NationStates Jolt Archive

(If anyone is still interested, I may consider application if you post in the OOC/Signup thread, here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=552316&page=3).)

Daybreak over Alfegos. Over Freedom Airport, New Zevkhay, to be precise. The sun began to creep up from the flat horizon of the sea, flooding the sleeping city with light. While the rest of the city slept, all was busy at Freedom International Airport.

A cluster of men swarmed about the cigar-shaped envelope of the airship balloon that cast a deep shadow over the damp tarmac landing zone, ground hands preparing the airship for launch on its 3 day trip to Antigr, riding the strong westerly winds. For this long trip, the supplies were being loaded aboard from lorries on the ground, men and women carrying boxes of food, drinks, toiletries and other items up into the airship, each bearing the sleek logo of SkyLiners co., the airship operator.
Others, wearing heavy clothing, were busy tending to the more physical needs of the airship: loud sirens bellowed out as hydrogen was piped from underground storage bunkers into the central core, while engineers ran along the expanding helium cells checking for leaks and repairing any they found with heat-sealed patches.

In the control gondola at the front of the airship, the Captain, co-pilot and the rest of his crew were busy checking the avionics, flaps and fins moving along with the steady hum of the Hydrogen engines. The Captain was a tall, musuclar man named Hul'tan, an experienced ex-military pilot who had weathered many a storm and emergancy. Though the risks were less so, there still was always the danger of damage, either through attack from terrorists or through extremes of weather, which the crew had to be prepared for. Which was why, behind the spacious control crew quarters, the stores room held a small onboard armoury of a few assualt rifles, locked in a cabinet with the ammunition.
"Good sleep?" The Captain turned to his drowsy co-pilot, who had cat napped in the few hours they had had after landing.
"As if." The preparations had been going on since they had arrived, with waste being removed and all the onboard facilities made comfortable for the passengers staying onboard, with dirty laundry being removed and replaced, rooms being checked, and the onboard duty-free shop and restaurant/bar being replenished while little adjustments were made for the next passengers who would be be boarding soon.
"Well, once we're in the air you can go get some more. I doubt I'll need you at the wheel, since we aren't flying to any dangerzones for now, and the projections are for good weather."
"Right you are."
Lights flicked as the airship finished its checks, now waiting for the passengers.

______________________________________________

In Airship Terminal 2, the announcer coughed before turning on the PA system. A loud chime echoed across the spacious structure as she began talking.
"This is the first call for all passengers travelling on flight SWAF - 592 to Antigr: boarding has now been started at Gate 4. Please may all remember to have their documentation and tickets ready to present at the gate."

Behind the large check-in desks, where the luggage of the passengers aboard the flight were being tagged and sent off for basic scaning and for delivery to the rooms of each passenger aboard the airship, another security lane opened up as the armed police on guard there began to check the influx of people passing through towards the central concourse area, passing any hand luggage through scanners while passports and visas were checked and stamped. One arguement had already broken out between a man and one of the guards, who had dragged him off to one of the side doors marked "Security Holding Zone".

"Mummy, when are we going to be flying?"
"Not long now Ak'la, not long: the airship leaves in an hour."
"An hour? But I'll be so bored!"
"We've got a TV in our room, so you can watch the breakfast TV."
"Alright."
The women held up the three tickets, each in sky blue with golden font upon them, alongside the familiar SkyLiner co. logo in the top left corner, directing them towards the security officer who had just passed their hand luggage through the X-ray scanner.
"Go on through then, Mr and Mrs Jon'lao. Have a pleasant flight."
The three picked up their small bags before carrying onwards towards the flashing sign pointing towards Gate 4, one of the 6 gates on this arm of the terminal that stretched outwards towards the proper aircraft runways.

___________________________________

"Move it! The passengers will be coming aboard soon!"
The head of the passenger crew, Steward Ghan'si, yelled out across the ship-borne speakers from the reception/information desk he sat at, stacks of leaflets in closed plastic containers in front of him. Above him, two digital clocks showed the local time and Antigr time, while the main display screens showed the airship's location on a beautifully rendered route map that had now zoomed out to show the entire trip, alongside temperatures and weather conditions.

Around him, the 31 onboard passenger crew members rushed about alongside ground crewmen, the last supplies and the fresh shift now coming aboard, the previous crew signing off to go towards the much more luxurious beds of the airport, rather than the much tighter crew quarters located in the core of the main gondola unit. All the other cabins were clustered about the edge, facing outwards over the landscape, all surrounding a central core of dining, entertainment, shopping and service areas, all stretched out over 3 decks. It was, as some had said, a flying hotel, travelling on the powerful engines and the wind across to distant lands.

Across the blue carpet, through the open main hatches that faced outwards towards the terminal gate, he could see the first of the passengers arriving across the sealed glass corridor. Well, here they came. The others began rushing to their stations, or exiting through the other hatch on the other side of the airship.

Mohammad Ak'bar had gained access to the airship by posing as a delivery driver. Gaining access to the airport had been easy. Acquiring a uniform and truck had been a little harder. Once he had parked his vehicle in the airport lot, he quickly donned a security uniform in the backseat. He knew it wouldn't hold up inside, seeing as how he had no id tag and it wasn't the same uniform. It tricked the truck driver though. He waited on the service road for a truck. Soon one pulled through the gates and onto the road. He stepped out, holding his palm out, commanding the driver to stop. The driver complied, stopping the vehicle. Mohammad approached the driver's door, pulling it open and jabbing the man in the leg with a tazer. The man was instantly jolted and bobbed around in his seat, eventually passing out. Mohammad changing uniforms, pulled his duffel bag from the bushes and hid it among the cargo in the truck.

He drove the truck past security, then gained access to the ship, bag on his back, carrying several boxes. He now sat inside the large ''balloon''. He had tossed his duffel bag which had been holding his weapons. He now distributed them to various places on his body.

He wore a C-4 vest, a detonator strung along his arm and tapped to the inside of his wrist. On his belt he had two knife sheaths, one with a big knife, one with a small. He had a grenade held on by his C-4 vest. In his hand he held a Yanitarian made AY-1 rifle. In his pockets and attached to his body were other, mostly regular objects he been trained to use a weapons. Things such as his shoelaces and his belt. On the ground beside him were two glass bottles tapped together, the ingredients for chlorine gas.

He was nervous, though he trusted Allah would allow him to carry out his mission, after all, he made it this far, and this was his destiny.

The terrorist party leader was inside the airship as he paced downwards along the plastic gantry towards where he said he would be meeting the men who had volunteered for this. Following the example of Prevanian terrorists, he had decided to choose something that would make a more spectacular explosion than a mere aircraft. Of course, the amount of Hydrogen left in the airship core would be minimal by the time they reached there, but still...

He had slipped in so easily, that he could have laughed: he had dressed up as a ground crew marshall beforehand along with a tracsuit bag filled with weaponry, before entering the sewerage system of the city. A brief stroll and a few wrong turns later, he was in the main drainage channels for the airship terminal. Popping out from behind one of vehicle storage hangers, it had just been a quick stroll to the airship. Of course, he had left a tap in the security camera network on an outside cable, which was as of now slowly cutting out the camera network of the terminal.

Up ahead, he noticed one of the men leaning against one of the massive gas cells, the ultra-thin film supporting the man's weight.
"Morning. I trust you are ready to perform the task at hand. And be careful of leaning on that: I don't want you to break it and go flying through the cell network half way through the trip."
He unzipped the bag, and took out two long tube units, alongside a machine-pistol.
"Now, the only way they could safely get us out of the air when they find out is by airship-to-airship boarding actions. I think these two little babies should lessen that threat somewhat.
Let us wait for the others, before we review the plan again. I've tried to ease their passage, but it will be hard. I hope they choose their paths wisely."

''Good Morning, I am ready to die for Allah.''

He shifted his weight, not wanting to burst out like the man said. He smiled at the sight of the machine pistol and checked his assault rifle over like he had done a hundred times before. He had one magazine inside the rifle, another inside of his pocket.

''I trust Allah shall not let us falter, and I am glad to see you have brought us added protection.''

Mohammad was deeply religious, after all, it would take a very dedicated soul to agree to under take such a mission

Erik Hall, a small, round man with thinning hair, stumbled around the airship terminal. He had seen smaller ones in Yanitaria, but airships were usually reserved for cargo from the larger private corporations. His assistant, a young man whom he had picked up in Yanitaria through an agency, carried his bags towards the terminal.

The constant travel made Erik sleepy, but he knew that it may be a while before he got on the ship. From his coat, he pulled out a large cross, and pretended to kiss it. There was a small switch that readied a needle. He put the cross in his front pocket, and felt for the button, which shot the spring loaded needle into his chest. He could feel the cocaine feed into his body, and knew that the energy burst would come.

He walked up to a ticket desk, and leaned in towards the person who worked there, before whispering "excuse me, but I don't suppose you could help me out. You see, I have a family heirloom, this antique revolver. Surely it isn't any threat to anyone, it's so old it won't even fire. I don't suppose you could let me take it on board, so that I shouldn't have to worry about it disappearing."

He slid a hundred aureus bill onto the counter.

"Excellent then."

A group of 4 engineers had started clambering up a ladder from below, plastic-spattered clothing hanging tightly to them as a light breeze moved through the airship.

"Don't worry: just two more men after these, and then we shall be ready."

These four men weren't true believers: they were just hired hands. Just the men they needed for controlling the people aboard as they careened towards a densely populated city. Each had a small rucksack, filled with ammunition and an assortion of shotguns. Of course, they had thought they would be fighting on an aircraft, so hadn't got proper rifles. He turned to whisper in the man's ear.
"I am sorry brother, but these unbelievers are necessary. They as well will redeem themselves in the firey glory, but until then are just puppets to control those aboard. The other two I do recall are believers as well, one of them being the most important part to this operation."

__________________________________

"Well sir, normally they would store this sort of device in the airship safe in the Control Gondola. But since, as you said, this is an antique..."
She weighed the device in her hand, before smiling. She then took the Æ100 bill and passed it through a scanner, noting it was not a fake.
"I will see that this will find its way to your room, sir."
She passed the luggage through to the searching room, before putting the pistol in a special plastic wallet. She took his boarding pass and ticket, stamping them with a golden wax seal.
"There you go, sir. Have a pleasent flight."

She stood up quickly, before passing quickly to the security zone, blue dress flapping about her tanned legs. Inside, she walked past the X-ray desk to the bag. It moved through the scanner, before carrying towards the porters clustered there. She winked at the single guard there, and in passing whispered something in his ear. She slipped the weapon quickly in the man's bag as she walked back past the stunned man's face. It had been a long shift, and the dormitories in the air terminal were used by both the terminal staff and the pilots.

IC:

Colonel Steve Bjornnes walked calmly through the airship terminal, and into security, placing his two bags for security inspection. He was not a man that would be taken lightly, with his 6 foot three frame, and his mustache that resembled a Kaiser's, and his piercing blue eyes. He was of a pale complexion, and he handed his ticket, that he had gotten at the ticket desk to the lady that he supposed was handling security, and he said "I'm scheduled to be on Flight SWAF 592, and as an active military serviceman, I put a Colt 1911 .45 in the bag,( Then he whispered, for fear of overhearing) which is unloaded."

"Well sir, normally they would store this sort of device in the airship safe in the Control Gondola. But since, as you said, this is an antique..."
She weighed the device in her hand, before smiling. She then took the Æ100 bill and passed it through a scanner, noting it was not a fake.
"I will see that this will find its way to your room, sir."
She passed the luggage through to the searching room, before putting the pistol in a special plastic wallet. She took his boarding pass and ticket, stamping them with a golden wax seal.
"There you go, sir. Have a pleasent flight."

She stood up quickly, before passing quickly to the security zone, blue dress flapping about her tanned legs. Inside, she walked past the X-ray desk to the bag. It moved through the scanner, before carrying towards the porters clustered there. She winked at the single guard there, and in passing whispered something in his ear. She slipped the weapon quickly in the man's bag as she walked back past the stunned man's face. It had been a long shift, and the dormitories in the air terminal were used by both the terminal staff and the pilots.

Erik couldn't take his eye off the view, and immediately left another hundred aureus note at the counter. With that he boarded the airship. His first stop would be to the room to refresh his cocaine supply, but then he thought that he might as well go get a drink while he's at it.

After all, he was royalty now.

[Sorry, all I'm gonna post for now is an OOC tag so I can find this thread again. Looks good so far.
Alfegos, want a destination city/airport or any other tidbits?]

(OOC: Yes please, if you could give me a destination airport and a description of the nearby terrain/cities, that'll be excellent!)

"Excuse me sir, but if you have a weapon you should hand it in at the goods declaration point over there. Then it wil be safely stored in the airship onboard secure storage area. Even if it is unloaded, since the problems we've had with fake firearms..."

The security guard called over his collegue from the scanner table

"Could you please remind this gentlemen on the firearms rules?"

"You ain't allowed one aboard the airship in your normal luggage, due to the terrorist threat. If you could please hand it over at the Goods Declarations desk, there is an onboard safe where it will be safely stored until we arrive at the destination airport. It won't be possible for anyone aboard to access the safe, only the ground crew."

________________________________________

Outside the terminal, as an Avalon - 4 supersonice plane roared off into the sky, another man paced across the tarmac. He was dressed in an airship crew uniform, dark blue with a white cap. However, his shoulder-tags showed him to be an ex-aerofleet officer: a single golden chevrons showed him to be an auxilliary airship Captain. He was one of the keystones of the terrorist group planning to take over this airship: able to fly an airship, he was a believer that this would work.
He slid into the airship as the fuelling pipes were removed and withdrawn back into the tarmac, closed underneath bright aluminium covers. Clambering along the plastic gantries avoiding the onboard crew who were now draining away, he dropped down next to the others who had arrived.
"is Salaam alaykum. Sorry I am late brothers, but I was held up getting here. How long till we are ready?"
"There is only one of our number who is yet to arrive. Until then, we shall sit in thought."

Ottado, Antigr's second biggest city.

Link to my map is in my sig.
Climate is full-blown tropical.

Being in a coastal area, land is pretty much flat.

Airport would be Ottado-Luxbridge International in the city south.

(OOC: Ahh... they'll be flying in from the north, since they'll be travelling around Hurtful Thoughts (to save complications), which means they'll be going past the capital. I think we know where it'll be crashing...)

Auston?

You've got it.

Gah...just as the ICC mall was rebuilt from Colstream's friendly terrorist attack.
Granted, their accomplices were caught at sea and killed by an Antigran naval officer...with an axe...

At least there's some airbases and Territorial Guard defence batteries everywhere.
...
...
That doesn't really bring much reassurace. Especially being manned by part-time semi-army drunks who will be at home, leaving the 140mm AAs to be loaded and fired by an RSM and two cadets.
Yeah, there's gonna be a crash.

(OOC: Yes please, if you could give me a destination airport and a description of the nearby terrain/cities, that'll be excellent!)

"Excuse me sir, but if you have a weapon you should hand it in at the goods declaration point over there. Then it wil be safely stored in the airship onboard secure storage area. Even if it is unloaded, since the problems we've had with fake firearms..."

The security guard called over his collegue from the scanner table

"Could you please remind this gentlemen on the firearms rules?"

"You ain't allowed one aboard the airship in your normal luggage, due to the terrorist threat. If you could please hand it over at the Goods Declarations desk, there is an onboard safe where it will be safely stored until we arrive at the destination airport. It won't be possible for anyone aboard to access the safe, only the ground crew."

Colonel Bjornnes frowned and he said "The terrorist threat is precisely the reason the Marine Corps has asked me to keep my gun on me at all times, and they gave me a slip giving me permission to carry it onboard. However, if you insist, I will put it in the safe, since I don't want to cause trouble. But, if a terrorist threat arises, I'll sure be wishing I had my .45 though, and I suppose I'll have to use my hands.."

"Fine then sir. If you can give the permission slip to the emmigration control officer once you have passed through the security check, then that will be fine. Have a pleasent flight."

The guard took the pistol, holster and ammunition, placing them on a transparent plastic sac, before carrying it over to the collection area on the other side of the X-Ray scanner. They let the man pass through, before presenting him with the plastic sac, and directing him towards the line of booths with a queue of people forming.
"Just so that you don't, you know, scare anyone, you can go straight to the front of that line."

They turned back to the rest of the people passing through.

_________________________________

"Ak'la, stop bouncing on your bed: you'll ruin the mattress."
"But ma'a, it's so bouncy!"
"Do what your mum says: I'm sure you can watch the TV until we take off."

Ak'la sat down on the bed in the corner of the room, divided by a blue curtain from the main cabin area. Next to her little corner was the batroom unit, containing a recylced-water shower, wash-basin and chemical toilet. The sort of one that made the loud rasping noise when flushed. Opposite this unit, a large window stretched across the entirity of the cabin, letting in a degree of the pale morning light. For now, it was darkened, a slider switch on the wall indicating the electrochromic particles in the window were in an opaque form. Outside, she could see the sihlouettes of the last workers vacating the area as the airship was prepared to launch.

She turned up and released the fold-out TV from above her head, using the bed-side remote to flick channel to Sunrise 3. She lay back, immersed in a cartoon as her parents began unpacking the luggage carried by porter onto their bed, special toiletries for use with minimal water provided alongside bottles of icy water and other drinks. They put the drinks in the small minibar, watching as the electrical van marked with a long lightening bolt drew away, reeling in a cable as thick as a man's arm: they could not rely on solar panels and the engines alone.

"You going for a drink later?"
"Sure. I think we can leave Ak'la in the crêche on the second deck."
"The shop seems nice."
"Don't waste all our money on perfumes: it cost enough as it was to get a 4-star cabin like this, much better than one of the cheaper ones with much smaller space."
"As you keep reminding me. But why can't we have just a little fun? This is a holiday after all."
"Alright. Don't be a naughty girl."
She giggled, opening the room door with one of the key cards in a holder by the door, underneath the emergancy locker and emergancy plans, leaving it to electronically lock behind her.

"Fine then sir. If you can give the permission slip to the emmigration control officer once you have passed through the security check, then that will be fine. Have a pleasent flight."

The guard took the pistol, holster and ammunition, placing them on a transparent plastic sac, before carrying it over to the collection area on the other side of the X-Ray scanner. They let the man pass through, before presenting him with the plastic sac, and directing him towards the line of booths with a queue of people forming.
"Just so that you don't, you know, scare anyone, you can go straight to the front of that line."

They turned back to the rest of the people passing through.


Colonel Bjornnes replied "Thank you, it's been a most pleasant experience so far. I also wish you a good day. I'll go the front of the line that you indicate.." He took the plastic sack, and put it on his belt, and he was now at the head of the line. The Colonel pulled out his permission slip, and handed it to the immigration control officer and he waited for the man to give it back, and he smiled, figuring that if he looked all nice and relaxed, they'd deal with him kindly.

"Your VISA, passport and ticket are all in order. As for this slip.."
The man in the booth took it and passed it underneath a UV scanner. He noted the marks on it, and smiled.
"All in order. I hope you have enjoyed your stay in Alfegos."
He took out a large metal stamp, before bringing it down in three thunderclaps. Another stamp, this time a much larger one, and a louder thunderclap onto the form. He passed the documentation back out of the booth.
"Enjoy your flight."

He nodded the man through to the shops in the concourse area, the large information boards and signs indicating the rapidly-apporaching departure time of the airship outside.

"Your VISA, passport and ticket are all in order. As for this slip.."
The man in the booth took it and passed it underneath a UV scanner. He noted the marks on it, and smiled.
"All in order. I hope you have enjoyed your stay in Alfegos."
He took out a large metal stamp, before bringing it down in three thunderclaps. Another stamp, this time a much larger one, and a louder thunderclap onto the form. He passed the documentation back out of the booth.
"Enjoy your flight."

He nodded the man through to the shops in the concourse area, the large information boards and signs indicating the rapidly-apporaching departure time of the airship outside.

Colonel Bjornnes nodded and he replied "Have a good day sir." He took a hold of his bags, and walked up the stairs, and he boarded the airship, and sat down in his seat, after putting his luggage up in the luggage holds above the seats. He then put his official Marine Corps coat on, concealing the holster containing his .45 1911. To an ordinary person, or even a terrorist, or anybody for that matter, it would look like he was unarmed, but he wasn't. Which was why he was concealing it of course.

The Colonel had never been onboard an Alfegoian airship, having flown in on a Calizorinstan Imperial Airways A-300B4 jet airliner. Though the interior was first class on the A-300, he couldn't help but notice the age of the craft on his way over. But, this airship was alot newer then the A-300 he had flown over on.

Steve, as he was called, had been ordered to go over to Alfegos to meet with some Alfegos Colonels, to discuss an arrangement of a joint base in the forest of Berlin, as Alfegos was an ally of sorts of Calizorinstan. Steve now was happy, however to head for home. But, he would still keep his eye out for any suspicious activity, and if a hijacking situation arose, he would not be afraid to shoot the terrorist, and if all else failed, beat them to death. Steve buckled his seat belt in, and picked up a magazine and started to read it..

(OOC: I might not have explained it that well, but with these longer haul airship flights they have 4 classes of travel. The top three have cabins, all with a view outwards and degrees of luxury. The rest, as you have guessed, are private folding seats on the edge of one of the floors, facing outwards. Just think of it as a rather small flying hotel, and you've got what we're talking about.)

"Excuse me sir, but are you the Colonel?"
One of the stewards had poked her head into the man's private area, a short brunette girl.
"It's just that the Captain want's to see you. He's up the front, so I'll have the head engineer escort you to the control gondola."

She walked off towards the end of the top floor, until she reached on of the supply rooms. Inside here was a ladder. Atop it, a man in a plastic-stained blue hazard suit, complete with a back-mounted air tank, nodded towards him.
"If you could follow me to the Captain, sir."
He took the man down a long plastic gantry in the cold interior of the airship's gasbag, hundreds of metres in length. When they finally came to the end, he motioned to another ladder.
"The captain and the flight crew are just through here."

(OOC: I might not have explained it that well, but with these longer haul airship flights they have 4 classes of travel. The top three have cabins, all with a view outwards and degrees of luxury. The rest, as you have guessed, are private folding seats on the edge of one of the floors, facing outwards. Just think of it as a rather small flying hotel, and you've got what we're talking about.)

"Excuse me sir, but are you the Colonel?"
One of the stewards had poked her head into the man's private area, a short brunette girl.
"It's just that the Captain want's to see you. He's up the front, so I'll have the head engineer escort you to the control gondola."

She walked off towards the end of the top floor, until she reached on of the supply rooms. Inside here was a ladder. Atop it, a man in a plastic-stained blue hazard suit, complete with a back-mounted air tank, nodded towards him.
"If you could follow me to the Captain, sir."
He took the man down a long plastic gantry in the cold interior of the airship's gasbag, hundreds of metres in length. When they finally came to the end, he motioned to another ladder.
"The captain and the flight crew are just through here."

Steve stood up and replied "Yes, I'll come." He followed the head engineer, and when they came to the end, he nodded, and climbed the ladder, and said as he approached the Captain "Captain, the stewardess said you wanted to see me? I'm Colonel Steve Bjornnes, commander of the 7th Calvary Division." He held out his hand for the Captain to shake.

"And so I did. Glad to meet you."
The captain was uniformed in a blue suit and trousers, with a blue cap. Each of his shoulders held a single silver band on the pad, underneath the Skyliner name.
"Please, come this way."
He took the man past the large store-room, past the crew quarters and into the bridge. Two large consoles sat either side of the spacious room, with the two seats at the front holding the Captain and co-pilot. He offered him a seat on one of the vacant chairs, a soft padded piece of furniture that moulded perfectly to his shape.
"The Guidance contoller and head engineer will be joining us very shortly, once they finish up with the ground procedures. Takeoff is in about, well, 10 minutes."

He sat down in his chair, swivelling it around.

"So, you're the sky security, so to speak? While we lack security by banning all dangerous weapons onboard this craft, we do keep some little countermeasures onboard. Such as yourself."
He took out a magazine from his belt.
"Because of the problems of damage that firearms have inside such a small space, we have to be careful of over-penetration. These are all a special type of round known informally as the splatter-head. It is like a hollowpoint, but shatters on impact. So, against the glass windows, it will only craze them instead of penetrating. There's 17 in here, and you can replenish your supply in the storeroom, in the cabinet which is now unlocked. Just be careful not to pick up the high-exposive rounds by mistake. And you didn't see the missile launcher in there.

Thankyou for your time."

"So, you're the sky security, so to speak? While we lack security by banning all dangerous weapons onboard this craft, we do keep some little countermeasures onboard. Such as yourself."
He took out a magazine from his belt.
"Because of the problems of damage that firearms have inside such a small space, we have to be careful of over-penetration. These are all a special type of round known informally as the splatter-head. It is like a hollowpoint, but shatters on impact. So, against the glass windows, it will only craze them instead of penetrating. There's 17 in here, and you can replenish your supply in the storeroom, in the cabinet which is now unlocked. Just be careful not to pick up the high-exposive rounds by mistake. And you didn't see the missile launcher in there.

Thankyou for your time."

Steve nodded and he said "Well, I was talking to my superiors and they decided that I should act as an impromptu sky marshal. I mean, not that a hijacking will occur, but if anyone tries one, I'll make sure it's a mistake." He took some splatter heads and loaded it into the .45, and said "Well, I guess I'm now acting as the unofficial sky marshal for this flight." He commented "This is a nice airship, I actually have been on an airship before, the C.A.S (Calizorinstan Air Ship) Macon, I was the Marine Detachment commander on it, as I was an O-5 (Lieutenant Colonel) then." He took out a picture of the interior of the Macon, with a younger Colonel Bjornnes, standing at a .50 cal mount. Steve said "The night we flew on a patrol, just checking for illegals, nothing out of the normal, then, well, we ran into a storm. Luckily I packed my parachute, because, I happened to be putting it on, when I fell out of the Macon, which was encountering turbulance. Then, the Macon, I believe impacted Mount San Gogorio, east of our capital by 80 miles. I, and the Captain of the Macon, were the only survivors."

