NationStates Jolt Archive

(OOC: Considering the stunning success [/sarcasm] of my last RP, A Familiar Tale over in International Incidents, I figured I'd start another RP over here.)

She was the hunted.

Ever since the Kris'Hanna captured her family and boyfriend and slaughtered them all for dissenting the Kris'Hanni government, she had to leave. She barely escaped the Kris'Hanni Overseer Patrol's claws and gunfire.

Now she was on this tourist space station a system away, sitting at the bar and sipping on a water. She looked at her reflection. She was a beautiful, blond woman, but also a Familiar. She wasn't always a Kris'hanni Familiar, she was once just another 18-year-old woman, but then she was captured and (unsuccessfully) brainwashed by the government.

She and her family hated them. Her family died for it, as did the one she loved.

The memories flooded back. Tears filled her eyes. She looked around the bar, with people of every specie just cavorting and hanging out. She couldn't put up with it anymore. She had to hide from it. She darted to the bathroom. No doubt this would attract attention, but she didn't care. There were no Kris'Hanni here.

She hoped.

And she cried in silence.

(OOC: So we'll start here. Hopefully someone will notice that there's a hot chick bawling in the women's washroom...)

A young man noticed in the corner of his eye a young woman running for the bathrooms crying. Even though he was suposed be meeting with his squadmates the moral side of him won over his orders. He stood up and adjusted his coat to hide his small MXD pistol and gulped his drink. Then began to walk towards the womans bathroom. "Miss. Are you alright?" he called out hoping that his recent choice wouldn't make him look like an ass. He brushed some oh his dark brown hair from his eyes and started to wlak towards the sounds of crying.

OCC: His name is Joshua Knightly (son of Commander Knightly) and by squad he means the other AE in the area that are on the run from the Phalanix government

Yay for coffee, the man sitting at the bar thought. The strong black liquid had gotten him through many a hangover, and this time was no different. After a night of twenty shots of straight rum, then a bottle of it all for himself in his room, he would need quite a bit of this drink. He heard the quiet sobs of a woman next to him, and watched her as she left for the bathroom. Not everyone had a good night, I see. I bet thats some juicy ass, to bad she looks a bit young, he thought quietly.

He stood up, intending to follow her, but another man made it to the door before he did. Still, he stayed. He stood back a small distance, only 10 feet, and leaned against a wall, watching with intent.

Tag for later post, I have to go to the hospital and get my assignment.

OOC: Let's see if we can make this one of yours a stunning success then shall we? I don't think I've done an RP without the starter setting up a plot, so forgive me I'm out of wack...:D

IC:

Ronan Farrell, a twenty year old Knight of the High Kingdom's Knights Templar, sat at the bar cautiously, sipping his ale. He wore a simple black overcoat, and under that and out of sight, his Templar uniform, a black tunic, his belt and gun holster, and his dark red pants. The small white cross under his shoulder on his upper left chest was the symbol of his elite order.

He glanced back as a woman ran away from the bar, and a man follow shortly after. The man seemed to have a nervous look about him as he got up an followed. He sighed, and stood up from his stool, and leaned back against the bar thinking. Could be a break up, and the guy might be trying to fix things up, thought Ronan. Or the chick might be in trouble... Ronan sighed again, picked up his drink, and walked casually to the entrance of the hall leading to the bathrooms. He leaned against the wall casually, as if he was just resting. If the guy goes into the bathroom, then somethin's up.... He then noticed the other guy watching intently. Now if this doesn't look like a watchdog for the other guy....

OOC: Ronan Farrell is a part of the Knights Templar, who these days are now dedicated to protect humanity against other species, and if necessarry, other humans...Only Ronan is kind of a maverick to the Order of Knights with his tendency to get into trouble that could be avoided...

Standing in the line, waiting for the surly waitress to FINALLY get his order right, Auggy stood massaging his temple with one hand. The previous night's 'festivities' aboard his exploratory ship with it's 3 Sakkran and two human crew involved more than a few illicit substances, which were now taking their toll on his poor cranium.

His eyes did a quick scan of the area, making sure none of the pther crew could see him in his moment of weakness. It wasn't often Humans went into exploratory services, but he made it after many grueling trials. A mere night's party shouldn't affect him like it did. If the others caught wind, there would be jeers-a-plenty.

A young girl catches his eye as she makes a small display of herself, running for the restroom. A young man followed her in, as well as more than a few eyes. Lover's quarrel? None of my bizwhack anyways. Dames are nuts, for certain.

Viktor Popov scanned the room with his dark eyes from the table in the corner. He shifted his gaze onto the bawling woman making a dash for the restroom, and then to her 'entourage'.

"Perhaps there will be a fight. I could use some extra money..." he thought to himself.

He nodded to his brother, who began to stand up. "Wait 'till someone pulls a gun, then we go in..." he whispered. He then leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his drink.

Ronan shifted his glass to his left hand, and lowered his right hand near his waist, cracking his knuckles then making a fist. He listened at the conversation around the room a little, but mainly payed attention to what was going in the hallway just next to him. Mabye I really am a troublemaker, he thought.

Auggy gets his order finally. A raspberry scone with a cup of green tea. Ah, this should help settle my head. He takes a seat at a table nearby and fumbles through the pockets of his jump-suit a bit, pulling out a jar of small pills. The label reads KCTS Hangover Helper.

The pills are juggled into his mouth, followed by the tea and a bite of his scone. Hmmm....funny. Lots of folks seem to be paying attention to ..... He follows the gaze of zeveral beings towards the bathroom from the corner of his eye.

....that girl? Trouble's a-brewin! At that moment his mobile beeps softly. Picking it up, the ID reads off that it's the ship's captain. "Auggy here. Go ahead, Cappy." One beat. "Uh-huh." Two beats. "Yup. Uh-huh." Two more beats. "Gotcha. I'll be there. Just to let you know, I got me a Ghaan in a glass' on hand here. Wanna send the boys to give it a look-see?" Three beats pass. "Alright. The mobile signal is on. See ya soon." The mobile is replaced in his jumper, and he continues munching, but now his eyes become wary.

(Ghaan in a glass means someone is in possible distress, just so you know. Merchant Fleet slang there.)

The man watched the new comotion. All this over a piece of ass. Go figure, the man thought. He pulled a small comunication device out of his pocket, and spoke quickly. "Hey Em, get the ship ready. I think we may need to move fast if it hits the fan." He droped the device into his pocket, and pulled back his jacket, resting his hand on his pistol, a ICMC issue M6.

The door squeeked open.

Swoosh...the sound of the toliet flushing. A couple clicks of boots on the cement floor of the women's bathroom and another squeek of a door being opened.

They need to get these doors oiled.

CLick..click...click...she turned the faucet to warm and out poured clear water that steamed a bit off the porclien sink.

Dark black eyes stared in the mirror and met the gaze. The black eyes stood out against the pale creamy complexion off her skin. Flawless and curved into a oval. Her face normally framed with long shiny black hair now pulled back into two buns that stood on the top off her head towards the lambdoidal suture, where the occipital bone meets the parietal bones. Her nose symmetrical and straight, pointed slightly up, giving her the nickname when she was young of "button nose". Her lips a pale pink were full and when she wasn't smiling pouted. She adjusted her top. A one-piece navy blue suit that clung to her skin like it was a second layer. She had it buttoned as far up as it could go, but cleavage seemed to spill out. She ran her slim fingers down her slender waist to get any wrinkles out. She straighted her military badge, displaying a variety of colours and of her status as commandor of Starburst. A military battleship observed the ships in and around their territory.

