The Prize

The elevator stopped after a less than ten second trip to the lab. When she arrived at her lab, she saw Daniels had the canisters and her supplies already in place. Robin gave a nod and said to the lab's computer she named "Baby", "Okay Baby, Time to get to work." Baby replied, "Acknowledged Dr. Pearson." Robin quickly became a whirlwind of activity. Flicking switches on one console and pushing buttons on another. While yelling various commands at Baby, "Increase the Argo output by 25% decrease the proto-matter matrix by 20%" or "Give me a protein synthetic of Lyncome and Santor over a Nuclonic cell base." Robin told Nick all she needed was 20 minutes. She looked at her watch and saw that only 14 minutes had passed. Robin placed the cylinders in a room, hooked them up to a processing unit, and said to Baby, "Fill 'em up Baby and then process the antidote pills, Make sure no one leaves the ship without taking one. Otherwise, if they start hallucinating or getting punch drunk it's their fault. I'll be back in 5."

Robin bolted down to the supply bay. She grabbed a space suit and helmet, a bag for the cylinders, a gravity harness, a set of tools, a gravity bolt, and a gravity pouch. Robin felt something in her stomach as she took a deep breath. Without saying a word she went to her quarters. Robin laid everything on her bed and opened her closet. She pulled out her old commando uniform and stared at it for a few seconds. The last time she wore it twelve of her teammates were killed, and Robin kept it as a reminder that nothing in life is a given. The fact she nearly died was irrelevant to Robin but the sting of losing her team was more painful than anything else. In this case though, Robin felt she might gain a small measure of revenge against the pirates. As if the uniform were a person she said, "Don't make me regret this." Robin stripped out of her Prize uniform and put on her commando uniform. She looked at herself in a mirror and said, "It still fits." Robin knelt down and said a silent prayer. When she was done she crossed herself and said, "This one is for you my comrades." Robin then slipped her old service weapon in a holster and patted the weapon twice.

Robin put on the spacesuit and grabbed the rest of her gear as she left her room. She went to the lab and Baby said, "Your cylinders are ready Dr. Pearson and the antidote pills have been distributed.' Robin put the cylinders in her bag and replied, "Thank you Baby wish us luck." Baby said, "Good luck, and until we meet again Dr. Pearson be safe." Robin made her way to the shuttle bay and boarded the shuttle with the rest of her team.
___________

Under The Pirate ship

Once the shuttle was positioned under the ship the pilot said, "We're in place and all indications are we haven't been discovered."

Robin looked out from the cockpit and replied, "Trust me Lieutenant if we were discovered we would already be dead." Robin looked over to the Lieutenant and said, "Keep your comm open, if you hear me say the word 'apples', get this shuttle back to the Prize on the double. Tell them to take off, and get to the nearest outpost. Then alert ISA Command that the mission failed. If we lose the Pirates will have a boarding party ready to try and take the Prize in less than five minutes. Pirates with a ship like the Prize under their command." Shaking her head Robin said, "The damage they could cause with the Prize would be unimaginable. That can't happen Lieutenant under any circumstance. That is a direct order. Understood?"

The Lieutenant replied, "Understood ma'am."

Robin walked towards the back of the shuttle and grabbed her gear. She put on the helmet and said to the gathered crew, "Good luck one and all." Robin said to the Lieutenant, "Activate teleporter."

Within the blink of an eye, Robin found herself floating in space. She activated the gravity harness and she was pulled towards the underside of the ship. Robin looked around at the massive ship around her and felt so small as she said, "This looked a lot smaller on the display." She then began to crawl towards the first environmental unit. Once there Robin rotated within the harness so she wasn't working upside down. Robin pulled out a screwdriver and took out the bolts from the panel. She put them in the gravity pouch and secured it to the ship, and then removed the panel from the unit. Using the gravity bolt she secured the panel to the ship and said, "Can't have anyone by chance seeing you float away." Robin reached in her bag and pulled out a cylinder. Quickly she spliced the cylinder into the ship's oxygen intake unit. Hearing no alarms or seeing any lights flashing made Robin breath a bit easier. She said, "They'll know in a minute that it worked when the crew starts acting a bit punch drunk and maybe even sees some mild hallucinations."

Robin put the panel back in place and moved onto the next one.

Elm leaned against the door to greenhouse 7 (after carefully checking that they are shut and locked) and closed her eyes, attempting to gather her thoughts and plan what to do next. She needed to update the greenhouse manifest with the new information about the murdering plant and add some extra warnings to the system. She had to check whatever wounds the creepers left on her skin. And most importantly, she needed to figure out a plan to get things in the greenhouse 7 in order, preferably without anyone getting hurt or eaten.

Simplest things first, she looked down on her wrist. Her bark-like skin was thicker than normal human skin and normally protected her from all scratches, bruises and lighter flesh wounds, but Escallonia’s sprouts were apparently designed to latch themselves onto trees and pierce through bark to get access to the sap. By ripping them off Elm had freed herself, but also tore the top layer of her skin off, revealing the soft tissue under it. Drops of viscous brown liquid formed at the edges of the injury, some dropping to the floor with a loud splatting noise. Elm stared at it for a few seconds, fascinated. It had been ages since she had seen her own blood. Her legs were in much better shape, as they were partially protected by the uniform which was now torn in several places.

She considered options for restoring order in the greenhouse. The simplest, but the most brutal one, was running the cleanup protocol designed to safely destroy everything inside and was supposed to be used when there was a danger that could spread to the entire ship. Elm had only seen one situation when this protocol was used in her lab at university, when one of the plant samples brought from a newly discovered planet started releasing highly toxic spores that quickly started to spread through the ventilation system. This situation was certainly not that dangerous and Elm wasn’t going to destroy everything in the greenhouse 7 just to get rid of one slightly aggressive plant.

If she had a sample she could create some chemical agent targeted specifically at Escallonia’s DNA. Ideally something that wouldn’t kill it, just put it to sleep or at least render it immobile for a period of time necessary to move it into ‘solitary’ - one of the isolated boxes located at the side of the greenhouse. Even though the plant tried to kill Elm, she didn’t hold a grudge against it, knowing it only followed its natural instincts. But the problem still remained - how to obtain the sample?