He said "As you can see, my airship experiences haven't been good, but I don't believe that'll be the case with this airship, and I've had plenty of good flights on the Calizorinstani Navy airships. That was my first flight in an airship, and this is my first in a commercial one."

"Well I am addened to hear of that. I hope though that this flight turns out to be uneventful. I once was an auxillary pilot in the airfleet, and managed to get battle experience. Of course, that was why I left: being a Captain aboard an airship is no joke when you're under attack by hidden ground units, the only defence you have being a prayer, an engineer with a missile launcher and carbon fibre plastic. We were lucky that time, especially when we found that we had nearly taken a hit by an oxidiser missile to the hydrogen core... it was lucky we managed to finally get an escort in time, and clear away the attackers. But I have flown over areas and later found the gantries riddled with bulletholes you don't even notice on the buoyancy charts."

He was tapped on the shoulder by his co-pilot, turning around.
"Well , you'd better back back off to your berth now: take-off is only in about 2 minutes. They're just finishing boardings now, alongside any luggage. Unless you want to stay in here for the takeoff, which I assure you is nothing very spectacular. There's a seat over there if you want."

____________________________________

The airship PA system began to call out.
"This is an announcement to all passengers: takeoff is scheduled for two minutes. Please ensure that your luggage is securly stored in the overhead lockers or in-room lockers, and to take to a safe position. We remind all that smoking is prohibited until the observation deck is opened for access, and that mobile phones may not be used during take-off. Flash photography is banned, as it may interfere with the fire-detection systems.
Thankyou for flying with SkyLiners."

He was tapped on the shoulder by his co-pilot, turning around.
"Well , you'd better back back off to your berth now: take-off is only in about 2 minutes. They're just finishing boardings now, alongside any luggage. Unless you want to stay in here for the takeoff, which I assure you is nothing very spectacular. There's a seat over there if you want."


The Colonel nodded and he said "I'll go back to my berth, and I'll see you later.." Steve walked back into his berth and sat down in the chair, and opened a magazine to read..

Nicolas Villa brought his suitcases to his room on board the large flying gondola, he was still trying to get over his fear of flying, something that had haunted him since the villa tragedy of George's Wedding. No doubt all the rebels who had shot down the presidential flight had been captured and killed by now, but it was still a haunting memory. It took two years to be able to fly in a helicopter, which although more dangerous, was not a plane. It would be much longer before he could fly on one of those again, which is why he came to Alfegos via airship and was now leaving to Antigr in one. Hopefully he could catch a flight from there to home soon, Juventud was getting over quickly, and he was needed back home. Being the ripe old age of 49 he was single, a man who lost his wife to....the presidential plane...he secretly hoped he could find someone to help him get over the pain. George, his nephew and pratically son, would remind him that he needs to get back out there, that even though his wife was amazing, he couldnt let life pass him up. Though at the gates to 50 the only thing this rich Mokan could hope for was a young girl waiting for him to die to get the Villa estate. Though he had fought death off this long, why should it get ground now.

Locking up his room he walked down the hall, exploring the great ship and admiring the engineering wonder.

IC:

Steve sat in his chair, and watched out of his window as they started to lift off. He contemplated the long flight to Antigr, from there he would catch a flight on a CIA (Calizorinstan Imperial Airways) charted AN-32 "Cline" back to Berlin, the Capital of Calizorinstan. He worried though, sometimes the AN-32's were pretty darn unreliable in his experience, and then they'd switch it out for a BAC 1-11, which would be better but noisy.

OOC: Cal, An-32s are very durable. Most russian planes are because they are much simpler than their american counterparts.

IC:

Erik Hall danced to the loud rave music in his room. His assistant sat in the corner watching the middle aged, balding man strut around the room, doing a dance that he affectionately called the "booty shaker".

As he sat, he refilled Erik's cross with more cocaine, and prepared some lines for them to share. He eyed the pistol that sat on the table near him. The barrel glinted in the lamp light as Erik wildly gesticulated and spasmed around the room in his cocaine induced frenzy.

The young man started the cry. He had once been a vibrant youth living with his family, an odd assortment of youths in a hostel in southern Yanitaria. He missed the music, the vibrant city life in his relatively rural province. The colors, the sound, the smell, he could almost feel it. And he sobbed. This new order for Yanitaria, it was too much for him. He couldn't take his new job, or his new, lecherous boss, it simply went against every moral fiber of his body.

Erik stopped, and examined the young man. He grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him up, before smacking him in the face. The sobbing youth landed into the cocaine lines, and could only lay on top of the table, still sobbing. Erik crawled over him and reached for his neck, screaming and yelling.

As the young man clawed at his older employer's hands, Erik simply yelled "WHO GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO FUCKING LIVE!?" With that, Erik felt a harsh pain in his groin, as the struggling youth kicked him in the crotch. He recoiled, and immediately fell over onto the floor with a loud thud.

The youth grabbed the pistol from the table, and with out thinking shot Erik Hall three times. Finally realizing what he did, he ran out of the room, sticking the pistol into his jacket pocket.

We haven't even taken off!

Pop! Pop! pop!

Nicolas would recognize that sound anywhere, gunshots, small caliber, probably a pistol. Where was the nearest weapon, cane, razor in room, pistol locked up. Find Crew.

He began to walk as fast as his aging body would let him, however pretending that the cane was actually needed when he new something bad was happening was not helpful, yet image must be maintained. Eventually he found someone and told them what he heard:

"I heard gunshots, three, where are the firearms in this airship, I need my pistol."

"We have heard the gunshots: however, for the meanwhile, your weapon will not be discharged from the safe, but rest assured you will be safe: the four shipborne engineers should be arriving very shortly. If you could wait by the reception desk."

As he spoke, the 4 men arrived. 3 were armed, and the other was carrying a large rucksack and a tracsuit bag. They soon were at the room the gunshots had been heard at, locked by the head steward. Two of the onboard stewards had blocked the corridor from onlookers as they took up a defensive kneel. The little light above the door turned green, and the three men burst in yelling, each of their AF-07 assault rifles raised, blue stocks in their shoulders.
"Get on the floor now!"
They were lucky he was on a bottom deck cabin: otherwise, the stray shots could have caused a death. But they came into a near empty room, all there being in there a bloody corpse with three holes in its head or about it. White powder lay on a desk nearby, most obviously some illicit substance. While the unarmed engineer patched over the hole with plastic panel, at the same time checking whether any internal cracks had been formed from the shots. For now at least they were safe: the carbon-fibre plastic that made up this entire gondola had not crazed.

"Ground security, be aware: there is a gunman on the loose. We are not sure of his appearance for now, but suspect they may have been with the other passenger."
He looked at a discarded ticket.
"A man or woman with Erik Hall."

There was a brief pause on the radio, followed by a call on the cabin intercom system.

"We apologise for the delay in takeoff, but assure you that there is no concern to your safety. Please may all return to their cabins or private cubicules until we take off. Crew to the main desk at once."

The radio crackled.

"We can't access the records at the moment, beacuse the ground security system's got a pretty major glitch. But we have reports of the deceased boarding with a young male, wearing a dark jacket."
"Thankyou."

____________________________________________

"Mummy, what was that?"
Three muffled cracks had been heard from below their cabin.
"I don't know sweety. Just stay there for the moment please."
The dad came back in.
"Apparently, there's been an incident downstairs. Not to worry though, they've got it under control."
She noticed the doubt in his voice, but said nothing as she looked out of the dark window.

_____________________________________________

By the reception desk, the head steward sat with a transparent plastic bag. In it was a pistol, along with a blue magazine of the strange rounds. Next to him on the desk was a machine-pistol.
"That's the shipborne armoury and safe nearly depleted. Only another 2 weapons in there. Though company policy doesn't allow us to deploy vigilantes, we'll ignore that on for now. But remeber to hand it back in once this is over, or you will be chased up. But, since they gave us the choice, as they're holding another assault rifle and a weapon that I will not disclose to you for the meantime, you can pick between the machine pistol and your pistol. I can tell you which one i'll be happy to stay at this desk with, until this sorry situation's sorted out."

OOC: Cal, An-32s are very durable. Most russian planes are because they are much simpler than their american counterparts.

OOC: I've heard that is the case, but sometimes the engines don't last long, but the airframes do.

IC:

The Colonel happened to have heard the noises, and he ran to the scene to find a dead Erik Hall. While bending over, he caught a glimpse of the young gunman, and he raced after the youth. Steve did not know what the motive of this gunman was, but he was taking him down.

Steve called for re-enforcements and joined up with the three men with AF-07's, and he said "I'm kind of the sky marshal for this flight, I heard the shots from that gunman, and I'm helping you to find the gunman.."

Nicoli hated being talked to like that.

"Forgive me for being rude, but when you "secure" all the guns before the flight then I hear shots from insides the passenger compartments I assume you failed. Therefore I will take my safety in my own hands. Now as the former president of a fellow FU nation I would be the last person on this flight to try something stupid."

He was very pissed about the failure in security, as he was still getting over his fear of flying and terrorism. The pulsating vein in his forehead subsidized as his knee began to ache from the jogging to the desk and the lack of cane using, this time for real though. He waited as the receptionist explained to him the current situation.

"That's the shipborne armoury and safe nearly depleted. Only another 2 weapons in there. Though company policy doesn't allow us to deploy vigilantes, we'll ignore that on for now. But remeber to hand it back in once this is over, or you will be chased up. But, since they gave us the choice, as they're holding another assault rifle and a weapon that I will not disclose to you for the meantime, you can pick between the machine pistol and your pistol. I can tell you which one i'll be happy to stay at this desk with, until this sorry situation's sorted out."

"I will take my pistol, I feel more comfortable with it."

When she handed it over he leaned on his cane and dropped the magazine, cleared the chamber, and made sure that the magazine was loaded before putting it back in the gun and pulling back the slide, and sliding the safety on of course.

"Thank you, Is there any help I can offer?"

The young man ducked into a staircase and climbed for his life. He knew that he must reach someplace safe before anyone could find him. After leaping up a flight of stairs, he bounded through a door, before standing still. With great effort, he walked down the hall, and saw a man walking into his room, he ran, hunched over and trying not to make any noise, and pressed an ear up to the door.

"Apparently, there's been an incident downstairs. Not to worry though, they've got it under control."

The young man was desperate, but he knew that he might be able to escape now. He drew his pistol, and held it in between him and the door, aiming for whoever might open it.

He knocked on the door, saying in an as an authoritative voice as he could muster, "Security, I need to search the room."

OOC: If anything here isn't alright, tell me and I'll be more than happy to retcon.

bump?

No, I think he's still away. Can't wait for the smuggled goods he's bringing back, can you?

(OOC: Sorry I didn't say about takeoff, but then that's me again. And sorry, they would let me buy/smuggle any of the Ouzi (liquid restrictions+they were searching luggage at the airport)...I got some pistachios though!)

"This is terminal to flight SWAF - 592: do you copy? The ground crew heard gunshots."
"Affirmative: there has been an incident onboard involving a male gunman, currently at large. Shall we come back to landing area?"
"Negative! You are currently crossing aircraft lanes, and to keep there too long will causea stack up. Plus we have a priority flight on exceptionally low fuel from Neo'Ilos. Continue along lane ADAL-NZ72 until further notice. A police airship will be dispatched to intercept your path and provide extra boarding."
There was a quick click as the recorder temporarily turned off.
"And if I were you, make sure that the boomstick disappears."
The radio cut out.

_______________________________________

In their cabin, there was a loud knocking. The man walked to the door, his wife sitting up on their bed. The child was busy watching the beautiful view of the houses now 400 metres below them.
"Alright, I'm just coming."
He opened the door using the switch, and slid it open.
"How can we help?"
He had noticed that the man was not wearing either an identity badge like all the others, or was wearing the wings of one of the SkyWays staff. He gestured behind his back for the wife to hit the crew calling button, on the panel next to the stratellite phone and room controls. She pressed it, making only a hum as it recognised her touch. She then flicked on the main television, the news coming up. She sat uncomfortably down.

___________________________________________

"You want to help? Then go and check all the exits. I've got these two covered."
He motioned to the main boarding hatches, now tightly sealed and with a large warning strip glowing above each.
"There are two at the front and back of each floor. That means, you've got 10 to check. Then check the gasbag and promenade deck stairwells. Both should be sealed, so that should help you."

"Forgive me, I have never explored these things to deeply, how would I check the gasbag and promenade stairwells?"


His knee hated going up stairs, and with five flight to check this was the last thing he wanted to do on a relaxing cruise, but when are needed you do as requested. After all he was a soldier first, and civilian second. His pistol was loaded with 20 rounds and the no doubt the small .22 would not damage anything enough to cause problems, hell it might not even exit a human body, maybe just bounce around and mess em up. Thats what he hoped. He also hoped that no one would think he was the gunman.

(OOC: Sorry I didn't say about takeoff, but then that's me again. And sorry, they would let me buy/smuggle any of the Ouzi (liquid restrictions+they were searching luggage at the airport)...I got some pistachios though!)

"You want to help? Then go and check all the exits. I've got these two covered."
He motioned to the main boarding hatches, now tightly sealed and with a large warning strip glowing above each.
"There are two at the front and back of each floor. That means, you've got 10 to check. Then check the gasbag and promenade deck stairwells. Both should be sealed, so that should help you."


The Colonel nodded and his .45 was ready for action. He said "I'll take the upper boarding hatch." He knew it could very well cost him his life, but he didn't care. If it helped save the lives of the other passengers, it would be a positive trade off, one life for more then 100. He climbed up the stairs, and he arrived at the first upper exit.

The young man pressed the gun into the other man's gut, and said "Please, I don't want to shoot you, but I will."Tears dripped down his face as he started to push the man into the room with the tip of the gun.

"I really don't want to kill anyone, please. Just, please."

OOC: Retconned. I didn't want to Rpthe guy as going in, so the post is regrettably very short, to allow you to rp what ever response.

(ooc: Computer's being silly. + Yanitara, can you re-read your post in relation to mine, and consider some pretty major editing?)

The airship appeared to drift along in some invisible wind as it passed from intangible aircraft space to airship lanes. Behind it, planes began coming in to land at runways 3 and 4, now unobstructed. Floating now at 700 metres as it moved upwards to the centre of the lane, it was thrust forwards by the multiple prop engines belching clouds of steam from exhaust pipes, any water in the atmosphere evaporating instantly on the surfaces not internally cooled by strange fluids.

Ahead of it, a military airship was moving in: diverted from it's course to Station Solace II, it was a large Strombringer Aerodropcraft. Aboard, 80 aeromarines lived in spartan conditions as theywere moved about from rest stations to massive battles. An entire company being returned from wars abroad, they were specially trained not only for special operations and air drops but alkso for anti-airship warfare and air boarding actions. The latter was considered suicidal by some, yet they had their ways to do such.
The upper deck of the main gondola to the rear of the gasbag was massive, the bottom deck holding a company of men and all their supplies. In addition, the top deck was tasked with carrying weaponry, more supplies, and the planning and command centres for the company. This upper deck also held odd-shaped boarding ramps and harpoon guns, between the gunports, observation windows and engines. These were designed to allow mass-raids upon other airships, even if under fire. This though could only be carried out when the enemy had had their engines disabled to prevent ramming, and their weaponry normally knocked out by heavy fire to the contorl gondola and other units.

The airship rose upwards to meet the military airship, and began braking to allow the men about 15 minutes away to board unhindered.

___________________________________

"This is a public announcement. Please may all passengers stay in their rooms. We are about to be boarded by military personnel, and in the interests of your comfort require that you do not hinder their ship-wide search for the gunman that has been sighted. We require not to opn any of your doors unless the personnel on the other side are military personnel or wear an official skyways name tag.

We officially apologise on behalf of SkyWays co., and thankyou for your understanding at this hinderance. We assure you that this will be resolved very soon, without obstruction to your flight."

The captain cut out the communications as the engineers moved to the doors on the bottom deck of the three, preparing to open them when told to. On the upper deck, the head steward had quickly chased after the sky marshall, now at the bottom of the locked ladder upwards.
"I need you to guard this door for the moment: there are aeromarines boarding very soon, and they are notorious for not using the front door as we have asked. If you hear them coming from the other side, open it from here using this keycard."
He passed him a universal keycard.
"I can trust you with this."

He ran off to where the Mokan was at the other stairwell, in front of the grand stairwell in the centre of the airship.
"Stay here and keep an eye out for people trying to escape from here. If you look, you'll see the emergancy exits at the rear of this gondola are there and there. If you hear the aeromarines coming down, yell for the sky marshall down the hall: he will hear you and open the door. After that, you need to get to your room ASAP, or the soldiers will mistake you for the gunman.
Thanks for your help."

He moved off, checking patrolling the mergancy exits on this floor and the one below, waiting for the aeromarines to arrive.

___________________________________

"This is a public announcement. Please may all passengers stay in their rooms. We are about to be boarded by military personnel, and in the interests of your comfort require that you do not hinder their ship-wide search for the gunman that has been sighted. We require not to opn any of your doors unless the personnel on the other side are military personnel or wear an official skyways name tag.

We officially apologise on behalf of SkyWays co., and thankyou for your understanding at this hinderance. We assure you that this will be resolved very soon, without obstruction to your flight."

The captain cut out the communications as the engineers moved to the doors on the bottom deck of the three, preparing to open them when told to. On the upper deck, the head steward had quickly chased after the sky marshall, now at the bottom of the locked ladder upwards.
"I need you to guard this door for the moment: there are aeromarines boarding very soon, and they are notorious for not using the front door as we have asked. If you hear them coming from the other side, open it from here using this keycard."
He passed him a universal keycard.
"I can trust you with this."


Steve nodded, and he said "I will, and I'll explain that I'm a sort of sky marshall on this flight, and that will explain everything to them. Thank you." He took the universal keycard, and when the head steward was off, waited for about fifteen minutes, when he heard movement outside the door after something that felt like a bump and a scrape.

He head some talking outside the door, and he put the keycard in the door, and he opened it for the aeromarines, and he said "I'm Colonel Steve Bjornnes, acting as sky-marshall on the flight."

(OOC: Waiting for Yanitaria to resolve his post, but I guess we can wait for now and possibly Retcon ever so slightly...)

The aeromarines, in true form, did not take the entrance they were told to take. As the two airships drifted past each other, manouveres now being done remotely from the military airship to allow for lack of damage when boarding, one of the ramps moved to lock onto the other airship, followed by three more. Each was 50 metres long, having extended, and made from a sleek curved carbon-fibre shell, re-enforced with wire. On the end, vicious hooks folded out to ensure that once it hit it would not let go. A crash, followed by three more, and the ramps had been dropped onto one of the 6 maintenance gantries going along the entire length of the airship on the exterior, acting as extra re-enforcement.

Along the ramps that had crashed down on the side of the airship, men began crossing: the first crossing were the shock wave, all armed with shotguns, both automatic and semi-automatic. These 16 men sprinted along the gantries, spreading out along the length of the airship in two formations. Behind them, the main body began crossing, of 48 men armed with a mix of shotguns and assault rifles. They proceeded after the men, straight down towards the main gondola hanging below.

The first group entering were at the crew entrance, the ladder concealed by an unlocked trapdoor. They wrenched it open and lept down, the 8 men moving down to the door. It was locked, as expected. A call on the radio told them that the door from the promenade deck was also open.
"No need for searching the gasbag: no windows have been smashed, so the only place he can be is inside.
The door opened, the Lieutenant heading this team raising his weapon to the chorus of safeties disengaging. As the man on the other side looked to them, they all lowered their weapons, hearing his explanation.

"Good morning then, sir. You would be the Colonel that the government informed us about? It seems that you haven't done your job. Doesn't matter though. Since you are pretty much the only security this has save for the engineers, who I can guess haven't been able to find anything and lack any training save for civilian shooting, you'd better give us the run-through."

The other 7 men moved out to form a defensive cordon around this area: this was the ancillary and plant area, with the gondola heating, conditioning, pollutant control and to a limited degree pressure control (an emergancy feature in case of being forced to do an ascent), along with all the shop storage, money storage, and toiletry stores. Pride of place though went to the water filtration system, that passed water through a sytem of filters to remove impurities and recycle the 20 tonnes of water carried aboard that was only replenished when they flew through a cloud or storm.

He ran off to where the Mokan was at the other stairwell, in front of the grand stairwell in the centre of the airship.
"Stay here and keep an eye out for people trying to escape from here. If you look, you'll see the emergancy exits at the rear of this gondola are there and there. If you hear the aeromarines coming down, yell for the sky marshall down the hall: he will hear you and open the door. After that, you need to get to your room ASAP, or the soldiers will mistake you for the gunman.
Thanks for your help."

He moved off, checking patrolling the mergancy exits on this floor and the one below, waiting for the aeromarines to arrive.

"Yeah got it."

The employee had only left for a few minutes when he heard the areomarines coming in. Leave it to the areomarines to make things overcomplicated.

"Sky Marshall, Nicolas Villa here, I got marines coming in."

He pocketed the .22, hoping not to get shot on site by a few trigger happy youths thinking that this was a rescue takeover.

The door opened, the Lieutenant heading this team raising his weapon to the chorus of safeties disengaging. As the man on the other side looked to them, they all lowered their weapons, hearing his explanation.

"Good morning then, sir. You would be the Colonel that the government informed us about? It seems that you haven't done your job. Doesn't matter though. Since you are pretty much the only security this has save for the engineers, who I can guess haven't been able to find anything and lack any training save for civilian shooting, you'd better give us the run-through."

The other 7 men moved out to form a defensive cordon around this area: this was the ancillary and plant area, with the gondola heating, conditioning, pollutant control and to a limited degree pressure control (an emergancy feature in case of being forced to do an ascent), along with all the shop storage, money storage, and toiletry stores. Pride of place though went to the water filtration system, that passed water through a sytem of filters to remove impurities and recycle the 20 tonnes of water carried aboard that was only replenished when they flew through a cloud or storm.


Steve replied "I did try to look for the gunman, I did see him, but he ran off before I could fire at him. I've been told by the captain to search the upper and lower decks for the gunmen, and now we've heard some more shots down below, so I'd suggest we go down there."

"Right you are... we''ll let the main body perform a full sweep from the top downwards, whilst we can move it downstairs and check out whether our customer is there."
He nodded at the others, and they began moving, keeping to the cover of corners as they strategically moved, pepperpotting towards the stairwell, and then downstairs.
"What floor do you reckon it was on? Just to save us a bit of time in this matter."
He gestured, and two pairs of men ran to take the corners of theis part of the main staircase: this way, the gunman would be trapped on one floor, unable to escape without notice.

"Right you are... we''ll let the main body perform a full sweep from the top downwards, whilst we can move it downstairs and check out whether our customer is there."
He nodded at the others, and they began moving, keeping to the cover of corners as they strategically moved, pepperpotting towards the stairwell, and then downstairs.
"What floor do you reckon it was on? Just to save us a bit of time in this matter."
He gestured, and two pairs of men ran to take the corners of theis part of the main staircase: this way, the gunman would be trapped on one floor, unable to escape without notice.

Steve said "I'd say it's the next to the last floor, judging on the faintness of the shots. I'd also say that he went into a passengers cabin, I also thought I heard shrieks from the same area." He lead the way down the stairs and he said "The man, whoever he is, is young, 22 I'd guess."

Nicolas decided to go back to the passengers cabin, he would say that he was staying there and was helping with the search, hence why he wasnt there yet. In reality he was looking for the shooter, not throughly, but enough to keep his hand in his pocket around that .22, and he was a decent hip shooter.

In the room, the man now realised the seriousness of the predicament. If the people didn't arrive soon... he tried not to think of what would happen if he did anything heroic, so just slowly shuffled into the room. Behind him, the door slid shut. The child in the corner had not noticed, curtain drawn and eyes fixed on the TV. He hoped it would stay like that.
"What do you want with us? With my family?"

There was a knock on the door outside, followed by a pause. A louder knock, a muffled curse, and the sound of them walking off. Now they didn't have a chance in hell. Behind him, a tinted view of the metropolis below, along with the military airship in a dull grey-blue that could be seen attached with men crossing over was the focus of attention.
"They're coming for you. If you don't put that gun down now, they'll shoot you. They can't see in through the windows at the moment because they are tinted, but soon they will remotely deactivate all the windows. They'll be able to see in. You haven't got a chance. So just surrender yourself to them."
He waited for the crack of the gun.

_______________________________________

"We've got a steward call from one of the cabins on the 2nd deck. They don't know why they ain't answering, but I have my suspiscions."
"Get them first to deactivate all the windows, so we can actually see inside the cabins. Then we make our move."
Above them, there was the loud noise of footsteps above them. The moved up to the door as cabins above were searched to the sound of yells and shouts, the head of the 8 men with them now beckoning to the Colonel.
"If you may open the door for me?"

Outside the gondola, there was a hum as the signal jammer on the military airship disabled the electronic tinting on the windows.
"This is a room-to-room sweep of the airship: open the door now!"

The young man point the gun at the child with the gun close to his hip, partly to hide the shaking, and stepped closer to him. "You'll hide me in the closet until they stop looking for me, then I'll leave, and nobody gets hurt. I am taking this kid with me as insurance.