Commander Eve Bera was fixing her outfit when she heard another woman come bustling in. The girl was crying. I do not know how to deal with these emotions. Then she heard a gruff voice, a male's voice.

"Miss. Are you alright?"

"Sir, I will assist her in any way she needs. I do advise you remain outside this perimeter until I give you status to enter." She walked over to the girl. Each step matching the girl's cry.

She bent down to met the girl's gaze. She not much older, but years of experience had given her maturity beyond many years. She was 24 years old, who appeared to be 18, but acted like she was in her 30s.

She cupped the girl's chin in her left hand and with her right hand she pushed the girl's blonde hair out of her eyes. This was out of her league, but she would try. I don't know how to deal with girls, I know how to deal with the boys. She sighed.

"Sweetheart, my name is Eve. What seems to be the problem? What can I do to assist you?"

OOC: Weyl whaddya know...yet another opportunity to inject a little chaos. Not even going to try 'n resist.

Arrrrr...

IC:

In a dark corner of the bar (and bars like this had a surplus of dark corners...) sat a tall, dark man. He appeared, at first glance, as most tall and dark men did, that being: tall and...dark. Then one looked closer, and noted the way his black duster (and who the hell wore -dusters- anymore, anyways?) accented his broad shoulders, and one would trace the line of his chest down to a narrow waist.

One would notice the way his wide-brimmed hat (recognizable as a 'cowboy hat' if you knew the lore) shadowed his face, and yet one could still make out the sharp features, the slight smirk on his lips, and the scar on his left cheek. (If one were sufficiently familiar with such things, it would be noticeable as the classic 'dueling scar.')

He was relaxed, yes, but the impression that one got was that he was relaxed because he -knew- that he could take -anybody- he came across. Deep down within his bones, within his very soul, he knew that in the way of quick, deadly fights...nobody was gonna top him.

And then, you might remember a snatch of a ballad, perhaps a bit of a newspaper article, a police report, the evening news, that annoying friend who -will not SHUT UP-...

You might remember a name. One name. A name that chills you to your blood.

Jaime Stark.

And just as you are about to react visibly to this revelation, his gaze sweeps over you, and for an instant, over a crowded, noisy bar, your gaze meets. Your eyes lock onto his, one eye a pool of molten quicksilver, the other...
Red.

And then your mind is filled with the stories...stories of the Pirate Prince, the one man that nobody could catch...

Stories of...

The Devileye.

Ronan slid his hand under his overcoat, and grasped his Templar issue C-45 pistol. He looked at the man just ten feet away. Well, looks I get to do something after all, he thought.

"You might wanna get your hand away from that M6 buddy," he said to the man. Ronan's finger tapped the side of his pistol. Make your move lad, stalking don't go to well with the Order


OOC: Just a quick review, but Ronan is under the impression that Joshua is up to no good, and this other guy is a watchdog.....

Joshua nodded and turned to exit the bathroom. But before he did he spoke "Please let me know if I can be of any asistance." After that he stepped out and leaned against the wall beside the door. The pancake holster dug into his chest and he adjusted the pistol under his jacket. His jacket resembled a trench coat but borre the AE symbol on it's shoulders. He looked around the bar and wondered where his squad was and also worried about the young lady crying in the bathroom.

(OOC: O_O Holy crap, 12 posts between sessions! This is better than I imagined! Thanks, guys!)

She looked up. Tears were running down her face. Eve was standing there. She provided an aura of security, which was something the girl had not felt in some time.

"Sweetheart, my name is Eve. What seems to be the problem? What can I do to assist you?"

The girl stood. Speech was hard, but she tried. "My name...my name is Sharan-708. I'm a political fugitive. My species...they're trying to kill me. And I don't know where to go..." She broke down again. Sharan-708 was just a helpless Familiar, and the Kris'Hanna would come for her at any second.

But she trusted this Eve. Something told her that Sharan could put faith in this woman. She might not stop the Kris'Hanna army, but the least she could do is be a temporary guardian angel.

She wiped the tears from her face. "You're wearing a uniform...whose military are you?"

(OOC: I'll get to all of your characters eventually, Eve was the first one to really catch my eye. Thanks again, guys!)

The man looked at the Templar, and shrugged. He removed the weapon, and let it hang by his side. Although a lower capacity than most pistols, the 12.7mm sidearm had enough stopping power. He had replaced the built in scope with a laserdot sight, without his armor, the scope served no purpose.

"I'd rather not," he said, responding dryly. He spit on the floor, not really adjusting his lean. There was no threat in his stance, but it was obvious he really didn't care if there was.

Joshua saw the second man pull his gun out and began to fight the instinctive action to shoot. He secretly slipped out the MXD and held it in the shadows it's saftey off. Shit... he thought aloud before knocking on the womans bathroom's door and slipping it open a crack. "If you have a side arm you might want to have it at the ready becasue there is a man with a gun out here. I'd hate to see innocent people hurt," he said as he leaned slightly on the door.

Jaime's finely tuned 'Aaaawwww-ssssheeeyaaat' sense was currently going 'weee-aaaww, weee-awww, weee-aww.' He was gettin' some serious bad vibes, man. He felt a ripple in the force. As if thousands of voices suddenly screamed 'DO SOMETHING, WE'RE GETTING BORED!'

Yeah, you get the idea.

Anyways, Jaime finished off his scotch and tossed the glass sideways over his head. It hurtled across the bar-room, following an almost flat trajectory until it plunked neatly down onto the bar itself. 'e got skillz, uunnh.

So, after performing that amazing little feat of fine control and general 'I am so much better than ya'll, 's just impressive' -ness, Jaime would relax further back into his seat, and grin.

This was, of course, all a cover for him checking to make sure that his bolt pistol was free in its holster, and that his Warblade was loose in its scabbard. Which they were. So, he dictated a quick message, subvocalized, to Ze Krew, and having done so...relaxed...and watched.

Until time came to make his move...

After a short wait, and an eaten scone later, the 'boys' Auggy reffered to arrived. Two male Sakkrans and a human female in her late 30's. The woman sat herself opposite from Auggy and made like they were having a nice friendly chat.

"What's up, Aug? Heard there was a situation here that might need some looking at?" The two Sakkrans used their scaley 7+ foot bulk to mask the conversation as they appeared to be picking bits of food of the plate. Meanwhile, their eyes moved independently of each other, taking in the scene throughout the area.

"Girl got up crying; ran into the can. Normally, nothing worth noting. But now all these guys around here are showing waaaay too much interest in her. I smell kidnappers, assassins, or some joy-boys looking for an easy thrill. Either way, morals and honor, or whatever crap you call it, says get the girl clear of the area. These guys look too much like sharks circling."

"Who we lookin for?"

