[IC] Stellar Uprising

[TheUnknowable]

The Washington was only a few minutes from it's target system when Captain Harris activated the internal comm system. "Ok, listen up everyone. We will return to Real Space in about five minutes." He kept his ship on Earth time, as most of his crew was human. "I need everyone at there stations. Remember, until we dock, we're just a trade ship that's coming by the asteroid mine to pick up a load of platinum. They may send people aboard to verify this, so play along until I can get into the control room and deactivate the docking bay's security. Once it's down, we free as many slaves as we can and get out of there before they can muster a serious response. Talla and I will go get our informant and get him out of the colony. When they get aboard, remember to scan their wrist chips to remove their ownership status and give them a few credits to live on after we get them out of here."

They would likely assume that the informant was a Free person or maybe a high-ranking slave. What he didn't tell him is that there informant was a young Chigani that had fallen for one of his slave girls. She had manipulated him into helping us free the slaves. Sure, the crew wouldn't like having him aboard, but he wasn't going to leave the man behind. At the very least they needed to keep what he knew about them out of the hands of his superiors. Normally, Timothy wasn't the kind of man to kill the informant, but if he had to, he knew he could.

As soon as they were in the system he sent the proper codes and was given permission to dock. Thankfully, the bay they assigned him wasn't far from the slave quarters and the mine. Talla brought the ship in and he walked to the loading ramp. As soon as they were down he walked off the ship and to the control room, careful to not go near the rifle on his back or the sword on his hip. The Free people that worked there took him to the control room to talk to him, careful to keep their rail guns trained on him.

For the next minute or so they questioned him, following some form. He slowly made his way over to the main console and, when he got close enough, fired off an EMP using his power. That would act as a signal to the others to start the mission. The three men were surprised, but that only gave him about a second to grab one of them as a human shield and fire Taser Blasts into the other two. Afterwords he fired one into the one he was using as a shield and headed back into the docking bay. "Ok, Talla, let's go."

The two of them headed out of the bay and towards their Informant's quarters.

[Illogical Jim]

Malone took another shot as the Captain made his announcement. The whiskey was cheap, but it was serving its purpose admirably. The navigator just found himself hoping he was still sober enough to shoot straight. He laid his glass aside and studied himself briefly, to be sure he was ready for action.

He was dressed as usual in his faded brown jumpsuit, a pair of scuffed boots on his feet. He was wearing a western-style poncho, of the sort old film heroes used to wear. At his hip rested his revolver and, leaning against the wall nearby his chair, his rail rifle. It was not an impressive arsenal, but Malone had made do with less in the past.

Satisfied with himself, the Irishman surveyed the room about him in passing. It was the lounge of the Washington, a common area where leisure was had. It was rather unassuming, really, though a goodly number of fine times had been had there in good company. Presently his only company consisted of Church, a somewhat disagreeable fellow some years Malone's senior, who nevertheless was an exceedingly competent crewman and moreover an accomplished drinker.

“Probably ought to get into position, eh, Church?” Malone said, slurring softly as he picked up his rifle.

“I reckon servitude ain't gonna abolish itself. Y'sober enough for a shootout?”

With a pretty good idea of exactly how the freedman would answer that question, Malone started out from the lounge into the corridor, moving at a quick trot. His steps were steady enough, though he was fairly certain he had less to drink than his compatriot.

[Eisenhorn]

The announcement got a grunt of discontent from the unhappy looking mechanic sitting in the lounge. The cheap whiskey was not doing much for him, hence the reason it was probably cheap but that didn't mean he had to appreciate that fact. Slamming the last of the bottle that was left, since he wasn't going to leave a mostly empty bottle of whiskey laying about, he was good to go after that.

Church, the mechanic in question, stood up with an angry mutter, cracking his neck while he looked over what he had with him. Usual attire, thick black cloak over his crude form of body armor. It did not look impressive, fancy, or elegant but lead the kind of life he did, and ask him again if he cared about looking good. He didn't, and as he heaved a massive two handed wrench onto his shoulder with one hand, he checked his sawn off shotgun, illegal in so many ways, to ensure it was loaded. Good to go, and his mind turned to the man speaking to him as they both walked out of the lounge.

Malone, kid was at least ten years his junior, if not more, far too kind and peaceful for his liking, and got far too damn melodramatic once drinking. But he could do his job, so that redeeming factor was good enough to be a coworker. That, and he wasn't the captain so he couldn't say who came aboard and who didn't. He did need a response though, so he grunted and shrugged.

"That pisswater drink you think was worth calling Whiskey won't put me out of commission that easy, pup. 'Sides, I work better up close and personal. Aiming isn't a concern then, just putting this fine ol' wrench into some stupid tossers head."

Using his longer legs, he strode ahead of the kid Malone to lead the way. With what sounded like the EMP going off, it was their cue to work. They had slaves to free, and he was looking forward to cracking the skulls of every slaver and collaborater between the Washington and the holding cells.

[TheUnknowable]

Tim and Talla raced down the hall, alarms of their presence blaring over the speakers, quickly dispatching anyone who drew a weapon against them. They both knew that if they kept this up for long they risked exhausting themselves, but they had to hurry. They were going much deeper into the compound than the others, and every second that they took increased the threat to them.

When they got to the quarters of the Informant Timothy fried the electric lock and they opened the door, only to find the Informant and his slave girl in what many would call a compromising position.

"Damn it." Tim said. "You knew we were coming today and heard the sirens. Couldn't you at least wait until we've escaped."

I didn't realize it would be an issue., mind-spoke the Informant to them.

"Speak out loud, and don't go in my head again without my permission." Tim responded, throwing the Chigani one of the jumpsuits his people favored from the floor.

Ve, began the Informant, then stopped himself. "Very well." he said, putting on the suit.

Once both of them had dressed, they lead the Informant and his slave girl down the hall towards the ship. "So, what are your names?" Tim asked them, hoping to fill the rush back with some sort of sound.

"Cha'to'ta'hop'chu'a" said the alien, which got him a confused look from Talla. "You can call me Cha." he offered.

"And I'm Kate." said the slave girl. "It's good to meet..."

Just then a Plasma bolt struck Cha in the back of the head and he hit the ground face first, dead. Tim threw up a shield just in time to stop another bolt intended for him, but they soon escalated to a level he knew he couldn't sustain a shield against for long. Talla activated the encrypted radio on her wrist comp. "We've been pinned down in corridor Sat're-7 and are taking heavy fire." she said. Hopefully the other crew had had long enough to get the slaves on board and could help them out. She drew Tim's gun, as hers would only impact his shield, and started firing back.