Eps 2 Act 3: Skin Game

[Ciara Mei]

[SabrinaPandora]

"We should keep moving sirs. I will get us there, but I do not know where 'there' is right now," P'Trell squeaked, though without a hint of a stutter or her customary hesitation. Head down, reducing her already small profile, cover chosen the little lieutenant was arming the small arsenal she had collected throughout her stay on the Big Red. Standing suddenly she squeezed off three quick bursts with a disruptor she had retrieved from a Bolian inside the tent. A howl of pain rewarded her efforts even as she tossed the weapon to Zuub, muttering "Sights are off, low and to port."

"Back to Burns? Make for the shuttle port? Find somewhere to lay low? Set the objective and I will fulfill it," the sapphire-skinned soldier asked quickly, half-rising only to drop as a bolt grazed her, burning off some hair the color of dirty snow. The small blue hand checked her head quickly, insuring the graze had done minimal damage with considerable relief. "But we cannot stay here very long, I do not think..."

~tag any

[Sjet]

“We need to find a communications array!” Sjet stated, kneeling low and at the rear of the group. He sounded…well panicked was a word. But his words were not those a man choosing hasty actions over thoughtful plans: merely someone not used to have adrenaline account for the majority of his bodily fluids. He’d taken the standard Starfleet self defences classes, and had passed as ‘fair’ on the firing range.

But even though a finger was broken in his right hand from punching a Romulan in the jaw, he had never felt quite this alive. It was invigorating. He should feel terrified at being in the midst of a fire fight and yet here he was, mentally patting himself on the back for not curling into a ball and rocking to and fro.

Go Team Sjet.

“We head back to Burns shop. All of that tech he has there, odds are good one of them is a communications array we can use to contact The Big Red for a beam out. Only problem is we don’t have his slave, but we do have his script. Maybe we can random that bag of coin back for the parts we beed?” he frowned, looking to the team “We still have the bag of latinum right? Because even though we have hand weapons I am not sure we’re ready to present Cobalt Burns with a warranty for the return of stolen goods.”

TAG-All

He frowned, looking at Lukat and P’Trell. Even Zuub and Ryler seemed more pepped up than usual, whilst Sai’tan…well he was a Vulcan. Reading to much or to little into their facial emotions was a quick way to go crazy.

“Or perhaps you’d like to key us all in on what the hell you did back there Chief.” Sjet said, pinning the Vulcan with a look “When we get to the shop do we call the Big Red, or do we call your friends in high places? We’ve all seen a Starfleet transporter beam in operation Chief, what the hell was that back there?”

TAG-Sai’tan

In the distance something big exploded, sending a ripple of dust rolling through the air on a weak pressure wave. Whatever was happening now that the dampening field was off line was ramping up, going from the settling of personal grudges to more large scale business dealings. Sooner or later shuttles would begin to rise into the air, bringing ship mounted fire power into the fray.

“Everyone head to the shop. Those in front clear us a path, those bringing up the rear keep an eye out for anyone getting adventurous. Shoot to wound, but I’m not interested in writing any more letters to parents telling them how damned foolhardy brave you all are.” Sjet said with a weak smile, before looking at Lukat “Expect you. I’m sure Captain Santra has something sarcastic and pithy he wants to send to the High Command in the event of your demise. I’d hate to do the old man out of his little joys in life.”

He glanced down at his disrupter, turning it to eye the power cell reading, and then looked at the diminutive Andorian.

“Lieutenant P’Trell: lead the way.”

TAG-All

Captain Sjet
SB42
One Ship Down & A Station To Go

[Nevian]

Three well armed thin Klingons, wearing rags and broken chains, two scarred warriors aiding a wounded third, burst through the hole in the tent behind the group.
The wounded one spat out a snarl of harsh lower Klingon toward S'jet that translated roughly as " hiding cowards drink targ urine " and fired a disruptor bolt into the face of a Nausican that had charged the trio from behind.
The tall wild haired one with a metallic mesh over the ruin of an eye socket looked to his right then growled out, " She's moving .. this way."

[SabrinaPandora]

[Nevian]

[Nevian]

[Amanda Rose]

[Sjet]

[Nevian]