The young man was small, and his eyes were red with tears. It was obvious that his hands were shaking, but it had very little to do with his emotions. The cocaine, a little bit of which still caught in the stubble that threatened to become a mustache. He wasn't particularly tall or threatening, and if anything he looked a bit pathetic.

He took another three steps, with a stride that seemed much too exaggerated for his small frame, so that he was standing midway between the child and the man.

"We've got a steward call from one of the cabins on the 2nd deck. They don't know why they ain't answering, but I have my suspiscions."
"Get them first to deactivate all the windows, so we can actually see inside the cabins. Then we make our move."
Above them, there was the loud noise of footsteps above them. The moved up to the door as cabins above were searched to the sound of yells and shouts, the head of the 8 men with them now beckoning to the Colonel.
"If you may open the door for me?"

Outside the gondola, there was a hum as the signal jammer on the military airship disabled the electronic tinting on the windows.
"This is a room-to-room sweep of the airship: open the door now!"

Steve pulled out his Colt .45 loaded with the special rounds and opened the door and raised his gun, ready to fire.

"Just give yourself up: if you do, then you will not be killed. Likely as not you won't even be extradited from Alfegos. If you just keep on with this foolishness, then you'll die. I'll die. All of us will die. And I think we've only got 10 seconds until that will happen. Hide in the closet? They'll search there, you fool. The best thing you can do right now is just give yourself up or if you are going to die then leap out of the window." He pointed to the panel of glass that made up one of the cabin walls.

In the corner, the child still had not noticed. Fortunately for them. The father wanted to keep it that way.

_____________________________________

"They're not opening. Get one of the men here."
It had not occured to them to use the keycard to open the door. Instead, one of the men had unloaded the magazine from his shotgun, chambering a single round. On the side, it was painted 'Breacher, Shotgun, Heavy". Inisde it, a solid mass of wax and steel dust sat atop a powder charge. He aimed the barrel at the lock atop the door, where a little red light showed.

"Right, on the count of 5, we will rush in as fast as possible, and take all of them to the ground. I hope you all have the correct ammunition?"
All nodded: they all had loaded flexible baton rounds to be as non-lethal as possible, as well as avoiding any hull breaches. He nodded, lifting his hand. 5, 4, 3....

Keeping his aim, before turning to the man, and yelling, "I have no choice! I can't risk it! I've killed a member of the royal family! Yanitaria is a relatively peaceful place, but you simply can't assassinate someone and expect to live! The best I can expect is being kidnapped and sent to a No-Walls Prison, and it's very likely that I could go to sleep one night and wake up with a slit throat.

"If you hide me in the closet, there is a chance that we can live through this. If they attempt to search the closet, just tell them I have a hostage, they won't dare enter."

He stepped closer to the boy, and place his free hand on his head. To the father, he said, "You will not stop me. If you want him to live, you wont."

A thought suddenly struck him. "Perhaps you could open the window and tell them I jumped?"

(OOC: Yes, I know they are about to breach.)

(OOC: It's a girl.)

The girl looked up, watching this mad man.
"Daddy, who's this unhappy man? What is he doing?"
The father turned around.
"Don't worry about that now sweetie."

He thought for a moment. "I can't tell them you jumped: the windows don't open. Plus they're watching this room from outside now. Just give yourself in, man. There are three ways out now: you can stay like this and get shot or captured, you can start shooting and get shot in return, or you can hand yourself in. For god's sake man, think!"

OOC: What ever happened to the terrorist?

and sorry for the short post, but this is no area for a civy

IC:
Nicolas was heading back his room, which just so happened to be down the hall from all the commotion. He saw the men with guns standing outside the room. One aiming a shotgun at the door, the rest guns up. Very professional in his opinion, but this was not his place, he decided to stay down the hall. Keeping the gun in his pocket and sitting on the stairwell with his hands where anyone could see them.

He didn't feel like dying by friendly fire on a luxury cruise, imagine the irony of that, spend every year from age 14 fighting in Mokastana, leading rebellion after rebellion, getting a stable government and then fighting off coups, invasions, and even leading parliament armed to fight the president, to die by an ally mistaking him for a gunmen.

The young man mad a show of sarcastically thinking, before firing the last three shots of his revolver.

The first was aimed at the tv, shattering the screen and sending sparks and glass across the room.

The second sent spiderwebs along the window, as the glass cracked, but didn't shatter. The young man took a step towards the father, and exaggeratedly aimed the gun. Just as the breach occured, he fired at the man.

Fueled by the cocaine, the young man leaped towards the window, and smashed the revolver against it. He didn't even stop to see if he hit the man, he simply jumped swinging the revolver, hoping to break the glass.

The revolver's handle broke off as the glass fell down the the earth below. The young man's face was bloody as the ground rushed up to meet him.

(OOC: Hope that is acceptable, since the breach was about to happen. Also hope you don't mind the TV. If you object to any of it, I'd be more than happy to retcon.)

As the soldiers outside heard gunshots, the breaching chrage was fired, blasting a hole in the top of the door. The locking clamp fell off as a room alarm started, followed by the door being kicked in and the soldiers sprinting in. They were just in time to see the other man hit the crazed window, electrical signals turning the nearby glass strange colours, and leap.

"We've got a leaper!"
"Confirmed: we'll see what we can do."
On the other airship, a man lept off the side, parachute on his back. He fell feet-first, plummeting downwards faster than the other man. Flying through the air, began beagn driecting himself from above towards the falling man. Just as he was baout to grab him, the automatic parachute response yanked him relatively back up into the air, leaving the other man to continue falling. What luck.
"Target has been lost, definately dead."

In the room, the women and child were screaming as the soldiers escorted them out, a team of medics working on the man collapsed on the floor. He had been lucky" it was a shot to his right shoulder, missing anything major. They had sedated him, and were about to raise him up to carry him back onto the military airship, for emergancy transfer to the nearest hospital with their family. Two more men had already taken their luggage. Once they had finished in the room, the engineers pulled the door shut, welding it tight to stop any pressure fluctuations about the ship. Upon it, a large notice, as with the other room, had been displayed.
"Crime Scene - Do Not Enter"

_____________________________________

The steward threw his machinepistol to the engineers now departing to the armoury: they wouldn't need any of their weapons now. Which reminded him. He turned on the intercom.
"SkyLiners can now inform you that the gun man has been dealt with, and that the flight is safe to continue onwards. Two rooms will remain out of bounds to to the unsafe nature of them, and the flight will continue without interruption. We do however request for your own comfort and safety that you remain in your cabins until the aeromarines have departed.

Please could Mr Nicolas Villa report to the reception desk. That is Mr Villa, to the Reception Desk. Thankyou."

_______________________________________

OOC - The terrorists will be taking over the flight when it is near Antigr, which will be in about 48 hours of airship flight. So, until then, enjoy interacting with other characters and the like. Or we can skip that out if you wish.
Anyhow, I still don't know where Kaibal got to. Or Orbath for that matter.

Once the door had been sealed Nicolas went back to his room, took off his jacket and hung it up. It had been an exciting start to the trip. Hunting down a shooter that he never saw, and would more then likely not know the cause off. Too bad, he sat down and placed his cane next to bed as he began to change into something not messed up by the running around and hunting for a shooter. A pair of nice dress pants and shirt would do, he had not even pulled them out before he heard on the speakers:


"SkyLiners can now inform you that the gun man has been dealt with, and that the flight is safe to continue onwards. Two rooms will remain out of bounds to to the unsafe nature of them, and the flight will continue without interruption. We do however request for your own comfort and safety that you remain in your cabins until the aeromarines have departed.

Please could Mr Nicolas Villa report to the reception desk. That is Mr Villa, to the Reception Desk. Thankyou."

Damn it, they probably want my gun back. As a safety precaution no doubt. He grabbed his cane and reached into his jacket's pocket, yep the gun was still there, safety on, and into his pants pocket. His knee was killing him again, it was really one of those times he really needed to use the cane, pretty easy to fake helpless when you partially are. He walked over to the receptions desk and looked around:

"Nicolas Villa here as requested."

As the soldiers outside heard gunshots, the breaching chrage was fired, blasting a hole in the top of the door. The locking clamp fell off as a room alarm started, followed by the door being kicked in and the soldiers sprinting in. They were just in time to see the other man hit the crazed window, electrical signals turning the nearby glass strange colours, and leap.

"We've got a leaper!"
"Confirmed: we'll see what we can do."
On the other airship, a man lept off the side, parachute on his back. He fell feet-first, plummeting downwards faster than the other man. Flying through the air, began beagn driecting himself from above towards the falling man. Just as he was baout to grab him, the automatic parachute response yanked him relatively back up into the air, leaving the other man to continue falling. What luck.
"Target has been lost, definately dead."

In the room, the women and child were screaming as the soldiers escorted them out, a team of medics working on the man collapsed on the floor. He had been lucky" it was a shot to his right shoulder, missing anything major. They had sedated him, and were about to raise him up to carry him back onto the military airship, for emergancy transfer to the nearest hospital with their family. Two more men had already taken their luggage. Once they had finished in the room, the engineers pulled the door shut, welding it tight to stop any pressure fluctuations about the ship. Upon it, a large notice, as with the other room, had been displayed.
"Crime Scene - Do Not Enter"

OOC - The terrorists will be taking over the flight when it is near Antigr, which will be in about 48 hours of airship flight. So, until then, enjoy interacting with other characters and the like. Or we can skip that out if you wish.
Anyhow, I still don't know where Kaibal got to. Or Orbath for that matter.

The Colonel sighed and he said "Wish that we'd gotten here faster, ah well. He'll die naturally, so at least he won't be giving us any more trouble."

"Thankyou Mr Villa for your help, but we can now confirm that there is no more threat to security. As it is, we will need you to return your weapon to us, so that we can replace it in the safe."

The steward smiled, sipping from a glass of water.

______________________

"Well, we aren't always lucky. Have a pleasant flight anyway, sir."

As the last of the aeromarines departed the hallway, he left, giving him a salute as he jogged out. Through the windows now set back to dim, it was possible to see the last of the aeromarines rushing back onboard their craft. There was a loud screeching as the ramps were disenaged, followed by a roar as the engines on both craft came back to life again,pulling the two craft away from each other.

He signed, of course he would protest, and more likely lose, but given this incident and his lack of trust in handing civilian's security into others hands he spoke up.

"I hope you understand my protest, but unless you can tell me how someone got a gun onboard and ensure me that there are no more weapons on board not in the safes then I would feel safer knowing that my safety is in my hands, even if it is a last resort."

OOC:

My browser history had a clean, so this is an IC version of a tag so as not to lose this thread again.

IC:

Captain Valfridsson looked on earnestly at the intelligence report he was given.
Like most Antigrans, he was from mixed British/Central European, mostly Swedish, and part-Chinese descent. Thus, his family had seen some empires come and go and a fair bit of madness.
He was no exception.

His colleague, Lieutenant Olsen, was grinning as he read his photocopy of the same report.

"Hell" He said. "Not even a couple of hours in flight. I wonder what state the airship will be in when it docks"

"Olsen, we are a special anti-terrorist police team. I'm sure we can deal with anything"

"Even an airship crewed by mad excessively-armed Alfegans carrying a gunny nutter, a Mokan politician, and some Colonel from Calizorinstan? All with guns?"

"Don't say that to the men, they have wives and kids"

OOC: Technically ex-politician, now old guy who has seen far to much action and knows how to handle hundreds of weapons.

"Sir, if you do hold a gun on your person, then you will be contradicting your own statement: we will know there is someone carrying a gun on board. While we can trust your intents, I cannot trust the intents of someone who could possibly steal it.
As for how that gun got on the airship, that will be investigated in due course. Already a major investigation has been launched. So I am sorry, but I will have to put it back in the safe with the other weapons. Thankyou for your understanding."

_______________________________________

(A note for me as to what weapons there are actually onboard, that are non-terrorst:
- .45ACP pistol (Calzoristani)
- .22 pistol (Mokastana)
- 6x AF-87 assault rifles (Official Shipborne Armoury)
- 2x AFMP machine pistols (Unofficial)
- 1x AAT-87 missile launcher -> 3 missiles (Rather Illegal))

Nicolas sighed to himself, at least he still had his cane.

"Very well, if you insist."

With that he pulled the gun out of his pocket and pulled the clip out and checked the chamber again. Then he handed her the pistol and clip together but seperate. Had he been younger he would of fought with her about it, ranting about how its the duty of the people to protect themselves from criminals, not the governments, and how he shouldn't have to surrender his weapon, but that was then. Nowadays he understood you had to cooperate with people. Not to mention how quickly they got marines on here, things would be ok. What are the odds that another incident happens anyway? With that thought he walked off to the bar to have a drink and give his knee a rest.

OOC: Yeah, you probably figured it out by now but I'm not going to be RPing in this, schizophrenic internet connection means I get about 30 minutes of connection every few days if I'm lucky. Will fix it ASAP but until then either forget the character of let someone else RP him for me, I don't mind.

"Well, we aren't always lucky. Have a pleasant flight anyway, sir."

As the last of the aeromarines departed the hallway, he left, giving him a salute as he jogged out. Through the windows now set back to dim, it was possible to see the last of the aeromarines rushing back onboard their craft. There was a loud screeching as the ramps were disenaged, followed by a roar as the engines on both craft came back to life again,pulling the two craft away from each other.

Steve walked back to his room, and put his gun down on the table and sighed. Once they got to Antigr, he would catch a flight on a Calizorinstanian Imperial Airways AN-32 back to Calizorinstan. He sighed, and he started to proofread his account of a zombie ambush in Washington, and how he and the whole squad had survived the ordeal.

He sipped his Mountain Dew, and he wondered what the Antigr Intelligence people would think, a Colonel, an insane Mokan politician, some aeromarines and the crew, fought off a gunman, or rather the problem that presented itself, solved itself.

Steve put his Colonel hat back on, and relaxed in his chair.

The bar was surprisingly empty, but then again, a gunman was just let loose on the flight, which rather then taking the 20 minutes to return to the airport, continued on and met up with a military detachment. Well, it could of always been worse. He ordered a vodka on the rocks, and sat at the bar to drink to himself. Life wasn't what it used to be, now was it. Well besides the fact people with guns are gunning for you at every turn. That part had stayed the same. He thought about wife for a bit. How his hole life he had fought for freedom and it always alluded him, how many times he rallied the troops with a speech on the final victory. Even now Mokastana was torn over the isolationist vs. revolutionary topic.

He downed the drink and tried not to think about the state of the world. It was time for the next generation to take over. He was to remain as he was, a classic, to live only in the memory as a hero.

"I may need another vodka barkeep."

"We apologise profoundly on behalf of Skyliners co. for any inconvenience caused by incidents today, and acknowladge that emotional distress may have been caused. As a result, compensation will be offered to all aboard this flight who can claim being affected by events. For information on claiming, you can pick up a leaflet at the main information/reception desk. Enjoy the rest of your flight."

________________________________________

A young stewardess knocked on the door of the Colonel's cubicle.
"Excuse me sir, but I have a delivery for you. With the Captain's compliments."
She showed him a small bottle of Alfegan white wine spritzer.
"Would you like me to pour some for you, sir?"

_________________________________________

"Of course sir. What's your problem then?"
He poured out a shot of vodka: the Mokastanan had purchased some of the very strong stuff. 70% at least. Obviously drowning his sorrows.

OOC:

Antigran denonym is 'Antigran'

70%?

We brits (or, at least, we brit stereotypes) are used to small shots of Napoleon Brandy, so please, I almost had a heart attack.

(In Russia, Vodka is normally above 40% alcohol content - as in at least 60%. God, they even sell 95% stuff there.)

________________________________________

A young stewardess knocked on the door of the Colonel's cubicle.
"Excuse me sir, but I have a delivery for you. With the Captain's compliments."
She showed him a small bottle of Alfegan white wine spritzer.
"Would you like me to pour some for you, sir?"


Steve stood up and opened the door. He said "Yes please, if you wouldn't mind me asking, is the occasion that he sent this wine down, because I was part of the team that ensured the safety of the airship. Not meaning to sound rude or arrogant, just surprised. I'd love some to drink."

"Of course sir. What's your problem then?"
He poured out a shot of vodka: the Mokastanan had purchased some of the very strong stuff. 70% at least. Obviously drowning his sorrows.

"My problem is the same one everyone else has, nothing makes sense anymore. Can you just give me the bottle?

"Alright sir."

He picked up the bottle, pouring it into a jug. He then passed it over.

"Anything in particular not making any sense?Problems with your missis?"

"I wouldn't know, sir, but I would assume so. Anyhow."
She took a glass and poured the drink, filling the glass almost to the top. Bubbles floated upwards through the pale golden drink.
"Can I help you at all sir?"

"Alright sir."

He picked up the bottle, pouring it into a jug. He then passed it over.

"Anything in particular not making any sense?Problems with your missis?"

"She died a while ago, before I was the Mokan President," he took a swig from the bottle then slammed it back down, "back when I was just a Generalissimo in the Political wars. Before I was foreign adviser. When the corporate armies were trying to conquer Mokastana, she was killed in an assassination attempt against me. I've lost to much family to wars. (Another swig) I was going to my nephew's wedding, and the government plane was on its way back to Mokastana International....and some bastard terrorist shot the plane down. Nowadays we have that fancy MANPADS defense system around our airports, but not then.(another swig) Hell they used a few stinger missiles, killed all the women and children. The politicos survived. Well most of us. The government went down hill from there. (another long drink) 'Nother civil war, lead congress armed into the presidential palace. Shot some people who didn't deserve it, they were just doing there job."

Nicolas could hold his alcohol, however he had a habit of never being able to shut up when he drank a lot.

"I got shot, but lived. I think its a curse. To outlive anyone I know."

"Well, that is some story to tell. Over here, we don't have that much of a problem with those sort anymore. Though I have to admit that, saying civil war, Milkavich has a tendancy to jump on the Communist bandwagon whenever that comes past. Never has done them any good, and never will do."

He watched the man swigging from the vodka jug.

"Be careful with that mate. I don't want to have to drag you back to your room when you get to the bottom of that. Plus it's absolute hell to pay the bill once you've finished. But carry on mate."

"I wouldn't know, sir, but I would assume so. Anyhow."
She took a glass and poured the drink, filling the glass almost to the top. Bubbles floated upwards through the pale golden drink.
"Can I help you at all sir?"

Steve said "Thank you. If I may ask, what is your name? You've been very helpful so far, and a credit to your air service. And thank the Captain for this wonderful gift." He picked up the glass and sipped it and said "It's good, very good. I've decided that I like Alfegian wine. This'll do me for now." He said "Also, I have some borrowed splatterhead ammo, what do I do with it?" He took the magazine out and showed her.

"My name is Hal'dai Nahl'ada. Sorry if Alfegan names are a bit of a mouthful, but you'll get used to it."
She looked at the magazine of ammunition.
"Well, you keep it. The Captain wouldn't mind, since the head steward says they have bucket loads of the ammunition up there."

"My name is Hal'dai Nahl'ada. Sorry if Alfegan names are a bit of a mouthful, but you'll get used to it."
She looked at the magazine of ammunition.
"Well, you keep it. The Captain wouldn't mind, since the head steward says they have bucket loads of the ammunition up there."

Steve smiled and he said "Nice to meet you Miss Nahl'ada. It's alright, Khilistanian names are a lot harder to pronounce. I suppose I still might need the ammunition, if there are any more problem passengers." He sighed and a picture fell out of his front pocket.

It was of him when he was younger, with the 2nd Armored Division, as a M-60A3 Patton tank commander. His hair was a dark black, and he wore a mustache not unlike Wilhelm the II's. The young Steve had a look of mischief on his face, and at the same time, looked like the bringer of death.

"Well, that is some story to tell. Over here, we don't have that much of a problem with those sort anymore. Though I have to admit that, saying civil war, Milkavich has a tendancy to jump on the Communist bandwagon whenever that comes past. Never has done them any good, and never will do."

He watched the man swigging from the vodka jug.

"Be careful with that mate. I don't want to have to drag you back to your room when you get to the bottom of that. Plus it's absolute hell to pay the bill once you've finished. But carry on mate."

"You would be surprised barkeep. I can hold my liqueur rather well. By the way, how much is this bottle? I can cover up to...(pulls out his wallet)...200 ish bucks. Ahh you know what put it on my tab. It's just one more thing that I will spend my life trying to minimize. Only this one I just write a check for. (chuckles)
To bad you can't bribe the world's leaders not to fight. That would of made the presidency a whole lot easier.

You know what. I miss my wife, that woman could handle a rifle, you know what i mean? huh? huh? i think I am heading to my room now."

he stumbled towards the exit, drinking as he went

"Here you are sir."
She bent over, retrieving the photograph on the floor. She stood back up, before handing the picture over to him.
"It's a nice shot of you sir. I thought you were in the military, even before I saw the photo. Anyhow, is there anything else I can get you?"

_________________________________________

The bar tender kept an eye on the Mokan as he stumbled out of the bar area, one of the stewards rushing over to help carry the man up to his room quickly. The steward helped the man to his room, before opened the door and dropping him onto the bed.
"Please do not leave your room in your state of intoxication sir: if you do so we may have to confine you to your room."

"What do mean not leave my room, I thought I was on vacation, doesn't that mean I can leave? I wasn't planning on it, but what if I wanted to huh?"

He didn't even bother looking at the steward. The last thing he did was put the bottle on a side table, almost spilling it but not.

"So like, what if i needed....umm...ices.....or...."

he stopped making sense as he passed out on the bed.

"I think you've had a bit to much to drink. Now stay asleep so you don't annoy the other guests." The steward moved over and rolled the man into the recovery position on the bed, before moving the vodka into the fridge.

Nicolas woke up a few hours later, his head pounded, not heavily, for generations of drinkers in Mokastana had somehow made it to where nearly every Mokan could drink without hangover. Nicolas was not bless with that gene, at least not to levels his brother was. Ironically it was Charles who didn't drink.

Digging in his room he found some aspirin and took them with some fresh water, upon looking around he noticed that his cane was not in his room.

Damn it, where did I leave that.

Taking a bottle of water out of the fridge he took a long drink and opened the door, he probably left it at the bar.

OK no more drinking on the trip

One of the stewards walked hesitantly to the door, knocking on it. He was carrying the cane left at the bar by the occupier of the room. And he had been told the man inside was less than sober. He knocked on the door.
"Excuse me sir?"

Nicolas opened it up surprised to see young man standing in front of him with his cane, no doubt the vodka was still heavy on his breath. He regained his composer and reached for the cane saying thank you. Setting it down next to the door he made a small bow and closed the door, he would of commented on the excellent service of the airship but he doubted the stewards wanted to smell any more about how much he drank last night. His phone rang, it was from the Foreign ministry, apparently Juventud had been recaptured. The war was over. However people were talking about annexing the rest of kroando's land. no doubt the MBSA had already claimed one of those dead mega cities for research and chaos purposes.

He looked at his watch, it was lunch time, the next day, already, well time to go out and mingle with some passengers, or at least get a feel for what is going on here.

"Here you are sir."
She bent over, retrieving the photograph on the floor. She stood back up, before handing the picture over to him.
"It's a nice shot of you sir. I thought you were in the military, even before I saw the photo. Anyhow, is there anything else I can get you?"


Steve replied "No, ma'am. Thank you for your helpfulness. If the Captain needs me again I'll be right here." He put his Colonel's hat back on his head and he put the photo back in his wallet.

(OOC: I'm moving this RP on a bit. Read it and weep...)

Since takeoff at New Zevkhay, the airship had travelled about 2000 kilometres on the favourable air currents, and would soon be approaching land. For now, it was a constant seascape that dominated the view from the ship windows and observation deck.

Up here, Gea'lin Hyu'na leant against the safety barrier that blocked off the 2500m drop from the passengers, feeling the wind blowing here. Normally these were closed from public access due to strong winds, but now in a lull the deck had been opened to allow passengers the view of a lifetime. Here, it was refreshing, and a change from down below in the gondola cabins. While not that thin, the air still was freezing, enough for him to bring four layers up despite the sun shining down on them.

He turned about, trainers squeaking on the plastic-mesh decking beneath his feet. That cold sense of there being a malevolent force right behind him, while dulled by the cold, had still alerted him. Not relying just on paranoid sensations, he began to investigate. A small, aero-dynamically shaped shelter hiding the stairwell was at his left, cold wind whistling about it. The safety barrier curved around to his right, before joining back up with this external structure beam the deck was built on. Black plastic. He scanned the deck again, before he finally found something: a trapped grey object in an empty part of the mesh, camouflaged. He prised the object out, revealing it to be the burnt remains of something. He opened his hand to reveal a wad of grey ashes. The wind whipped most of them away before he could shield it. But they revealed the burnt remains of a piece of paper. He moved into the shelter of the stairwell as he prised the wad apart.

____________________________________________________

The clock displayed the time as 1:32pm in the cubicle the colonel was situated in as the stewardess knocked on the door again. She wanted another look at the man again, but was also here to convey a serious message.
"The Captain has called an onboard meeting of all important personnel aboard this airship. It's serious. If you could please make your way to the bridge as you did last time, please."
She stepped out of the room as she finished eying him up, before letting him walk on to the bridge.

_____________________________________________________

The bridge of the airship was crowded as the captain began speaking, with all now present.
"Earlier this afternoon, a boy on the observation deck found a half-burnt wad of papers. He has been told to keep quiet about this, and so far has done so. However, I address you all because this is of serious importance."

He turned on a large screen mounted in the bridge, displying a piece of paper blown up many times.