Auggy's eyes move across the room, stopping at every man that showed some measure of interest silently. The Sakkrans followed his eyes, and blinked when they made their marks. Clawed fists balled into roughly 1.5 times the size of a man's head, and a slight cinnamon scent came off of them as their neck-crests raised high.

"Ok, Aug. I'll go into the girl's room there and see what's what. Boys, make sure none of these mugs does anything ..... stupid."

A low rumble signalled assent, as they took the seats that were vacant. Mira (her name) got up and walked into the girl's room past the man at the entrance leaning against the wall. "Got a girlfriend in there, or looking to catch a peep?" Her eyebrow tilted at an angle in the man's direction as the door closed slowly.

Once shut, she could her a low conversation inbetween sobs taking place. "Uhhh...name's Mira. You make a habit of drawing attention to yourself? Either way, a bunch of knuckleheads are hovering around the area, looking at this door. If you wanna, I got some boys outside that'll get you out of here. Too much attention, and the 'heat' starts asking questions."

Joshua hid his pistol in the shadows more and shook his head. "Nether. Just worried about the young lady that walked in there cry," he said his voice caring. As Mira went in the room he knelt down acting like he was tieing his shoe. Realy he cocked his pistol chambering a 13mm round. As he stood up kept his pistol hidden. Normaly in these condisitons he'd have his plasma sword ready but he felt that any Phalanix agents would instantly know an AE plasma sword.

The man looked around the room. One would think he had gotten in a bit over his head. But he really didn't. He knew Em had the ship ready to rock, and he was a fast runner if he had to be. His eyes moved, almost to slowly to make it look like he cared, but he was taking it all in.

The Sakkarns were intimidating, but compared to Covenant, Flood, and Ventran forces, they were nothing special. The humans, well, he had plenty of faith in his own kind, but not that much. It was at this point that his suitbound AI system would be singling out targets and giving him info. But he didn't have that. So now, he relied on his own skill, and native Southern Imitoran born tallent to be a helluva pistol shot.

He noticed the man closest to the bathroom was looking rather harried. He was waiting for someone. "Whatcha waiting for," he said, shifting weight onto his other foot. His lean had more of a true lean to it. "Look a bit worried."

"I'm waiting for my friends," he said his pistol still hiden. Truthfuly he was. Usualy they were never this late. Unless they ran into alittle problem. and by little it would have to be alot to stall them. He truely felt worried. Shit...they might have run into an avenger... he thought aloud not worrying of anyone hearing his thoughts.

"I know how ya fell, always worried when ya wait. 'Specially for buddies and what not." He conveyed no real emotion, just words. Any mental scan by anyone capable of the feat would reaveal nothing at all, as if he had no mind. He did, but, one thing he had been tought was to always clear your mind. It was a well tought skill.

"Trust me. If they ran into a problem it'd be something massive," he said as he began to atempt a psy-search of the surounding area for any threats. As he searched he didn't find anyhting that resembled an avenger fortunatly but no AE signals ethere. "Shit," he muttered as he began to shift his postion his plasma sword's hilt sticking him in the chest.

OOC: I guess I am the lucky girl, ahaha boys you come next in line.

IC: Eve looked into her eyes. There was something so errie, but yet so human about them. Something in her eyes said she needed more than just a shoulder to cry on.

Eve patted the girl on the back, but softly. "Well, I shall call you Sharan and we can put my bullshit name aside and you can just call me Eve. I do, however, work for the military of AmandaTheGreat. Our military is not extensive because our leader and government does not think it to be necessary we find other methods to be more equip to deal with opposition. Our government is a pacifist government. I am the commandor of the vessel Starburst. This is the main vessel and we control the satellite vessels. I am not familar with your species, but I am sure the database on my ship will be off help." She turned to the other feminine voice. She looked the other woman up and down.

Her face blank and did not show one emotion or any hints to one developing. "Well, Mira, it is very nice of you to offer assistance. But I must decline at this moment for I am not aware of your organization. I do, however, agree that some men would be after this young swan. Yet, I do not know your motives, which I suppose you could question mine also." She stopped and looked at Sharan. Eve did not have any siblings and she always wanted a sister, older or younger, and this could be her answer to the void in her life. Well, besides her soulmate, but that was a completely different story and she had no time to waste on the men at this moment.

She took a step back, allowing more room for Sharan, but close enough for security. Eve was armed and she was not afraid to use it, if needed be. She turned back to Sharan, her black eyes like the infinite space and her face revealing not a word. "Sharan, I am willing to house you on my vessel, until I contact homebase and we find out more about your kind. We shall provide the basics, the bottom level of Maslow's Heirarchy of needs. We also shall add security, which I have assessed you are lacking. You have another choice to go with also. You can leave with Mira. What Mira has to offer, I do not know. This is your decision and let us not manipulate you in any way." Her right hand rested on the small of her back, were her pistol was.

Eve did not trust anyone and now her cold black eyes were locked on Mira.

Mira looks ascance at Eve. Yeesh. If I didn't know better, i'd swear she's loaded to bear with testosterone. Or a dyke. A shrug of the shoulders, and both hands removed from her jumpsuit. "Look, lady. I could care one way or the other what happens. But you got a room full of freaks out there taking more than a passing interest in this girl. You think you can handle 'em, fine by me. One of my crew, however, insists that his moral duty is to help the damsel in distress. Me, I don't really care." She looks at the girl for a minute trying to draw a face up from memory, and finding nothing.

"Not like there's a bounty on her or anything. You wanna play nursemaid, it's your credits." Her earbud buzzes silently, and she puts a finger on it. "Excuse me." She walks towards the mirror and splashes water on her hands. "Go ahead."

" Cappy, if we're gonna be on time for the supply run, we'd best be going soon. The Vubz Station comission gets cut if we're late. The sound of her load-master's voice came over the comm-implant behind her ear.

"Gotcha. I'll round up the boys and make sure they've had their fill." She turns again. and looks Eve in the eye with equal measure. "So what's it gonna be? You playing good samaritan alone? Time is money for my ship, after all."

Ronan glanced at a door leading from the ship docking area, and saw a number shady figures entering. Two broke away from their group of five and cornered a bystander. Some words were shared and one pointed at Ronan. He glanced at the five, taking getting a look at their faces before casually looking away, finishing his drink.

"Shit," he said aloud. He unbuckled the strap around his C-45 and had a grip with his right hand. The shady figures turned out to be five humanoids, sort of underground criminals that he and some others in his Order had been tracking, but had no real evidence. He glanced at the two men nearby, guess they were trying to help after all, no time for apologies now anyway...

Jaime slid lightly to his feet, black polished leather boots hitting the floor of the bar with a faint bounce. He stretched, then, displaying an amazing flexibility that was decidedly strange for a man of his size. That being about six foot three, one eighty s.pounds. Silver streaks ran through his long light brown hair, not from age...but because of who he was.

Who Jaime Stark was. Who his brother was. Dysaryn Stark. The Lord Changer. Chaos made flesh. Yup. How's that for a subtitle. 'Jaime Stark, Chaos' little brother.'' Didn't sound very good, did it? Thus...'Jaime Stark, The Pirate Prince.'

Had a lot of a better ring to it...but it did have its disadvantages...'n this 'd be one of 'em.

-brrrrrrrring-
"Jaime. Talk."