She nearly jumped up when her tablet suddenly started talking, roughly interrupting her thoughts. Several things ran through her mind, the first one was that she is either hallucinating from a shock she suffered, or that the plant had released some poison into her body and now she is starting to feel the effects. Fortunately she quickly realized that she wasn’t going crazy and it was just the ship’s AI talking to her.

Elm found it rather interesting for a computer of this importance to be allowed to have such ‘quirky’ personality but if the captain was OK with it, it wasn’t her place to criticize. “Thank you for your concern Cake. You know that I am always up for some adventures,” she joked, "but I am afraid that my presence on the mission would be more of a liability than an asset. And as for the medical staff, no need to bother them, my wounds should heal on their own. If they don’t, I will stop by when doctor Daniels returns.” Elm glanced at her wrist. The thick blood had already sealed the deepest part of the wound and would eventually grow into a new layer of skin if there is no infection or other complications.

“But,” Elm looked blue star twinkling on her tablet, which seemed closest to talking to Cake’s face, “there is something you could do for me. Would it be possible to reprogram one or more of the pollination drones to collect a sample of one of the plants? A part of the stem ideally, and two or three leaves for testing the agent distribution. Make sure the drones are careful though, I am not sure whether the plant reacts to heat signatures or just vibrations from nearby movement.”

@datadogie

Tentacles are a bit freaky, aren't they? The way they wiggle on their own. Nick was standing just to the left of Ambassador Lunarius, who was in a very formal uniform and addressing the face-full of tentacle known as Captain Du-Vos. And Du-Vos was... big. But not quite big enough to take up the bridge's entire viewscreen. So when Francesca's eyes wander off to the side, looking at a very angry pirate with a plasma rifle, Nick's eyes follow her.

While Lunarius was gently breaking the news that, of course, the pirates will not be getting their bounty, that pirate rifleman was trembling with anger. That's not normal. Pirates are typically unstable, of course, and unresolved anger is practically a requirement. But most of them are still sociable enough to work on a crew with others. So what's going on with this one? While Du-Vos rambles about demands, Nick tries to subtly keep on eye on the rifleman.

And the rifleman takes notice. He meets Nick's eyes through the viewscreen. Before Carabello can react, the pirate winks at him, and storms off through a side door.

Now that can't be good. Winking pirates is never, ever good. It's something you see right before a hidden bomb goes off.

"So what do you think, Captain... Carabello?" Du-Vos was talking. He had a deep and loud voice. It was nearly as big as him. "Is ISA going to give me what I need? Or are 20 humans going to be on the slave market?"

Alright, back to the matter at hand. Carabello dives into the negotiations. ISA Credit payments, supplies, bars of gold (bit of a cliche), protection from the law, etc. This squid has a sea of demands. In the midst of it, Nick nearly forgets about Winky the Rifleman.

At least, until Winky comes barging back in. This time, he's not alone. There's a young human boy- maybe 10?- dragged by the wrist behind him. The boy is small, scared, and doing a very brave job at not screaming.

Until Winky shoves that rifle between his eyes, anyway. Then he screams. So does a Prize crewman, somewhere behind Nick. Winky smiles, in a way that isn't really a smile. Then he talks: "Stop. Stalling. Are you listening now?"

"Yes," Nick replies. There's nothing else to say.

"Agreed," the Auval’kotor before taking point once more.

The trek to the Moray's bridge was, disturbingly, uneventful. This wasn't to say Gue'rach was looking for any kind of action, but he had been anticipating it. There was a sinking feeling that nagged on him with every empty corridor they passed through unopposed. Personal expertise would dictate their undefended environment was a trap and yet no triggers or switches were pulled. It seemed that nothing was happening to stop them from taking control over the Moray. Perhaps it was a sudden sense of anxiety that was fueling his doubts and suspicions. Maybe he was paranoid about the whole ordeal. Is so, he could very likely admit it and possibly accept the potential notion that Du-Vos had genuinely overlooked the potential of the asset the three Prize crewmembers were now walking all over. He subtly shook his head, doing away with those useless thoughts and reminded himself of their objective and remained absolute to carry it out.

At last, they made it to the bridge. Gue'rach entered first with his heavy repeater at the ready, although after a few initial scans, he verified the bridge was unoccupied and stowed the large weapon behind him on a magnetic rack, mounted on the rear of his suit, "we should proceed quickly and efficiently. Alpha may already be in position. It would be rude for us to keep them and Captain Carabello waiting."

Their first step was surveying any damage the transport ship had suffered any structural or system damage during the pirate's opening incursion. Having restored power to the bridge, which was quite a simple task that only required a brief power transfer order from one of the engineering consoles, Gue'rach made his way to the tactical station; which was a dinky-looking stand, mounting a very small tap-screen interface which the Auval’kotor officer had to, literally, lean forward to even reach and make out any of the details. If there was anything on the Moray that would illustrate why it was not first and foremost not a combat vessel, it had to be this. Gue'rach grumbled in annoyance but persisted and interacted with the terminal; by pecking at it with the tips of his meaty fingers.

"Both shields and weapons are completely offline," Gue'rach reported aloud, keeping his head facing down at the console, "although there doesn't appear to be any structural damage to the main weapon arrays or shield emitters. Restoring power to these systems shouldn't take too long. We won't give ourselves away as long as they remain in Standby..."

Gur'rach perked up and turned towards Astrid and Korax, "what's our status on communications and main engines?"

Jessica Beadle, or Jessie as she prefered to be called, woke slowly as the lights in her quarters came up to daylight levels. She sat up and ran a hand through her hair, wincing and grumbling as she caught a snag from her rough bedhead. She'd been sleeping fitfully ever since getting the posting on the Prize. Not due to any sort of nervousness of course, this is what she'd dreamed of for years! But she'd been antsy and anxious while she waited for her term as the sips navigator to officially start. While still in charted space, lower level crew members and Cake, the onboard AI, had been taking care of navigational duties. However, with today being the scheduled date for the ship to enter Kepler's Passage, Jessie was set to take over as the chief pilot for the ship. Thanks to her high marks at the academy (And no small part due to her... Enhancements), the young girl had been specially picked to help guide the ship through any tight spots they might face in uncharted space. Unfortunately, as she discovered after a brief glance at the duty roster on her communication pad, the plans had changed. Kepler's Passage would be another day, while the ship was being redirected to help with a pirate threat.

