Christopher had been observing an anomally in the Badlands having recived word of some type of thing coming out of it, having the information come from one of the apture people with his main ship stationed at the one in Omega three. With the main heading of the transmission showing up as â'¬ËRougeâ'¬'¢ it so he thought might have been for him being one of his old call signs but as it turned out it wasnâ'¬'¢t or maybe not the signal appeared to be to weak and he only got part of a message but with his AI on dcripting the channel now having the code from the person he was able to get a last known location moving his ship to search where it was being around *-* in the Sabre Atra Lupus he started to search around wanting to find out who just used the main heading of the transmission Rouge.
His Computers were always looking for the following headings or uses.
Christopher Dangen
Rouge
Seraph/Seraphim
Umbra.Venator
Atra/Devia/Canis Lupus
BAF|Ens C Dangen
Angels Eyes
And with this it had picked up Rouge in this instance
...Incoming Transmission...
...(SREB) Short Range Emergency Broadcast...
...Origin Unavailable. Navigation Offline. ...
...Power: 9%...
Automated Report:
Life Support: Offline
Primary Power: Offline
Secondary Power: Limited Function
Engines: Unresponsive
Instruments: Limited Function
Communications: Limited Function
Escape Pod: Unresponsive
Gravity: Offline
Sarah stared at the strange white lumps on the end of her hand as if she were seeing them for the first time. They were a curious white, almost translucent, blue veins just about showing through the flesh. It took her a few minutes to realise they were her fingers. Rather then being shocked she was amused, Silly fingers. Didn't they know they were supposed to be a different colour? A small voice in the back of the girls mind cried out, protesting against her indifference. What did it matter now anyway? No-one was coming. She'd long since forgotten any transmission, as well as the cold in her limbs, since replaced with a pleasant numbness.
Had she been in her right mind, she would have noticed the silence in the CSV's cabin. The normally constant hum of fans, necessary to circulate oxygen, was gone. It would have told her two things: Either there was so little oxygen that circulating it was useless, or the power supply was too low to sustain the fan's operation. Neither was particularly good news. Not that she was to know it, but it was only years of running training that allowed her to maintain a semblance of consciousness.
The radar she'd rigged, the last functioning system beside communications, indicated a contact. The power supply had been lessened, dramatically decreasing its effective range. This; combined with the Badlands' themselves, was enough to ensure that nothing further away then 5km could be detected. Whoever it was, they were close.
Normally that alone would have been enough to rouse Sarah. Now, it barely warranted a blink. It was all too hard and the overwhelming urge was to just give up and go to sleep. Yet, once again, a small part of her protested; fighting days of sleep and oxygen deprivation. It was like trying to punch her way out of a fog. Still, she gave it all she had. She knew there was something she was supposed to do when the machine beeped like that.... What was it?
Communications! Get to the comm's! A small fragment of reason caught her sluggish brain.
Fighting the urge to curl up in her chair again, Sarah reached for the communicator. It was harder then any race she'd ever run, but she managed it.
"Help....." Her voice was dry from lack of moisture, causing it to be more of a croak then a word. "Airlock....Left side....code 1....8...2......0"
The ships were now close enough to see. Four Hyenas, red and grey shapes, in stark contrast to the uniform blue of the Badlands. The glow of the engines gave them the appearance of avenging Angels emerging from the clouds.
The Rogues in the Hyenas weren't pleased to be out on a possible rescue run. It wasn't what Rogues do. Their radio chatter reflected their frustration, and they agreed that the best thing would probably be to just blow up the vessel as soon as they found it and get back to the lanes.
The search wasn't out long before they found her signal. Scanners provided by a "friend" had been fitted onto a good number of interceptor type vessels, and it made searching the badlands easier. Plus, this was the pilots' back yard, they lived in these asteroids, and it made flitting between the jagged rocks that much easier, despite any alcohol they may or may not have drank before the trip.
"Grolf, I've got me a pinging in subsector three of the next... what do ya call it?"
"Don' matter none, prolly jus' some bounty boys lookin'a get smashed up," Grolf answered excitedly.
"Nah man, this don' seem like no manta, I think it's that lass we were sen'a go find."
"Well then le's go blow 'er up and be done with this nons-" Grolf's murderous urge was cut off by an insistent beeping. Vinny, another of the pilots had scanned for life signs and the computer had picked up on one, albeit weak. A CSV, and Vinny had no doubt that this was the one they were to find.
"Damnit Vin, the hell ya gotta go an' do that fer? Now we gotta try'an figg'r this crap out or Boss'll... well, you know. Damnit."