"Jaime, 's Adrian. What the Sweet Pock is taking so long?"

Adrian Carrion, Commanding the Assassin, a Brigand class Battlecruiser, one of two in Jaime's flotilla. Second most powerful ship in the flotilla, tied with the Drake, second only the Moonsabre itself. Carrion was also Jaime's second in command.

"Adrian, something is going down here. I'd prefer it if you alerted B Watch to my location, make sure they're ready. If they have to come in, they're gonna come in a shooting."

"Aye, cap. Hey...don't git kilt, Jaime. Dysaryn'd never let us live if we let you get hurt."

Jaime laughed, and cut the comm. Now, that entire conversation had taken place via subvocalization and an earbug, thus, quite private-like.

It was then that he felt the decidedly amateur 'psychic probe.' If he'd been a dog, you woulda seen his hackles rise up. As it was, his hand went to his Warblade, tightened firmly around the hilt, and half-drew the four-foot hand-a-half-sword from its sheathe, before he regained control and shoved it back in.

His snarl was predatorial. Nobody played GAMES with HIS mind. NOBODY! Of course...he was over-reacting...but he hell...that was part of the fun. Part of who he was. He took things to extremes. Bring out the Chaos in the situation. Y'know? Spice it up. Make it fun. Gotta keep it going, keep it moving. Can't stop, won't stop, NEVER STOP!

POCK!

Pacifist government? Sharan had never heard of any pacifist governments. All she had ever known was the always-warring terrorist Kris'Hanna. But she stuffed it back her in mind. This girl--this Eve--was willing to protect her. She should be grateful. No one was willing to protect her since...Kishak-834, who was dead.

No. She had to move on.

"Thank you, Eve." She wiped her eyes on her long pink sleeves. Her shirt accentuated the right parts, but it was only because this was the first shirt she saw in her closet before she left. It was kind of low cut. She knew it would draw unwanted attention.

Sharan went to the sink and washed her face off. "I can tell you a little about the Kris'Hanna. There are two kinds of them: the Familiars like me and the regular Kris'Hanna. The latter are giant, bug-like creatures, with no eyes, a huge sideways-opening mouth that takes up half their face, four pointy legs that have knees that reach up to 3 feet. Their arms end in two huge claws. Of course, they can't hold guns, but they're super-strong. One knocked down the westward wall of my house with his bare claws by himself."

She looked to the door. "Eve, let's go. I have a one-seater cruiser that I can take to your ship, unless it's docked here too."

Joshua noted that things were getting not exactly friendly. He pushed open the door a crack only so his voice could be heard and said into it "Things arn't looking very friendly out here so if you have a weapon you might want to have it handy. Also I'd sujest you hurry up and start trying to get out before a firefight breaks out." He stressed the part about being armed since he only had a single clip for his pistol and doubted his plasma sword would help keep his cover.

The man leaning against the wall noticed Joshuas small move, and he slowly stood straight up, his pistol still hanging by his side. He removed the communicator from his pocket again, and spoke into it. "Em, were gonna need to roll fast, get the engines spooling." He placed the device back into his pocket, and watched the moves of everyone around. He tightend the grip on his M6, waiting.

Joshua shifted again this time reaching into his coat pulling a metal shaft with pointed ends. He made sure to keep it hidden. The AE was the only remaining unit that was conected to Phalanix that used the older model plasma swords. Unlike the original version this one had a black shaft and when active a blood red blade. He was already a crack shot with his pistol but when it came to the sword he was a unstopable fury.

Eve nodded to Sharan. "Sounds like my kind of men." A slight wink of the eye.

She put her hand on the collar of her attire right above her heart and pressed down.

"Hey boys we got a firey number, let's roll when I get on board. Fire her up."

Sharan motioned for her to follow closely behind. Her eyes meet Mira and did not blink. Women like that made her skin boil underneath. Women who made assumptions without knowing who they were dealing with. She saw the look Mira gave her and she only knew what the woman could be thinking. If more time she would have given the woman a lesson that to never judge another person. Of all the things.

Just before exiting the bathroom, Eve looked up at the ceiling, she had felt cool air. A smile crossed her face, a rare thing, like a total eclispe of the sun. Just as it was there, it disappeared. She looked about the room and then jumped up on the sink counter. She stretched and pulled down the grate covering the vent. It was small, but she knew the girls could fit through.

She pressed her button once more. "Alright, my navigator. Tell me where this vent goes, leading out of the bathroom."

There was silence and then she climbed up into the vent. It would pass right above the bar area and exit out the back. This was just too easy, she hoped she didn't need to use her gun. She leaned down and told, "Sharan jump a bit and grab onto my hand. I will pull you up."

After several attempts of reaching Eve's hand, Sharan finally grabbed her fingertips. Seconds later, by method of adrenalin, Eve had yanked Sharan up and pulled her into the vent. It was tight, but they had room to move.

As she followed the twists and turns, they were overhead of the bar. She heard people talking, but could not make out what was being said. She carefully went over the vent to the bar. It would not withstand a lot of pressure or weight. Just as she was about to tell Sharan to be careful, she saw the hinges give way and Sharan was slipping out of the vent. Eve turned around to catch her and grabbed on to her upper right arm. Someone must have been pulling on the bottom that was a lot more compact than her because moments later her and Sharan were back in the bar. Eve landed on her feet and in mid-air grabbed her pistol and aimed it at a nearby man who was pulling Sharan to her feet.

"Get back. We are leaving now." Her voice stern and showed authority.

OOC: Thought Sharan might want to mix with the other characters a bit instead of making a break for it.

Joshua heard no response form the bathroom and suddenly shoved the door open only to see the two go into the vents. He swore under his breath and placed the shaft of the plasma sword back in its holster. He began to move towards the nearest vent exit when he heard the sounds of the vent giving way. "Shit," he swore aloud and ran towards where the vent gave way jsut in time to have Sharan land on him causing him to drop his pistol and have it slide closer to the bar. When she landed on him he let out a rather loud grunt and gasp.

Mira watched with feigned apathy towards the creepy-eyed woman in the military outfit. The look that said woman was giving Mira was met with a dismissing wave of the hand.

"Have fun." She turned around as they left the bathroom, combing out her hair and straightening her jumpsuit. "Boys, let's ditch this dump. We got credits to make. Sorry, Auggy. Looks like some stiff decided to play nursemaid for your damsel in distress."

The crew boards their ships, which leaves the station after confirming its pre-flight checks.

Bars have a tendancy of getting quiet when someone falls through a vent. The man watched Jashua make a run, and get landed on by the two girls. The one dressed like a military type came up with her pistol raised, and now the man did as well. He moved forward slowly, his M6 focused right on Eve's chest. His stance, movement, everything was obviously military. Or ex.

"Put the gun down hun, I aint got nothin 'gainst puttin you down. So just lay the piece aside, a step away from the young couple," he said, nodding towards Joshua and Sharan.

Sharan let an expletive go, and she slipped to the ground. The man pulling her down was too strong, and now she was laying over a heap of roofing and ventilation...not to mention the bartender.

"This means bad things for my tab, huh?" she said nervously.