Jessie shuddered at the notion of pirates. Though it had directly led to her posting here, the pirate attack on her fathers cargo ship had been the scariest day of her life. She still had nightmares about it, all these years later. Thankfully, it appeared that because she wasn't yet technically active duty, she had escaped the call to arms from the captain. She wondered what he was like. What the rest of the crew was like, for that matter. As she began to get ready for the day, Jessie surveyed her quarters. Practically every spare surface was covered in tools and bits of machinery. She'd spent a lot of time sequestered here, working on her projects rather than getting to know the crew. Hopefully that would change after today. Her duty assignment hadn't actually been postponed, so this would be her first day on duty, and her first experience on the bridge. She hoped to make a good first impression.

After showering and making herself presentable, Jessie headed over to the tiny kitchenette in the corner of her quarters. She was lucky to be considered senior staff, most lower level crewmates had to bunk with each other and deal with the public kitchen and reconstitution areas of the ship. She scannned over the reconstituted cardboard boxes, printed with colorful designs and each holding a specially made recipe based on old Earth breakfast cereals. Though they'd been mostly phased out of modern life due to their lowish nutritional value and high sugar content, they were still available as cheap food sources on outskirt colony worlds, like the one Jessie had grown up on. Of course, with production being limited, Jessie had learned how to make her favorite cereals herself, with the help of matter reconstitutors and some basic ingredients. Picking one, she made herself a bowl and began to go over the navigation specifications of the Prize for what felt like the millionth time since receiving her posting.

An hour later, with her head buzzing with knowledge and itching to start work, Jessie slipped on her duty jacket and adjusted her rank pins. She slipped her comm pad into its holster and stepped out into the brightly lit corridors of the ISS Prize, walking purposefully towards the bridge. Though she felt like a badass, she quickly realized that she must look slightly ridiculous, with her short stature and tiny frame trying to push past people crowding the hallways. Grumbling to herself she took to slipping past people, taking advantage of small gaps to maneuver towards her destination.

Finally reaching the bridge, Lt. Jessica Beadle paused, straightening her uniform before waving the door open and stepping inside... Just to see the viewscreen filled with a tentacled pirate and a phase rifle trained on a young boy. For a second, her mind flashed back to the attack on her fathers ship, and Jessie cried out in surprise and panic. Captain Carabello barely reacted to the noise, merely continuing negotiations. Great. Good first impression, Beadle. Lowering her head, the pilot quickly made her way to the helm station, quietly dismissing the ensign sat there and slipping into her place, trying not to stare at the viewscreen as she imagined what was to come...

---

Mason was rolling a small pill in his hand as he sat just behind the pilot within the shuttle. It was he, Rod, and a few of the lesser crew who would help funnel everyone together after the nerve agent took effect. The pirates ship was pretty large, but Robin seemed quite confident in her plan. The way she took charge within that laboratory, and those chemicals used, he was confident in her idea as well. As a side note, perhaps he should secure the medical bay in case she tries to hijack it away from him. The supplies he provided were mostly overstock, and could live just fine without them. If she wanted to surgical pod or the multi-imaging machine, then he would have to throw hands. Not literally, but Mason was amused by the thought. But with what was happening right now, he hoped her plan would succeed in neutralizing the pirates.

He took a look at his wrist bound communicator to look at the time. It would be just about time before they could teleport into the cargo bay and round up the hostages. He pulled out a pouch he had at his side. Within it he had packed a few sprays of the antidote in case any of the hostages had a negative reaction to the agent. He also had some mild sedatives and fast acting numbing agents in case of the worst. Of course, he also had a med kit ready for any immediate injury that could not wait until they return to the shuttle. Putting his pack away, he looked back at the crew that remained.

“So, Rod, was it? Are you ready to pirate the pirates? It’s about that time the agent should be filtering in just about now, assuming we dropped Robin off at the right spot.” Said Mason. He stood up, stretched his arms and let out a deep breath. He took a few steps near the teleporter and waited just outside the pad.

“Got everything you need? Don’t forget that pill if you haven’t taken it already.” Mason then swallowed his pill and prepared the teleporter. “They might not be in the right state of mind, but I expect these pirates can still shoot drunk, so let’s not pick any unnecessary fights. It’s get in, round the hostages, and get out without being spotted. Think we can do that?”

Well things had certainly taken a drastic turn for the worse. Now that the young boy was a hostage on the bridge that meant he could not be saved by the operation, they needed to somehow convince them to return him to the rest of the group. Adding another layer of complexity to the mix was Jessica Beadle's reaction to the situation as she stepped onto the bridge, while thankfully the screen did not pick her up, her cry was most certainly picked up on the other end. Francesca's analysis was spot on when Winky gave a cruel grin after hearing the young woman's reaction. They were being forced to speed up by these actions.

Before Francesca could respond however, Captain Du-Vos turned around, his tentacles rigid with fury and frustration. "Winky! What do you think you're doing with that boy!"

"Stuff it captain! We've got way too much investment in this to risk anything now! I know you're an old fart so you don't have to worry as much but I've got a whole rich, wonderful life ahead of me! Just look at their reactions, they're scared stiff! This is the way to deal with I.S.S. scumbags!"

"If you harm that boy in any way they won't bother to listen to us anymore and we'll lose all chances at securing payment and an escape route!"

"Oh can if ya pile of slack!" The captain and the crewman glared at each other, it was at this point that Francesca realized that the captain had every intention of sticking to his own moral code, but the rest of the crew was not so inclined. This meant that their best bet was to agree with Captain Du-Vos as much as possible. Francesca mustered up as powerful a voice as she could must, not in volume but in authority.

"You'd best listen to your captain Winky. If you dare to harm that child in front of us we will be forced to consider your ship a terrorist vessel to be destroyed immediately!"

Winky frowned but did not seem convinced. "You don't have the guts! I heard that gasp back there, you would do anything to save this child!" Francesca glared back.

"Article 6, section 32 of the I.S.S. operation handbook. In a hostage situation, if the force holding hostages executes a prisoner to force negotiations along, they will be considered incapable of sticking to the terms of their demands and therefore immediately designated as intergalactic terrorists to be destroyed on sight!" In reality of course this was a complete bluff but unless you were ex-military there wasn't even a chance that a pirate would know that, let along have read the entire handbook.