"The hell am I supposed ta know? Jus' followin' orders!," the heavily inebriated Rogue snapped in response. "Le's jus' get this thing done with eh?"
Grolf resumed his swearing and maneuvered his craft alongside the cockpit of the CSV. The dim glow of the badlands made any viewing difficult, but that the vessel was damaged was obvious. Tattered bits floated near one engine and the CSV's external lights had long since gone dark. He moved into a position to shine his headlight in through the window and caught his first glimpse of the intruder. There was a girl in there alright. The sight of a woman made his blood pressure rise, and a wicked smile spread across his face. He keyed the comms, "Hey there pre'ladeh, how's 'bout givin' ol' Grolf a response of some kind." He laughed and waited. The others circled the CSV like angry sharks.
...Incoming Transmission...
...(SREB) Short Range Emergency Broadcast...
...Origin Unavailable. Navigation Offline. ...
...Power: 4%...
Automated Report:
Life Support: Offline
Primary Power: Offline
Secondary Power: Limited Function
Engines: Unresponsive
Instruments: Offline
Communications: Limited Function
Escape Pod: Unresponsive
Gravity: Offline
Sarah closed her eyes, shielding them from the Hyena's harsh searchlight. It was an effort to open them again. It would be so much easier just to let go...No. Not now. Not when she was so close to rescue. There was something in the Rogue's voice she didn't like but, despite her best efforts, she couldn't recall what it was.
Normally Sarah would have punched the man's lights out for a comment like that. Now, she lacked the energy for so much as a smart comment. The Rogues might have been drunk, but they may as well have been a team of Olympic Athletes compared to her. The slow realisation of what the pirate was implying just about made her sick. She'd been trapped here for two days, and all he could think about... She scowled mentally, finding herself lacking the ability to do it physically.
McFarlen's hair, no longer hampered by gravity, hung about her head like a shroud. The girl didn't have the energy to sweep it out of the way, instead locating the communicator by feel. It took her six attempts to coerce her frozen hands onto the button and another two to press it.
"Get...me....out...or...go....to....hell." It'd sounded better in her head. In reality it came out as a croaking protest.
The engineer dropped her hand from the communicator, lowering it to the pistol on her belt. It was an ancient weapon, firing solid rounds instead of energy bursts. Probably to evade detection by modern customs. She couldn't recall how it got there or much of how to use it. If it came down to it she doubted her ability to draw the weapon, much less fire it. She could barely move in zero gravity, let alone fight. Still; she was hopeful it would discourage her 'rescuers' from anything unsavoury.
The CSV's dashboard gave a final beep and went dark, losing any remaining power. Sarah hoped there was enough left for the airlock to function.
The Hyenas didn't respond and slowly peeled off, reeling in the direction from which they came. By turns, each was swallowed up by the wisps of the badlands. It appeared for a time as if they had chosen the latter, and gone to hell. But doubts were removed as a Bactrian lumbered between the nearest asteroid shards and slowly presented its self to the disabled CSV, hyenas flanked it's either side. The back end of the Bactrian swung silently open into the vacuum of space, and oxygen inside blasted towards the black. The larger ship spun and slowly backed towards Sarah, workers in makeshift space suits could be seen inside with equipment to form a seal around her hatch. The construction of said seal did nothing to inspire confidence in it's safety, and even the Rogues remained helmeted as they went to work cutting open the cockpit.
Only minimal oxygen was fed into the bay as they finally broke the seal around Sarah and removed her from it. The weak girl found herself being strapped to a side wall by several powerful men, each of whcih almost smelled of alcohol and grime through their suits, each of which could alone have handled the woman easily. But no chances were taken on an intruder. Rogues had enough enemies, and it wouldn't be the first time one made an attempt to infiltrate the crew.
An internal blast door sealed the bay and the tenuous seal around the CSV was blown; the Junker craft floated away and the barely conscious girl felt the cruise engines begin to thrum to life. At least they were feeding higher levels of oxygen into the room, allowing her to slowly regain her faculties. The men began removing helmets and one reached into a cooler for a grubby box of distilled gin, passing a few rounds to the rest of the boys for a job well done. One particularly tall Rogue walked up to the woman and patted her down, paying close attention to her chest. He came across the slug thrower and tossed the weapon carelessly to the floor. She still hadn't come all the way around, and he gave her a slight slap to the face to expedite her recovery. The man leaned towards her ear: "Welcome to the baaaaadlands," he whispered, emphasizing the word creatively and stepping back. "It's time to take you to the rock. We've a few boys that-" he eyed the restrained girl "-wan't to speak with you.
