welding, Duct tape, a spare oxygen tank and some jet fuel mixed with small amount of alcohol should do the trick... maybe. It's still a bit better idea than making a rocket hammer out of the tugs engine.

((10, 10, 8, 6, 5, 4, 1.

Craft: 20 + 10 = 30 for a super-torch))

There's plenty of pipes, and thanks to the deaths of pretty much everyone else, plenty of pure fucking oxygen- quite literally for just this sort of situation.  He hooks up his shitty torch and makes it a +1 Not-As-Shitty Torch.  It takes a lot of duct tape but he's got plenty.

((Give it another roll.  Now you have a +5 Equipment Bonus.  It's not going to be as stealthy but again it's better than ramming.  Difficulty is 40.  Crit success means extra sneaky.  You might want to float some dice if possible.  If you fail, you're gonna need to take more drastic measures.))

((10, 8, 3, 3, 3, 3 & 1
Craft: 43 + 10 + 5 = 58 to Cut the access panel: critical success!))

Arkady goes back to the panel with his "+1 not-as-shitty torch" and lights it.
He adjusts the oxygen-fuel mixture until it produces a tiny bright white flame and starts cutting the panel again, carefully inching it by the borders of the panel. It seems to work better than expected. He cuts a hole just big enough for him to fit through, bends away the cut panel and slips in.

"Ha! Piece of cake. That's what you get when you build you ships with Chinese child labor... hmm... those kids had low short life expectancy, so that might actually be true... Pizdec, that was grim. Now where the fuck am I?"

He looks around and tries to determine his whereabouts. Some technical drawings for these frigates would have been nice...

((Take a MalJoss for making me laugh a bit too loudly in a library.))

Cutting a hole into the side leads him into an exterior bulkhead.  Now, that's weird- it's full of something like gravel, of all fucking things.  He has to scoop it out to reach the interior bulkhead. It's a bit of work in zero-G, but the shuddering of the ship as it fires those huge shells helps shake the stuff loose.  Ablative armor, maybe?

But there's only one reason to have two bulkheads like this, and that means it's not solid-state like the cruisers are.  It also means that this thing likely has atmo.  He has to be careful here.  Breaching a ship and making it vent atmo... well, he's already done that once already today.  Because of this he has to really work at cutting open the thick outer armor, but not bend it too much.  Once the gravel's out of the way, he's able to seal himself back in with a bit of muscle and then finish the cutting to minimize the explosive decompression.

Once in he finds himself in a large room- a maze of pipes, engines, steam boilers, and other things.  It's like being in an old Earth warship.  Hell, it'd feel almost like home if he didn't know any better.  He can see a ghost-crew hard at work, stoking the engines by throwing pieces of their own corpus into the furnaces to power the ship.

A furnace. A fucking weird furnace, but still a furnace. Deprive it of its fuel and a power shortage should occur, disabling the guns...

Arkady pulls out his 1911, racks the slide, and prepares for an ass kicking. He has to deal with those ghosts sooner or later, but tries to stay out of sight for now to get a better picture of his surroundings.

((Stealth:10, 7, 4, 1, 1, 1 & 1.
41 to staying out of sight.))

When alone, avoid conflict. If you can't, ambush.

None of the ghosts have a chance of catching him, not when they're too busy in their own private hells, fueling this horrible monstrosity with the last vestiges of their souls.  As he looks around he's struck by how... big... this place is.  He's been in a Bataan before, and quite a few transports.  Usually space comes at a premium.  The undead tend towards more compact designs- why do they need space?  The Living need oxygen, and a more compact design helps maintain a stronger hull.  This is positively opulent.

That also means it's easy to sneak around in.  There's enough piping, cables, railing-less catwalks for Arkady to slip around the place like a ghost.  It's a good thing he doesn't open fire immediately.  He sees a group of ghosts in black uniforms marching through the room on patrol.  They're armed with huge drum-fed shotguns.  At least they're not Gunzosha; he sees no evidence of specialized armor.

"Keep your eyes and ears open!" The head ghost is huge, a former wrestler if Arkady's any judge.  "The Lunar's probably not dead yet!  We need more power to the guns or else she might get out!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:37, Wed 22 Mar 2017.

Arkady waits a while and observes. He looks around the area he's in and looks for junction boxes or other means of cutting power to the guns. there has to be a way to convey power away from the furnace... If he can't cut the power, the only ways left are bad and worse... Denying the furnace of it's fuel, or a meltdown...

((10, 6, 5, 3, 3, 3 & 1.
Awareness: 33 + 10 = 43 to look for a way to cut off the power))