"She's right you know." Captain Du-Vos put in to add to her clout. "That's part of the reasons I always made sure to be careful when dealing with people in this business."

"Screw you!" Winky shouted but one could see his confidence was shattered and he was starting to sweat bullets.

"We will refuse to continue negotiations as long as that boy is still on the bridge. As soon as he is safely escorted back, we will resume the negotiations. The only way we can ensure our end of the bargain is if everyone is still alive by the end of it." Winky seemed to want to spout something else but this time Captain Du-Vos cut him off.

"Hurry and do it Winky! The longer we wait the less time we have to get away!" Cursing, Winky roughly dragged the kid off while Du-Vos turned back to the screen, a few tentacles quivering with relief. "Now I believe we were just about to agree on a drop off location for our goods."

Francesca nodded, thankfully for captain Du-Vos support on the matter. If it hadn't been for him, there might have been no way to stop Winky from killing the kid in front of their eyes. She would make sure to put the captain's behavior on file for when he was taken in.

---

Rod gave the doctor a sideways smirk as the soldiers prepared their weapons.

“I was born ready,” he responded with action-hero swagger.

The rescue squad had packed light for their stealth mission. One laser rifle - not as powerful of a model as Rod was accustomed to, but on the quiet end for an assault weapon. One side arm, the short-range but trusty hand phaser. The standard body armor, the details and functions of which go without saying. And, as this was a stealth mission, Rod had packed only three incendiary grenades.

Oh, yeah… the pills. Um. Which one was the good kind again, and which was the dead kind? Rod stole a glance at Mason just as the doctor popped a yellow capsule into his mouth. Of course, the yellow one. That’s what Rod was about to guess.

The rescue crew waited tensely for a cue from Robin, Cake, Carabello – any one of the multiple players higher up in this complex scheme. Occasionally, the group would learn more information about how the various aspects of the plan were going and what they could expect on the enemy ship. Shutting down the unauthorized teleportation blocking program in the hostage hold would raise too many alarms. Teleporting directly into and out of the destination was a no-go, but they could teleport pretty close with less fear of immediate detection. The soldiers would have to make some quick decisions on which route to take based on how events unfolded.

Rod detected a pair of green eyes narrowing at him, and he sneered back just as subtly. Karxon. That brat thought he was so much better than all the other new recruits just because he had gotten high grades at the academy. Rod gripped his rifle tighter. Well, that teacher’s pet was gonna taste some humble pie when Rod killed twice as many squids as him!

As the sparse updates came in, the muscular mercenary got the picture that the hostage situation was escalating, that they may need to act soon if they wanted to save those poor helpless people. It seems other people felt the same. As soon as the squad received a message that Robin’s environmental toxins were beginning to disperse, they decided they would have to start moving now, before the full effect set in. According to calculations, the toxin should reach its full effect right as the stealthy rescuers reached the hostage hold.

The rescue squad silently teleported into a dark, low-security storage room on Du-Vos’s ship. Rod instantly crouched low and thrust his rifle forward, eyes and ears peeled for any trouble. The coast was clear, the plan still intact. Directed by their leader’s whispers, Rod and the team headed into the network of garbage chutes one-by-one. Rod nearly gagged from the wall of seafood sweat stink and whatever kind of vinegar-soaked cuisine these people apparently ate. But he had weathered worse odors in the phaserball locker rooms. The tan man chuckled as that weaksauce Karxon actually threw up a little.

The soldiers quietly crawled through the ducts for a couple minutes without a hitch. There was not nearly enough garbage to worry about the evacuation cycle starting, and they would only have to go through one open hallway before they reached the hostage room. It was almost too boring, really.

Korax, First Officer

The team moved through the Moray without difficulty. They were always alert, always aware, yet there was nothing here to warrant such attention. One would think the pirates would have laid down some defenses, sabotage, the like. the fact that they had not was either a sign of negligence, or a longer play on their part. Korax did not have enough information to make an accurate assessment yet.

As they moved along Korax allowed Gue'rach to lead the way, allowing him to determine if there were dangers ahead while he examined their surroundings. It was what the crewmember was good at, so there was no reason to deny the personal satisfaction of a job well done.

Soon they arrived at the bridge. The lack of hostiles was confirmed, and the team could enter to begin their work. "Agreed," it confirmed with a slow nod before moving towards one of the terminals. While Gue'rach handled tactical, and Astrid various flight related systems, Korax would handle what was left. This had to be done carefully, to avoid surges or things that might indicate to the pirates that something was amiss. They didn't want to tip their hand this quickly.

Looking over the communications suite, smaller crystalline protrusions extended from his skin to allow for more tactile manipulation of the screens and control. "This one has assessed the communications. Damage is significant but it believes that it can affect a bypass. So long as the data load is not too heavy, it will function on a short term basis," Korax confirmed with a slow nod.

Still, there wasn't much they could do without power. Hopefully that was proceeding well too.

As the shuttle was docked quite close to the engineering section, Astrid left the heavy tools there while they proceeded to the bridge. Once there, Astrid planted herself in the pilot’s chair, fingers running along the keyboard like a pianist as she tried to get the diagnostics software to cooperate. Moments later, the central viewing screen displayed a readout of the ship’s systems. Filtering out what they didn’t need for the task at hand, she breathed a sigh of relief when the navigational computer showed ‘offline’ but not ‘damaged’. Power and heat management systems were also intact, meaning the ship wouldn’t start melting after a minute of use. “Once you get the comms up, Cake should be able to handle any software-related trouble. If you run into hardware issues, give me a call. I should be able to talk you through anything that’s at least remotely repairable via your helmet cameras. But according to this, the navicomp was disconnected from the rest of the ship. I’ll have to go to engineering, shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.”

The engineering section was a hall taking up three decks - The lowest deck contained a workshop and a general purpose assembler, the one above that was filled up by the main drive, service catwalks and support beams granting the room some structural rigidity, and the topmost part was where all the control stations were. That’s where Astrid was headed. Arriving with a happy tune on her lips, she quickly found the breaker that separated the navigational computer from the rest of the power grid and switched it on.

“ALERT! Navigational computer control: disabled! Please contact a licensed technician.” An automated voice echoed across the hall.

