NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC: Closed until further notice.]

It was with the sudden, constant beeping of the control boards that Tizzy Tan-Tan's eyes snapped open, surprised to hear the warning signals. She swiveled her pilot's chair to the left of her, annoyed that she'd been awakened and curious as to what had happened to her partner. She was quickly reassured by his presence, for sitting in the pilot's chair next to her was Captain Gerrikson. The slender human ran a tiny hand through her short, pixie-like blonde hair before massaging her tired eyes; what was going on? Why were sensors going off?

"We're entering uncharted territory," Gerrikson said, as if he'd been reading his co-pilot's mind. The middle-aged Orbosian's wisened features cracked into a knowing smile, and with the quick rapping of his fingers the beeping ceased. "Sorry if I woke you."

Sitting up now rather than slouched, her head scanning the stars beyond the bridge's window alertly, Tizzy let out an "uhh" that was half inquisitive and half irritated. If there was anything she disliked about her fellow Orbosian crewmate, it was his tendency to stray away from explanations. He knew what he was doing; heck, he always knew what he was doing. But he'd be damned if he'd tell anybody. After a short silence Tizzy semi-snapped at her captain, fully aware that she'd not yet fulfilled her sleep quota.

"Why? What are we doing? I thought we were going back to Orbos?"

Captain Gerrikson's bright blue eyes met with Tizzy's frantic gaze briefly, and for a minute the forty-two-year-old smuggler wished he was young again. How was he so fortunate to have discovered this girl? Where had he even discovered her? The two had spent so many years in business together that he'd forgotten where or how he'd met Tizzy Tan-Tan. She was gorgeous, absolutely beautiful, but in a sort of tomboyish way. She was short and delicate like a woman should be, and she had a woman's assets; decent-sized breasts and a cute little rear-end. But her short hair and her searching gray eyes coupled with her rough attitude and athletic ability really made her a different animal. And her face, though boyish in the Peter Pan sense, was soft and pale, with only a sprinkle of freckles here and there. Ah yes, if he was younger he would've tried his luck. But she was just a kid, and Gerrikson, well; he had a sense of integrity and ethics that he felt a relationship with Tizzy would compromise. Although they'd always harbored a mutual respect for each other, their relationship had never been a romantic one.

Pulling himself out of deep thought, Gerrikson replied to the question nonchalantly, turning again from Tizzy to attend his starship's controls. He never liked to lock eyes with her too long. She had a way of entrancing people with those looks of hers. "Asteroid field's in the way...we could either wait for it to pass or take a shortcut. I figured we'd take a shortcut."

Tizzy stared at her partner dumbly for a second, before shrugging, yawning, and lazily stretching her arms. The two of them were sitting at the pilot controls in the cockpit of the starship The Screeching Siren, a small smuggling freighter that was currently gliding through the darkness of space quite nimbly. Both of them were smugglers, and both of them hailed from the Orbos System, or more specifically the trade capital, Orbos. They were carrying several shipments of illicit drugs from a distant planet back to their homeworld where they would be paid handsomely for their services. It was a risky business, but if one knew how to handle themselves, one could make a very sizable profit. And despite the age gap between Dane Gerrikson and Tizzy Tan-Tan, both of them definitely made a formidable team. Their ship was one of the faster smuggling vessels in their system, and was particularly adept at evading Orbosian Trade fleets. That's how they made their money, and that's how they'd been making it for years. This trip was no different. Just another load of drugs for another corrupt Chandler.

Satisfied with the captain's answer but still a little concerned with the course they were taking, Tizzy spoke again, this time with much less venom in her tone. Asteroid fields were serious things; Gerrikson had been right to avoid this one. "You know these parts? I've never gone this way before."

"There's a lot of ways you haven't gone. Don't worry about it, it's fine. I used to pass through here all the time to avoid pirates, back when the galaxy was a little more hectic than it is now. Besides, it's not like the Siren doesn't have guns. Or a gunner for that matter."