"Now, what do you see?"
"It's a fragment of an Alfegan passport. Am I right?" The head engineer had spokening up, a hoarse voice crunching as he spat out the words.
"Correct. Now get a look at this."
The picture showed another piece taken from the wad of ashes: a large fragment. The name field was just visible, as was his details. A gasp went up from the head steward, followed by a chorus of silence.
"You are reading it right: it is that of Ju'lano An'soi, the notorious leader of the extremist muslim reformist group known to the many, sometimes jokingly, as 'Ju'lano's Jihadists'. Now we know the entire deck was hosed down when we were in at New Zevkhay, which means he must now be onboard. How he got on we don't know, and why he burnt his passport... I have not informed the government yet due to the fear broadcasts that will go out, plus the fact we can't confirm it, but until then we all need to be vigilant. No firearms on display, but keep a radio close to you at all times. Any questions?"

_____________________________________

"Finally: it was fucking freezing in there."
One of the men had spoken up as the group had slid down to the entrance to the gondola.
"They're having a meeting of some sort at the moment. Wait till they all break up, then we move in."
One of the hired hands had just removed his ear from the trapdoor, benefitting from the warmth of a lit hydrogen pipe that the engineers had been using as a makeshift fire. The flame was practically invisible, yet the heat produced was very noticeable. The head turned to the others.
"Remember, we need be as quick as possible: they get on the radios, it's all over. Once we establish control up here, then we move on to the passengers. That way we can stop any 'vigilantes' from doing anything to threaten our success."
They moved back as the door opened, hiding in the folds of the fabric as the engineers left, moving off towards the end of the airship.

Nicolas Vill had enjoyed a nice lunch of shrimp Alfredo, and was now full, or at least well of. Sitting at the table his cane rested next to him as he picked his teeth clean with one a toothpick. To bad he wouldn't have time to tour Antigr, he had changed flights to one that was leaving one hour after he landed back to Mokastana. He was to do a photo of breaking down a krok building with some engineers. Once that was over it would be time to relax and enjoy the rebuilding of home.

In the ship-board restaurant, a young man sat sipping on Hu'sola syrup while chewing on a fillet of Los'vi Herring. He was Uig'onan, translated into english as "All-seeing eye". While slightly sinister, he was not so. A private detective by career, he was taking a rare holiday on the money from a recent case.

He looked across the crowded retaurant area to the man he had noticed as being almost constantly depressed, sitting alone by one of the massive windows on this area of the deck. He could tell straight away that he was an ex-politician by his dress sense, and from his appearance most likely a Mokan. Nicolas Villa? That was who he was reminded of. He stood up and walked over.
"Good afternoon. Do you mind if I come sit with you?"

OOC: he isn't always depressed

IC:

"Good afternoon. Do you mind if I come sit with you?"

"Of course, go ahead and sit."

The young man seemed friendly, but had an aurora that he could stand alone in a fight if needed. As he sat down Nicolas noticed something shine from his belt, not sure if it was a badge or a gun, he sat back in his chair. Feeling better now after his earlier drunken passed out depression he realized that he missed changing the world. The front lines bringing socialism and freedom to people is where he belonged.

"Nicolas Villa, Please to meet you."

"I'm Uig'onan. Pleased to meet a man of such esteem."
He shook hands with the Mokan, before taking another sip from the sticky glass of syrup. He took a second swig from a glass of water as he gulped down the syrup. He reached down to his belt, and took his badge from next to an empty gun holster and a tool-holding unit.

He laid the badge on the table: a silver shield bearing a plam tree, multiple stars and a string of Fegosian text, mounted on a black leather backing. Laminated on the other side was a photograph and list of details.
"Registered Private Detective. I'm not here on an assignment, honest. Unless I get a job onboard this craft, which is quite likely if anyone know me. Noticed anything strange going on at the moment?"
He took the badge back, putting it back on his belt, finishing off the meal in front of him. He cleaned his face with a napkin, before taking a final swig of fruit syrup.
"This syrup is quite lovely if you want to try some. Comes in many different flavours, though I guess you as a Mokan won't be familiar with many Alfegan fruits."

The clock displayed the time as 1:32pm in the cubicle the colonel was situated in as the stewardess knocked on the door again. She wanted another look at the man again, but was also here to convey a serious message.
"The Captain has called an onboard meeting of all important personnel aboard this airship. It's serious. If you could please make your way to the bridge as you did last time, please."
She stepped out of the room as she finished eying him up, before letting him walk on to the bridge.

_____________________________________________________

The bridge of the airship was crowded as the captain began speaking, with all now present.
"Earlier this afternoon, a boy on the observation deck found a half-burnt wad of papers. He has been told to keep quiet about this, and so far has done so. However, I address you all because this is of serious importance."

He turned on a large screen mounted in the bridge, displying a piece of paper blown up many times.

"Now, what do you see?"
"It's a fragment of an Alfegan passport. Am I right?" The head engineer had spokening up, a hoarse voice crunching as he spat out the words.
"Correct. Now get a look at this."
The picture showed another piece taken from the wad of ashes: a large fragment. The name field was just visible, as was his details. A gasp went up from the head steward, followed by a chorus of silence.
"You are reading it right: it is that of Ju'lano An'soi, the notorious leader of the extremist muslim reformist group known to the many, sometimes jokingly, as 'Ju'lano's Jihadists'. Now we know the entire deck was hosed down when we were in at New Zevkhay, which means he must now be onboard. How he got on we don't know, and why he burnt his passport... I have not informed the government yet due to the fear broadcasts that will go out, plus the fact we can't confirm it, but until then we all need to be vigilant. No firearms on display, but keep a radio close to you at all times. Any questions?"


Steve arrived on the bridge, and when he had listened to the what the Captain had to say he said "Those types are always causing problems. I'll bet there's some of them onboard the airship. They might be listening in, I don't know how sure of it though I am. But I am going to keep carrying my Colt. If you don't mind Captain, I'm going to stay on the bridge, incase they make a rush for it, and attempt a hijacking. If they try, it'll cost them a few of their men to get this bridge, for I am not going down without a fight."

"I'm Uig'onan. Pleased to meet a man of such esteem."
He shook hands with the Mokan, before taking another sip from the sticky glass of syrup. He took a second swig from a glass of water as he gulped down the syrup. He reached down to his belt, and took his badge from next to an empty gun holster and a tool-holding unit.

He laid the badge on the table: a silver shield bearing a plam tree, multiple stars and a string of Fegosian text, mounted on a black leather backing. Laminated on the other side was a photograph and list of details.
"Registered Private Detective. I'm not here on an assignment, honest. Unless I get a job onboard this craft, which is quite likely if anyone know me. Noticed anything strange going on at the moment?"
He took the badge back, putting it back on his belt, finishing off the meal in front of him. He cleaned his face with a napkin, before taking a final swig of fruit syrup.
"This syrup is quite lovely if you want to try some. Comes in many different flavours, though I guess you as a Mokan won't be familiar with many Alfegan fruits."

"Uwig onan? I must say I have never been good at pronouncing Fegosian names, and no doubt just butchered yours. Though I must say the only thing I see unusual is that syrup your drinking. I have had a few of your odd fruits on the occasional visit to Alfegos. I got one at a open market before I got on this airship, I couldn't tell you what it was for the life of me, but it definitely had a tangy swing to it."

He noticed the badge, like any Fegosain government issued item it had the palm trees a bit of text that Nicolas was trying to learn. He thought he caught the word, duty, or it could of been commitment, or orange. There was a reason he stuck to spanish.

Behind them a young Mokan woman came into the restaurant, business type, judging by the "fuck off" glasses and business casual of her appearance. No doubt working for Montana Inc doing international capitalism. She went up to the bar and ordered a Scotch on the rocks.

"Don't worry too much about Fegosian: you'll get the hang of it speaking-wise quite quickly. It's the pictograms which take time to learn. Especially since they change depending on region and that, but there you go."

He finished off his syrup, before quickly moving over to the bar. There, he bought another two glasses of syrup, along with a jug of water. He placed the purple-coloured syrup by the Mokan.

"That fruit you tried was Ki'sola. As you can guess, sola is one of the Alfegan words for fruit, though we do have quite a few more others. If you want some of the syrup. I've also got some water in case you want it dilute."

He took a swig of the syrup, licking his lips as he put his glass back down.

"You see the Mokan on the bar? Works for Montana doesn't she? You know her at all?"

Nicolas took a sip of the syrup, it had a consistency that reminded him of his childhood when they used fresh tree syrup for medicine, only this tasted a bit sweeter. After he sat the glass down he took a swig of water to try and unstick his mouth.

"It is good, but no doubt takes some getting used to."

He looked over at the Mokan on the bar, after looking at her ass a little loo long he realized what it was like to be the creepy old man in the corner. Despite the fact that he had kept in shape well enough to look like he had just reached 40, if that. However that damn knee....

"I don't believe I know her, after all there are 2.5 billion Mokans. She does look attractive though."

The woman on the other hand took her drink and began to scan the dinning hall, it had been a rough week. Setting multi-million dollar deals in the Financial district Montana Inc had set up in Alfegos, avioding both Fegosian and Mokan tax. However Fegosian was far easier, less socailist to deal with, hence why the bulk of Montana's financial assets were here. Now off to Antigr to try and help set up another financial area, along with the ever present need to rule the warehouse business.

"Montana inc. Boy are they lucky buggers at the moment. Until, of course, their tax-exempt status expires. Then the government will make a killing. But, aside from that."
He gulped down some more syrup, before pulling out a roll of some form of dried leaves, which he started chewing.
"Don't worry: they aren't anything controlled. Just some forest herbs which do lend themselves quite a flavour. Very aquired, but not really that bad once you get over the initial hit of it."
He looked out as they passed over a container boat far below them.
"It's always easy to find out where airship routes are: they normally follow shipping lanes or the areas of very strong winds. Like we're getting at the moment, enough to mean they aren't using the engines at the moment."
Indeed, the engines were silent.

"Apparently you haven't seen some of the drug stores in Mokastana, nearly anything is legal, as long as it doesn't kill you in the first hit. Even with that there isn't a large drug market ironically enough. Most people might just by a pack of marijuana cigs if they feel like relaxing. Now as for Montana Inc, they will find a way out of Fegosians taxes, they always do."

The woman looked over to see the old Mokan and the detective discussing Montana Inc. She knew just like every other employee did about their reputation. When it came to legal business they were always up front and flexible, when it came to profits they would fight tooth and nail to keep them. As for the illegal sides, well that wasn't her exact department. She walked over silently to the two men and spoke quietly but noticeably.

"Yes the engines died about an hour ago, Patrica Zimmerman, I am a sales operator for Montana Inc, as no doubt you may have noticed."

"I knew you were in sales, ma'am, but not the sales manager. You do have a good job indeed. Want to join us?"
He motioned to a patch of the floor, which on the touch of a button underneath the table folded out into a chair.
"Saves space and stops them from flying about should we hit any turbulence. I must say we were lucky this flight: we only got some last night, when I think everyone was either asleep or too drunk to notice."
He flicked out a plastic knife from the cutlery tray underneath the table, and started peeling an apple.
"So, Miss Zimmerman: you work for that conglomerate that is Montana? Me and Mr Villa here were just discussing the tax-exempt status of the company in Alfegos... though I think he believes that you could wriggle out of tax re-introduction after the bonus period much too easily. I think for a start you would be faced with the alternative tax version of the AUM, who while depleted after recent raids are definately still running a protection racket in New Zevkhay. You may be next... so keep an eye out."

He did not want to reveal to her his last contract had been for a shady assosciate in the AUM, to commit industrial espionage. It had definately given him this holiday, but the blueprints he did aquire were likely as not being put to foul use. On the other hand, the very visable gun holsters did help persuade him to carry out the task, as did the cleaners in the street who left the it spotless till he finished the job.

"Why thank you."

She sat down and took another sip of her scotch, she scanned them over, one being the infamous Mr. Nicolas Villa, perhaps the last of the true old guard, thankfully no longer in the picture. The other looked like a so so detective, an opportunist perhaps? he may come in handy later. As for the finances, there was a reason she was being sent to Antigr,

"I am not allowed to disclose Montana Information such as our financial plans, but we prefer to keep it legal, unlike your AUM mafias. Also like any good business we do pay taxes, after all 6% of the Mokan Government's budget is made strictly from our taxes. Isn't that right Mr. Villa?"

Nicolas was taken aback by this turn of the conversation, she was right. Montana Inc, despite being an international corporation in a socailist nation, they did pay their end of the bills.

"Umm, yes, it is."

He took a long sip of the syrup, hoping the topic would get out of international business, he knew both of these characters had secrets, and given this womans look he had a feeling of what she was, and it was more then just a sales rep.

(Sorry for the short post, but v. busy this evening)
"So then, enjoying your trip on the airship?"
He changed the subject noticing the ambient temperature in the area drop. These two obviously were wary, especially the woman. She had something to hide, just as he did. He'd need to keep observing her every word to find out anything. Perhaps sow a bit of dischord in a conversation that would show the true colours of her.

"Yes I am actually, its a nice relaxing change from the ussual private jets that ferry us around all the time. Now that I think of it, where is my sister? If you will excuse me I have to go make sure she is not getting into trouble."

With that the Montana employee stood and was about to push her chair back in but then remembered the button trick. She smiled to the two and walked off back to the cabins. Nicolas looked at her as she left, there was something about her, no doubt. Not someone he would want to date of course, maybe it was just how defensive she was. He remembered back when Montana was just a drug Cartel trying to get by under the new Mokan Flag, now they were a multi-national Corporation with ties to everyone from Faxanavia to Lyras. It was amazing how times change.

"Interesting character to say the least. She was very defensive, what do you think amigo?"

Behind them a man had listened into the conversation, everything so far had gone to plan. When it came to the illegal side of Montana things had to run smoothly, everthing was done by the book, in codes, secretly, shipping was often mislabeled and people from every department worked in on it. This man was an employee from Zaheran. The latest shipment of Coke going to be late, and hopefully the Cartel's would understand, but he got the code of when and where, sister, the port it was coming in, trouble, Wednesday. With that information he continued to drink his tequila and wait to get home. he would make the call later.

"Well, I have something for you."
He took out a paper pad, purposefully angling it so that only he and Nicolas Villa could read it.


The man behind you. Don't look yet. He is an assosciate to her. Smuggling?

He had worked it out from observation of her. How she kept glancing at the man on the other table. And his reaction when she left. And the bell in his mind had been rung as soon as he mentioned the Drugs cartel.

"Well, it's been nice talking to you, Mr Villa. I hope that address will prove useful. Anyhow, if you give me your room number, we can meet there to discuss this job offer you have given me."
He stood to leave, turning his back on the man while still facing Nicolas. As he left, he winked.

Nicolas wrote his room number on the pad and sat finishing off the syrup. Slowly. It definitely was something you had to get used to. He drank it off and got a soda to wash it down. He got up and looked for that button to push the seat back down. Eventually he got the seat down and went back to his room. Everyone knew Montana Inc did illegal things, but when it came down to doing something about it. The policy was simple, those who know don't care, and those who care don't know. Nicolas knew things that most others could get killed for in the name of national security. Some of it involved Montana Inc., she knew it, he knew it, and that detective probably knew it. Instead he sat his cane down and logged on his computer to check his emails, he wondered if the guy would show up, and what would happen. Of course, the last thing he needed was a Montana Inc. representative thinking he hired a private detective.

About 1/2 an hour later, the private detective returned to Nicolas's room, carrying his briefcase. He entered, and opened it, removing the laptop inside. He sat it down on the side, before switching it on.

"The airship has free wireless internet access in the crew gondola: mobile phones are allowed onboard as well since they don't interfere with all the controls and that, which are up at the front.

Anyhow, shall we start doing a little research on Montana inc. and Patricia Zimmerman?"

He flicked in an address, and a large series of input boxes appeared.

"This is the Vault. It's the Alfegan store of all information about everything. And I mean everything. Right, now we want to first find out if the government have anything on Patricia here."

He flicked in the information in the Fegosian phonetic translated alphabet, still unintelligable, and hit a few keys.

"Normally, I have access only to Delta-level material, being a civilian. Alpha level being the sort of stuff that does not exist. But here we have a little code I can put in which..."
A few boxes popped up, and closed.
"Right, that is the computer thinking I'm the Police Head of Il'Vi. Handy, eh? But this subject is Alpha level encryption, instead of Beta. Suspicious yet?"

OOC: so when does the thing get hijacked?

IC:
"When it comes to Montana Inc I am always suspicious, they are usually up to know good. Profits and thats about it."

Nicolas let the detective search through and see if he could figure out anything about Patricia, even though it was probably a fake name, after all, if she was involved in something illegal it wouldn't make sense to tell anyone who she was. He watched as the machine came back with an alpha level clearance required for that name. He was not aware of anything that Montana did being that highly encrypted, but the world was full of surprises. Especially the covert ops world. However this file system that the Alfego was using was rather interesting, he had not known about it before, he sat back and let the Fegosian work.


Meanwhile across the airship the man made a call. It was to his wife back home.

"Yes Honey everything is fine, and no don't worry about the bonus, I can assure you I have it under control. We can afford that trip to Yanitaria."

"I love you too, ohh I almost forgot, call my sister and tell her not to get into any trouble in Cancun."

He hung up the phone and walked on to the balcony and looked over the side. It was a long way down. Then he looked up to the sky as his back felt a sharp pain. It looked like to any normal observer that he just popped his back out of place. He turned and saw her, so the company had found out what he was doing, and of course waited till he did his job before doing hers. He knew what would happen to him if he lived, he had seen the poison at work. A derivative of the Stratton Strain.

Save lives

Die suicidal

Not psychotic

There was a reason she chose the balcony. Give him a chance to die still stable, and make the job a little cleaner. Before the pink fuzzy dice and ginger bread men started dancing around him.

He jumped.

"Let's see what the government's been doing with Montana inc."

He started searching again, until he hit another dead end.

"All files regarding special projects are alpha-level classification. This is going to take a while isn't it? Now, who would be able to have access to Alpha-level files? From the other levels, I know it'll be subdivided into 3 or 4 categories. Alpha 1 will be the ones that I will have to steer clear of. I'd be able to gain access to Alpha 4 files if I had special permission, but I'm not willing to try that one out. How about we search for someone else?"

He flicked through windows until he accessed a passenger list for the flight, along with photos and their details. He scrolled down to the one he thought had been listening in on their conversation, before searching him on the vault database.

"Finally, someone who ain't classified as such. Seems he's got quite a record with the police on accounts of smuggling and drugs crimes, but was each time just deported. Mr Villa, I think we've got something here!"

(OOC: I've been trying to remind Calizorinstan to post here, yet without success. When he posts here relating to the last post mentioning him, then we can start the attack in earnest.)

"Its common knowledge that Montana deals in slightly illegal things where they can. However I doubt that they would use someone with a record for illegal operations. Lets see this character..."

Next to the file was a picture that matched the man they believed to be her contact.

NAME: Alfred Jackson
ADDRESS: 1254 Morldov Street
XXXXX, XX, 46282
NATION OF CITIZENSHIP: Zaheran
Current Employer: Montana Inc
Title: Distribution Manager

Criminal Record:
Aug 2002, possession
Dec 2002, Intent to distribute, possession,
June 2004, Possession, Smuggling, Class B substance, possession of an Illegal firearm

"So what do you purpose we do amigo? I was never very good at the spy game."

OOC: You mean brandishing a firearm, to banish a firearm is what the police or government would do.

OOC: >.> <.< I have no idea what you are talking about.....

"So, we want to see what we can find out on these two characters? Also remember that that record is only applicable in Alfegos, plus it only records the crimes he was acutally caught for. He probably's been running the Alfegan route for years. And would be kept on since most new ones end up falling into the clutches of the AUM. Who are not very understanding when it comes to rival operations without their permission. I doubt even Montana could defeat a dtermined AUM on home soil."

He took out of the suit case a small fabric sheet, which he unfolded.
"It's covered in a faraday cage mesh, meaning that it's impossible for the X-rays to get through. So, this just seemed like a re-enforcing sheet in the bag. But what we have in here is just what you want."

The unfolded fabric showed many small instruments, cables and the like, slotted into small holsters sewn into the fabric. He took a few object from there, before fiddling with a removed USB deivce that he programmed on his computer.

"These are wireless bugs I've got in my hand here. As well as a rather risky item here that is one of the steward's universal cards, which I copied onto my room key via sleight of hand and quick processing. So, if we can find their rooms, shall we start observations?"

"From what I have seen from Montana is that they like to work with other "organizations" rather then fight them for turf. War is not cost effective, or so they say I believe. Though that doesn't mean they wont resort to it. As for these characters I am sure you have a way to hack the company and figure out what room they have."

Nicolas rubbed his knee as it was acting up. A minor pressure change had occurred, not to bad, just enough to make it hard to walk. He wondered what caused this sudden knee issue, he would need to see a doctor when he got back.

"You OK? If you can't walk, then just stay back here. I'll go bug them."

He quickly patched himself back into the airship computer system, and found the passenger list, along with the room numbers and security camera network.

"Right: she's currently out on the balcony with that man we saw earlier. Wait a moment... well, I think that proves a point."

On the video footage, the man had just lept off the side.

"Let's hope they weren't watching the video cameras at that point, otherwise things might get nasty if she gets question by the onboard staff."

OOC: >.> <.< I have no idea what you are talking about.....

On the file you posted about that Alfred Jackson guy. Crimes include banishing a firearm, the word you want is 'brandishing'

OOC: I know, I was being sneaky by changing it....

IC:

"Are you kidding me, something exciting is happening, I am not going to let this knee stop me, I've been shot in it before and kept going. So, if she is being questioned by the staff, and he just jumped, wouldn't that mean both their rooms are currently unoccupied? I say we run in and plant the shit before anyone gets back."

"She's not being questioned yet, according to CCTV. But still, I think we'll have time to do this. You come with me, but keep an eye on that laptop. If she starts moving back, give me a shout and I'll get out before she arrives."

He walked out the room, and along the corridor to her room. Here, he looked up at the door lock. A magnetic unit at the top of the sliding door on the inside, but from here just two small LEDs: the red one was lit up. He slipped out the keycard, sliding it into the door, and watching the light flick over to the green one. He gave a wink to Nicolas, before slipping into her room.

He flicked out the 2 video bugs, and placed them. The first was artfully hidden beside a potted plant, peeking out from between the leaves. The other tiny unit was slipped behind the flat-screen TV on the wall, giving a view of the entire room. He took out the 2 audio bugs, and flicked one into the underside structure of the bed and the other in one of the wall lights. The final item which he slipped into the women's luggage was a GPS tracking dot.

Nicolas kept a look out on the TV, so far so good, the girl had gone back to the bar, probably to look for then and figure out why Nicolas had hired a detective. She was no doubt connected to the illegal side of Montana now. Therefore a vary dangerous opponent. If that was a kill making the target commit suicide over the ocean would be more then an effective means of doing it.

"we should check his room as well."

(OOC: Calizorinstan, if you look back a bit, you'll see there's a post relating to you: sorry you'll have to trawl back to your last post, but if you look there you'll see that we're about to step on the gas)

_________________________________________

Timewarp! Please can you look back a post Calizorstan!

___________________________________________

"Right then: let's go onto his room them."
He opened a door a few rooms further up the corridor, entering a larger room. A suitcase lay by the bed, along with other items that brought tohim the figure who hae'd seen only minutes ago alive.
He walked over to the suitcase, preparing another GPS tracker. He opened up the suitcase and the bed, and started searching through it.

Stop timewarping!

(OOC: Calizorinstan, if you look back a bit, you'll see there's a post relating to you: sorry you'll have to trawl back to your last post, but if you look there you'll see that we're about to step on the gas)

_________________________________________

OOC: Is it on page 7? I am looking, and I'm sorry if I have missed the obvious post, is it below my last post?

OOC: I'm back!

IC:

The Colonel wondered if he would see that stewardess again, as he sat in his cubicle. He polished the brim of his hat and he sighed as he stood up and drank some of his Diet Coke that he had started to consume earlier, but didn't get the chance to finish it.

Steve sighed and he put in a movie on his laptop "Red Flag!" and he started to watch it.

It should be... but these bloody timewarps! Plus I didn't notice your reply... sneaky! It must've only just come in here. Very sorry about that, but here comes the action!

_______________________________________

The engineers left the bridge, leaving the crew inside with the sky marshall. The Captain sat at the pilot seat, armed with his machinepistol, and kept talking.
"If you want, you can go get a seat from the bunk area, just behind you. There'll be some there hopefully."
As he turned back around, he caught sight of a security camera image on one of the screens: hooded terrorists moving to the trapdoor. He gestured forcefully at the Sky Marshall, before flicking all the airship controls to auto-pilot, taking off his radio headset. He nodded to the others on the bridge, who picked up what hasty arms they had managed to retrieve: a fire axe, a machete from a survival kit and an AF-07 from the armoury.
As a shadow moved slowly towards them, the Captain tightened his grip on the trigger. It moved slowly back, through the first action, until it hit resistance. The second action. He took a breath, keeping aimed towards the corrridor, before firing a 3-shot burst. He dived down into the recess that made up the pilot section, before taking another two shots.

