Angel scans the bay for anything resembling a target, then positions himself for overwatch while the team regroups.

"Hey Sarge, no knocking the sneaky types. You'll hurt our feelings..."

Hugh passes the frisbee off to Stanhill, who trots back over to Mellish.

"Errgh... lay it on me, doc," Mellish grunts. The artifact does its work once more, covering Mellish's shoulder wound with a fresh batch of tan, mottled skin.

Meanwhile, Semo cautiously advances into the shuntway. It's not as cold as he remembers - perhaps the warm air from the hangar bled through or he's just prepared for it this time. The sniper is definitely dead. His ribcage is exposed on his left side, with a ragged trail of gore leading to small chunks of what used to be his face and left arm. Semo finds the frisbee the sniper must have used to heal himself from the first onslaught, as well as his twisted and useless beam rifle. The frisbee looks none the worse for wear save for two splinter-like airburst fragments that are protruding from one side. Semo also notices some minor damage to the outer hull from the blast. More important is what Semo doesn't find. No beam-shots lance out from the darkness, and Semo can't make out any more attackers in the maze of supports, gantries, and tunnels beyond.

The dead Imperials are rolled for weapons and equipment - pretty soon the team has a number of beam rifles, swords, and stinger handguns. More care is shown with Taylor's gear. As the team lacks body bags, the dead sergeant is dressed in one of the baggier vacuum suits from the Morningstar.

Davis applies a neck seal to make sure his female captive is truly out cold, then strips her of armor and equipment. The woman's armor itself loosens slightly once the helmet is removed, the hard plating flexing a bit over the pressure suit. Apparently once it's under power, the armor tightens to the wearer. Maybe to compress wounds, maybe to provide structural integrity for vacuum. The cloaking capabilities also reset the suit to a dull gray.

Now that he can see his attacker's face, Davis' suspicions are confirmed. It is indeed the bodyguard from the market, who marked him during Swims-the-Black's meeting with the Imperial official Talia het Malenko.

Max is groggy from the battering he took during the battle, but he sets back to work without complaint. One-Ton's face appears from the still-gaping airlock housing and calls, "Are we clear?"

Davis gets on the radio. "Swims-the-Black, is there somewhere in the ship that can't be heard from the outside where I can get some privacy?"

admiralducksauce wrote:

Max is groggy from the battering he took during the battle, but he sets back to work without complaint. One-Ton's face appears from the still-gaping airlock housing and calls, "Are we clear?"

Max momentarily looks up from the panel he's repairing.

"Yeah, but I'm not gonna feel safe until we've left. Let's finish the repairs and get the hell out of here."

One-Ton straps into his repair harness and replies, "On it. I'll hoist the airlock door up here, you'll need to weld."

Swims answers Davis over vox: *Of course. The mess should suffice for whatever noise you're planning on- I'm getting a transmission over the port channel.*

There's a squawk of static as rarely-used outer vox-speakers crackle to life, then Swims patches the transmission through.

*Freighter Morningstar, our readouts show your shuntway and hangar airlock are jammed. We also are getting reports of explosions. What the hell is going on in there?*

As the rush of battle slowly fades, you start noticing the awful, just terrifyingly horrible smell that's beginning to waft through the hangar. The burnt flesh of the dead, the gunsmoke, and above all, the rancid protein that covers the deck in a greasy sheen combine to create an absolutely offensive odor.

Semo feigns shock in response to Angel's comment. "Wait - are you claiming to have feelings, now, Specialist? Damn. Now I've heard everything."

The sargeant can be heard still chuckling as he makes his way down to the shuntway entry. However, on arrival, he becomes all business again. He works his way along, one support at a time, visually sweeping the area as he goes.

The sniper is a mess; there's gobbets of flesh everywhere. You'd need a doggy bag to send him home to mommy. The frisbee appears little worse for the wear, so he snags that. One final sweep and he heads back, putting in a call to the cap as he goes.

"Shuntway appears clear, Top. Recommend shutting the cargo hatch, if we can. Got the sniper's frisbee-thing; the rest was trashed."