Captain Gerrikson spoke of their third crewmate, Oobo Sono, a Gloonan gunner that they'd hired a little over a year ago. Although they'd never really had a gunner before him, as one would pilot the ship and the other would man the laser cannons, a scare with a rival smuggler had convinced the duo to employ Sono. He was probably napping in his cabin, or maybe even eating at his station. In space travel, there never seemed to be set times for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You ate when you were hungry, regardless of whether you were with other people or by yourself. Each of the three smugglers had their own, private meal times. It just so happened Sono had a more...aggressive appetite than his colleagues.

"Where is Oobo anyway?" Tizzy asked, now swiveling her chair around to face the opposite end of the cockpit. "That lazy sod. We pay him to eat and sleep. Fuck, we're lucky if we even see him."

At this the Orbosian captain laughed, and stood up from his own seat, a hint of wariness apparent in his tan, lined face. He was shorter for a male, standing only at a mere 5'8, and the curly brown hair that extended passed his neckline was in the beginning stages of recession. But he was dependable, even-tempered, and extremely patient; perhaps why Tizzy had followed him for so long. "You're a feisty one today, eh?" Gerrikson replied, the wry smile on his face giving away his joking disposition.

"A lady needs her beauty sleep. Suffice to say, you fucked that one up."

"Well a captain can't run on Folora beans alone either, you know. Sleep sounds pretty good right about now. You mind manning the ship for a little bit?"

Sitting up sharply, Tizzy quickly shook her head, annoyed that she was suddenly having responsibility tossed in her lap. "Can't you just put it on auto-pilot? You've already got the course charted...I barely even got a wink, Captain. C'mon now." When she said captain, the sarcasm in her voice was evident. It even sounded a little spiteful. Gerrikson sighed.

"You want to get boarded while we're all asleep? I said things weren't as bad as they used to be, not perfectly safe. Besides, anymore sleep for you and you might as well be Oobo Sono the Second. It won't hurt for your lazy bones to get a little one-on-one time with the Siren here."

For a split second, Tizzy was angry. She absolutely hated piloting the ship by herself. She was, afterall, a social creature; she thrived on attention. But the bags under Gerrikson's eyes and the easiness of his tone finally convinced her that the captain was right. He needed some rest. Leaning back in her chair and kicking her feet up onto the control boards, Tizzy rolled her eyes playfully and gave in.

"Oh, alright. I suppose I can keep things in check while the captain gets his nappy time."

The smile returned to Gerrikson's face as he began to venture out of the cockpit. "Just don't break anything," he called back behind him. "Yeah, I know," was the muttered reply, as Tizzy moved into the captain's chair. She couldn't of possibly known that her world was about to get turned upside down.

In amazed silence the human and the alien, side-by-side, stared at the monstrosity in the distance, jaws agape. It was so big, so massive, and yet they had no idea what it was. The NavComp couldn't identify it, as it wasn't on any navigation charts they had, and Tizzy and Oobo certainly had no clue as to what it was. Sitting on the edge of the pilot's chair and struggling to find some words, Tizzy finally broke the silence.

"What-what is that thing?" she asked, still dumb-founded from its initial appearance.

Her Gloonan crewmate, Oobo Sono, shook his oddly shaped head and spoke in his native tongue, similarly flustered. "It looks like a...well, a monkey wrench. A giant...monkey wrench."

"It's so huge. I wonder what it does."

"It's a space station."

Both Tizzy and Oobo turned around to find Captain Gerrikson standing behind him, his brown hair sticking up in funny places from a long sleep. "I've never seen this one myself...just heard stories. I didn't think they were true though."

Kicking Tizzy out of his chair, Gerrikson plopped down in the pilot's seat and began rapping away at the control boards furiously, the giant, monkey-wrench shaped space station looming in the distance. He was wearing the same clothes he had on before he'd went to bed; red long-johns with a pair of yellow pants pulled over them, a brown vest, and a pair of black combat boots. He looked considerably re freshened though. "Nice to see you up and about," Gerrikson muttered in Oobo's direction, referring to the gunner's busy sleeping schedule. "Please do tell where you found the motivation."