______________________________________

The 6 hired thugs moved at the front of the group, assorted firearms raised and ready to fire. They passed the equipment stores and the bunk room, sneaking up on the crew. What they did not expect was for them to have the first shot.
The man at the front collapsed yelling as blood splattered from his arm onto the back wall: one of the rounds had hit him, splintering into many small pieces of sharp lead now in his arm. The man behind him was sprayed as the shot hit the front man's shoulder, the body in front shielding him. As the man collapsed moaning, the rest opened up fire. Round repetitive cracks from the machinepistols contrasted with the roar of a shotgun and the shockwave of an assult rifle. One of the crew members diving towards them with the axe was cut down, body shredded by the hail of lead. Behind him, alarms sounded as pressure was lost in the gondola, causing a sudden silence to descend as the pressure dropped and deafened all. Quieter gun cracks showed the glass of the foreward dome craze at small points, the re-enorced glass stopping the bullets.
The men started mving back, taking cover in the equipment stores as fire came back towards them, leaving another man lying dead from a shot to the head. Inside the equipment stores, none of the men noticed the locked weapons safe and armoury, kicking equipment sacks and boxes out the way as the fore men let loose mow reduced numbers of rounds.

"Hey, detective, check if he has a shaving kit, electric razor, anything like that."

Nicolas heard some popping noises, sounded like more gunshots. God not again, if more shots were happening then the something was really wrong, and he would need to get his pistol again, and probably never fly this airline again. Why was it every time he flew the shit hit the fan.

Meanwhile in the suitcase he would find nothing really of interest, except for a pass saying he was a Montana Employee, security division. Which anyone who has dealt with Montana would know that all security employees are required to have a gun on them at all times while on shift. However this was technically a "vacation" paid for Montana Inc.

"Hurry up, I think the shit is hitting the fan..."

"Shit! That was close!"
The Captain stood back up, a bullet hole in the floor right next to him. He flicked the catch on the machinepistol so that it was on full automatic, before gesturing for his cowering co-pilot and the navigation officer to move cautiously towards whatever cover they could find. The head engineer lay on the floor still breathing, blood soaking through the clothing on his arms and legs. Miraculously, no shots had hit him in the head, where the body armour he was wearing was. He coughed up some blood as he was dragged to the side, before lobbing the fire axe down the corridor to leave it shuddering in the plastic divider between the narrow corridor and the equipment stores.
"They've gone in the equipment stores. Now do you think it was a good idea to bring the AAT-87, Captain?"
"Don't you worry: they aren't that stupid. Just relax here, and we'll get you some first aid as soon as possible."
He ducked into the bunk area with the Sky Marshall, thankful of the cover.
"Glad to have you on my side."

___________________________________________

With two men down, things weren't going that well for this raid on the airship. How did the bastards know they were here? The man who had been just about to take a potshot into the corridor ducked back into the room as the fire-axe embedded itself in the wall.
"Jeez, did you see that? I thought the guy was down."
"Don't ever assume a guy is dead until you've made sure of it. Have you never seen an action film?"
The group leader hused them as he raised his rifle to aim at the wall: he could hear movement on the other side.
"I think they're about to receive some unwanted attention: get down behind cover now and aim at the wall."
He lifted up his machine-pistol, pointing it at about waist height on the other wall. He let rip, rounds shredding the wall as the others opened up with whatever weapons they had. Pieces of plastic flew everywhere as rounds impacted in the dividing partition, slamming straight through into the other side.

And it's timewarped AGAIN!

Come on... I hate these timewarps...can someone in JOLT please stop this!

It should be... but these bloody timewarps! Plus I didn't notice your reply... sneaky! It must've only just come in here. Very sorry about that, but here comes the action!

_______________________________________

The engineers left the bridge, leaving the crew inside with the sky marshall. The Captain sat at the pilot seat, armed with his machinepistol, and kept talking.
"If you want, you can go get a seat from the bunk area, just behind you. There'll be some there hopefully."
As he turned back around, he caught sight of a security camera image on one of the screens: hooded terrorists moving to the trapdoor. He gestured forcefully at the Sky Marshall, before flicking all the airship controls to auto-pilot, taking off his radio headset. He nodded to the others on the bridge, who picked up what hasty arms they had managed to retrieve: a fire axe, a machete from a survival kit and an AF-07 from the armoury.
As a shadow moved slowly towards them, the Captain tightened his grip on the trigger. It moved slowly back, through the first action, until it hit resistance. The second action. He took a breath, keeping aimed towards the corrridor, before firing a 3-shot burst. He dived down into the recess that made up the pilot section, before taking another two shots.

______________________________________

The 6 hired thugs moved at the front of the group, assorted firearms raised and ready to fire. They passed the equipment stores and the bunk room, sneaking up on the crew. What they did not expect was for them to have the first shot.
The man at the front collapsed yelling as blood splattered from his arm onto the back wall: one of the rounds had hit him, splintering into many small pieces of sharp lead now in his arm. The man behind him was sprayed as the shot hit the front man's shoulder, the body in front shielding him. As the man collapsed moaning, the rest opened up fire. Round repetitive cracks from the machinepistols contrasted with the roar of a shotgun and the shockwave of an assult rifle. One of the crew members diving towards them with the axe was cut down, body shredded by the hail of lead. Behind him, alarms sounded as pressure was lost in the gondola, causing a sudden silence to descend as the pressure dropped and deafened all. Quieter gun cracks showed the glass of the foreward dome craze at small points, the re-enorced glass stopping the bullets.
The men started mving back, taking cover in the equipment stores as fire came back towards them, leaving another man lying dead from a shot to the head. Inside the equipment stores, none of the men noticed the locked weapons safe and armoury, kicking equipment sacks and boxes out the way as the fore men let loose mow reduced numbers of rounds.


The Colonel took some shots at the terrorists with his .45 and he ducked and he and when he could he grabbed an AF-07 and shot at the hooded figures and then he ducked behind another chair, and then popped up and fired at the nearest hooded figure.

He gestured to the other crewmembers and he said "Follow me! Do you want to live forever?" He ran across to the bunk area, to check the area for terrorist. He cautiously looked from side to side and entered the bunk area.

bump for Nicolas?

I've already done a post for Nicolas and that: look back a bit amongst the timewarping.

OOC: I must be blind, so last i checked they are in the suicides guy room Nic hears shots and asks for a shaving kit...

(OOC: Sorry, my bad... I'm the blind one here!)

"You want a shave at this time? Seriously..."
He pulled out a shaving bag, and tossed it in Nicolas's direction.
"Come on, let's see what the hell is going on: I think I'm having the worst luck I ever could've had on this trip."
He left the room, and began running in the direction of the gunshots: towards the front. He finally reached the far front, but still could hear them in the distance.
"I don't believe it: it's in the Control Gondola!"

Nicolas dropped his cane and took the shaving kit and set it on a table, tearing it open. He pulled out the electric razor, shaving cream, and began to take those things apart. From the bottom of the shaving cream bottle after quick turn and click a cylinder with 6 .38 rounds popped out. He took off the top of the "razor" and clicked the cylinder into it. He looked around frantically for the barrel piece, normally it was in a cane or metal tooth brush case. He eventually found the tooth brush case and attached that to the small "pistol." He pushed a button and the hammer clicked.

"I will explain later, but nearly all illegal deals require these things nearby."

He grabbed his cane and ran after the detective, he hoped he could get his pistol again, that would be really nice....

OOC:

Hope you dont mind Nicolas finding a gun, I have used them before in case you were wondering:

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13221257&postcount=12

"Before you go waving that gun about Nicolas, think of the implications: if there is a terrorist or terrorists up there, they might think you're one of them. God, what a situation we're in."

The detective thought for a moment, before rushing up the stairs to the upper floor, and then out onto the promenade deck. Here, he vaulted over the safety barrier, hanging onto the side as he clamered across to a gantry above him, grasping onto it and pulling himself up. He moved along the walkway to a small opening in the airship envelope, and disappeared inside, returning a moment later with a length of cable.
"Found it lying inside: obviously there's been some damage to the airship's emergancy structure. If we crash, the airship will disintegrate more easily if the entire emergancy framework is like this. But come up here."
He threw the cable across, tying it to the gantry and letting the man clamber across.
"So, to the control gondola now?"
He pointed off into the far distance, the gantry disappearing at many intervals. Most of the gantry had no rail, being just an open platform.
"It's gonna be quite a trek. Plus I don't trust being out here without a safety line. Let's go for the internal gantries isntead, and see where that takes us."

"Trust me, I have been handling guns since before you could write. It's only five shots, but I have been in worse situations before."

He watched as the man hanged around and climbed on the outside of the ship, something Nicolas could do, if it wasn't for this damn knee.

"So long story short is, the ship is in collapse mode, and we are under a hostile take over. So where are the internal gantries, I have never studied an airship before so I am lost when it comes to this stuff."

"Right, with the airship: this is a standard rigid airship. What you have is a massive skeleton of carbon-fibre composites and aluminium as the basis of the structure, onto which the cells, gondolas pipes, electronics... all that are hung. Now, normally, there's a major beam layer 2 cells below the outer envelope. Since these beams are pretty good already for standing on, that's where they stick all the service gantries. They're mostly inside the airship, to allow easy repair access to cells, gas lines and major supports, with external ones for accessing the outside of the gondolas and the outer envelope.

Now, the structure is normally a system of triangles, on which concentric circles are based. These structural devices are to strengthen the airship in all axis. However, the airship has a problem with shear forces: they can rip an airship in two. That's what the cable network's for: to provide extra re-enforcement that holds the structure together in the eventuality that it starts snapping. With cables gones, that means that any considerable impact will rip the airship to pieces. And, worst of all, probably expose the hydrogen cells in the centre. These'll probably be still at 90% full, since this performs extremely long runs and the fuel is so cheap, and there'll likley as not be a hell-of-a-lot of the hydrogen. While I'm not trying to fear-monger, if it's ruptured on a heavy impact then it'll start leaking through the air. If we're lucky, it will ignite and just burn. If, as is likely with the design, it lets out a shitload of the gas and then ignites, we're talking a massive explosion. That'll take out whatever's not been taken out by the airship crashing in the first place.

Anyhow, the gantries should be just about... here."

He had progressed far into the side of the airship, and had now found a ladder down, a tiny passage amongst a sea of black-grey cells that rustled as he moved past. At the bottom, he found himself on a massive gantry stretching into the darkness. Pinpricks of light reached in from the ladder passages. He took out an LED torch, and turned it on. Near to him, there was a quiet hissing sound and an almost invisible blue flame flickering from a pipe.

"Well, someone had a good go at the pipe: the engineers found it though, and it looks like they've pretty much fixed it. The flame's there since they can't obviously seal the leak probably, so are using it to burn off the leaking hydrogen. Luckily, whoever attacked this one didn't get the trunkline. Otherwise we're in trouble."

He shone his torch down to the end of the gantry, a small beam of light rising from the floor.
"That's obviously the control gondola ladder mainway. Now keep quiet and whatever you do, don't fire. If there's another leak and you shoot, we'll blow this entire airship to buggery. If you do shoot, make sure you do it as last resort. OK?"
He wrapped the length of cable he'd found around his hand, before movign forward cautiously.

"Don't, whatever you do, shoot your gun.

OOC:

Airship crewman/passenger manages to get word out, mass anti-terrorist scramble police situation thingy?

OOC: That was the idea. I was going to make things for your lot "interesting" when they tried getting on, and possibly if you manage to get yourself some time, ship in for you some airship incapacitation weaponry and maybe get one of the Aerodropcraft.

"Right, with the airship: this is a standard rigid airship. What you have is a massive skeleton of carbon-fibre composites and aluminium as the basis of the structure, onto which the cells, gondolas pipes, electronics... all that are hung. Now, normally, there's a major beam layer 2 cells below the outer envelope. Since these beams are pretty good already for standing on, that's where they stick all the service gantries. They're mostly inside the airship, to allow easy repair access to cells, gas lines and major supports, with external ones for accessing the outside of the gondolas and the outer envelope.

Now, the structure is normally a system of triangles, on which concentric circles are based. These structural devices are to strengthen the airship in all axis. However, the airship has a problem with shear forces: they can rip an airship in two. That's what the cable network's for: to provide extra re-enforcement that holds the structure together in the eventuality that it starts snapping. With cables gones, that means that any considerable impact will rip the airship to pieces. And, worst of all, probably expose the hydrogen cells in the centre. These'll probably be still at 90% full, since this performs extremely long runs and the fuel is so cheap, and there'll likley as not be a hell-of-a-lot of the hydrogen. While I'm not trying to fear-monger, if it's ruptured on a heavy impact then it'll start leaking through the air. If we're lucky, it will ignite and just burn. If, as is likely with the design, it lets out a shitload of the gas and then ignites, we're talking a massive explosion. That'll take out whatever's not been taken out by the airship crashing in the first place.

Anyhow, the gantries should be just about... here."

He had progressed far into the side of the airship, and had now found a ladder down, a tiny passage amongst a sea of black-grey cells that rustled as he moved past. At the bottom, he found himself on a massive gantry stretching into the darkness. Pinpricks of light reached in from the ladder passages. He took out an LED torch, and turned it on. Near to him, there was a quiet hissing sound and an almost invisible blue flame flickering from a pipe.

"Well, someone had a good go at the pipe: the engineers found it though, and it looks like they've pretty much fixed it. The flame's there since they can't obviously seal the leak probably, so are using it to burn off the leaking hydrogen. Luckily, whoever attacked this one didn't get the trunkline. Otherwise we're in trouble."

He shone his torch down to the end of the gantry, a small beam of light rising from the floor.
"That's obviously the control gondola ladder mainway. Now keep quiet and whatever you do, don't fire. If there's another leak and you shoot, we'll blow this entire airship to buggery. If you do shoot, make sure you do it as last resort. OK?"
He wrapped the length of cable he'd found around his hand, before movign forward cautiously.

"Don't, whatever you do, shoot your gun.

"Let me guess, don't shoot the damn gun."

Nicolas pocketed the pistol like device and followed the detective into the bowels of the ship. Frankly the idea of leaking hydrogen and other hazardous gases mixing with terrorist above Antigrian soil was...well...crazy, but here he was. he held on the cane with his life, since the pistol was, for all reason, a suicide device, the cane would come in handy in case they ran into anyone. The large handle also doubled as a good mace. Not that was why he bought it or anything....

"So any idea why or who or what is going on here?"

"Not a clue mate. Sorry I can't help."

He pulled Nicolas to the side as he heard clanging along the gantry, and pushed him into a network of beams amongst some gas cells as two figures ran past, wielding assault rifles.

"Keep quiet: I think they're engineers. And they might think we're terrorists!"

"
He ducked into the bunk area with the Sky Marshall, thankful of the cover.
"Glad to have you on my side."


Steve replied "Thanks." He grabbed the AF-07 and jumped up and fired a quick burst at a couple of terrorists that were standing up quickly, and then he ducked back down and he said "We have to move forward, no retreating now! Else they'll barrage us with grenades!" He motioned to the Captain to follow his lead, and then the Colonel moved with lightning speed towards the terrorists, though being cautious. He ducked to avoid being shot and then he crept towards them and then he pulled out his .45 and shot the nearest terrorist to him. Then he pulled out the AF-07 and shot at the other one next to himm.im.

(OOC: I may confuse you, but the terrorists ain't in the bunk area. There are two rooms aside from the bridge - the one you're in which holds the sleeping and recreational quarters, & the one which holds all the equipment and food for the crew (which also has the armoury). The men inside there are currently shooting through the wall at you and the crew, since they heard you in there. Not accurate, but likely to cause some injury.)

"Not a clue mate. Sorry I can't help."

He pulled Nicolas to the side as he heard clanging along the gantry, and pushed him into a network of beams amongst some gas cells as two figures ran past, wielding assault rifles.

"Keep quiet: I think they're engineers. And they might think we're terrorists!"

"God damn it"

Nicolas whispered under his breath, this was not going well, joining a fight when both sides are still going at it was only good if you wanted both sides to lose, or knew where to go to meet up with the good guys. Nicolas thought for a few minutes unsure of what to do next, if those were engineers armed with assault rifles then that means this area was "safe" for gunfire, if not, then it wouldn't matter anyways.

"Let's go"

"Stay back for the moment. I don't like the look of this."

Inside the gondola, the two engineers lept down, moving slowly along the corridor. From their vantage, the detective heard a closer roar of gunfire, seeing three rounds rip through the gantry and into the surrounding gas bags. There was almost a sigh from the structure as gas began leaking. There was the sound of two men yelling in agony, before three shots silenced them.

"This is bad. Plus they've just gone and ruptured some gas cells. Luckily, the leve we're on mean's it'll only be helium leaking out, but I wouldn't trust on the helium supressing any explosive gases above... of course, they'd rise, would'nt they! We're prefectly fine here, as long as that pipe ain't ruptered. Keep on the safe side though. And do not go into that gondola: if we do, we've gonna end up as those two engineers. I really do not think they've been given a cup of tea and a biscuit. What we can do is go and warn the crew. And try and stop them from getting in here once they're done there."

"You lead the way, I will watch our backs, if you hear shooting, run like hell and I will hold them off."


OOC: really shitty post...please forgive....

(OOC: Thou art forgiven for thine crime, though repetition of thine crime will result in prolonged periods of atonement, to try preserve thine immortal roleplaying soul. We do not wish for thou to descend to the darkness that is roleplaying ... (I that's enough of that))

"After me then."

He quietly paced back down the gantry network, feeling the gas cells pushing in either side of him. Dark rustling shapes, some with white markings on them: cell numbers? He put his mind to more urgent things as they crossed a pipeline with another invisible-blue flame singing his trousers, before reaching a trapdoor and ladder. Still unlocked, he opened it and slid down into the gondola, letting it close above him. The detective stood trying to lock the trapdoor, while barricading whatever he could find around the ladder to make it impossible to open the trapdoor.

"I'll stay here and guard the trapdoor. You go and tell the head steward on the reception desk."

"Very well, take the pistol, good luck."

With that he tried to make it back through the mess of air baloons and pathways, overall Nicolas was still unsure of how he got threw this mess, but training had taken over and even though he was unsure, his legs managed to guide him back the way they came. His knee was acting up, but more important things were at hand. He hid between a few air bags as he heard steps go by. This was not good. He climbed out when they were far enough off to not be heard anymore, his heart was beating, it had been a while since something like this had occurred. He slipped out and made it way back down into the passenger gondola. It would be only a quick move to the receptionist, he walked on his cane and tried to give his knee a rest, by the time he found the desk he practically fell on it the knee was so inflamed.

"Gunshots....control gondola....give me my gun."

Once this was over he was getting back to shape, and seeing a doctor about that damn knee.

More gunshots in the control gondola. The detective wielded the strangely-disguised pistol in his right hand as he finshed piling up un-hinged gantry sections against the trapdoor. So far, nothing had happened. He thought quickly, then realised that this wouldn't be the only way down. They'd probably find this was shut, and go round a longer way. Down to this bottom level another hundred metres towards the tail. He turned around, and realised he'd taken up the gantry, leaving only 2 cables which would have supported it. Well, only one way out of this...

_______________________________________________

"Excuse me sir, are you alright?"
The Head steward chose not to believe the man at first as he started spouting out phrases, till he saw the state the man was in fully. Hurt knee, scratches across his face and sealant stains from gantries. He'd obviously been inside the airship gasbag, and from the fear in his voice sounded like he meant it.
"Please sir, can you take a seat over there? A steward will be here shortly to escort you to your cabin."

He took out his radio transmitter and flicked the talk switch.
"This is Se'sao to Captain, do you read?"
Silence.
"Do you read?"
Silence.
"Please pick up the radio!"
Suddenly, there was a series of cracks over the radio. He stiffened, panicking.
"Se'sao to engineers, we have a gunfight in the control gondola. Requesting for you to immediately..."
He was cut off by static. Now there was a problem. At least he hadn't put the guns away in the safe last time. He popped into a small safebox underneath the desk, and drew out the Mokastanan's pistol, his AFMP-89 machinepistol, and an engineer's shotgun left at the desk.
"Se'sao ta toi sou'saoe - tris'toi ku! tris'toi ku!"
In his panic, he had started speaking in Fegosian, calling a Code red emergancy: the airship was under attack. For a minute or so, he began broadcasting instructions over the network, before looking up and tossing the Mokan the pistol.

"Sorry I doubted you, Nico'las Vil'la Prea'rai. Go use my keycard to lock the passages to the airship and observation deck, then barricade them. The stewards are currently ordering all passengers to their cabins, and as they recognise you will not do so for you. Ah, just before you go, get a pack out the locker there."

He motioned to the big bank of lockers either side of the two doors, showing icons of a parachute, a cross and a flame.

"The backpacks are parachutes. If the order comes to abandon ship, do it. Follow the safety procedures you were shown on takeoff, or if you can't remember ask a steward. Thanks for this."

He loaded the machinepistol, slotting a magazine into the receiver. 40 x 6.8mm rounds, all cavity rounds. He took the other two magazines, taping them together, and stuck them in his belt. He left the machinepistol on the desk as he took the AFS-2 Riot Shotgun from under the desk, loading into the internal clip 7 x 12-gauge buckshot rounds before slotting the remaining 5 shells into the holder attached to the stock. He left that one under the desk, before going back to the radio.

Nicolas sat as the steward went from doubt, to panic, to action mode. he just sat letting the throbbing knee subside as he caught his pistol as it was thrown at him. He pocketed the pistol and took the keys from the steward, looking at him load up he saw the riot shotgun as he was putting on the parachute and securing the rest of his gear.

"mind if I get a bigger gun? Just in case the shit hits the fan?"

Then he ran towards the passenger section to lock them...in? or safely away from the gunfire? either way he hoped that he could keep the terrorist from getting to them in time, or in the event that it was called to abandon ship, help them get out in time. Leading the way to the passengers cabin he began locking the areas, telling passengers there was a situation and that they needed to get back to their rooms, no doubt the sight of an older man in a parachute and wielding a shotgun(maybe) would cause a small panic, but he did his best to calm the people down.

OOC: bump

"I'll keep the shotgun thankyou. You've got a higher rate of fire from that pistol, and the rounds you've got in it are solid ones instead of the fragmentors I've got loaded in my machinepistol."

The steward watched as the man rushed away, before he started fortifying the nearby area, in case they came here: he had all the controls on his computer terminal for the gondola, including emergency controls. If they had the terrorists break in here, then they'd cut off the alarms, the door locks, the security cameras...
The 24 onboard stewards by degrees arrived, for him to give them their orders. 6 teams of 3, two to each floor, to defend against the terrorists if they broke in. For armament, they had equipped themselves with a wide range of melee weapons, ranging from fire axes to a few molotov cocktails made from the bar. Soon, they were spread across their floors. On the top deck, the two teams of 4 posted themselves by the two access points, prepared to attack. Some had cold looks upon their faces: others were sweating profusely, nervous of what was to come. All were tuned into the control network, the security cameras across the gondola now active. A few seconds later, there came a call across the network.
"Here they come. Here's a prayer to whoever up there's looking upon us."
A quiet murmur, before a loud bang at the doors from the observation deck as someone tried to burst through.

I'm afraid I've left this a bit late -

I'll be popping off for a week. RL family stuff - so just try to RP slowly and try not to crash into my capital city before next friday. Thankyou.

IC:

Steve said to the Captain "Shall we try to get to the other side of the wall to kill the terrorists?"

"Steve, I don't think it'll help: going around that way'll be suicide."
He heard a burst of gunfire in the corridor, followed by moans.
"Oh shit - they just got some engineers. Look, we'll give you covering fire, and you get over to the radio controls. Over there."
He turned around back into the main bridge area. He noticed the radio unit was shot to pieces as a burst of gunfire shot over his head.
"Right, you have two options. One is that you go to try and take them out, and get gunned down. The other is for you to try and get to the main civilian cabin, and get them to prepare themselves for trouble: we won't win, and they need warning so that we don't have a massacre on our hands."

He poked his head up from where he was lying to fire off his pistol. As he fired the third shot towards the unseen enemy, a loud burst of gunfire roared out, smacking into the Captain around his head and throat area. He collapsed dead, blood and fluids seeping from the numerous head wounds. The co-pilot yelled as a shotgun slug smashed through to his cover, snapping his arm and leaving a large hole in the floor. Behind them, the wall was beginning to resemble a colander.
With only one man left unharmed, the Navigation's officer, the future looked bleak.

"Steve, I don't think it'll help: going around that way'll be suicide."
He heard a burst of gunfire in the corridor, followed by moans.
"Oh shit - they just got some engineers. Look, we'll give you covering fire, and you get over to the radio controls. Over there."
He turned around back into the main bridge area. He noticed the radio unit was shot to pieces as a burst of gunfire shot over his head.
"Right, you have two options. One is that you go to try and take them out, and get gunned down. The other is for you to try and get to the main civilian cabin, and get them to prepare themselves for trouble: we won't win, and they need warning so that we don't have a massacre on our hands."


Steve nodded and he made his way to the main civilian cabin, and having seen the Captain killed, anger surged in him. He popped shots at anybody who dared fired at him, and when he made it to the main cabin, he said briskly "Everyone, we have a terrorist situation onboard now. We may not win, so we will need to prepare for trouble. We need to fight, and we may win, if we give it all we got."

He re-loaded his AF-07 and he said "Two engineers have been killed, the Captain is dead, our only hope is that the navigator is smart enough to keep safe and that he knows how to fly this thing."

(OOC: Maybe slightly more detail? Plus read back a bit - the main cabin area, which is a way behind the control gondola in sorta a seperate unit, is already prepared for a fight: Mokastana dealt with that.)

A roar of gunfire came over the heads of the terrorists, who after waiting for it to end, let rip. There was a scream, before the firing stopped. There was a curse as a man by the edge of the room they were in realised someone had escaped, before rushing out into the now-quiet cabin. They dragged the bodies and live crew members into the bunk area, before tying them up. Shaking slightly, the hired airship pilot stumbled into the bridge area, before sitting at the controls and taking over. Behind him, the dead terrorist was covered in a blanket, whilst the two wounded ones were tended to. They still had 5 men unhurt, enough to take the cabin area if there was no resistance. Keeping the guns aimed at the stairwell, one of them took over some heavy boxes and slammed them against the bunk area doorway, stopping anyone from escaping should they try. As one box was piled against the wall, it fell open revealing a missile launcher. Another two boxes were quickly searched, revealing ammunition for it. They found the gun safe, but then found it locked. Not needing ammo, they recongregated. In whispers, orders were give, before three men entered the store room again, emerging with lengths of rope.