“Yeah yeah, I know, shut up.” As the navigational computer was the shipmaker’s proprietary software, it took a bit of poking to find the menu she needed to allow the computer to manipulate the ship’s attitude and velocity. “Hey, Sparkle,” She tried to contact Cake, “assuming the lads unfucked the comms already, you should have access to the Moray. I’m leaving the navicomp disabled for now, because I don’t know what its last instructions are and I don’t want it to start moving the ship and give us away. It’s in your figurative hands now, just tell it what to do now and then switch it on when the fight starts. Unless you have a better idea, what do I know, you’re the computer.”

As she waited for any potential response, she leaned against the railing, looking down on the engine - and the song froze in her throat. “Ah shit, bomb!” Astrid cautioned on a channel to the rest of Beta team and Cake, not wanting to risk contacting the Prize and risking Du-Vos would overhear through the negotiations that were probably being led from the CIC, “Now I DEFINITELY want to send Du-Vos to kingdom come with a Moray-shaped missile. I recognize the type of charge, it shouldn’t be too hard to diasble, but: Don’t think me to be a coward - or do and see if I care - but if he thought to rig the junker with a bomb, don’t you think they might be watching?”

"Understood," Gue'rach replied before making his way to an engineering console and queried a program that governed the Moray's communication array.

He would have asked Astrid to assist him with this task, but after she had verified the navigational computer was indeed disconnected, Gue'rach allowed her to leave the bridge to try and resolve the problem. Therefore this was an issue he and Korax had to fix. During their initial briefing, he recalled Cake reporting that out of the thirty-seven transmit-receive nodes, only six remained functional after the others had been destroyed. With that in mind, Gue'rach set to work re-building the Moray's communications network with what remained of the six nodes. He started by disengaging the destroyed nodes from both the comms network and the electro-plasma grid, figuring that any - literal - dead weight cutaway would diminish the power drain that hemorrhaged the ship's dwindling back-up reserves. After tapping each crossed-out node visually presented on the terminal, which caused them to darken - indicating they were 'Off'- Gue'rach assembled the remaining nodes and re-introduced them into the communications network, now with a customized program; a setup Cake would have a better time working through.

Although before finalizing his design, he jumped to another terminal that regulated the EP flow throughout the Moray's power transfer network and began identifying any non-essential systems and decks that were deemed unnecessary. Like before with deactivating the power-flow to the destroyed transmit-receive nodes, he began robbing decks of their power and rerouted them to the communications array. Gue'rach however knew better than to disable them outright. Instead, he conceived a method of steadily siphoning power from the unneeded sections of the ship, therefore minimizing the spikes this could potentially generate.

Hopping back to the previous terminal, Gue'rach, now seeing the program identifying the newly established power-flow, established a few additional adjustments to the communications network, such as dictating the EP ratios feeding the communications array and cutting off all but the needed spectral bands, ensuring the only comms traffic was privately between the Moray and the Prize. Undoubtedly, the entire process was a painstaking task, if not an over-complicated one for the sake of subtly and stealth; he genuinely was now wishing Astrid had stayed. At the very least, he was able to re-visit the techniques he previously employed as a combat engineer with the KIDF.

"While it is imperfect, the communications array is back up and running," he reported as he monitored his work between both stations, "at the very least, Cake should be able to communicate and control the Moray now, assuming no further adjustments are needed. Hopefully, Lieutenant Faust is encountering better results on her end."

Just a few minutes later, Astrid radioed in with news of the displeasing kind; a bomb had been planted on the Moray. Despite the disheartening news, Gue'rach didn't show much in the way of physical surprise over his saurian facial features. Having worried about something like this only justified his concerns, enabling him to approach the issue with purpose. Astrid further reported being able to disarm it but she had then pointed out a potential problem; the possibility of them being watched from the pirate ship. Gue'rach thought about this prospect, closing all four of his eyes for only a brief moment as he pondered.

His eyelids swept open, "then we are already dead."

Gue'rach let that eerie line hang in the air for a moment, until realizing he had unintentionally made it much more depressing than he intended.

"Assuming we are being observed, Du-Vos would now have us as his prisoners and as such, are at his mercy. However, if this is to be true, why are we having this conversation right now? Surely, if we had been discovered, what is stopping Du-Vos from detonating the bomb, even as we speak? Assuming, of course, the bomb before us can be remotely activated."

Gue'rach started pacing around the bridge, "granted, we could become additional bargaining chips used against Captain Carabello. Although, given the time we've spent thus far aboard the Moray, I would expect Du-Vos to have raised this fact by now. Building on top of this fact, we would have been appraised of this as well by anyone aboard the Prize on secured channels."

He finally stopped and pulled up a visual sensor and displayed the feed on the bridge's main screen, showing both the Prize and the pirate ship face-to-face nearly thirty kilometers away, unmoving and definitely not shooting each other, "that has not occurred yet either. With these facts in mind, it can be safe to assume we are more than likely not being watched. To support this, I had performed several scans of our visited surroundings, and not once did I detect any listening or surveillance devices..."

Gue'rach's voice suddenly trailed off as his sentence brought forth new meaning. He quickly made his way to the tactical console and queried several security cameras on Astrid's deck and looked through the footage all the while pulling up the floor plans, "Cake, if there were to be such a device installed within the engineering section, where would it be likely installed to keep tabs on the bomb?"

In the cold vastness of space, the sound of Robin's breathing within the space suit was the only sound she could hear as she slowly crawled along the bottom of the ship. She had already installed three of the gas canisters and was going on a leap of faith that the gas was starting to work. She was confident in front of the crew about her plan, and on paper the theory was solid. However there were many times that there were theories that looked solid on paper, and when they met with reality they fell apart. Robin was hoping this was not one of those times.

She rolled in her gravity harness and began to undo the forth environmental unit. Robin followed the same procedure as the previous three units in removing the plating, but this time something was wrong. This unit had been repaired using make shift parts, and Robin would have to possibly guess at what she was doing. If she was wrong not only would the gas not work, but she would be discovered when the alarm on the unit went off. Robin let out an exhale and said, "Oh crap. Mama said there'd be days like this." Setting the unit up at another point was out of the question. The other points were too close to the bridge, and if the bridge suspected anything was going on outside the ship Robin would be in big trouble. Robin closed her eyes for a few seconds and said, "All right Pearson you always believed that you're the smartest person in the room. Well time to put your money where your mouth is." Robin pulled out a tank and studied the inside of the unit and then nodded. She said, "Oh I see what you did. Pretty clever, but the problem is I'm smarter than you." With that, Robin reached into the unit and carefully slid the tank in place. She didn't turn the tank open as wide as the other three tanks, because with the make shift parts in place there was no telling how sensitive the sensors were. Robin felt it best to err on the side of caution. She waited for a couple of seconds and saw no indicator lights flashing. Robin let out a long exhale and said, "And score another one for science..." she shrugged her shoulders and said, "and a little bit of luck too." Robin felt pretty good about how things were going with four tanks in place. With over half of the tanks in place the crew should be feeling the effects by now was her gut feeling. Robin replaced the plating on the unit and was beginning her slow crawl once again.