She had now noticed that she had attracted an audience. She looked around nervously. She got up and noticed that it was not the bartender she had landed on, but Joshua. She laughed a bit, but she was going crazy inside. This was bad. If any Kris'Hanna were here, they would no doubt investigate--

A gun!

She threw up her hands in surrender. The Imitorian man was waving a gun at...Eve!

"Sir, please...don't hurt her. She's a friend of mine. Though I have no idea why we took the vent instead of the door"

"EVERYBODY FREEZE!"

The Kris'Hanna Patrols were here. Two Kris'Hanna now barred the door. The monsters of chrome and green stood hissing.

"THE GIRL COMESSSS WITH USSSSSS. ALL PERSSSSSONS ARE REQUESSSSTED TO PUT DOWN THEIR ARMS AND SSSSSURRENDER SHARAN-708 IMMEDIATELY."

Joshua coughed slightly as he managed to move Sharan off of him. As the Kris'Hanna Patrols arived Joshua began to worry. "Shit shit shit," he muttered as he pulled out his plasma sword shaft since his gun was nowhere he could see. As he slowly stood up he offered his hand to help up Sharan. His finger was on the activation switch on his blade jsut waiting for the right time to activate it and make his move.

Viktor stood up and pushed his chair under the table. Walking with a roguish swagger over to the door and the two figures barring it.

"Comrades, I believe the girl will go with you if she damn well pleases." he said, smiling, "Now, if you would ask her nicely, like civilized beings, things will go better for all involved."

As he spoke, the massive form of his brother stood up and strode over behind Viktor. Invisible to the two giants was the sawed off shotgun in Dimitri's hands concealed by Viktor's body, though just about everyone else in the room would be able to see it quite clearly...

The man spun slowly, leveling his pistol at one of the monster's head. He notived another firearm by his feat, and placed his foot on it. He kicked it up, and caught with his free hand. "Hope ya dont mind if I borrow this," he said. As he did so, he pressed a small button on his wrist watch.

In his ship, an alarm beeped twice. Em, which was short for Mich, which was short for Michelle, a young brunette with long hair, swore under her breath. She picked up a weapon, an old covenant plasma pistol, and began walking towards the bar. "What the hell has Andrew gotten himself into now?" she thought aloud, clicking the safty off.

Joshua swore under his breath as he saw the man kick his pistol up. "At least it wasn't the sword," he muttered as he activated the plasma sword. He didn't give a damn anymore about the risk of being identified. This he felt that it was his moral duty to protect this woman even if he didn't know her. The sword's blood red blade took shape within moments casting a glow across Joshua's face as he held it ready for combat. "Stay behind me if you want me to get you out," he said to Sharan as he cracked a smirk and prepared to let his instincts take over his actions.

The Patrols began to cackle (one could say "laugh", but it really just sounded more like forced coughing than anything).

"SSSSILLY HUMANOIDSSSS. YOUR PATHETIC WEAPONRY WILL NOT EFFECT US."

"Unfortunately...they're right. Unless your pistol is a .40 caliber or higher," Sharan said.

"SSSSILENCE, FAMILIAR. YOU SHALL COME WITH US OR EVERYONE HERE SHALL DIE."

Sharan tilted her head in surrender, but she looked at the sword Joshua was holding. She whispered in his ear: "That plasma sword will cut right through them. I suggest you use it."

"Hey, wait." A man stood up. "You guys are unarmed. How are you going to kill us?" The group he was sitting with murmured in approval.

One of the Kris'Hanna skittered over to him and, with a fling of its giant, clawed arm, threw him across the room and into the far wall.

"YOU HAVE NO CHANSSSSE TO SSSSURVIVE, MAKE YOUR TIME." The two Kris'Hanna then started making their way towards Eve, Joshua, and Sharan.

"Get ready to run very soon," Joshua said as suddnely he bolted foreward at unhuman speeds the sword a blur of red death. One of the many advantages of being an AE was the genetic enhancements and the advanced human abilities. He was right infront of one of the patrol members when he litteraly lept onto the roof of the bar and landed behind it in only afew seconds ready to delivier a killing blow thorugh it's back.

Eve dropped her arm to her side. These creatures looked just like Sharan had described. Hmmm...this could be good to look into the government of KirsHanna. I do wonder if they would take me along. Not as a captive though. I think I will just observe and see how the story unfolds. She did not step back, but did not move any closer to the creatures to not get a rise out of them.

The Kris'Hanna--that now had a spinal piercing--screamed in a pitch inaudible to humans (but audible to Sharan and Joshua) and fell over, thick green blood oozing from its back.

"Eve, aren't you going to help?" Sharan asked, but then realized that she didn't have a powerful firearm or cutting implement on her. But Sharan did. She pulled a knife from her pocket and pressed a button on her side. It tripled in size. She stuck it in the other Kris'Hanna's--

--arm!

He had blocked it! Though he (it?) still hissed in pain, the Patrol grabbed Sharan by her face with his other claw. Her screaming could not be heard.

"I SHALL CRUSH YOUR SKULL AND NO ONE WILL BE THERE TO PITY YOU."

Viktor stepped back as the giants began to move forward, "Impolite bastards, they are..." he said. He sighed and pulled out his comlink...

"Sergei, get the biggest gun in the ship that you can find and bring it to the bar, hurry..."

He put the comlink away and withdrew a smallish carbine from his coat...

OOC: Is anyone else listening to the song Get Free right now? For some reason it just kinda fits the sceen for me.

IC:

Andrew dropped the AE gun, not really caring about its size, and sighted in the standing bugs head. He squeezed the triger twice, sending out two 12.7mm, or .50cal, APHE rounds towards its face. The M6B had little recoile, and Andrew kept droping back, his pistol focused on the bug.

Em came around the side, and aimed as to not hit Sharon. She fired three qucik blasts from the plasma pistol, which, because of her rather impecable timing, would impact the bug at the same time as Andrew's two shots.

Viktor dropped his carbine and drew a curved short sword from a scabbard hanging on his belt. Silently, he ran and threw himself at the remaining monster, stabbing downwards at the base of it's neck with his sword.

Meanwhile, at the door, Sergei (A crewman on Viktor's ship) appeared at the doorway sporting a huge rifle designed just for armored targets...

Jaime had just been about ready to make his exit when the big pockin' bugs had come a'callin'. 'n then there had been the shooting, and the stabbing, and such-forth.

Jaime had been pondering intervention. Now, normally...he didn't think about these things. He was impulsive, yessir. Chaotic, Hell Yeah! A real spur of the moment kinda guy. But in cases like this...it paid to be positive.

And then...something forced his action. Like some moron cutting loose with a plasma pistol. Jaime drew his Warblade one-handed. Three and a half feet of Eldensteel with a foot of hilt, crossguard, and the fat diamond set in the pommel. Hell of a sword, even without taking into its special properties.

Startooth. That was the Warblade's name. 'n the moment it cleared its sheath, the white-hot energies crackling up and down the length of that blue-tinted Eldensteel blade marked it as being a wittle bit special.

It mounted a slice-generator, obviously. Gave it an incredible cutting capability, allowed it to penetrate the thickest armor, so on, so forth. (40k Powersword, if y'didn't get that.)