Any normal day Max would probably be the first to point out the smell of several hundred gallons worth of putrid protein shake settling on the floor near him, but this isn't exactly a normal day. No, pretty fucking far from being a normal day. Pulling down his goggles, he goes about sparking up his arc welder and starts securing the new airlock door.

"Good. I need our captive and all the dead bodies moved there. This is going to have to be some sort of record if we're going to be ready for show time. And Captain Verrill, you mind letting me handle our friends outside?"

"Sure thing, Davis. I just hope that frisbee didn't fry your bullshit cortex."

Hugh gets his hands dirty stripping gear and checking the downed turai for life. The techs can handle the airlock, and he needs some work to take his mind of the smell.

"Swims-the-Black, patch me through to control." Davis waits to hear their voices, then keys down, panic in his voice. "P-port control, this is Morningstar! We were just attacked by Turai commandos out of nowhere! We've got wounded and dead here! Oh, Whetu, they got Taylor!" Davis pauses for a second, and stays keyed down while breathing rapidly, in a panic, and slowly brings his breathing under control. "I think you should come down here, there's something we need to tell you." He keys off.

Davis looks at Hugh. "I need Semo over here, now."

Hugh gives Davis a skeptical look, but turns his head and calls for Semo.

"Sarge! Grab your tux, the CIA needs your help."

Davis looks around for Arketta. "Arketta, if you were going to blow up this station, what would the explosives you'd use look like and how many would there be?"

"Yes, sir!" Semo snaps, hiding the grin trying to creep onto his face. Tux, indeed!

Trotting over, XM-25 still in hand, Semo looks the spook in the eye. "Reporting as ordered, Mr. Bond."

Arketta looks up from cataloging the gear of the dead, thinks a bit, and answers, "Ordinarily you'd detonate a few sunballs inside critical areas and take the station, but if you were going for damage... reactive slurry's pretty hard to detect. You'd need a bit of it, probably disguise it inside a false lakas mana... our reactors, or 'coffin' artifacts. Or enough standard charges would do the job. They're cylinders about this big" - she motions out a tube about the size of a 2-liter soda bottle - "old Samal Akor gave Dr. Kilgore a neutron charge keyed to a vox-detonator and told him it was an interstellar communicator." Arketta chuckles at the thought.

"I think the next question on our spook's lips is how we can fake one of these," Hugh cuts in.

"We'll need a sealable cylinder and something to mock up as a detonator - the more unfamiliar to my people the better. Charges are heavy, so we need to-"

Arketta's interrupted by the speakers.

*Copy that, Morningstar. Hang in there. We're sending help.*

"So, um, so we need something dense to fill it with."

On a slightly different note, Semo had noticed that the shuntway door appeared mostly undamaged before he rejoined the team in the hangar. It should close without any problems - and in order for the Morningstar to leave, it must be closed.

As far as he can tell, the shuntway doors are okay. Thus, he starts looking around for some means to close them. To his way of thinking, there should be some kind of controls near the sides of the doors, probably just inside the hangar bay.

There certainly are - a manual lever with accompanying control panel is pretty much exactly where Semo thinks one should be. It looks like it was scrambled by a device similar to the gatecrasher that Davis used on Botane. With no security currently checking for authorization, all Semo has to do is pull the lever and the shuntway doors begin their grinding dance, finally cycling shut with a dull clang.

As the doors shut, everyone but Max (currently preoccupied with getting the door attached to the ship) hears One-Ton bellowing something that echoes through the bowels of the ship. The shipboy soon appears above Max, standing in the open space for the airlock. The crimson child tosses a heavy length of hydraulic sleeve down to the deck. One edge is still smoking - One-Ton must have just severed the cylinder from somewhere inside.

admiralducksauce wrote:

One edge is still smoking - One-Ton must have just severed the cylinder from somewhere inside.

Max notes the hydraulics.

"Thanks, kid."

The shuntway doors closed, Semo turns to the grim duty of getting Sargeant Taylor's body stowed aboard.

Once that's done, he receives Hugh's order and reports to Davis. [As posted previously.]