She noticed that her battery unit was starting to get a little lower than she was comfortable with. Between the gravity harness, keeping the life support unit running, and a portable teleporter unit Robin knew that battery power would be an issue eventually. She had been hoping to finish her work quicker than she was going, but Robin didn't take fully into account the size of the ship compared to her. If she had she would've brought a spare battery. In her commando days this would've been done by three people, but her doing this alone definitely was taking longer than it normally would've. She silently cursed herself for not thinking this part of her plan through.

Robin had an idea to conserve battery power. She would only use the harness when necessary, and hope and pray that she didn't miscalculate and float into space. Robin said, "Okay let's hope this works." Robin deactivated the gravity harness and grabbed onto a metal opening. She held onto it with every ounce of strength she had as she closed her eyes and said, "If this doesn't work, it wasn't a bad life." Robin opened her eyes and let go of the opening and shoved forward. As she began to move forward Robin noticed she was drifting away from the ship. She quickly activated the gravity bolt which brought her right back to the ship. Robin looked around held onto the bolt and saw she was almost halfway to her next unit. She felt semi-relieved as she said, "Two more times like that and I should be close enough to turn the harness back on." She did her gravity bolt idea two more times and then quickly reactivated her gravity harness when she was within arms length of the unit. Robin took care of the unit and did her gravity bolt trick once again. After four moves she was at the last unit. Robin took care of her business and quickly teleported back to the shuttle.

Once she was on the shuttle Robin got out of her space suit. She looked around and asked, "Any calls while I was out?"

---

“I’m sure you had a whole plan going on and everything, but we could have just teleported into the cargo hold. I don’t think climbing the trash chute was all that necessary.” Complain Mason as he exited the chute with the rest of the crew. He was glad he decided to bring along his quarantine mask. While it wouldn’t keep the filth off his clothes, he would at least not have to smell it. It glowed a light blue, so it wasn’t exactly a stealth tool, but having the mask for a situation like this was a godsend.

After crawling out of the chute, it looked like Rod was looking up ahead to make sure the coast was clear. Mason didn’t expect there to be many guards or anything. The pirates should not be expecting anyone other than pirates to be aboard the ship. If anything, they would probably have one or two to make sure the hostages don’t try to escape, but a simple locked door could do that. Mason barely gave any mind as he tried to remove as much of the residue he could before they moved forward. Once he was as satisfied as he probably could be in that circumstance he moved up to Rod.

“The pirates will probably smell us before they see us.” commended Mason quietly. While they were only in an alcove of the hall, there was a good chance that any old pirate could walk by and spot them. The other crew members held steady, waiting to move. The coast was clear for now, one of the cargo entrances would just be down that hall.

Just as the team was about to hurry down the hall, Mason pulled them back. He peered over the edge of the wall and saw one of the pirates aggressively dragging a boy behind him. That he did not expect. Were the pirates using them as slaves already? Why would the pirate be dragging the boy for? Whatever the reason, he walked down the hall out of sight, presumably to the cargo entrance just around the bend. Mason couldn’t quite make it out, but it seemed that the pirate was agitated, mumbling distain for this and that. If the others were like that one, then it would be best for team alpha to hurry. Then again, he wasn’t sure if others had been taken. A manifest would have been good right about now. As for another matter, the nerve gas didn’t seem to take much effect just yet. their two options now were either to risk the hostages safety and wait, hoping that the captain and the diplomat could stall them long enough, or try and complete their mission now and hope that the nerve gas has in fact worked its magic.

Mason turned to Rod and presented his thoughts as mentioned. Rod seemed a bit eager to just move forward, but Mason trusted his intuition enough to follow his lead. At the very least, he had hoped the reports he’s read about him didn’t embellish his capability.

And so the negotiations chugged on. Du-Vos was not a brilliant negotiator, but he was smart about ISA's system, and very greedy. Greedy, but not a child killer. That was Winky's job, apparently. Now that the boy was safe back in the holding cells (Du-Vos assured that he was, and Nick cautiously decided he could be trusted) what would happen to Winky?

Just as Nick thinks this, Du-Vos suddenly juts in- "Now, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I have to go deal with my crewman." Well, that's ominous. The records show that Du-Vos keeps his crew loyal, but not how. Is it with threats or bribes? Or violence? Whatever it is, it's coming for Winky. Du-Vos's hulking form squeezes through the side-door, just as the viewscreen cuts out from the pirate's end. And as it does, Nick breathes a sigh of genuine relief. That was intense. Nick was never going to read an adventure story about "charming rogue" pirates again.

Okay, well, not for a while.

The Captain gets his bearings, straightens his uniform, and turns to his crew. Time to be the Captain again. "I'm proud of all of you. Good work. Franscesca, you were invaluable- and Cake, could you check in on Beta team? It's about time for a progress report." After a pause, where glances across the still-tense faces of his assembled bridge crew, Carabello continues: "Now, who is the one who shouted? Are you alright?"

“And I didn’t bring anything to deal with that, idiot! What irony that I suggested Alpha do this exact same thing to Du-Vos!” She mentally kicked herself, about to go down a deck to access the device when she noticed a small box with a red light on it. A commercially available motion sensor. And it knew she was there, just not moving fast enough to trigger it. Good thing it was a civilian device that required line of sight to work and not a detector ripped out from a mine, else she would’ve triggered it when she walked into the room. “Someone check if there aren’t any more. This is going to be a chore, but I think it can be done. Very slowly. It’s a shaped charge used by combat engineering teams to disable hijacked ships without being detected or risking firing upon them, I’ve worked with these in the past. If I die, don’t bother sending word back home, my old lady and I aren’t on talking terms.”