Now standing with her arms propped on the pilot and co-pilot's chair, Tizzy shot her crewmate a nasty glare. "Hunger. He was digging his fat, grubby hands in the pantry when I came to get him. I hope you like peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches, Dane, because Fatty Sono cleaned us out."

"I was hungry! Is hunger such a crime?"

"No, but gluttony is."

"Look! Isn't that something?" Gerrikson's sudden outburst made both Tizzy and Oobo double-take. As the space station got closer, it became evident that there were dozens of small, personal spacecraft buzzing to and fro it. "Must be an open space port. The variety of ships is astounding."

"Are we gonna dock there?" Tizzy's naivety did not go unnoticed. Oobo Sobo quickly whacked her upside the head with a stubby hand, his bulbous black eyes addressing her with scorn.

"Are we gonna dock there? Are you daffy? No! Of course not, you moon goon. We're carrying a load of illicit drugs!"

"Illegal on Orbos, yeah, but on a space station?"

"It doesn't matter, Tizzy," Gerrikson said, now steering the ship in a different direction. "Space ports are havens for pirates and crime lords. That's probably the last place we want to stop."

The comm suddenly crackled to life with a cold, robotic voice. "This is the Monkey Wrench. State your names and cargo please."

Both Oobo and Tizzy looked at each other, slightly alarmed. What kind of docking message was that?

"Negative, Monkey Wrench. We haven't requested docking permission. We'll be on our way."

For a moment there was no response. Were they in the clear? Than the comm crackled once more. "Please state your names and cargo contents."

"What the heck? These guys don't understand the word "no", do they?" Shaking his head with bewilderment, Gerrikson replied once more. "That's a negative, Monkey Wrench. We're headed in a different direction. We're not docking."

Several seconds later the comm was still silent. Gerrikson sighed and leaned back in his chair, no longer irritated. "I think they got the message." But Oobo Sono slowly shook his head. "I don't, captain. Look...three triad fighters!" The three smugglers stared out the cockpit window as three triangular-shaped fighters swooped over and around them. Gerrikson would've ordered his crewmates to grab gunner stations except they weren't firing. "This is weird," the Orbosian captain muttered as the three ships began their retreat back to the station. "I don't like this at all."

Suddenly, without any sign of warning, the Screeching Siren quaked and rumbled, and began heading straight for the station. Despite Gerrikson frantically jolting the joystick up and down, the Siren continued on its path. "What's going on?" Tizzy gasped as she tried to regain her footing. "Are they firing on us?" Her lack of space-faring experience would've almost been amusing to Gerrikson if the situation hadn't been so dire. "They've got us in a tractor beam. I think they've figured us for smugglers."

"So what? We're out of Orbosian jurisdiction! They can't possibly-"

An agitated Sono cut her off quickly as he made his way out of the cockpit and towards the weapons cache. "No, you fool! Don't you get it? This is the outer rims of space! Pirates and outlaws run this side of the galaxy!"

"He's right, Tizzy. Those fighters were just checking us out. They pegged us for a smuggling freighter and now they're hoping we've got precious cargo to give them."

"Well they're not getting the Siren without a fight," Oobo said as he came back into the cockpit, tossing the captain and Tizzy blaster pistols while arming himself with a rifle. To be fair to our youthful and inexperienced protagonist, if there was one thing Tizzy Tan-Tan was proficient at it was combat. While it was true she'd never been caught in a tractor beam before and the times the Siren had been fired on were few and far between, the hotshot smuggler had seen her fair share of gun battles in the mere twenty-years she'd been alive. Gerrikson often marveled at her ability to move so swiftly and confidently in the face of a raging battle; perhaps a side effect of growing up on the streets of Orbos an orphan. Gerrikson himself, although familiar with the danger that shoot outs presented, was not nearly as fierce or proficient with a gun as his young apprentice.

And Oobo Sono? He was marginal. His skill lied within the gunner's station on a ship, not with a blaster rifle and twenty armed guards at the Siren's hatch. While he may have professed to be an excellent shot and a prominent mercenary before his hiring, he was really only a hired gun. Truth be told, the Gloonan race was not a species of warriors, but rather a race of travelers, navigators, and smugglers. Sono just happened to land in that gray cloud of Gloonans who had trouble finding their lot in life; thus he had ended up here. Regardless of skill level, it was becoming rapidly clear that if the smugglers wanted to avoid being boarded, they would have to win this fire fight. And with a whole space station probably teeming with underlings and goons, the odds of that happening were frighteningly against them.