Genetic Enhancement nothing. Jaime was Dysaryn Stark's brother. Dysaryn was considered to be the best swordsman in the Supremacy. Best swordsman among a race of swordsmen. Quite an accomplishment. Jaime had trained with his brother, in his youth. The lessons he had learned had served him extremely well.

Because he had learned from the best.

Now, of course, there was the usual Revenian advantage of having evolved on a two-gee world. That is, they moved on two-gee worlds as Earth Humans moved on one-gee worlds. Meaning they moved on one-gee worlds as Earth Humans moved on .5 gee worlds.

And as damn near every space station outside of Revenian space was standardized at one-gee...

Further, Jaime Stark was an extremely quick individual. That is, he was an extremely quick individual among his own kind. Which was added to the usual advantage...and you got...

A sickeningly quick, sickeningly powerful, sickeningly lethal individual. Jaime Stark, the Pirate Prince.

He began moving. As he did, he snapped off a signal to the Moonsabre. A full 10-man squad of the 'sabre's B Watch close combat team would be getting a move on, about...now.

Jaime wasn't particularly worried about the big bad lizards. Looked like they were about dead. He was more worried about some moron going fire-crazy and ripping a whole clip off into the wall and getting lucky and treating the bar's occupants to a bit of explosive decompression.

So...Jaime, sword at a low-diagonal from his right hip, would be moving towards -the door.- Upon reaching his objective, he calmly took up a leaning position by it, Startooth crackling away merrily in his right hand. Ready to cleave in twain whatever sort of big nasty might come through that door.

Ugh...why did crap like this happen to him? Big bloody lizards...plasma-crazies...even worse, some idiot had lugged in an armor-piercing rifle.

Something designed to punch holes in things. On a space station.

NEWS FLASH, BUCKO! It MAY punch holes in what your shooting at, but it WILL punch holes in SOMETHING. Which is probably gonna be the wall. Which exposes the whole compartment to vacuum. Which creates a wonderful effect called 'Decompression.' Which did -BAD- things to warm, fleshy bodies.

So Jaime had his left hand on his bolt pistol. He didn't want to draw it, because the pistol's big .75 caliber explosive rocket-propelled slugs did an excellent job of punching real -BIG- holes in things. So, if he -had- to draw it...he had to make sure he -hit- what he was shooting at.

'n on his list of qualities, amazing marksman wasn't one of them.

Joshua at this point had green blood sprayed arcoss his jacket. The blood on the blade slowly burned away and he smirked. He began spriting towards the other patrol slicing at it's arm holding Sharan.

(OOC: Props to Revenia, that post was awesome, man.)

The Kris'Hanna recoiled in pain, now without one arm. The arm was still attached to Sharan's head, but she had no trouble pulling the limp thing off her face. It fell to the floor, flopped around a bit, then laid still. Sharan fell, choking for breath.

"YOU SHALL PAY WITH YOUR LIFE," the patrol said, and went to slam Joshua into the ground with his last good arm.

Eve watched the whole thing with a careful eye. She was trained to observe and then attack. She wanted to know their weaknesses and their strengths. She saw Sharan fall down trying to grasp some air. Eve reacted quickly and was at her side. She assisted Sharan into a tripod position, it was known to give mroe effective results for breathing, taking the strain off the chest. The position was sitting on a chair and then resting the person's arms on a table or pillow and their head down, looking like a tripod. Sortly therefter Sharan was recovering at a fast rate.

Eve whispered to Sharan, "Sharan, I need to know their weaknesses. I did not observe many and you are the key. You know how they are. Please tell me so I can dispose of these creatures quickly and effectively. I have already called several of my men here and they will not let you or me die. Not that I am afraid that I will. I am faster than these creatures, but it is obvious they are stronger. So, please tell me as soon as you can."

OOC: I'm assuming the rounds my guys fired missed.

IC:

Andrew watched as the rounds went by, missing. The harmlessly hit walls, noithing happening. No self respecitng space station would be built without walls that could withstand being hit by heavy rounds. He reaimed, and this time squeezed off the last 10 rounds of his hand gun. He dove to teh side, rolling, and popping up next to Sharon. He pressed the mag release, and the empty magazine kicked free. He slammed another one home, and looked at Sharon. "You ready to run?" he asked, fliping over a near by table for cover.

Em, suprised that the plasma rounds didn't do any damage, flipped a switch on the gun. It began to hum as it charged up. When the heat signature reading was at full, she fired again, this time a fully charged bolt of plasma. again, the timming in which she fired allowed to to impact at the same time Andrew's ten rounds would.

Joshua brought his plasma sword infront of him but winced in pain as the blow struck him dead on. Even with the plasma sword going right through the patrol's arm he still took the full blow. As he impacted on the ground he coughed slightly and brushed the blood that began dripping form his nose aside and shaking it off his hand. "No I'm pissed," he said his voice could barely contain his rage. As he ran foreward the pain from the impact still burned through his chest but it help concentrate his anger in the flury of slashing motions he began attacking the patrol with not carring if he missed only looking for that spray of green blood that he longed to see spray from it's corpse.

(OOC: >_< Sorry, Imitora, I can only do read much at once...there's a lot going on here.)

The Kris'Hanni looked up to see the rounds Andrew had fired hit the wall harmlessly. Stunned, the Kris'Hanni moved towards him, completely unaware that there were still rounds in his clip. Andrew proceeded to open fire right in the bug's face, spewing fluid and blood all over himself and the proximity.

Security had been called, and several security guards--mostly humanoids, but one armor-skinned Xexan--had shown up to see the mess that now was the bar.

Sharan coughed. "Thank you for your assistance...their weakness is energy swords. They can easily be cut...also, armor-piercing and Raptor guns work well...other laser and projectile ammo just bounces off them." She stood up with a struggle. She noticed the security standing there. "It's...okay, I was attacked by those Kris'Hanna."

"Well, we'll need a report from yourself and all witnesses--"

"No." The Xexan stepped forward. "Two Kris'Hanni gangsters died trying to recapture a Familiar. That's all the info I need." He looked at Sharan and Eve, then Andrew, then Joshua. "You guys have saved my race a lot of trouble. Thanks, all."

The other security guard turned to the Xexan. "Listen, sir, I think it's best if we do this by the book."

The Xexan chuckled. "I wrote the damn book. Let's get out of here. And get Janitorial down here to clean this up."

The security left, except for the Xexan, whose helmet dissolved into the back of his head, revealing his true face and ever-rotating pupils. He looked at Sharan and smiled, then left.

Joshua was breathing heavy now after the fight. He flicked the switched to deactivate the plasma sword and then stumbled backwards slowly untill he hit the bar. His chest still burned from the impact and he slipped to the ground. Normaly he'd be wearing combat armor and that blow would feel like nothing. But this time all he had was a simple nano-mesh under his shirt. "Damnit that hurt," he muttered as he sat o nthe floor his back leaned against the bar.

OOC: Christ, I knew as soon as my pc screwed up two days ago I'd miss a ton...now to try and refit in...

IC:

*****Before the fight: (leading from my last post)

Ronan looked at the humanoid with some reptillian features in front of him as it and its goons stepped in behind their leader.

"We need to have a....chat with you," began the humanoid.