OOC: Okay, my apologies.

IC:

Steve wound his way through winding staircases, popping shots at any terrorist that crossed his path. When he ran low on ammo, he just took some from dead terrorist's that had obtained AF-07s. He bashed a terrorist that had suddenly leapt in front of him with his rifle, cracking his skull with his rifle butt. He then ran down another flight of stairs and opened the door to a cabin and cautiously peered around the corner. Nobody was in there, no civilians, no terrorists.. Hey! He saw a slight movement and a man popped up and pulled out a gun. Steve was faster though drew his gun and fired at the terrorist.

OOC2: Is that okay? I can edit it if you want.

(OOC: Read back a wee bit, maybe to my last post, and also to posts much former. No terrorists outside the gondola (yet), plus they let you escape while pinned down under fire from the Navigations officer.
Now you're out of the gondola, it's through a maze of cables, gantries, ladders and gas cells (see the posts with Mokastana when they listened in on the gunfight), until you get back to the main gondola, with the passengers in. Just try to imagine these two units being seperate, strapped underneath a massive gasbag. That's the structure. Inside main gondola, the two entrance-ways are barricaded, with mobs of air stewards behind with assorted melee weapons.
Helps? + If you did manage to find one and attack, saying you cracked his skull could be seen as per the rules as slight godmoding.
Thanks for the listening, and enjoy the RP.)

(OOC: Read back a wee bit, maybe to my last post, and also to posts much former. No terrorists outside the gondola (yet), plus they let you escape while pinned down under fire from the Navigations officer.
Now you're out of the gondola, it's through a maze of cables, gantries, ladders and gas cells (see the posts with Mokastana when they listened in on the gunfight), until you get back to the main gondola, with the passengers in. Just try to imagine these two units being seperate, strapped underneath a massive gasbag. That's the structure. Inside main gondola, the two entrance-ways are barricaded, with mobs of air stewards behind with assorted melee weapons.
Helps? + If you did manage to find one and attack, saying you cracked his skull could be seen as per the rules as slight godmoding.
Thanks for the listening, and enjoy the RP.)

OOC: My apologies, I did not quite read through it. I haven't been RP'ing in a while..

IC:

Steve clambered up the gantry and he could see ladders and gas cells abound, and he sincerely doubted any terrorists would be here. But he climbed up a ladder and he then decided to re-enter the gondola. He made his way through the gondola to one of the entrance ways that was barricaded and he called out "Don't attack, it's me, the Sky Marshal.."

"It's the sky marshall! Let him through, he may be injured!"

The head steward called over the system as the 8 stewards rushed to the door, unpiling enough furniture to let him through before re-sealing the doorway with the heavy furnishings, boxes and cable.

"Tell him to come down to the reception, and give me stats on what the fuck's going on."

There was a murmur amongst the stewards, before one walked over to him explaining the situation: the gondola had been put into an emergency lockdown, with all cabin crew preparing for a terrorist assault.

__________________________________________

The airship engines cut into action again as three men clambered along the underside of the airship envelope, hanging from rope tied to protrusions at various points. Soon, they were by the side of the main gondola, out of sight of any people. Now they needed an entranceway: a window seemed to have already been broken, and through that gap on the 2nd floor they swung, rolling into the room that had been sealed as a crime scene. Brushing themselves down, before loading up their weapons, they prepared for their attack. It was simple: take the reception/control desk quickly, and from there they would be able to monitor the airship. Shut the major interior firewalls to prevent movement of people.

Two men were armed with AF-87 assault rifles, wooden stocks holding extra magazines attached with sticky tape. The other held a 12-gauge semi-automatic shotgun, loaded with 7 buckshot shells for maximal wounding. On the count of three, one man activated the door release (not set by the steward to not work) before they burst out into the corridor. There was a yell as a group of 4 stewards saw them, before they opened fire. After only half a second, the group were down, all hit heavily across the chests. None would survive. The group head decided to relieve them of their pain: taking his combat knife, he plunged it into their necks, hearing their final sighs as the life drained from them. Leaving their bloody bodies in the corridor, they quickly moved to the central stairwell.

______________________________________________

Down at the control desk, as the head steward greeting the sky marshall, he heard a series of gunshots.
"Shit: they're here. Get behind the desk NOW!"
He grabbed his machine pistol, before changing to the shotgun: he preferred it at the range the men would be. As a figure appeared he fired, hearing a curse as the figure moved away. He ducked as he heard the roar of assault rifles, the rounds whizzing over the desk or thumping into the thick wooden construction. Behind him, the large screen shattered and fuzed as a load of shot hit it. As they stopped firing, he raised up his head and began firing again, racking the shotgun and leaving the spent cartridges to fly across the area as he fired off each shot. He reached the seventh one and dropped the shotgun, switching to the machinepistol as he began firing up at the stairwell. The figures hadn't reappeared yet.

(remember Nicolas isn't used to 4 to 5 star living...neither am i for that fact, so I may miss some things)

Nicolas heard the gunshots as he made his way back to his room. Inside he had a razor for shaving, the old school blade that could, if you weren't careful, slice someone a little two deep. He dug that out of his bag and pocketed the blade in his back pants pocket, then found other things to make makeshift weapons out of, however the rooms did not give him much choice. He began digging around to see what hi could find.

Night stand? to heavy...

fancy small statue thing in the corner.....maybe?

think clearly Nic!

telephone cord = strangle wire
tall lamp = spear?
dresser drawer = broken up could be a blunt weapon shield....enemy has guns...

I need more information on what is going on...

with that Nicolas took the razor, the gun and his cane and walked out of his room trying to get an idea of what is going on

OOC: Bump-de-bump-a-bad-a-bump-de-hump

OOC: so how about some chinese food?

*points to an open carton of General Tso's*

(OOC: Got round to post. But Mokastana, PLEASE read preceding posts and edit your last RP'd post accordingly: all the passengers are locked in their cabins already, the only people roving about are the cabin crew, armed with blunt weapons. As for what you could find in a room, it'd be very unlikely you'd find much in the way of sharp items. Heavy blunts, maybe... use your imagination of a 4-star/5-star hotel room.
An I'll have some prawn crackers with that please.)

(edited: does that work?)

(Thanks Moka)

The three men sat at the corners of the stairwell on the middle floor, listening to the shots whizzing past. The head man waited, soon hearing the firing stop. As the lead stopped shredding the carpeted staircase behind him, he leant around the corner to fire off on burst at the desk, knocking craters in the desk and the wall behind. Daylight crept in through the holes created from their passage, as an alarm began sounding. Swearing, the man realised that whoever they were shooting at had operated the firewall controls, and were now sealing off each floor. Large steel firewalls began dropping from the ceiling, red light flashing as he and his companions made up their minds: a death or glory run to cover. Diving down the staircase and rolling, the men moved into the cover of potted plants and doorways as fire was returned. One man yelled as he dropped his assault rifle, a round having smashed into his arm and spraying shrapnel across his right cheek. Swearing, round continued flying past as the firewall lowered down.

___________________________________________

In the main gondola, the main control panel sparked as the new terrorist pilot tried to make sense of the shattered controls. Mostly, he was relying on the backups to steer the airship, whilst putting on a fake voice over the radio channels. So far, it was going OK, and air control had been informed that all was well. 16 hours till decision time, of passing over the Antigran landscape that would soon be appearing before them. From then, he had 20 minutes if he took the path he had been told. The path of fiery glory.

OOC: Are my authorities going to know at any point? Someone finds a radio?

(Yep. Winks at Mokastana, noting the armed man now approaching from behind the terrorists, with a firewall coming down between them...)

Nicolas raced out when he noticed the firewalls closing fast. Not a good sign for a flying blimp made out of flammable materials. He needed to get back to the steward desks. Judging by the shots that was were the main action was happening, also if they could stop the terrorist there then the cabin should be safe for the time being. Unsure of what was going on he crept got as close as he could to the desk, hiding around a corner and looked over to see if the head steward was still alive.


Somewhere else on the ship...

"One little assassination, that is all I needed to do, but these damn terrorist..."

Patrica Zimmerman was in her room preparing everything for an emergency get the hell out. Her electric razor gun had already been made and prepared for battle. Of course her's was a Mk.3, meaning a rash of differences, one being the poison dipped .22 shells it fired, another was the fact it could fire 10 shots off rather then the other's five, still using the internal revolver mechanism. Yet even then she knew that was a last ditch effort. Her duties were to get inside the targets room and remove any evidence of his "contraband," such as his Mk.1 Shaver and information on the illegal Zaheran drug trade routes. Yet by the time she had gotten to his room he noticed it had already been searched.

She searched the room for bugs quickly, then she found one, a GPS tracker in his suitcase, useless, she pocketed it to toss off the ship later. Finding the microfilm about the recent purchases from the Zaheran Mafiasos she slipped them into his shoe and ran out into the hallway.

(OOC: I hate having to remind people to read - first, there is 3 terrorists aboard the airship. Second, if you really want to try getting onto the staircase down to the main reception area, you'll be walking into a gunfight. Being in Cadet force, I know what it's like even with blanks - enough to make you need a change of pants without earplugs. Be careful down there!)

At the desk, the steward sat down loading rounds into his shotgun. A few more bullets whipped past him or thudded into the desk. At least now no-one would be going anywhere on the airship. His hand hovered over the override controls for the abandon ship alarms, before he moved it away to rack the shotgun. No need to start a mass hysteria yet, especially with the authorities on the ground completely unaware of their predicament. Peeking up, he saw a new figure rolling into cover: was that the Mokan gentleman? He couldn't believe it. Aiming away from him, he poked up and let rip at a corner, shattering a plant pot. Ducking down, he smiled to himself before looking back up to shoot at another figure.

OOC: AHH OK, sorry, I mis-interpreted the layout of the ship, so pretty much Nicolas is behind the terrorist and they don't know it yet?

(You're right)

Nicolas saw three men in a gunfight with the steward, he was behind them, and they hadn't noticed. That was a good thing, however that also left with with little to no cover...damn it, this would be a great time for a grenade.. Hiding behind the little cover the wall gave him he glanced out to pick targets, the closest one was not getting shot at enough, hopefully the steward had noticed and stopped sending bullets his way, with that thought he stuck an eye and armed hand out and fired off a .22 round into the back of his neck. Before he checked if the man went down he aimed and fired another shot at the next one. Followed by the third, in total it was 3 shots in about .8 seconds, of course only the first one was well placed, the other two were generic body shots. He looked them over to see who was still alive, hoping to get off a shot before they did.

One of the terrorists felt something shoot past his neck as he aimed towards the desk. Someone was shooting at him from behind. He heard a loud curse as the man already hit in the arm took a shot to his shoulder. The third man collapsed as he was hit in the back, keeping low as the pain ripped through a now-collapsed lung. A yelled command saw that the injured man turned to take a few shots at where the newcomer was hiding, his assault rifle blasting holes in furnishings all around. Under the hail of covering fire, the lead man pulled himself up to an upright position, before dashing around a corner into another alcove. He was unbelievably close to the desk, and could hear the sound of a bolt being pulled. The man behind had obviously reloaded the machine-pistol, and was about to fire.


Behind the desk, the steward left his shotgun empty, now devoid of shells, and prepared to let rip with his last magazine of rounds. Taking care to adjust the sights to how he had noticed the rounds careening off, he prepared to commence firing. Just as he was about to stand up, a bullet whacked into the desk. Even though it had resisted the powerful rounds up till now, it could only take so much. The round continued through the weakened wood, before smacking into the steward's hip. In its course, it had left the control panel for the fire system in a mess, wires and circuitry blasted to pieces. Shut off without power, an alarm began to sound at the other control panel in the airship - inside the control gondola far away at the front of the airship. The irritated men inside the forward gondola ignored it at first, before one moved over to shut it off.


In the reception area, light shone through the damaged side of the gondola, onto the wounded steward. Grasping onto the desk he heaved himself over to prop himself up on wooden side. Peering over, he saw a man lying in front of the desk audaciously, preparing to fire at him. He ducked under a hail of fire, before lifting his weapon up. The blood flow from his waist was still going strong, but slowing down. He wouldn't be able to walk for a while, and that would put him at a disadvantage. Making up his mind as he reminded himself how lucky he was the rounds weren't hollowtips or the fragmention ones loaded in his weapon, he decided on his advantage over these terrorists. They obviously had no clue.


The man by the desk let rip with his rifle when the steward's head appeared, before his rifle made a characteristic click. Looking to the side of the rifle, he saw that a casing had become caught in the bolt. Hitting the rifle on the ground to dislodge it, he was rewarded with a series of painful impacts across his back. He lolled over to see the steward looking down on him, machinepistol aimed at the centre of his forehead.
"See you in hell!"
A loud chorus of shots were followed by a loud clang as the weapon indicated it was completely empty. A mutilated head, shredded by the surface shrapnel of the rounds fired at it, faced the floor as the steward let a rare smile cross his face. The smile stayed fixed as he collapsed backwards, screwing up slightly as he felt a round pass through his shoulder.
"Mokan! Do something useful and clear up this mess for me. I'm gonna have to call it time out for now."

IC:

Steve did as the head steward said and ducked behind the desk and he reloaded his .45 to take another shot at the terrorists. He asked the head steward "Do you think they are just biding their time to storm this.." He saw two figures appear when he peered around and he pulled out his .45 and fired at the two figures.

He got out of the way and fired at more terrorists, and took cover behind another desk and took his AF-07 and started shooting at the people that were firing at him, ducking, and he was hit in the shoulder by a couple of rounds. Groaning, he still peeked over the edge and fired and then he regrouped with the stewards and said "What's our plan now?"

OOC: This good, sorry, I haven't been posting in a while..

(OOC: Things have moved a bit. Maybe you might want to add a bit more to your post.)

NIcolas managed to get off one last shot before the assault rifle barred down on him, turning and dropping behind the corner he was using as cover he watched as the bullets tore through the walls and decorations that made this place worth the 5 star quality. Debris flew around in the form of wood chips and created a light dust as he scrambled to get away from the shots. What he would do for a grenade of some times.... The shots stopped as he assumed attention had been placed back on the steward, knowing that each seconded counted he got up and dove around the corner, his bad knee gave way and he fell to his side, pistol aimed towards the last man enemy soldier,

"Mokan! Do something useful and clear up this mess for me. I'm gonna have to call it time out for now."

He began firing madly at the man, more suppressive fire then actual aiming as he tried to get back up awkwardly, luckily the .22 pistol had no kick and lots of rounds. He managed to get to his foot long enough to get behind one of the corners that the terrorist used as support, his main goal was to grab that assault rifle. Emptying his pistol he landed again, His arm was bleeding, probably nicked by one of those assault rifle rounds. Grabbing the rifle he prayed to god that the man was now dead, hoping that they did not have body armor...


"How badly you hurt amigo?"

OOC: Bump?

In the far corner, the final man of the group of three collapsed as a round hit in his hip, shattering his pelvis and cutting straight through his femoral artery. Blood pulsed from the wound, the man rapidly losing consciousness. Within a minute, he would be dead. The first man to be hit stayed quiet, breathing irregularly as he felt the damaged lung working irregularly. He had been lucky: if he'd not been wearing the bullet-proof vest underneath his clothing, he would've been in a right state. At least now he could see what they were doing. They would think he was blacked out for now, so would not realise he was listening in on any of their tactical discussions. Eyes half closed, he glanced across the hall to his comrade. The carpet was now completely saturated, a massive pool of blood floating atop the sodden fabric and spreading outwards quickly into the centre of the hall. The AF-07 assault rifle the man had been wielding soon found itself in the grasp of the Mokan. Still with a magazine in, the rifle bolt lay jammed fully open, showing to all that there were no more rounds in the gun or it had a major stoppage. Either one meant the last guy had been out for the count. The other man near the desk had been slightly foolish as well. He now lay an absolute mess, even more fluids staining the blue carpet deep purple.

Over by the desk, the steward grunted as he pulled out a first aid box from a cupboard underneath, dropping out a roll of bandages and a small sachet of coagulant. He swore as he sprinkled it into the wound in his shoulder, heat rising from it as a huge clot formed over the wound. Emptying the rest on his back, he turned to look at the hip wound. Luckily, it had only nicked the flesh, leaving a gouge on the surface. Not like the terrorist he'd seen lying dead in the far corner, blood flowing out into his surroundings. Seeing it had already clotted, he began wrapping a bandage around, before turning to the Calzoristani.
"Well, looks like that's that. They've stopped shooting, and all look out for the count, so we assume this sector to be clear. At least I didn't get hit in an artery, like matey over there. He must've got a few shots in the groin as well, with Nicolas firing like that."
A piece of the bullet-wood panelling fell from the wall in the corridor, revealing solid aluminium plate.
"How ironic, eh? At least we can say the only severe damage done to the home team here is to the furnishings. I don't want to foot the bill when I get home. More seriously though is what we are to do. As far as we know, there are terrorists still at large across the rest of the airship, and especially in the crew gondola. For what purpose, I don't want to think about right now. But, we have a couple fo problems. The first one is that the firewalls have been activated. The controls have been shot to buggery, so the only way out is through the emergancy exits or through the walls. The walls are likely to only give when the rest of the gondola give, so both are a no. The firewalls are made of treated plastic, about ten centimetres thick. They are Grade 1 bulletproof, as demonstrated by Mr Villa when he let rip at the last man standing. Not a single hole in it.

The only hope is to call in external help. Since I know we're almost over Antigr, they are pretty much our only help. They don't have airship boarding teams as I know of, so they're most likely to go for a direct attack on the airship itself. Literally, they will blow the control gondola off the airship, leaving it harmless. After that, they will likely either board with helicopters or wait for an Alfegan airship to come. Which could be days.

What I say is we have two things we can do. The first is to find get a single this airship outside this zone. My is buggered, and we have no mobile phone reception. What can do though is send a nice big signal in the form of a few flares. If we fire off some from one of the exits, anyone on the ground will think there's something wrong. They'll contact the pilot, sure, but if we keep doing it then eventually they might get the message and send a chopper up to investigate. Someone will have to stay here, whilst the rest of us go to one of the entrances into the main gasbag. If we can cut the engines, then it'll make their life a whole lot easier, and stop them going in to blow the airship to pieces themselves. Ideas on how we can get out of this mess?"

OOC: Are you going to RP the flare-firing or should I cut in now?

(OOC: The flares will start flying soon, hopefully... if Mokastana/Calzorinstan reply soon!)

OOC: Sorry, im back

IC:

"well then where are some flares to signal anyone with?"

Nicolas searched the bodies, holding the Fegosian assault rifle he noticed the jam, pulling out the clip he looked to see if any rounds were left, it didn't look like it, he set the gun up against the wall as he searched the bodies for a pulse, munitions, papers, body armor...anything that could be useful. years of growing up as a guerrilla soldier taught him to be quick and effective when searching dead enemies. however his knee was slowing him down just a bit. Anyone with a pulse would get a point blank .22 into the back of the skull, without even a second thought.

The steward used the desk to prop himself up as he dragged himself along to one of the entrances. Concealed in the wall, next to a large emergency exit sign tastefully entwined in the destroyed décor, he pressed a hidden button allowing for the entire wall to swing out. Inside the cabinet, a rack of sixty parachute bags hung tight together in hard cases, large cord ready to be hooked up to a static line that was just visible in the ceiling by the exit. The steward pulled out three, passing them over to the two others before donning his own.

"You lot all know how to parachute, I take it? We have to do it as part of our training, and since I'm an enthusiast myself I have no problem. The unit is kept in the hard CFRP shell to prevent any damage, and is fully waterproof. In the underside of each unit, you will find an emergency kit wrapped in a lifejacket. Since we aren't over water, that is no problem. The emergency kit consists of a vacuum-packed military survival kit, a whistle, a few other bits and bobs and a two-shot flare gun. The flares fired are in red."

He strapped the parachute unit onto his back tightly, ensuring the multiple harness attachments were tightened well and that the strap locks were tight. On the side, he had unrolled the orange life jacket, revealing a surprisingly small metal tin, and three smaller cartons. He ripped open the one marked "Flare Launcher, Two Shot, Skyway Co.", revealing a pair of plastic tubes with large strings trailing down the side. Instructions were written all down the side in various languages, with a large picture on the side showing how to fire.

"Point the end marked in red away from you out the door, and then yank the string down hard. The action will launch a star flare, which will start burning after a second from launch. The flare'll burn for thirty seconds after being launched, so we'll fire a flare every two minutes. That'll give us twelve minutes, enough time for the authorities to notice at least. Only problem is the door. Mokan!"

He had noticed the man was walking around the bodies as he listened, checking for all sorts of items.
"Come over here before you finish your checks. I need a nice big rifle round to blast the alarm unit off the door. That way, the abandon ship sirens won't start when I open the door."



In the far corner, the surviving man almost let forth a sigh of relief as he saw the Mokan hesitate near him. From the looks of him, he was a very experienced fighter. He'd already seen the man liberate all the spare ammunition, weaponry and body armour from the other two, and even saw him remove a radio unit from one. Any minute now, they'd get a call from the leader asking what was actually going on. Then they'd know the game was up, and be able to send down heavier fire power. At least they'd been told to pack scantly, so they had little to be captured from them. He didn't fancy the men finding the mobile phone he know realised he foolishly had left in his pocket.

Nicolas, had gotten what he could of these bodies, training told him to check the pulses first, but since it had been years since true combat, that slipped his mind. Reloading the rifle and checking the bolt he got the click of a round sliding into the chamber. A nice noise to know he had more then a meager .22 to rely on.

"I haven't parachuted since what, 87? Ok hand me one of those."

Nicolas set the parachute down next to the body armor and excess munitions. He dug around on antother body and pulled off the radio to keep an ear out in case they sent anyone else down.

"Come over here before you finish your checks. I need a nice big rifle round to blast the alarm unit off the door. That way, the abandon ship sirens won't start when I open the door."

Setting down the spare clip from a body he walked over to the door and aimed at the alarm, setting the gun to single shot he put one bullet into the alarm and hopefully killed it, to make sure he fired at what looked like was the part that received input from the door. Then set the gun down on the shot up desk and began putting the straps on and getting suited up, the parachute wasn't to comfortable, but compared to falling to a death over Antigr, and an uncomfortable backpack, he chose the latter. he kept the radio earpiece in, listening to any chatter across the lines.

he picked up the rifle again and waited to see what happened next

- Deleted. Of course, It's not really deleted. Must preserve 2,100 post count.

The steward walked over to the door, now with its alarm disabled, and checked the unit.
"Nice shot: straight through the exit cables and the wireless signaller first time. It's not gonna make a peep. Just prepare yourselves now for the pressure change: hold onto something solid and prepare to yawn. Your ears are going to hurt!"

He walked to the door, pulling up a large perspex cover to grasp a handle. Counting to three, he then wrenched the handle down, pushing the door open. At 2000 metres above sea level, the pressure change was given to the men in the form of a strong gust of wind that blew out the settled dust from the gunfight outside, whilst also providing a hefty nudge that would've knocked someone unprepared flying. The steward flexed a muscle he had been taught to use in the back of his throat, opening tiny passages from his ears to his mouth allowing for pressure in the inner ear to equalise. Along with the pop came a sudden realise from a dim world he had been inhabiting moments before. His ears hurt, but soon he ignored that pain as all became calm again.
"Right then... here goes!"

Facing the open doorway with an emergency orange slide now inflated below the threshold, he aimed one of the flare cylinders towards an imaginary point in the mid distance. He grasped the piece of string, yanking it down hard. There came a thump as the flare shot out, followed by a hiss as it ignited. A brilliant point of red light flew out from the side, slightly gaining height before dropping downwards. The steward looked at his watch.
"Right then, thirty seconds of light. Let's hope the Antigrans pick up on that. See if you can tune your radio to the gondola, so we can here what's coming in and going out."



In the corner, the injured terrorist noticed all had moved away. The Mokan had just frisked him, so whilst he was unarmed he was still alive. He slowly crawled over to the side of the desk whilst the others weren't watching, moving towards the steward's shotgun left on the side. Hopefully, that would provide the sort of fire power he needed. He dropped low as the steward turned around, faking death, preparing himself to pounce on the gun.

OOC: Hope you don't mind a little time fluidity on my part

IC:

Bjorne and Katina Angstrom were relaxing on a tartan blanket spread out over the ground. Western Antigr was suprisingly warm in the summertime and the population of Fredriksberg were making the most of it. Beside the couple was a basket with thier lunch in it. Bjorne was impressed by the airships that passed near here, most of them belonging to Alfegan companies, and he gazed at the airship passing nearby the town. He remembered being in an airship once, Dad had a good Alfegan friend, a wealthy businessman, who owned a small one.
Katina pointed at it.

"Look, Bjorne!"

"What is it, honey?"

"A flare"

"It can't be - it is..."

"What does it mean?"

"It's a - a distress flare. Yes, a distress flare, I've seen them before. Something's wrong, love. Pass me the phone"

She gave him her mobile phone. He flicked it open and pressed the '5' key three times, then pressed the button with a green phone on it. While he was pressing it, the flare went out.

"Emergency services, what service do you require?"

"I don't know. I've seen one of the airships send out a distress flare"

"Right. Where are you?"