The three watched ominously as the Siren entered one of the dozens of the Monkey Wrench's hangars, crouched behind walls and spaces for protection against an almost certain wave of boarders. Gerrikson switched off the Siren's lights to try to give them some sort of advantage over their attackers, but Tizzy knew it was fruitless. The numbers game would always dwarf skill and tactics. Still, perhaps if their attackers realized just how ferocious these particular smugglers were, they would back off and let the Siren continue on her way. It was a distant hope, but it was a hope nonetheless. Better still, maybe they weren't unfriendly as the smugglers had previously thought. Maybe their intentions were pure.

With violence the only real thing on her mind, Tizzy bolted out of the cockpit and down a hallway where a ladder was, the sound of the Siren finally landing echoing throughout the hangar. She climbed into a gunner's station where she could have a better vantage point, ignoring the soft, whispering yells of her crewmates.

"Tizzy, what are you doing?" came Gerrikson's frantic voice from the cockpit. "They're going to board us any minute now!"

"I can see better up here. And if they send a platoon of goons, I can wipe them out."

Catching on quickly, Oobo Sono raced to his own gunner's station, blaster rifle still in hand. "It's a good thing we didn't turn off the ship's power," his voice crackled through the comm. Gerrikson's own voice could be heard muttering from the cockpit. "I know what I'm doing."

"Ssh! They're coming!" Tizzy snapped, watching as a motley crew of ten rough-looking aliens, all assorted races, made their way towards the Siren's hatch. Although it was closed, the group carried a large kit that no doubt contained equipment to blow through steel doors. These were pirates if Tizzy ever saw one. She swiftly took action.

"Nobadunga!"

The guards screamed and dove as Tizzy and Sono's quad laser cannons tore through their ranks like a hot knife through butter. Some escaped unscathed; others lay on the hangar floor, huge smoldering black holes smoking where organs once were. It wasn't long before their enemies knew what they were dealing with though. Barely a minute later and the Siren rumbled and shook with the impact of return fire. The hangars were equipped with their own weaponry.

"Where are they at? I can't see them!" came Oobo's calls from the opposite station. Tizzy swiveled around in her own station, scattering several pilots and mercenaries in the hangar as she did so. "They must be above us!"

"Our shields are taking a pounding! The Siren won't be able to take much more of this!"

Gerrikson's yells from the cockpit were suddenly dwarfed as a mechanical fire erupted in one of the cabins. Oobo quickly sprung into action, jumping down from his station and running for a fire extinguisher. The Siren was on her last legs. As smoke poured into Tizzy's view, clouding her sight and violating her lungs, the sound of the hatch door being drilled open could be heard down below. "They're coming in!" Oobo screamed, his voice now hoarse. Even as Tizzy looked down below her she could see sparks flying from where they were cutting. There was a gigantic "boom", followed by a short silence. Than blaster rifles erupted back and forth, sometimes interrupted by howls of pain.

"I've been hit! I've been hit!" came somebody's voice, though at this point Tizzy was too confused to tell whether it was Gerrikson's or a boarder. Swiftly she leapt out of her station and down the ladder, knocking out a mercenary in the process. She fired off a couple rounds of her pistol into the hazy smoke, but couldn't tell if she hit anything.

"Too late."

Tizzy swiveled around to blast the origins of the voice but was whacked in the head with something heavy. Now on all fours and bleeding from her head, Tizzy took one last look at her assailant, before getting clubbed in the head again. For a minute, everything was blurry. Than slowly her vision faded to blackness.