"Sorry Drake," replied Ronan. "Not in the mood to get stabbed in the back by a lizard." He quietly switched his handgun to full auto. Ronan's quick reply angered Drake.

"You!!!" he rose his hand, then caught his composure. "Come with us, our boss is not in the mood to play games with you human."

"Let's take this outside," said Ronan. He led them away from the bar to the docking area. "Now, what's your boss want to "talk" about?"

"You killed three of our raiders last week, the boss wants to make a deal with you to end further conflict."

"Riiight, I told that fat lizard I don't make deals with you gusy anymore, the Order became overly pissed when they found out I had some deals going with you."

"Then we'll force you to come," said Drake, pulling out a small handgun. "Now mo-"

*****During the Fight:

The sound of gunshots turned the humanoids head for a second, and that second was all Ronan needed. He quickly pulled out his own gun, and emptied half a clip into the humanoid's chest. Ronan dove behind a random ship as a rain of lights and metal came from the other humanoids guns.

"I'm not going to be responsible for this guys ship damages," muttered Ronan. He looked over the ship and fired a round, making a headshot that sent a humanoid spinning. "Great, three to go." He looked into the bar as the gunfire continued. "What the hell is going on in there?!"

He glanced at the other three humanoids as one pulled out a grenade.

"Dammit!" Ronan rolled away as the grenade destroyed what was left of the front of the small ship. He dove behind a navigator PC block for cover. He emptied what was left of his clip, and killed two more humanoids. He reloaded his handgun. "Your the last one left buddy, you might wanna scram!" He stopped as he heard quick speaking in the hissing language of the humanoids.

"What the hell are you going on ab-" He paused when he saw the humanoid speaking into a communicator. "Oh no you don't!"

Ronan jumped up and rushed him, firing his gun. The humanoid seized up and fell back on the dock floor. Ronan picked up the headset to hear the reply of the humanoid on the other side.

"Girchiksss fiss becasst!" came the other voice. Ronan dropped the headset. He knew a bit of the language, and he knew enough to know that what was just said meant trouble.

******After the fight

Ronan jumped up from the ground, and paused once he noticed that the gunfire from inside the bar had ended. He turned around and ran to his ship and turned it on. He heard the engines rev up and stopped. There were still people in the bar....

Damn all the bleeding hearts of the universe! If I do doing this God, know that I better get a place in heaven, or I'll be pissed! He jumped from his ships cockpit and ran into the bar, his gun still in hand.

He let out a loud whistle to get attention. "Oy, all you folks might want to get the hell outta here! I just ticked off a few Irachi rebs*, and I mean that in a few minutes this place will go Ka-Blam-O!" He was about to run back to his ship when he turned. "Oh and, er, if any of your ships are near or entirely demolished, it was the Irachi*."


OOC: Sorry if that post seemed hurried, had to try and get back with the game...

Irachi-Eer-ah-chee-Terrorist organisation dedicated to the halting of human expansion through the universe. The terrorists are well armed and funded by human-hating species throughout the known universe.

Jaime heard the warning from his vantage point at the door.

"You have bloody GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!"

He pivoted about on his foot, his form filling the doorway, and in two steps he was outside. He worked his jaw a bit, then subvocalized his message.

"'sabres, return to ship. Prepare to break station IMMEDIATELY. Assume all incoming traffic is HOSTILE, I say again, HOSTILE. One minute, then General Quarters."

He turned about to peer back into the bar.

"Suggestion: If you've got a ship, get to it. If you don't, follow me."

Just then, he heard something. Felt something. Whatever. His action might seem strange to some, but Jaime Stark hadn't survived as long as he did, doing what he did, by being normal.

He spun about rapidly, Startooth rising upwards in a crackling arc. Caught and turned the blade of the individual attacking him. He didn't care -who- or -what- it was. All that mattered was that it was hostile.

Meaning it would have to die.

He spun away, his duster billowing dramatically, as dusters were want to do. His assailant had a much smaller sword than Jaime, which was a common state of affairs. Jaime would abuse this advantage ruthlessly.

Jaime flicked his sword out in a lightning quick thrust, Startooth's tip leaving a deep furrow where the blow was caught upon Jaime's enemy's broadsword.
His recovery was both exquisite, and amazingly fast. So fast, that he managed what would have been a nice riposte into a desperate attempt to intersect Startooth's crackling edge.

Fast...but not fast enough.

Startooth plunged into the man's torso, Jaime stepped further into the thrust, driving the crackling Warblade in up to its hilt.

Jaime placed one powerful, long-fingered hand, covered in an open-finger glove upon the dead man's torso, and heaved, freeing Startooth from the corpse.

He called over his shoulder, back into the bar, "Further Suggestion: Expedite Decision loop. Go straight to action."

Ronan headed back to his own ship, and jumped back into the cockpit and tried to gear it into starting up....the engines failed.

"What the hell?!" Ronan pushed a few buttons here and there, nothing. He opened the cockpit and jumped out of his ship and scanned the hull. His eyes stopped on a simmering hole in the side of his ship.

"Dammit, just as I thought, those Irachi bastards sabotaged my ship...Have a chat with the boss my royal arse," he muttered. He remembered the one man's offer earlier. He walked form his ship to see the man kill a man with his sword.

That reminds me, thought Ronan. He ran back to his ship and leaned into the cockpit and grabbed his own Templar sword, Nightshade. Couldn't leave this here... He buckled it to his belt.

He ran back to where the man was to see him shouting back into the bar.

"Hey," he called to him. "I need a lift, your offer to give on still on the table?"

Jaime looked the man over and nodded. "Aye, it is."

He should be heading there now, but he knew that he wouldn't. He couldn't leave people to their deaths, on the off-hand chance that somebody had no way of getting out. And it wasn't like the Moonsabre was in danger of being overcrowded or anything.

Y'see, Jaime had began his career with a ship, a sword, and not a lot else. That ship had been the Moonsabre, the sword crackled in his right hand.

It might not seem like much, but it was. Because the 'sabre was no little cutter. She was a full-sized battleship, built before the Dark Age that had forced Jaime's brother and father begin their re-conquest of the six-star cluster that became the Star Supremacy of Revenia.

Seven hundred fifty meters from nose to stern, fitted with a combination of arcane technologies from before the Fall and the newest in Revenian innovation, she was the fastest capital ship Jaime had ever encountered.

Thus, it wasn't particularly surprising that Jaime wasn't worried about overcrowding. Still, if he had to, he'd pack every hallway with people. Sure, the air would run out in a week or two...then again, he only needed five days to get where he was going.

He checked his watch, planned a shortest-time route to the airlock linking the station to the 'sabre, and peered back into the bar. Standing idle in a situation like this made him nervous. He did -not- like being nervous.

Jaime's Law, entry thirty two: Decisiveness is a virtue whose value should never be underestimated.

Sharan turned to Eve. "I want to thank you...for everything." She looked at Joshua and Andrew. "As well as you two. You guys saved my life. Thanks so much. No one has ever done that for me before...."

Tears started welling up in her eyes again, and she pressed her face to Eve's shoulder. "You guys...are the best friends...I've ever had." She giggled a bit as she wiped her eyes. "And we just met."