Usually, these bombs were placed on the outside and the vacuum of space made it quite safe to be in close proximity when one detonated. Here, however, it was in a room pressurized to 1 atmosphere, bringing several unknowns into the mix. One thing was for sure, if shit met the fan, the overpressure in the room would at the very least lay her out and most definitely ruin her eardrums, but it was much more likely it would simply kill her like an oversized grenade, and that’s not to mention how much debris it would kick back her way. In light of all that, she decided to keep the suit on to try to lessen the effects should she fuck up as she inched closer to the thing, silently cursing the damaged neural pathways in her cheek that made the corner of her mouth twitch like a methhead a week after his last dose. At least there was the small comfort in knowing the Moray used regular Terran atmosphere instead of a low-pressure pure oxygen breathing mix, thus significantly lowering fire hazards.

Finally reaching the cursed device, the first thing Astrid did was slowly grab a roll of vac tape from her utility belt and secure the sensor to the bomb’s casing. If she died because she moved the motion sensor, which it would interpret as motion in its surroundings, she wouldn’t be able to look the other engineer’s souls in Hell in the eye. Next she retrieved an allen wrench from the toolbox attached to her suit and painfully slowly undid the two screws holding the cover panel in place, carefully setting them aside. She knew the damn thing was tamper-proof with redundancies, so cutting the connection between anything and the primer was out of the question. But in the bottom-left corner, there was a flat panel, about the size of a human palm, with two wires marked ‘+’ and ‘-’ connecting it to the circuit board. It was a lithium-air battery, and the sole source of power for the charge. At least under normal circumstances. This thing was clearly modified, and a second battery connected in parallel to this one was just the kind of thing she’d do if she wanted to fuck with an EOD technician’s day.

Whichever of Du-Vos lackeys set it up probably didn’t give half of a shit because after five minutes of slowly checking the bomb and its surroundings while giving muted reports to the rest of Beta so they knew she was still alive, Astrid found nothing. She sure was thankful the suit came equipped with laryngophones that could pick up subvocalization and thus she didn’t even have to move her mouth to communicate. Deciding it was safe to end the problem, Astrid hooked her finger behind the battery on the side with the pins and pulled it upwards out of the casing, depriving the det pack of power. Indicator lights went off, the engine was undamaged and she was still breathing. “Faust here. Bomb disabled. Unless it has friends around, we’re good to go on my end.” She reported back to Beta team and Cake. “Damn it, I quit combat engineering to get away from this shit.”

---

Rod stood guard as the last of Team Alpha exited the chute, rolling his eyes at the glowing beacon of a doctor who had to put a mask on for three minutes.

"Dweeb," he muttered under his breath - or at least, the best a burly deep-voiced man like himself could attempt to do anything under his breath.

The dweeb made a point, though. The squad was just too good to be seen, but maybe these squids had a great sense of smell for all anyone knew. Rod followed Mason's lead in scraping off some of the grime, for the good of the stealth mission.

Rod followed Mason's gaze at the grouchy pirate dragging a defenseless hostage. Yeah, that guy didn't look drugged yet. The group listened to Mason and decided to hold their ground for a couple more minutes. Rod took it upon himself to guard the dweeb while some others kept their ears peeled for any sounds coming from either side of the hallway.

"Hey, what if the squids are all just mean drunks?" Rod offered his insights to Mason. "Like... it's supposed to be happening by now, so what if it already did? Maybe they'll all pick up some chairs and start brawling each other, and we won't even have to fire a shot, heheh."

That would be a hilarious story to embellish.

The sudden crackle of blaster fire snapped Rod back to attention. Karxon yelped and ducked back into the alcove as a couple more rifle blasts burst on the wall around him. Rod narrowed his eyes in sharp focus as the soldiers formed up along the wall, behind the corner. All was quiet for a few heartbeats, save for the sound of bootsteps creeping closer, each side playing chicken with the other. But the squids had the major advantage of being able to call for backup, an advantage which only increased with time. Team Alpha had to act now, before they were hopelessly outnumbered!

Rod gulped in a deep breath. He edged out around the corner, fired twice at the first glimpse of a squid he detected, and ducked back in before the return fire could reach him. He heard a pained groan, which was great! He hit a squid on the first try! Oh, but wait... the screaming meant the dude was still alive. Bummer.

With that inspiring act of courage, the rest of the soldiers joined in the rapid-fire chaos of battle. It was four-on-four, a tense fight between expertly trained foes. Fortunately, the squids looked to be slightly dazed and unbalanced in their movements, thanks to the subtle poison, making them easier targets. For Rod, the battle went by in an epic flash of hazy red rage and the sweet pulsing of his blaster trigger.

The next thing he knew, the team was creeping their way down the hallway lined with squid bodies, no serious injuries on their own side. Rod wasn't sure how many of the pirates he personally killed -- three? He would say three.

Guarding the rear, Rod noticed a flash of movement as the group neared the hostage hold. Rod gasped and hit the ground right under a burst of red blaster fire. The shot was so close, it tore through the pack on Rod's back, leaving a wide hole. One of the incendiary grenades tumbled out onto the hard floor.....

And did nothing. Undamaged, un-activated.

Rod barely even noticed the grenade. The pirate lurched forward for a better shot while the muscular human scrambled for his blaster. One shot rang out. The pirate's throat spewed out the back of his neck and he collapsed, his tentacled limb just a hair's-breadth away from the trigger.

Rod glanced at the grenade, then back at the fallen pirate, and let out a definitely-not-nervous laugh. He started to get up, but then crouched back down to pick up his lucky grenade.

"That was almost really bad."

As the pirate released his last breath, all of his tentacles tensed and curled like a dead bug. The blaster in its hand fired once more. Even at nearly point-blank range, Rod's helmet did its duty of stopping the blast. But not before caving in with the sheer force, shoving Rod's nose a few inches into his skull. The soldier slumped to the floor, spewing blood and the occasional gray chunk into his crushed helmet.