The stuff of heroes couldn't resist succumbing to the effects of an electric slave prod; within the first fifteen minutes of her awakening, Tizzy had learned very painfully that screaming will get you no where at the Monkey Wrench. Skin still buzzing from electric shock, she could only hang from her wall shackles helplessly and watch as the guards reclosed the heavy iron-barred gate behind them, leaving her in silent agony. The whole affair was unsettling of course; being captured and held was never a pleasant experience for anybody, but Tizzy had never even felt anything close to the misery she was feeling now. Her long-lashed eyes flickered open to the throbbing beat of a headache and the cramped quarters of a dimly-lit, red-tinted holding cell. Wrists cuffed above her to the wall and feet shackled together, it was hardly any wonder why her initial reaction had been one of sheer horror.

It could've been worse. There were bars, rusty, black-iron bars to peek out of. And there was company, although equally restrained. Still, a thousand questions pelted her brain in a dazed fury. Where was Gerrikson? Oobo? What had become of the Screeching Siren? And most importantly of all, why had the Monkey Wrench gone out of its way to capture their ship? It was too much for her to handle; very privately she began to sob, burdened with the thought that her friends might be dead but fearful of another bout of electrocution. It seemed as if time stretched on forever as she hung there, crying uncontrollably, occasionally moaning the names of her fallen comrades. It was some time before she sobered up. For hours she drifted in and out of sleep, trying to deal with the stress of her plight. But eventually she would come around. Her pretty face would harden like a stone, and she began to plot her getaway.

Her cellmates were very private, much like herself. Curled up in the corner was a blood-stained furball, quivering every once in a while but staying motionless for the most part. It had been there since Tizzy first awoke, and she had yet to identify it. Shackled to the wall opposite of her was another human, a male in considerably bad shape. He was a bigger man, much bigger than Gerrikson, at least in the way of height and build. He had a fade that was jet black at the top and a very muscular body. His jaw was square and primitive-looking, smothered in a mask of stubble, and his mouth was full of holes where teeth once stood. He was shirtless and shoeless, revealing bloody, crushed toes and purple and black spots all over his body from slave prodding. His pants were torn in several places and his face looked like it had been beaten with something very heavy. He too had yet to say a word, though his breathing was intensely heavy.

Tizzy was a social animal, of this one could be sure. But fear, loathing, and uncertainty had an iron grip on her mind, and she wasn't sure how these two beings, obviously worse off, would respond to a dialogue. Several minutes ticked by, turning into hours, maybe even turning into a new day. Perhaps these two prisoners knew about where she was and why they were holding her. Perhaps they knew of Gerrikson and Oobo Sono. Could they talk, though? Would they talk? They very well couldn't do anything to her, as they were both chained. What was there to lose by asking them? Clearing her voice very carefully, an unusually meek Tizzy spoke up, trying to get the male cellmate's attention. At least he was stirring.

"W--w--where am I?" she sputtered, a little taken aback at how throaty her voice sounded. It had been hours since she'd had something to drink.

The man's head jolted forward in an almost vicious motion, and blood trickled out of his mouth when he replied. "What!?!"

"I-I'm sorry. I...I hate to be a bother, but where am I? What is this?"

The follow-up question was received with a low, delirious cackle. The man had clearly had his fill of punishment. "Yore in hell, gurly gurl."

Afraid to say anything else for the time being, Tizzy slumped her head and tried to avoid eye contact with the other human. He saw her discomfort and smiled; she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He might as well extend the courtesy of letting her know that.

"Yore on the Monkey Wrench, doll, the biggest clusterfuck of violence I ever seen. N' chances is, you ain't gonna see life offa it ever again."

Still timid at the notion of having to ask for information but also confident that she was getting somewhere, Tizzy plowed on resolutely. "Well what is it? Why am I being held here?"

The man threw his head back and let out a raucous laugh, half-coughing as he did so. "I dunno, sweetie pie. But if you don't know either, chances are you'll find out real soon." He paused for a second, examining Tizzy with a half-lidded eye; for a moment he felt sympathy for her. She was young, naive, stupid. She'd stumbled on something evil and hadn't the sense to step around it. He was like that at one time. "It's an outpost, an outlaw's haven. A floatin' pirate's cove if ya will. Ain't a place I can think of nastier than this here Monkey Wrench. I don't know whatcha did to piss off Big Hozz, but he'll letcha know one way or another." At this he had himself another laugh. It was all he could do to keep from going insane.