"Near the main road between Fredriksberg and Sjogardsvik, about a mile from the filling station"

"Okay. Apart from the flare, is there anything out of order with the airship?"

"No, not that I can see"

"Don't hang up, tell us if anything new happens"

While the operator had been asking questions, she'd been also typing a brief report on her computer, which had been sent out to the police and fire service. It had also been relayed to the air authority and further relayed to the airport in Sjogardsvik. She was puzzled as to why an airship in distress had used flares rather than the radio, but it meant the same. Something was wrong.


Sjogardsvik Airport, Sjogardsvik


One of the control tower operators was on the radio, trying to get in touch over every frequency he could find. He spoke in English rather than Antigran, his thick Antigran accent making his voice distinctive.

"Flight SWAF-592, Flight SWAF-592, this is Sjogardsvik ground, come in"


The Filling Station
The Main Road Between Fredriksberg and Sjogardsvik


Police Constable Haugen came back to the Police Car with two cups of coffee in a polystyrene tray. The Sergeant opened the door for him and he sat down slowly, passing a cup of coffee to the Sarge. The radio interrupted then halfway through their coffee. The Sergeant picked up the radio and listened.

"Four-five-seven-two, Fredriksberg seventeen recieving, over"

"Yes, Fredriksberg seventeen recieving, over"

"Airship distress flare sighted on the flightpath two miles northwest of you, fifteen-sixty. Report there and keep observation, over"

"Fredriksberg seventeen affirmative, out"

Haugen took one last big gulp of his coffee before putting the lid back on and placing it in the cupholder. The Sarge did likewise and accelerated out from the station forecourt and onto the main road, blue lights flashing and sirens wailing. The car was speeding at seventy miles an hour within fifteen seconds while the vehicles in front puled over to make way for them.
Within minutes they were at the scene and had radioed in their position. Sergeant Martensson got out his binoculars while Haugen stayed on the radio.

The Airship Control Gondola

The new pilot sat nervous at the controls as he saw a light flash on: cabin decompression. Had the others been successful? As he turned his attention back to the final flight computer setup, the main communications radio crackled into life.
"Flight SWAF-592, Flight SWAF-592, this is Sjogardsvik ground, come in"
"This is Flight SWAF-592 to Sjogardsvik, we read you over. Is there a problem?"
He began sweating as he noticed the airship position on the navigation screen: far outside the normal boundary he would be contacted at. Had something alerted the ground authorities to them? The operation leader placed his hand on the man's shoulder as he moved to sit in a bullet-ridden chair next to him. He checked the microphone was off, before talking.
"I think the team back in the main gondola failed in their mission. As such, we're going to have a problem now the passengers seem to be signalling. Therefore, I need you to get us moving as fast as we possibly can. Can you do that?"
"The engines are already at full speed, and the wind isn't too favourable in that respect."
"I don't care about any technical impossibilities: you make it possible or you'll be finding a lot more action than you intended."

The other three terrorists still fighting sat around glaring at the captured crew, hefting assault rifles. One man had at his feet the large missile launcher he had found in the armoury, after blowing off the locks. Four HEAT missiles for the AAT-87, guided by a designator unit in the same safe. Able to take out tanks, helicopters and even aircraft if aimed very carefully. Right now, he was re-reading the instructions he had found with it, especially for the designator.

Reception Area Exit
Far below the steward could see vehicles moving along a main highway, like tiny ants in the distance. As he was about to fire the second flare, he felt a jolt as the airship suddenly sped up.
"I don't believe it! We've been rumbled. At from the sounds of it, they've pushed those engines to the maximum. If they don't explode soon, it'll be a miracle."
He pulled the string sharply, letting another flare out the side of the airship.

OOC: And now some fairytale good luck. I promise people will die later, rely on me

IC:

The radio operator had some experience with pilots. For the last 32 years, anyway. He muttered to his colleague.

"It doesn't sound like the pilot, and the words he uses are different. Something's up"

At that moment, the door flew open and a policeman walked in, who was quickly identified as a superintendent. Behind him was a sinsiter-looking intelligence officer, not that the man knew that at the time. The intelligence man's mind was racing; he didn't know how, they didn't know how, but the nutters on board the airship that had caused the commotion in earlier flight must've taken hold. His orders were to follow the book, but he wasn't sure. After spending a few seconds in deep thought with a deeply furrowed brow, his expression softened and he told the man;

"We have information that the ship may have been hijacked"

The authorities knew of the gunman earlier in the flight, but what he'd said was something of a white lie.

"Bluff it"

"Er, SWAF-592, this is Sjogardsvik. Sorry about the dely, just to say that we thought you may have drifted off-course, it seems there was an electrical glitch at our end. Happens all the time round here. Sorry, have a nice flight, out"

He ended the transmission. He didn't know what he'd just done, and by the looks of people's faces, neither did they. Whatever was happening, the intelligence Colonel's gambled lie was going to get very big indeed.

---

The Antigrans were fairly new to airships, but nonetheless forty-four miles away at the Royal Naval Air Station Galvik one was being scrambled. Air Cavalrymen were on board and a mysterious Colonel had warned of a possible hijacking on board an Alfegan airship, flight SWAF-592. With a complement of 15 on-board and a complement of 21 extra air cavalrymen for short-term passage, hasty preperations were being made for it to depart.

---

"What the hell does that idiot think he's doing?"

The Brigadier was in the police briefings room at Galvik. The cheif superintendent was taking the 'good cop' role today. The Brigadier continued.

"A Hijack? He's just stirring up worry. Before we know it the press will have got hold of it and then there's no stopping them!"

"Sir.."

"It's rumours! Just rumours! I'll go to Sjogardsvik and shoot him myself!"

"Sir, the ATC controllers at the airport have confirmed the voice isn't the same as that of the pilot at the beginning of the flight, and the handling of the ship isn't as controlled as it was before"

Expecting a violent retribution, he was surprised at the calmness in the man's voice.

"You're trying to tell me that there is a Hijack?"

"The evidence points..."

"There's not very much of it"

"I know, sir"

"Say there is. then what do we do?"

"Kill the hijackers"

"We don't even know if there is one!"

"Distress flares aren't launched for fun"

He sighed.

"Okay, superintendent. I'm feeling fairly good today. What is about to happen is above your pay-grade. Should we make an inspection?"

"Airship already being scrambled from the RNAS"

"I'm going to feed that Colonel through a bacon slicer"

In the control cabin, the pilot relaxed as he heard it seemed all clear. Behind him though, the leader had not changed expression.
"Keep going ahead at full speed, but cut what you've done to the engines. I don't like the look of those lights that've come up."
The pilot muttered to himself as soon as the leader was out of earshot.
"He tells me to make it faster, I make it faster. He doesn't like it, makes we go slower. How about he tries flying the bloody thing for once?"
He turned back to the control screens, looking in particular at the flight RADAR screen that caught his eye in the corner. Used primarily to help avoid mid-air collisions between aircraft and airships, the airship carried a mid-range unit to help avoid any calamities.
Right now, whilst it showed dots mostly in the standard lines that denoted the local jet airways, he saw one patch the computer had identified as another airship, forty-four miles away and currently stationary. Flicking to a map on the navigation display, he was rewarded with exactly what he hadn't wanted.

"I think we might have a problem in the mid future: I've just picked up another airship on the screen."
"In Antigran military airspace? I don't believe it."
"I do. They recently started building airships, and equipping some defence forces with them. Now whilst we're doing a steady eighty kilometres an hour, these craft are fast. They used vectored thrusters, and fully loaded are actually heavier than air. Even if I gunned the engines full again, we'd be intercepted within thirty minutes."
"And the time till we reach our goal?"
"An hour."
"Bloody hell - you lot get on your feet and get out on the external gantries. As soon as that airship gets into range, you give it all you have. Then we'll start negotiations."

Nicolas held on tight as the door was kicked out, then waited as the first distress flare fired out the now gaping hole in the side of the ship. It seemed that someone had picked up on it quickly, for the ship now began to speed up.

"Do you think there is any chance that they see someone is launching flares?"

Nicolas yelled over the wind and noise from pressure changes, already his ears had popped and felt dull pains throughout his skull. Holding on tight he started to go back to the stairwell to keep an eye out.

"If they know anything is up! They will send more, we need to set up defenses."

Improvised traps was something he hadn't done in a while, but given the situation he could come up with a few, but then it dawned on him that there may be friendlies still around, and what about that investigator they ran into a while ago? He only hoped that he was doing ok.

meanwhile Patrica Zimmerman was wandering around the passenger areas when she heard the gunfight, keeping up her Mk.3 up and ready she heard the gunfire tape off and waited, keeping an ear out for anything else. She heard voices, faint, but they sounded like crew, or something like that, something about flares and parachutes. Putting her mk.3 behind her she was about to turned a corner to look out to see what was up, but the bullet fired into the door made her turn back and lift up the pistol again.

patience, they do not know you are here, and if anything you are just a civilian. relax and let...

Depressurization made her fall over and out into the open, she managed to scarmble and hide her pistol just in time to look up and hold on to something.

act scared...

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"

"Defences... after that attack, the only way they can get in is either by blasting through the firewall, or coming in through the emergency exit doors. Since I doubt they have the man power to do that, we're alright. Just make sure that you keep an eye on the area in case anyone was trapped on this floor when the firewalls came down."

He fired off another flare before he turned around to see a woman moving in on rocky feet from where she had been hiding, in a side passage of this floor section.

"Woah, and see what I'm talking about? Where did she come from?"
He spoke in a more gentle, diplomatic tone to the woman who had appeared.
"Hello there. Everything is alright now. These three aren't going to cause anyone any harm. Now, my name's Haa'ki. What's your name, and how did you get here?"

_________________

At the same moment, the detective stood grasped onto a gantry ledge, Antigr rolling past below him. He knew the cables had been a bad idea to cross, and had managed to fall halfway. After plunging through a few gas cells, he had managed to grab a gantry edge after falling through the envelope. Thank god for external gantries. On the other hand, the plastic was starting to cut into his hands. Closing his eyes, he counted to three, before pulling himself up onto the platform. Lying there with a sore diaphragm and a hacking cough, he looked around to see a flare discharge from the side of the main gondola. At least the message was starting to get out. He took his pistol, before moving towards the control gondola. He had had an idea.

"Haa'ki? Nice to meet you, my name is Patrica, I heard gunfire and i guess i was stupid, I thought that it meant that we were being saved...i didn't think that....please tell me someone is coming....I don't want to go out like this"

He fell over against the wall sobbing and putting her hands over her face. The pistol was already in her purse, next to the microfilm. She better get a bonus if this mission goes successful.

Nicolas heard the man explain that they were pretty much safe and set the rifle down next to the spare munitions to continue searching the bodies, hopefully he didnt miss anything, the lack of cabin pressure was not helping him at all. He held on to whatever was available with one hand and dug around with the other....only something seemed a little different. he looked over as the next flare went out.

The terrorist stopped breathing as he felt the Mokan search him. He'd been able on occasion to spend up to three minutes without breathing in underwater swimming off the coast of Alfegos, but knew it would end with him having to take a deep breath back in. And with a collapsed lung, he would only be able to hold it for seconds. Now was the time to act. He twisted around his body, grasping onto the table surface to allow his legs to spin around in a swing at the Mokan. He didn't look to see if he hit, pre-occupied in getting the gun on the side. He lifted up the shotgun, rapidly swinging it to his hip as he racked it, before pulling the trigger. The barrel, pointed in the vague direction of the steward, emitted a loud click as the firing pin flew out into nothing. Looking on the floor, he realised it had already been cocked, with the last round in it now lying on the floor.

"Do you guys do surrender?"

Suddenly the body threw a wild kick into Nicolas, getting his bad knee and forcing him self to fall over in pain. He rolled into the pool of blood and moaned in agony holding his bad leg. This would not make jumping any easier. he looked up to see the former dead body now aiming an empty shotgun at the people and asking if everyone surrenders. Nicolas reached into his jacket pocket for the gun, which had fell out and into the mess on the ground. He reached for it and soon picked up the sticky pistol with his right hand.

"Drop it now!"

A single resounding word went through the man's head: bollocks. Why did he have the luck of the devil? When he saw the downed man, now covered in blood, aiming a razor at him, he almost laughed until he noticed the gun barrel. The trigger. What had he been messing with?

He looked around to see his knife lying on the table. Would the old man really be able to shoot him? So far, the others hadn't shot at him. He smiled, feigning putting down the shotgun on the table side, before whipping towards the knife. At the same time, he saw the steward falling forwards on his good leg, aiming to leap for an assault rifle on the table.
"Get him now Nicolas!"

note to self, do not call bluffs...

Nicolas squeezed the trigger as the slide slid back revealing an open bot. The gun was empty, he had fired all the bullets off in the firefight. Damn it to hell, with his knee out for what felt like good he pushed back away from the man with his good leg and grabbed his cane. Trying to use the wall to get up. Pulling the cane over his head was ready to strike in the event that the man turned the knife on him. Hopefully he could get up in time to lunge before the man tried to get him.

Patrica on the other hand, curled up into a ball in the corner, keeping on hand hidden in her purse. The other over her head, acting scared.

The superintendent had relaxed slightly. The intelligence brigadier was off his back, but along with the men at Royal Naval Air Station Galvik, well. The Brigadier certainly hadn't lied. What he was now co-ordinating was well above his pay-grade, and he hoped that the men in the airship knew how to take care of themselves.


Royal Naval Air Station Galvik
Galvik


Luck may not have been with those in the airship at the moment, but in the long term it might. Chance had made them fly the flightpath closest to RNAS Galvik and it was also chance that the station commander was a bit jumpy when pressed. As such, red lights and an alarm was blaring, and four DD80 Lightweight Fighters were being scrambled.
From the airship, Captain Evensen watched as the first roared off the runway, followed by three more in quick succession. Their orders were to observe, but the terrorist attacks of this year and three years previously had learned the commanders that the terrorists usually hijack airborne vehicles for one of two purposes - demand something political or they'll shoot the passengers, or crash it. They hadn't demanded, and as such the DD80s left with a load of air-to-air missiles. The pilots were wary of their load and it saddened them for the mere fact that they were carrying the missiles, but etched into their minds they thought it might be neccessary, and hoped it wouldn't be.
Evensen's mind was taken away from this as the airship as the final mooring line was let loose and the pilot eased the ship away, adjusting the control planes and the vectored thrusters.

"I want full speed once we reach two hundred metres!"

He yelled. If what the Colonel had said was true, and there had been a Hijack - although, looking at some of the Air Cavalrymen with their rifles and assorted weapons seated behind the gondola behind him, it probably was - they were in for some action. This ship, the S.R.F. Vasterfors, would rank somewhere between Aerodestroyer and Aerocruiser in the Alfegan system, armed with aplenty missiles and a 28mm autocannon in a dome under a reduced section of the gondola. Crewmen were manning the GPMGs on either side of the gondola, and once at 200 metres, they would accelerate to their 115kph full speed, with an even higher flank speed if they needed to.

"Here we go sir: fighters inbound. What are we to do?"
"They aren't going to attack yet. I think they've called our bluff for now, so we will give them a little something to consider."

The terrorist leader bent over the controls for the radio system, flicking to multiple-channel broadcasting, before taking the pilot's headset. He tapped the microphone to ensure it was working, before switching on the record button with a nudge from his jaw on the microphone unit.

"This is the Alfegos New Dawn, calling Antigran authorities. We are currently in complete control of this airship."
A lie, but what were they to know?
"Our demands are as follows. First, you will guarantee our safe passage from here to the capital of Antigr. Secondly, Antigr will release all New Dawn prisoners it has in its custody. A list will be provided on your acceptance. Finally, you will break all ties you have with the People's Nation of Alfegos. If you do not comply with any of our demands, then we will kill all passengers aboard the craft, before setting this on an unstoppable collision course with important capital structures. The airship has been strategically weakened, meaning that on impact it will not crumple as it should, but continue along a path of destruction until it runs out of momentum or the hydrogen core ignites. Do you comply?"

On the exterior gantry, a pair of men knelt in the cover of a rare gantry rail. One held the launcher unit ready, glass sight flipped open. The other held a large box-like unit linked to the airship power supply, which currently was automatically tracking the movement of one of the inbound fighters.
"When one of them passes within 200 metres of the airship, then we fire. That way, we might get a hit." Another man was much further along the gantry, heavy machine gun mounted on the rail as a deterrent to any fighter.
____________________________________________

The head steward heard the click of an empty gun as his hands closed around an assault rifle on the desk. The gun was cocked hopefully, confirmed very rapidly as he let rip a long burst of rounds in the terrorist's direction. As the terrorist grasped the knife and spun towards the Mokan, he suddenly collapsed as he felt searing hot pains across his body. Nine rounds pounded into his chest body armour, enough to break his remaining ribs and badly wind him. He collapsed, knife slamming into the floor a couple inches from the Mokan's side, breathing much more slowly.
"You win. I do surrender?"
_________________________________________________

"Brigadier"

The man had a concerned look on his face and a piece of paper in his hand. The Brigadier looked at him. He should really be on leave. Taking the piece of paper with his left hand, he unfolded it with his right and began to read. He was now at RNAS Galvik and had been hurried into the briefings room before he could mangle the Colonel.

"Shit, Shit...Lieutenant!"

"Sir"

"Take an order, will you?"

_____


A message was passed to the pilots. Their wing leader gave the order.

"Bravo Flight, Light the burners!"

They did so, staying in formation. Then he gave an order to widen their formation. Accelerating to well beyond the speed of sound, he aimed to dive low over the top of the airship and stun them. He adjusted the fly-by-wire control and hoped for the best.

_____


The Brigadier was in deep thought. He looked up as he heard a thud, then the door flew open and the Station Commander strode in, saluted, and planted himself in a wooden chair. he got straight to the point, drumming his fingers on the desk.

"They have total control, then?"

"Yes"

"I have an idea, although how in hell we're going to achieve it I really don't know"

"What is it?"

"The terrorists will be in the control gondola, yes?"

"Yes"

"And nobody would be stupid enough to put the hostages in there, would they? Where they can...upset the controls or some such"

"No"

"My basic idea is blow the control gondola to merry hell"

"Now, hold on. They may be stupid enough, for all we know. And they will be determined..."

"Determination, in my experience, does not stop a 28mm Armour-Piercing shell"

"Just hold your horses, Colonel. The airship could be out of control and we could put an airship and a lot of bodies in the back of some businessman's garden!"

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"I have a hunch. I don't think they have full control of the airship"

"What makes you think that?"

"A. Terrorists are untrustworthy. B. They must have very bad control if the passengers could get flares off for two minutes straight"

"It could have changed!"

"It could not. I will remind you of one thing, Colonel. A good friend of mine died in the 2005 Terrorist attacks in Ovsjo and I"

He paused before raising his voice to a deafening level, and sticking his face right in that of the Station Commander's.

"DO NOT NEGOTIATE WITH TERRORISTS!"

After regaining his composure, the Colonel spoke less assertively than before, and a bit quieter.

"We'll see what happens, then"

The leader listened to the radio in silence. No response.
"Please don't tell me this is a 'we don't deal with terrorists' lot in charge."
He switched on the microphone again, and began talking.
"You have failed to comply with our demands. If your fighters continue to advance on this airship, then we will be forced to lose mass to increase our speed and altitude. This means the removal of the entire main passenger gondola. The manifest shows one hundred and thirty four passengers, along with twenty four stewards. We have sealed the firewalls inside the gondola, so that movement between areas is impossible. If we are to eject the gondola, it will be impossible for them to escape."
The look on the pilot's face showed he was bluffing. But for how long would that be true?
"In addition, the airship's autopilot has been set to continue on its current collision course with the capital city. As you are well aware, the computer systems are not held inside the control gondola, so that any accident involving destruction of the gondola allows the airship to continue to a safe haven. Even if those fighters are able to destroy the gondola, they will not deter the airship from continuing on its current course."

He sighed, knowing that he was lecturing them too much. Time to try another ploy. He walked over to the guarded bunk area, and dragged out the surviving crew members.

"We wish to let you talk to the surviving airship crew. Here is the navigation system controller and the co-pilot to speak to you."

He cut off the microphone, before thrusting it towards the two other men. His other hand held a machine pistol, pointed at their chests. He smiled, before gesturing with his gun. The co-pilot began speaking, reciting from a piece of paper he had been given.

"I am Yusa Ha'su, the co-pilot of this airship. I am currently a hostage of the New Dawn Freedom Fighter group. I have been told to tell you to comply with the demands made by this group, otherwise all that he has said will come into effect. If the control gondola is attacked, I will be executed or left to die as a result of the Antigran attack. I plead you to comply with these men's demands."

OOC: Were they all knocked over by a big sonic boom? And is he bluffing in the sense that they can't eject the passenger gondola? If they can't, then we'd have the design papers somewhere and know they can't

(OOC: He was bluffing... but that doesn't mean he could fix explosives to the supports holding it on...)

"We've got our target!"
The airship shook slightly as the fighters rocketed past it, a large amount considering its length of 600m. Outside, the missile team had a perfect heat signature the missile could lock onto, without even the need for the designator. As the fighters dived past, he fired the missile launcher downwards so it would follow after the jet. The missile shot out the launcher before igniting, accelerating to supersonic speeds as it locked onto a powerful heat signature that would normally have been made by the designator. Whilst the man quickly reloaded, the other kept an eye out to look for the consequences of the impact.

OOC: I don't know what kind of rocket or what kind of guidance it has. I'm not that strong in plane design either. Speaking of which, maybe I should design a plane

IC:

The aircraft's laser dazzler activated automatically. Inside, the pilot looked down to the central multifunction display and pulled up rapidly. His hand flew over and hit a button, dispensing chaff from the rear of the plane, and aiming the nose for the sun.

Meanwhile, the flight commander yelled into his radio mouthpiece as they rocketed away.

"Faster and closer, come from the side! Let's see if we can knock those bastards off!"

What he meant was the sonic boom. Coming from up close and causing a sonic boom once they re-accelerated to over 761mph, he intended to cause it so close so as to knock them off the airship. He was what his friends called a nutter.

The targeter picked up his targeting unit as he moved away from the side to back inside: he'd lost power. The missile launcher man followed in his stead, aiming an assault rifle towards the enemy aircraft, now far in the distance but arching around.
"If they try to scare us by coming close, it's best to keep out the way: let's see how these idiots fare when they come past."

Below, the missile arched away, plummeting towards the ground as the infra-red sensor in its nose took a hit from the laser dazzler and lost signal. After a few seconds, the system restarted, the missile aimlessly circling as it looked for a target. The largest one it could find was instantly seized upon: the sun.

The machine gunner stayed stood in his position, pointing the .50 calibre machine gun at the now fast-approaching aircraft and letting off a rip directly at them: moving straight for him, they were perfect targets. He felt the entire gantry vibrating as the jets shot past the cables holding it up: if the pilots weren't extremely careful, they would hit one of these cables. Designed to take over 100 tonnes of load, the inch-thick steel ropes would easily slice an aircraft in two, without failing. The .50 cal machine gunner roared as he held on for dear life to the machine gun, ceasing fire as the entire gantry began rocking uncontrollably, reaching resonant frequency. Holding onto one of the cables firmly, he realised he had forgotten a parachute as he watched the planes only tens of metres away.

Luckily, it was difficult to aim a .50 calibre machine gun and aircraft changing position and moving at 800 miles an hour. However, the flight commander had returned to his senses, it seemed, and decided to call it a day. But he had one more idea. Bringing the aircraft round and allowing the turn to slow him down, he took aim through the crosshairs on the HUD and let loose a hail of 28mm rounds at the platform as he saw the gunner fire again. Two rounds thudded into the rear fuselage and he swooped over, wondering why he'd just done that.

"Bravo Flight, Bravo Actual, break formation and continue observation, over"

Upon his command they began to turn off towards where they were before and assume observation duties.

The machine gunner sighed as the aircraft shot away, leaving him to stand on the still-shaking platform. Around the platform, many holes were spread across the plastic gantry where the rounds had blasted near him going much further up along towards the gondola. Still shaking, he left the massive gun on its mount to stumble back to the gondola.
"I'm not doing that again! Is there somewhere I can bloody sit down?"
He collapsed into a seat, watching the two surviving crew members in their room passing a smile towards him. He picked up his assault rifle in a half-hearted attempt to scare them, before giving up. What was the point?
"If those Antigran fighters come close again, I can tell you that .50 cal gun is going right up their arses. I think I got a few hits on the bastard last time, so we might have at least one out of action."

He looked down at his leg, noticing it was moist. He rolled up his trouser legs, now seeing the entirety of his left side had been peppered with plastic and metal remains of the gantry and shells. Tiny wounds, varying in depth, but not noticeable on the adrenaline rush he was on.
"Give them Antigrans something to worry about."

________________________________

Over the radio, the leader hailed the people again.
"Simon said keep those fighter planes away from us. You apparently did not heed that, and attacked one of our men. As a result, we will be punishing you."
He took out his assault rifle, herding one of the two prisoners out onto the gantry. Here, he took a length of cable and waved at the fighters.
"You try and kill us. We kill one of the hostages."
The cable had been locked into a loop with the attachment on the end intended for hanging onto the metal. The other end was fastened into a similar loop around the side of a support beam.
"They say hanging by cable is a worse way to die than normal hanging. If you do not give us assurances as to you honouring our deal within ten seconds, this man will die. If he doesn't suffocate, he will fall a kilometre to his death. Thankyou."