Jessie listened silently to the proceedings, keeping her head down as she tried not to think too much about the tentacle-faced pirate captain taking up the viewscreen. Thankfully, she was able to look busy, as keeping a ship the size of the Prize stationary while in negotiations wasn't as simple as just pressing the 'Park' button. Minor adjustments, small thruster bursts, the occasional orbit correction, all of these things managed to keep her hands occupied while she listened to the negotiations. The pirates had captives, that much was obvious. The captain was willing to negotiate their release instead of sending them to auction, that was interesting. Jessie knew what pirates usually did to captives. It was why she'd fought so hard to fly her fathers ship away from them all those years ago. Prize's ambassador, Francesca Lunarius according to the computer, was doing a superb job at dealing with them. Even going to far as to pull a nonexistent code out of the air to bluff the pirates into sending the little boy away.

The rest of the negotiation was tense, but uneventful. Jessie was able to keep calm the entire time, but did wonder what was going on, exactly. It wasn't standard procedure to negotiate with pirates. Especially for the prices Du-Vos was demanding. It wasn't until after he cut the transmission on his end with an ominous promise to deal with his crew that Jessie began to piece things together. Captain Carabello was up like a shot, issuing commands in a surprising, but satisfying manner. He mentioned Beta team, implying the existence of an Alpha. A secret plan, likely something to do with the stranded crew transport floating in space and the shuttle missing from their docking bay. Then his attention turned to the bridge crew, with the question Jessica Beadle had been dreading. She had to answer. He was the captain. And if she didn't, the rest oft eh bridge crew would know, and someone would tell him anyway.

Standing up from her station, Lt. Beadle straightened her uniform jacket and cleared her throat. "It was me, sir. Lt. Jessica Beadle. Today is my first on-duty day, I was taken aback by the pirates when I entered the bridge. I have a... History with pirates, sir. I'm very sorry, I should have been more professional, I could have endangered the negotiations." She admitted, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a single breath. This was it, she'd be dismissed for sure. Sent back to starbase, possibly stripped of her rank, if not booted entirely. Then the Cabal would be after her for the cost of the surgeries and implants and the favors and strings pulled and she'd be running for the rest of her life...

Korax, First Officer

"It seems the pirate was not as careless as first suspected," Korax agreed as Astrid radioed in to inform them of the bomb that was attached to the engines. As in many things, if it seemed like it was too easy then that was because it usually was.

Fortunately the crew assigned to the mission were good at their jobs. With Cake's assistance the bomb was handled, with Gue'rach making sure there was nothing that would tell if something went amiss with said bomb. Korax would assist as best he could, but he was more than willing to let those more competent than himself at these particular tasks handle them without getting in their way. The Captain was counting on them to not get themselves blown up after all.

But soon enough the bomb was defused. "Good job," Korax replied as Astrid gave them the good news. "Finish there and then return to the bridge." They did not have much time left after all. For now, it went about the last checks that were needed before they launched their part of the rescue operation.

It could only hope that there were no other surprises waiting aboard for them, and that the other team was not having any difficulty.

Gue'rach understanding of human language and linguistics was rather standard at best. That's said, he struggled to determine if Astrid's remark either as an insult directed to him or some kind of situational gesture. Whatever it was, he allowed it to slide and kept mind focused on the circumstance as it evolved. While Astrid attended to the bomb, the Tactical officer kept all four of his eyes glued to the display, remotely controlling all the on-board security cams positioned on the engineering deck, looking to find any observation devices that may have been planted. The wait to hear Astrid's report or the explosion that could instead come about if she had failed, assaulted his nerves, and begged for attention. But having been trained as a soldier, he did his level best to remain collected. Worrying about things that were outside of his control was irrelevant; only duty was important now.

Eventually, the former of the anticipated scenarios arrived with Astrid reporting that the bomb had been disarmed, "Excellent work, Lieutenant Faust," complimented Gue'rach.

Almost immediately, he made his way down to the pilot's terminal, which somehow presented a larger and wider interface than the tactical console. After toggling some of the commands, Gue'rach pulled up both the propulsion and guidance systems, which were also elaborate as well; again, much more than the tactical console could ever be. Keeping to the plan as was discussed in their briefing, he kept the main engines off while only using the maneuvering thrusters to fly the ship, using only brief boosts to propel the Moray forward. Of course, this inviting a new weary concern. While the Moray was, more or less, running silent, any pirate that was paying attention to any kind of radar could see the seemingly harmless vessel creeping towards it. It was an agonizing feeling for sure and one that would have demanded a wealth of patience, especially so since that weak jets that pushed and reoriented the Moray were very underpowered. Thus, they would be waiting for quite a while.

Ten minutes in fact; ten minutes of carefully watching the zoomed-in image of the pirate ship and checking to see if any of the main guns were swerving towards the Moray's direction all the while making course and orientation corrections.

Eventually, they had made it. The Moray, still appearing unpowered and unsuspecting, now hovered in space at a standstill, just outside of five-hundred meters from the pirate and broadside on to it, where the transport ship could present a full volley. With everyone now in-position and on-station, Gue'rach patched it with both Cake and the Prize.

"The Moray is now in position and ready to commence the operation," the Tactical officer reported, "I believe the term is, 'it's go time'."

Lt. Jessica Beadle, 22, first assignment. Nick mentally kicked himself. In the confusion of this morning, he had completely forgotten about her. She should have been in the meeting. "No, no," Nick waved her apologies away with a hand, "you did nothing wrong. That was a normal reaction to something nobody could have seen coming." Remembering the way Winky tried to use her shock as proof the Prize was weak, he adds "And it's not your fault the pirates are so cold-hearted. It only means you have a good soul."

Before he can give the crew any further instructions, Nick is cut off. A familiar voice speaks over the intercoms: "The Moray is now in position and ready to commence the operation. I believe the term is, 'it's go time'."

Hard to suppress a smile at that. "Yes, Lieutenant," Nick radios back, "that's the term."



Yeah, it was go time.

3 minutes later, the Moray and the Prize are firing in tandem at a ship full of unsuspecting (and drugged) pirates. Captain Carabello is gripping his communicator like it's a phaser pistol, issuing commands like: "Alpha team, get the hostages!" and "Beta team, there's a weak point in their hull!" Without even pausing for a breath, he's spitting out the same kind of orders to his Bridge crew: "Focus shields forward!" All the while, the Prize is shaking from the shockwave of a pirate torpedo that scraped their shields.

He was trying to sound calm. He was failing. But there's no time to worry about that now. As soon as Alpha says they have the hostages safely on board, Nick was going to demand surrender from the pirates. And if that doesn't work... well, the galaxy would be safer without them around.