And yet still then Tizzy's appetite for answers could not be quenched. Despite this man's apparent madness and the overwhelming heaviness in her chest, she kept on with her interrogation. "Where are my crewmates? One was an Orbosian male of minor stature and the other-"

"Listen, gurly gurl." The man's rough, cockney-accented voice cut Tizzy off mid-sentence. "I dunno yore friends. I's never seen 'em. And you probably won't neither. Best you forget about them and look out fore yore own neck."

"Where else could they be? This is a holding cell, isn't it? Are there more cells? Could they be-"

"They could be any where abouts. If they're big, maybe Hozz put 'em in the fightin' pits. If they ain't, maybe he's usin' 'em as slaves. Maybe....maybe he fed 'em to his precious pretty pets." A sadistic grin stretched across his blood-stained face. "Big Hozz never did have any love for us 'umies."

Yanking at her chains frantically, a panicked Tizzy looked to her left and right, yearning to see a familiar face again, even if it was only for a few minutes. "Help! Please! Dane, Oobo, please! Where are you?"

The male prisoner shook his head in disgust, all too knowing about what was to become of this girl. If only she could know. "No more, sweetie pie. Yore killin' me ears and when they comes to stick ya with their prods, ye'll be killin' me eyes. They ain't 'ere and that's that. Ye'll only end up dead faster hollerin' like that. Maybe not such a bad thing, all things considered."

Now utterly hopeless, all conversation ceased between Tizzy and her male counterpart for some time. It was evident that he hadn't a clue about her crewmates, and at that point in time, they were the only thing she really cared about. But as the sands of the hour glass piled up, the lust for more information was the only thing diverting Tizzy's attention from her growling stomach and bone dry throat. Once again she spoke up, startling the man from another one of his mini-slumbers.

"Who is Big Hozz?"

The man snorted, amused at Tizzy's utter ignorance. "He runs this junk heap. He's a big nasty 'un, a half-ork. Killed the owners before him and made the Monkey Wrench his own. Fightin' pits, gamblin', pirates. You name it he's got his grimy claw dipped in there somewhere."

"Drugs?"

"Are you kiddin' me? That's partly how he makes his bones. Jackin' jagoff, hotshot smugglers and sellin' their cargo twice the price. Don't tell me that's why yore here."

"What did you do to get here?" Annoyed, she quickly dove to change the subject. Even in her present predicament she could feel her face grow red. She hated being burdened with rookie mistakes.

"Heh heh, don't really matter anymores, does it? Maybe ye'll get lucky. A hot lil' item like ye'll fetch a fancy price 'round here. I bet Big Hozz already gotchyou pegged. Me? I'm here forever. They'll let me live...they'll force feed me. Cause Big Hozz thinks death's too good for my lot. Too quick. Hell, I'm a crazy bastard...too slow wouldn't matter much neither. So instead they beat me every day...electrocute me. Violate me with their weapons. And rightly so. You gots to pay for your crimes. Ye ain't gotta like it. But ye gotta pay fore 'em."

Suddenly the iron-clad prison door slid open, and two Kroagan guards, dressed in all sorts of assorted equipment and armor, went to the wall to unshackle Tizzy. A third guard, a Xappan, stood outside the cell with a blaster rifle ready, in case anything were to happen. As the chains came off, the smuggler flailed her arms wildly, trying to escape. The man on the wall laughed manically as the two dogmen slammed her up against the cold metallic wall and beat her into mercilessly, until the Xappan croaked something only the Kroagans seemed to understand. They stopped and hoisted the injured Orbosian up and out of the cell, the man still yelling in the background.

"Hope ye enjoyed yore stay, missy gurl! Give Big Hozz me regards!"

The comment was followed by a bout of nonsensical singing that echoed through the cell unit's hallways hauntingly, following the guards and Tizzy up the stairs before finally fading out of existence. Years after this predicament, the image of that bloodied, insanity-ridden man would menace her in her dreams, as she'd never quite have an experience like that ever again.