____________________________________________

The head steward heard the click of an empty gun as his hands closed around an assault rifle on the desk. The gun was cocked hopefully, confirmed very rapidly as he let rip a long burst of rounds in the terrorist's direction. As the terrorist grasped the knife and spun towards the Mokan, he suddenly collapsed as he felt searing hot pains across his body. Nine rounds pounded into his chest body armour, enough to break his remaining ribs and badly wind him. He collapsed, knife slamming into the floor a couple inches from the Mokan's side, breathing much more slowly.
"You win. I do surrender?"
_________________________________________________

Nicolas finally got back to his...foot...the bad knee was now in no way able to hold any weight. Using his cane and the wall he started walking around the once again, down terrorist.

"God damn it! I do believe I am out of the fight for now, get me a chair and a gun, please! And what are we going to with this guy?"

Nicolas, using his left hand, picked up the assault rifle that he had left next to the supplies he pulled off the bodies.

"Now Mr. terrorist, give me a reason why we shouldn't kill you?"

The steward made sure the men was in his sights as the Mokan began questioning him. He moved the remains of a chair behind the desk to the Mokan, helping him down into it. The terrorist obviously was not going to be a threat now.

On the floor, the man began talking.
"If you kill me, you will definitely die. Do you know what he's going to do? Our leader? He's plugged the airship to crash into the Antigran capital. And I'm your only hope of stopping it."

"Well that's a good start, at first I thought you were were going to be one of those, devoted types who refuses to speak and at all dignified. Now I am just wondering if you are trying to make us run through a loop or if you would truly help us, because well, you were just shooting at me. How do I know you don't have any more tricks up your sleeve?"

Nicolas thanked the Steward for getting him a chair, now he could aim the rifle rather then just point it awkwardly at the terrorist.

[OOC: If they've got parachutes, maybe one guy should lose his nerve and jump out? It'll help the authorities and the storyline, but I won't lecture you on how to RP]

The Brigadier shook his head at the Station Commander. He shot him a look back and picked up the radio.

"We gave them direct orders not to attack. You have my assurance -"

The Brigadier mused. That was to get him listening, presumably.

"- I've got a few friends in the capital and I don't want 'em to die. This is personal to me, so you have my assurance, okay? You have my word, you see the fighters? Just look at 'em. They're going away. Just look. There, now, we've gone, but we've got to show good faith. Send the hostage back. No-one likes death, hundreds of prisoners can't be released in ten minutes, but I'll see to it. You can trust me, remember"

He ended the transmission and the Brigadier knew what he'd done. One day he might make a hostage negotiator. Hopefully, he'd worn the man down a bit mentally, as those things usually did. The Colonel looked back at the Brigadier - he had something else on his mind.

"What has New Dawn got against us? Something more sinister at hand?"

"I hope it's just paranoia, kid"

"Thankyou. Next time, we won't be so willing to negotiate with your authorities."
The leader switched off the radio, before dragging the man back to the crew quarters, still shaking violently. He collapsed on the floor, neck sore from where the cable had been.

"Men, we continue with our objective. We have fifty minutes now until we reach the capital, and can activate the final flight plan. So, until then, drinks are on me!"
A cheer came up as the leader opened the fridge in the crew quarters, tossing out a few bottles of cheap unlabelled drink. Everyone seemed to have cheered up, except for the man with the shrapnel in his leg. The pain was now cutting in, and a lifetime of morphine addiction meant that, even with the habit broken, he wouldn't be able to stop the pain without knocking himself out. He half-heartedly sipped from the bottle, before limping out into the crew stores. A small rail held crew survival kits with parachutes, hanging above large metal para-crates of supplies. Strapping one onto his back, he made sure the survival webbing that came with it was secured. The leader looked in on him as he adjusted the harness.
"You wanting to get out of this?"
"Not at all: I just feel safer with one of these on after those jets came past."
"I can assure you they won't be coming in the next half hour. They will only attack when we activate the final flight plan, or if they have enough guts to try boarding us. Which reminds me: you can go collect some hostages from the main gondola. If anyone resists, you know what to do."

The man limped out, muttering under his breath as he climbed the ladder into the interior walkway. Clambering along, he followed the series of numbers he had memorised, finally reaching the end of a gantry. Here, he leapt over before finding himself on the observation deck. The double doors just below were obviously locked, though he had a way of getting in. A small wad of plastic explosive had been slipped to him by the leader when he left. He had been told to leave it on the support struts, but instead had kept it. Now, he found it extremely useful as he flattened four parts against the hinges of the thick door. A short trail of wire later, and he was standing around the corner of the stairwell with a nine-volt battery and the two wires. He counted under his breath, before stopping. What was the point? He was still in great pain, with nothing that would come of this helping him. And with doubts as to the leader's motives, that all summed up to one thing. He stood by the heavy rail of the observation deck, before slipping under it. A two-foot gap led to the edge, and a second rail. Thick enough to stand on, he soon found himself looking down.
"Count to five, and pull. Count to five and pull."
He grasped the pull cord, before stepping off the edge.
"5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1."
He yanked the cord, feeling the chute launch upwards before jolting to a stop. Being a crew version, this was the full deal: a large metal bar to control movement, along with stabilisation chutes and the like. He grasped the bar, using it to steer the orange parachute towards what looked like a small town. At least there, he'd be able to quickly find some sort of transport.

Thirty seconds later, he found himself slowly gliding down into a car park. He started running before he hit the ground, slowly down as the parachute collapsed over him. He quickly untangled himself, leaving the large orange device on the ground as he looked about for any possible transport. Hopefully there wasn't a military or police presence nearby. But where was he?

OOC: a terrorist just bailed? any chance the steward or them would see the parachute going down?

IC:

Sjogardsvik, as with most towns, kept a police presence up. Mainly foot officers walking the beat in pairs, they were local 'bobbies' that knew the neighbourhood well. Officers Cajander and Valberg were near the town centre, having returned to quiet after the lunch-hour rush some two and a half hours ago. It was mid-afternoon, and despite their orders to keep an eye on the airship, they were making the most of the sun.

"Look, Marten!"

Cajander pointed to the airship. Following his finger, Valberg saw a parachute. He grabbed his radio.

"Dispatch, expecting any escapes from the airship, over?"

"Uh, no"

"We've got one escapee by parachute, over"

"Unidentified, if it was a passenger I expect more of them would follow. Pick them up, over"

"Will do, over"

They began jogging towards the end of the street as they saw the parachutist come down. As they jogged, the parachute came nearer to them. Nearer, nearer...they saw it come down in a raised single-level car park near the office block round the corner. They began running, as puzzled onlookers gazed at where the person had come down and of the policeman pelting towards them. They slowed down as they ran up the few low steps and the man stared at them.

"Hello there. Police"

(OOC: Yep - he'd be very visible on the way down. Bright orange parachute!)

The man finished kicking the parachute into a corner of the car park as he heard the police arrive. At least they announced themselves in a language he was fluent in - it'd make it much easier. He cocked the assault rifle, aiming it from his shoulder towards the police who had arrived.

"Hands on your heads, and don't say a word."

He watched the men, and let the gun drop in its sling onto his chest.

"Oh, what's the bloody point? You get me some pain killers, and I'll come with you without resistance. How does that sound?"


____________________________________


In the main gondola, the man smiled as he looked at the Mokan.
"You don't have a clue what we're going to do, do you? Even now, you're in danger. You see, you lot are all hostages to us. And we don't even need to send more people to keep control, because only the authorities know what we'll do if we don't get our demands. You lot are going to drop out of the sky. Parachutes or not, I'd like to see you get out of here in thirty seconds, whilst the whole of this gondola goes flying through the air. A thousand tonnes of metal and plastic, crashing into the ground below.

And if I did have any more tricks up my sleeve, why would I tell you? I know you have a few cards you're keeping close to your chest."
He looked at the head steward.
"Don't you? You see, that man there isn't any ordinary man. He's an Aeromarine, and at that a member of the "Golden Wing". You see the way he was shooting? Professional. His training means he can take part in duel jumps, and perform any sort of altitude jump necessary. Doesn't it?"

The head steward smiled.
"I'm surprised you noticed. Still, what does it matter if I can hit an Aureus at two hundred paces? You obviously aren't enjoying where I shot you. I knew you lot had body armour on all the time, which is why I shot all of you in the chest area. Except the bastard who tried to pounce on me. Enjoying your ribs?"
"Go to hell."
"You will if you don't talk to Nicolas. He's much better at talking than me, I must confess."

OOC: I've been skimming over the thread, and I was wondering, is there still room for Steve, the Sky Marshal? I'm trying to find out how I could restart in this thread. I've been busy with RL stuff, like school and all that.

(OOC - He's still with the other two in the reception area. Gunfight's ended, steward opens door to fire off distress flares, hands out parachutes. One of the bodies is still alive, and has a go at the others, and fails. The terrorist is now being interrogated by the Mokan and the Head Steward, with Steve assumed to be in the background with a pistol/assault rifle trained on the terrorist.

Meanwhile, Antigran authorities have been notified. They send fighters, fire off a few shots, move away. Terrorists make demands, threaten authorities with the death of captives. Injured terrorist decides to jump ship (literally), ends up in the hands of the Antigran authorities.
:-))

"You don't have a clue what we're going to do, do you? Even now, you're in danger. You see, you lot are all hostages to us. And we don't even need to send more people to keep control, because only the authorities know what we'll do if we don't get our demands. You lot are going to drop out of the sky. Parachutes or not, I'd like to see you get out of here in thirty seconds, whilst the whole of this gondola goes flying through the air. A thousand tonnes of metal and plastic, crashing into the ground below.

And if I did have any more tricks up my sleeve, why would I tell you? I know you have a few cards you're keeping close to your chest."

Nicolas pretended to ignore the whole part about the steward being an areomarine, hell he was relieved to know that everyone here knew how to fight, minus Mrs. Patrica in the corner of course, speaking of which.


To the steward:
"Could you get a parachute for our guest Mrs. Zimmerman i believe? If this is true I don't want to lose anyone here, at least."

With that Nicolas looked back at the terrorist, he didn't seem like he was to skilled at dodging questions, but then again all of this could be a bluff, he decided to humor the idea that they may have set up the gandola to blow, and see where this terrorist was taking the info...

"So what are your demands? and don't forget that you will be falling with us."

"Do I care if I fall and die with you? Only if my cause is not in vain. My family have been paid a hefty amount in anticipation of my death, and as far as I see it , I do not need to worry that much about my death.
But what are our demands? The New Dawn group is a partisan force spread across multiple countries. Our aim is to initiate a New Dawn - that is, that we overthrow the oppressive regimes in force in most countries, putting in place a fair government. This airship is our message to all to rise up: we are demanding the release of our prisoners, and holding their capital hostage.

But what do you know of fair regimes, Mr Villa?"

Nicolas felt the urge to kick the man in the teeth for insulting him in such a way, but luckily his mind caught up before instinct took over. Instead he took a second to recompose himself.

"Any revolutionary knows that taking civilians hostage only makes you look worse then the men you claim to be fighting. Any New Dawn force would know that if they were truly bent on creating fair governments. No, I don't think this is about freedom, I think you are lying to me. So I am going to give you another chance, we will start from the beginning. You said that you are the only hope of stopping this airship, explain, if not we will leave you here to die as you are."

"I-I'll go and get you an ambulance"

Constable Valberg turned round and began to walk slowly down the steps. With his back to the suspect, he slowly moved his hand to his front, and fiddled with a metal connector button. Suddenly, he turned round, Wiklander revolver in hand.

"Now we'll get you those painkillers"

"Well, Mr Villa, I doubt you can fly an airship? Neither can the Head Steward, to my knowledge. I watched the guy put in the autopilot gibberish to make the airship do what he wanted. I'm the only one who can walk in and turn off the autopilot without getting shot at the minute I enter.
I also doubt that you'll do well in a firefight if you try raiding the gondola. Matey over there's got a shot up hip and shoulder and you've rather over-exerted yourself Mr Villa. And a five-on-one battle is hardly going to go well for you lot, is it?
Then there's the matter of the explosive charges on the support struts to this gondola. How many hours do you want to spend searching for them? Especially since only one of you can currently walk.
But, as you said, holding hostages is not what a revolutionary government aims to do, since it wouldn't get their message across. And since you seem to be the 'good guys', I doubt that killing me would get your message across that well, would it?"

The terrorist smiled, watching the pent-up rage inside the Mokan. He knew he was hitting a nerve.

[OOC: Missed my post]

"You really going to shoot me with that? Let's see then: a guy in a light bulletproof vest with a pistol against a guy wielding an assault rifle which will easily punch through that vest of yours, and oh..."
He tapped his chest.
"Ceramic body armour. Just get me the painkillers or the ambulance, and don't you dare pull that pistol on me again."

"I've had a rifle pointed at me before"

Cajander was surprised by his colleague's calmness. He had a strange hollow feeling in his stomach.

"See the scar on my hand? That was from a three-three-eight magnum round. Twice he fired, he also put a round millimetres below my collarbone, I'm lucky the fragments didn't slice my - how do you say - spinal cord. I should've died. I'm not that afraid anymore. One man against a police force, the Territorial Guard, and the rest of anything you care to name, think about that very carefully. Your rifle isn't aimed at me very well. I've got this aimed at the middle of your face"

Meanwhile, a small gathering had appeared. Not very close, but they could see the standoff. They began to turn round as they saw a small flash of blue in the distance, and it got bigger. It was the police van that had been sent to pick them up.

"Nice scars. I won't bother showing you mine, but I've been shot many more times than you could care to mention. Hell, some bastard try to kill me with a musket once, but that's a completely different story.
But, as I said, I've had enough killing for today. And I don't want to show you my hand, as it were. Shall we say I still have quite a few cards close to my chest?"

Keeping the rifle aimed with one hand, he slowly reached into a chest pocket, removing a piece of airship structural rod, with wire still hanging from it. He'd been planning to make a pipe bomb, but hadn't got around to it. Hopefully, the police officer would realise.

"As I said, I've had enough killing for today. Before you could let off a shot at me, I would have this right in the middle of your bystanders. It'd be a case of me dead, but with a few tens of people injured or killed. And then there's the fact of how freely I'll give away my information to your people about the airship. I think you know what's happening, don't you. Want me to start a mass panic and tell the people what's going to happen?"

"Well, I think you'll know what's happening. You'll probably see blue light reflected off one of the cars. That's our police van, coming to pick you up. No doubt they'll be suspicious of our radio silence, and soon enough they'll see what's going on and call in some heavier support. Have you ever seen a fifteen-millimetre round go through a person? Even a person wearing body armour? You won't even stand a chance, my friend. However..."

Valberg very slightly lowered his revolver, changing the aim, his hand steady, his heart skipping a beat.

"...If I were to shoot you - and don't think I won't, a good friend of mine died in the 2005 terrorist attacks in Killinki - maybe the spasm would launch the pipe bomb at the crowd. However, if I shoot you in the right area of the neck, there will be no spasm. I will no doubt break your neck and you will die because your spinal cord is severed, and I won't bat an eyelid, Ja? If I see even the slightest aggresive movement from you, I will shoot. The ambulance won't come if you have a loaded weapon, unless you care to have those painkillers in your grave. Think about it. Just think"

Meanwhile, the police van had stopped. The two men inside could see the standoff and had stopped well behind them. They got out, revolvers in hand. One took aim from behind while the other pressed the red button on his radio, the distress button, before moving off to disperse the crowd, yelling in Antigran. Then he spoke quietly, in Antigran again, into the radio.

"Armed suspect, has rifle and appears to have body armour. Need assistance, over"

"You could shoot me in the neck, but by that time, I will have thrown the pipe bomb. Since you're the one who'll only shoot if I move aggressively, then I still will win on two accounts. The first being you end up turned to sushi. The second being the airship keeps going, and you don't have my help. Still, since I said I would come quietly..."
He moved his finger along the rifle, pressing the magazine catch to let the magazine fall onto the floor. Now to see how adept these men were with firearms. He left the rifle around his neck whilst he slowly bent down, placing the piping down on the ground. He continued by pulling up a trouser leg to reveal a boot holster for a knife, removing the holster to place it on the ground. He finally reached inside his trousers, to remove another large knife and a few magazines of rounds.
"Keep away. I have my foot next to that pipe bomb still. Now, I'll be seeing that ambulance soon please, or I might have to be less talk and more action."

"Ambulance isn't going to come unless you're unarmed. I'm sure there's painkillers in the first aid kit in the van. Cajander, go and get them"

His colleague hesitated for a moment before backing away. He ran over to the police van and opened the door, and found the green nylon bag behind the driver's seat. Digging around with his hands, he finally found a small tub with some pills in. Good enough. He returned and jogged up the stairs again, and chucked them at him.

"Here. Do take an overdose"

"I shall enjoy them."
The man opened the bottle, first checking the label. Aspirin.
"You know what, if you were even more stupid than you already were, I'd be able to convince you this gun fires flowers at you. Do you think aspirin is going to help me? It'll have to do for now though."
He took a pill to swallow, before tossing the container back.
"At least you noticed one thing. I hope."
He pulled back the bolt of the rifle slowly, letting the round in the chamber eject.
"I thought you might fall for the one where I leave one up the pipe. Still, I now have no live rounds, pyrotechnics, empty casings, edged weapons or parts thereof in my possession. So, where's that bloody ambulance now?"
He dropped the rifle on the ground, smiling.

"A pipe bomb is slightly lethal, so we were trained. Even so, I wouldn't trust you if we'd burned you to death"

Meanwhile, he could hear more sirens.

"I expect those'll be the marksmen"

"I told you that I wanted the ambulance. And I'm getting impatient. So I want to see it within two minutes or the bomb's going off, whether the marksmen are here or not. Remember, I told you I would come quietly if I got the ambulance. So, where is the ambulance? That is why we've got this nice big scene. How much more paperwork do you want to do?"
For the first time in this encounter, he was sweating. How could men be so stubborn? He knew he still had some final tricks if he needed, in the form of a knife concealed in his trouser belt. Why wouldn't these men just calm down and give him what he wanted? He was being reasonable enough.

"Well, Mr Villa, I doubt you can fly an airship? Neither can the Head Steward, to my knowledge. I watched the guy put in the autopilot gibberish to make the airship do what he wanted. I'm the only one who can walk in and turn off the autopilot without getting shot at the minute I enter.
I also doubt that you'll do well in a firefight if you try raiding the gondola. Matey over there's got a shot up hip and shoulder and you've rather over-exerted yourself Mr Villa. And a five-on-one battle is hardly going to go well for you lot, is it?
Then there's the matter of the explosive charges on the support struts to this gondola. How many hours do you want to spend searching for them? Especially since only one of you can currently walk.
But, as you said, holding hostages is not what a revolutionary government aims to do, since it wouldn't get their message across. And since you seem to be the 'good guys', I doubt that killing me would get your message across that well, would it?"

"You are not a civilian, you are the enemy....your death is acceptable. However you do make some good points. So what would we have to do to get you to show us the explosives?"

Nicolas knew that this guy was poking and prodding, most prisoners do when being interrogated, especially the ones with a head on their shoulders. The question was what was he planning on doing?

"Well, for a start, point that gun away. I'm sure that you realise most people have an allergy to having a... sorry Aeromarine, "rifle" pointed at them. Makes them act irrationally. Then we can talk about you letting me get off this airship without being shot any more. Do we have a deal?"

The man wriggled as he took his overshirt off, revealing a set of Osprey Enhanced Body Armour. Across it were eleven points where the rounds had struck, now stuck in the ceramic plating. He used an arm not hit to unhook the shoulder straps, before slipping the entire unit off.
"That's the last time I'm using that. Next time, maybe some more padding? Of course, it's better than nothing."
Most of the rounds were centred around the heart area, courtesy of the men's good aiming.

"We can discuss your chances of getting off this ship alive, but as for this gun...I may want to keep on you, just in case you get a bad idea in your head. Now where are the explosives?"

The blood on Nicolas' parachute and clothes was starting to get sticky and thicken up, it wasn't very comfortable, but it was bringing up memories from a time long ago. Back before Mokastana new anything about being humane,

......let the blood of their children flow form rivers leading to their door....

Needless to say Nicolas had learned to harden his heart, to bury feeling of hatred and anger so strong it nearly cost the revolution, but now some of those feelings were coming up. Nicolas was good at hiding them, but if anyone looked closely, they could see the insanity building in his eyes.

"Fine"

Valberg said.

"We'll get the bloody ambulance, but don't expect them to be friendly"

He began to speak into his radio.

"Need a medical unit here, over"

"Excellent, Antigrans. Since I know it will arrive, here."
He took his foot off the wires, and nudged it away.
"Now, what would you do if I told you that of pipe was completely harmless? I told you that you were gullible, but enough to believe that was a pipe bomb? Anyhow, want a nice civilised chat now?"
He slowly walked over to a nearby wall, sitting on the ground against it, resting his leg on the ground.
"So, the weather's looking nice, isn't it?"

_____________________________________

Up in the gondola, the terrorist could see his words were working. Break the group apart, and they would be no threat.
"I can't really tell you, since there aren't really that good directions up there. But there are six explosives, each fixed to a major support beam. The idea is that, if six of the eight fail, the gondola's weight will rip itself off. We took out the emergency support cables, so there should be no problem with those. Take me up there, and I will show you."

"Well, your bluffing is impressive"

Valberg took a look at the ambulance in the background. They were near the hospital, so it would arrive fairly quickly.

"If circumstances were different, you could play Poker with us. Nice thing with the rifle; however, whether a round could remain in the chamber would depend on the order in which a magazine is ejected from the rifle and whether it fired from an open or closed bolt. I may be gullible, but I can operate a firearm. You're lucky you parachuted in nice weather. You may well have had your parachute shredded by hail, for which some fancy crockery strapped to your chest won't have insured against"

Cajander could see the ambulance driver now. The VW Transporter had slowed down and was drawing to a stop. The driver turned the wheel and the vehicle pulled in in front of the police van. It seemed the reinforcments had been called off for now - they could handle the man fairly well without a weapon. A medical technician jumped out the back, carrying a big green shoulder bag, and approached the terrorist.

"Indeed. The thing is, do I still have anything on me which could constitute a threat? Knowing what a slippery customer I am... but you seem not to realise that if a rifle is cocked with a loaded magazine in, then a round will still enter the chamber doubtless of whether it's open bolt or closed bolt. And since the AF-07 is rotating bolt, I don't think much applies."

He saw the ambulance pull up, the medic moving over towards him.

"Finally. That complete our deal. Once he's patched me up, I'll come quietly. While I'm here though, have the rest of my kit."

He reached into his trousers, taking out a wad of Alfegan Aureus bills, and tossing them over to the police. In addition, he removed his trouser belt, taking out a small blade concealed inside it. The final item he took off was his body armour, unstrapping it before slowly placing it on the ground.

"There's a couple thousand Aureus for you. Use it well, and don't squabble over it."

With the armour removed, it was easy to see a series of red marks all up his side in a straight line, right up to his neck. At that height, a few pieces of plastic could be seen in the wound. He smiled, before standing up as the medic approached.

"Right then"

The Medic was a bit unnerved by the numerous weapons on the ground, but he put that to the back of his mind and began to sum up his english vocabulary.

"Hello. My name's Marten. Sit down. Now, this looks like shrapnel, what happened?"

"Got it when I was shot at by a fighter plane. I think what I got hit with was a mix of steel shrapnel and plastic thrown up from the gantries. I guess you don't get that every day do you?"

He rolled up his trouser leg, revealing little red lacerations all the way up his leg, a few still oozing blood.

"Got it about twenty minutes ago. It does hurt like buggery though."

"I'll give you an injection which will help the pain, but I don't know how deep or how large these fragments are. It doesn't seem to be an unbearable source of pain, but the injection will help. I'll give you morphine, but not too much, it has some nasty side-effects. Do you want to come with me, and we'll go to the hospital - would you rather sit up, or do you want a stretcher?"

"I can still walk, so I'll come to the hospital with you. Don't give me any morphine though: I used to have a habit, so it won't work at all. Do you have anything else painkiller-wise?"
He pulled himself up using the wall, dislodging the assortment of weaponry at his feet.
"Not every day you get a patient like me, eh?"

[OOC: The wiki article on Analgesics was useless. Forgive my medical man sounding like an amateur]

"No, certainly not. Well, I can give you some painkillers that you inhale, although they aren't as strong, a form of anaesthetic. Well, let's go to the ambulance; do you need some help walking?"

The medic got up, ready to go back to his vehicle.

"I'll have that then. I'll be able to walk over to the ambulance myself."
The man began walking alongside the medic, past the police and towards the ambulance.

Marten got into the ambulance after the man and shut the big rear door. He heard the engine rev and the ambulance made a tight turn in the middle of the road, before driving away in the direction of the hospital, siren wailing.

Inside, the medic offered the man an inhalation mask.

"Here. It'll take away the pain"

Up in the gondola, the terrorist could see his words were working. Break the group apart, and they would be no threat.
"I can't really tell you, since there aren't really that good directions up there. But there are six explosives, each fixed to a major support beam. The idea is that, if six of the eight fail, the gondola's weight will rip itself off. We took out the emergency support cables, so there should be no problem with those. Take me up there, and I will show you."


Nicolas looked at the steward and the Sky Marshall, who had no doubt been listening to this. Wondering if they believed this madman or if they should just ignore his threats, of course since the Sky Marshall was the only one that could walk...that would make things a little more complicated...

unless mrs. Patrica could do something, but she was just staring off into space, hands on her purse and curled up.

The man took a deep breath through the mask, feeling the effect of the gases almost instantly behind his eyes as he suddenly felt drowsy. He smiled, before lying back on his seat.
"Good stuff this. Anyhow, how bad do you reckon the wounds are? Permanent injuries, or just temporary wounds?"