The Bactrian rocketed towards Buffalo with Sarah secured inside while the Hyenas flanked, keeping a sharp eye for any who might intercept them.
The oxygen revived Sarah faster then any drug could have, though her temperature was still a few degrees below normal. The tingling in her limbs had returned, and she greeted it with a shiver. It wasn't much; but it was better then the complete lack of feeling she'd had for the past ten hours. The young engineer grinned weakly; she'd made it. Somehow everything else seemed irrelevant; the Rogues, the CSV. She was alive.
Sarah's joy was short lived; however. A large Rogue, at least a foot taller then she, sauntered to her body seemingly reaching for her waist. The girl allowed herself a momentary panic, relieved only slightly by a metallic clatter, as her pistol skidded across the Bactrian's iron floor. Who the hell threw live weapons around? Her still blurry vision did little to attest to the identity of the man. Nor did the stinging blow on her left cheek. It wasn't a particularly heavy blow, but Sarah was in little state to resist it, and her head rolled right. She attempted to raise an arm to protect her face, only then noticing her restraints. Nice to see she was trusted. The too-big flight suit did a little to weaken the hold of the straps, giving her room enough to rotate her hand, if not move her arm. Sarah filed that snipped away for later use.
"-want to speak with you."
The Rogue grinned theatrically, clearly expecting a response of some kind. Sarah groaned internally. Why did she always get the dramatic ones? She noted the smell of gin on him and his men as well as the fact they all carried weapons, even on a rescue mission. He might have been dramatic, but he was also dangerous. She ignored his gaze; the man had his orders. She was fairly certain they included delivering her moderately unharmed. Moderately.
"Yeah. Nice to meet you too." The girl delivered her first full sentence in what felt like years. "What rock? Where are we going?" She'd heard rumours of a Rogue base, though she didn't expect anything more then a few weapon platforms. Perhaps a mooring fixture. The way the man said it, 'The Rock' was much bigger.
A terrifying thought hit her. What if it was a prison, or a slave camp? She knew such things existed. Not quite her idea of adventure. Fear, both of the Rogues and her fate, kept her from succumbing to exhaustion. Sarah's pride wouldn't allow her to show weakness in front of them. Not more then she had, anyway.
The Bactrian flew through the dangerous badlands with practiced... well, no Rogue ship was precisely graceful, but it flew. Indiscernible radio chatter echoed from the cockpit into the the bay where Sarah was held. One guard watched her, but was busy playing a harmonica quite badly. Everyone was too drunk to seem to mind the racket, and the pistol slid across the floor with each turn, punctuating the inharmonious tune. The man was, however, obviously aware of his surroundings. As the ship slowed and the girl's weapon slid forward, he stopped it carelessly with his foot without missing a beat. He pocketed the instrument. "We're here, Girlie. Best ge'cher wits about ye. The Boss is here ta gree'cha."
Without any of the comforts of larger transports or the luxurious vessels that it pirated, the Bactrian's landing was obvious. Particularly jarring for a passenger held by restraints. The dim light was cut by glare from opening of the bay door, and the crew filed past Sarah without noting her presence. Towards the bar or to their pirating vessels, no doubt. Only the guard remained, and he constantly shifted his stance, almost nervously. Waiting, but not for long.
A fairly short and disheveled man made his way aboard and dismissed the guard, who broke away at a dead run.
The man examined Sarah for a moment, then stooped to pickup her slug thrower. "I've one quite like it," He said as he unloaded it and let the rounds fall clinking to the floor. He slid the now useless weapon into her holster before lifting his own shirt to reveal an ornate chrome revolver shoved unceremoniously into his waistband. "As such, I see no need for these." He grabbed a ring of mechanical keys from the hook on the wall and unfastened Sarah's restraints and released the girl. He stepped back and crossed his arms, "I'm Dervin Malfient, leader of these Rogues. I want to know why you're worth sending my boys out to rescue. You'll either be worth the trip, or you'll make a worthy slave for the cardamine fields of Malta. So make it good."
// Since this has moved rather beyond a communication (not that I'm complaining) I'd request that it be continued here. Anyone who's already posted here is welcome to post there without permission. Thanks! And of course the obligatory:
![[Image: Ptb1Ogm.png]](http://i.imgur.com/Ptb1Ogm.png)
![[Image: dervinmalfient.png]](http://img200.imageshack.us/img200/6210/dervinmalfient.png)