The bar had pretty much been evacuated, and Janitorial Services were cleaning up. The foursome went to a restaurant on the other side of the space station, and Sharan bought them some drinks.

"I guess...I should tell you everything. My name is Sharan-708. I am a Kris'Hanni Familiar...in other words, a political prisoner." She rolled up her sleeve to her shoulder to show the Kris'Hanna insignia tattooed on it. "I was brainwashed into the Kris'Hanna way of thinking. They thought that I would do as they say no matter what. They thought that I would always agree with them. Unfortunately, the brainwashing has little success in any case. My kind--the people whose brainwashing failed--is the majority." She sipped her soda. "The Kris'Hanna found out my family was a 'failure'--people on which the brainwashing did not work. They kill failures. And they killed everyone I had known. But I managed to get away with a bounty hunter whose name escapes me at the moment...we managed to get to another space station when the Kris'Hanna Patrols found him and killed him for 'abduction'. I eluded them, however, and stole one of their cruisers. Luckily, I was training to be a pilot...and now I'm here."

She sipped her soda again and let it all sink in.

Ronan sighed and glanced at Jaimie. "You know lad, I don't think people really understand the Irachi sometimes...." Ronan looked at his watch. "I'd give us about 5 minutes before this whole bloody station goes boom, should we get those folks on the other side, or just leave 'em to their own fate?"

Why does that guy's face look so damn familiar, like I've seen it on a picture or something...., Ronan thought as he spoke to the man next to him.

Joshua was quiet. He ahd grabbed his pistol on the way out and placed it in it's holster with the plasma sword. His chest still hurt from the impact but he was used to this pain by now. "You're kinda like me," Joshua said quietly, "Back in Phalanix. The nation I was born and raised in the AE were the msot advanced military group. But we rebelled due to the unfair treatment we got. As a result the entire Phalanix military is after us"

Andrew holstered his pistol, and EM walked around the corner, the plasma pistol hanging by her side. "We ready to roll?" he asked. She nodded. "Well Sharon, its always a pleasure helping. Names Andrew, by the way," he said, moving towards the door. Em followed him out to his ship, a modified Broadsword bomber.

Jaime exhaled sharply, and nodded. Startooth slid smoothly into its scabbard, and he flexed his fingers. Yeah, he was starting to wish he hadn't ordered the B Watch boys back to the 'sabre...but he had, and he wasn't gonna try and remedy that. No sense risking further lives.

"What the hell are we gonna do? Carry them out?"

He grumbled.

"God...damnit. I -HATE- moral decisions. Pancreator take me for a fool, we can't just leave them to die..."

Except he could do just that. Hell, he probably -should- do just that. He'd delayed long enough already. Should have been out and gone the moment those big lizard idiots made their entrance. But no...he had to stick around.

Then the attack outside the bar...it just didn't make any god-damn sense.

"Five minutes isn't long enough to get them all out. It isn't even long enough for a reasonable explanation. It'd have to be a quick snatch and grab, and knowing most people, they wouldn't appreciate that too much...still...tempting."

He had no doubt that he could probably get the two females out, but he'd seen the male in action, and he knew the sort. Full of themselves, thought they were the hottest thing this side of a supernova...exactly the type to shoot first and ask questions later.

So, were he to attempt the operation he was planning, the male would have to die. Because he wasn't up to over-powering three people at once, goddamn it, and he didn't trust people with energy swords.

He swore angrily...wishing that he was wearing his bloody powered armor right about now. But he wasn't, so he had to compensate.

He turned to Ronan and fired off directions to the airlock that would lead to the Moonsabre, told him to get on board and that he(Jaime) would catch up to him (Ronan) with the others, and then he was off, radioing in both his intentions and an order to expect an arrival soon to the 'sabre's Officer on Duty.

His stride soon fell into the ground-devouring lope of the Fhellant'im desert warrior, and it served him well, getting him to his destination in record time.

He burst through the doors of the restaurant, not slowing a bit, and yet, his voice rang clear...

"Mayhaps you could continue your conversation somewhere that wasn't about to explode...my ship is available...don't respond, just don't bloody fight me."

His movements were amazingly quick, and he gathered Sharan and Eve up with seemingly no effort at all, and with a single word to Joshua, he was gone.

That word reflected Jaime's amazing command presence, and carried within it an almost irresistable compulsion to comply. The word was 'Follow.'

Then he was off. Sure, he was moving a little bit slower, but that was comparative to his prior speed. He was still quite a bit faster than the average human, and he arrived at the airlock leading to the Moonsabre well within the five-minute deadline he had assigned himself.

The airlock was standing wide open, as it connected to the 'sabre's 'boarding bay,' which was isolated from the rest of the ship, and had the obvious purpose of facilitating boarding operations. So he was onboard rather quickly, and then it was all over but the screaming.

(Presuming Joshua follows and Ronan was already there.)

Jaime handed Eve and Sharan over to individuals who had been there waiting for them, men of the 'sabre's B Watch Close Combat team in their gleaming black power armor with Jaime's blood red eye insignia on their breast and the traditional skull and crossed bones on the shoulder. Two other individuals in the same armor would escort Ronan and Joshua into one of the true airlocks, and Jaime himself would take tail-end charlie.

The thick airlock door hissed shut behind them, and pressures began to equalize. What those in the airlock wouldn't feel was the sense of motion as the Moonsabre forcibly broke dock with the station. The helmsman lit the High Drive far quicker than was SOP, and the brilliant blue-white star at the rear of the ship flashed into existance.

Fast as it was, the battleship just barely made it clear of the danger zone before the station exploded.

Now, none of this was obvious to the group of individuals clustered in the airlock. All they knew was that the pressures finally equalized, the door leading into the ship itself cycled open, and they exited.

This was either done calmly, as was Jaime's wish, or forcibly. Now, Jaime's B Watch CC boys were the elite of his Flotilla. They were his personal bodyguard, as indicated by the insignia they wore. They wore armor that was virtually identical to the Myrmidon Combat Armor used by the Supremacy's elite Seraphim Regiments.

They were both willing and capable of forcing any of their guests to move along. Even if they had to beat one of them over the head with a cutting bar and carry them along like a figurative 'sack of potatoes.'

(Presuming nobody struggles...)

The small group was led to a comfortable lounge-like room containing a number of low chairs, a table, a small wet bar...so forth. Jaime himself would arrive a few moments later, wearing his advanced low-impact power armor beneath his trench coat.

He smiled a disarming smile, and exhaled.

"By way of an explanation, you can ask him," he indicated Ronan.

"All the justification I'm going to give is that the bloody space station just blew the hell up. Don't thank me, don't curse me. Right now, you're on a one-way trip to Dreadrock, the ever mysterious and imposing asteroid stronghold of the Pirate Prince, 'ol Devileye Stark himself."

Jaime (feel free to come to the revelation that Jaime was referring to himself in the third person there...) settled into a low, cushy recliner, and relaxed. The transition into Drivespace occured -now,- and all seven ships of the Moonsabre Flotilla made Starfall in bursts of multi-colored light.

The Moonsabre, and its occupants, were stuck in Drivespace for the next five days. So Jaime's philosophy was that if somebody was gonna try and kill him, they might as well get it over with. He wasn't gonna live in fear for five days.

Way he was.