Semo wipes his sword off on something other than his own clothes and sheathes it.

"Shouldn't we be scrambling outta here? Didn't that Turai helmet Max got last time have some kind of tracking system? Seems like somebody's gonna know that these two just died..."

Angel frowns, keeping his pistol drawn in case the team has drawn some attention.

Davis wipes the blood off his face. "Fuck. That definitely didn't work out as well as I'd hoped." He puts the pistol back in the crate. "Semo's got a point. We'd better take what we can from the bodies and get out of here." He turns to Hugh. "Marching orders?"

As soon as the fight is over, Hugh is back in control.

"Doc, search 'em for tech we can use. Sarge, Angel, get those weapons stashed. Davis, clean yourself up. Stanhill, make a note in the mission log."

He mutters a "Jesus fucking Christ" under his breath.

Arketta dives into the two dead bodies alongside Max, explaining their equipment to the scientist tersely and quickly.

"Weapons scanner" - the wandlike device the male Kansatai swept over the crate. "Gatecrasher, Kansat model, the tracker's been disabled" - the wristband that got you into the hab-module in the first place. "Let's see about their voxes."

Arketta pulls the helmet off the woman with a sticky slurkk and pries out a 4-inch length of wiring attached to a small disk. "Kansat vox. Maybe you can use it to find out how fucked we are." Arketta doesn't even consider their weapons worth taking.

Next up are the two cops' PDA-like devices, about the size of a large cookie. "Very useful, but traceable. They connect to the Kansat cortex. I'd leave them."

Finally Arketta pulls a handful of what look like grocery store cards, the small kind that fit on a keychain. "Some cash, mostly local credit. Not going to last long."

With the adrenaline of combat comes that rush of heightened awareness. Angel's "wrong-o-meter" is in the red. Was the noise off the street outside this loud before things went down? That hum... is that 'skimmer' the Kansatai mentioned descending?

admiralducksauce wrote:

With the adrenaline of combat comes that rush of heightened awareness. Angel's "wrong-o-meter" is in the red. Was the noise off the street outside this loud before things went down? That hum... is that 'skimmer' the Kansatai mentioned descending?

"Captain. I believe it's time we moved to somewhere less...bloody." suggests Max, leaving the PDAs and stowing rest the plundered tech in his backpack for later use.

Max keeps Kansat Vox handy for monitoring on-the-go.

Getting his orders from the captain, Semo sees to sealing up the crate with the "merchandise" and prepares it for transport.

"Ready."

"Not disagreeing, Doc, but if that noise outside is trouble, we need a more creative exit strategy than the way we came in."

Hugh starts looking for an alternative exit. If anybody was watching them going in, they might get suspicious when the team goes out without the cops. Also, if somebody's already waiting for them, trying to get out the main door is just asking for trouble.

Gatac wrote:

"Not disagreeing, Doc, but if that noise outside is trouble, we need a more creative exit strategy than the way we came in."

Hugh starts looking for an alternative exit. If anybody was watching them going in, they might get suspicious when the team goes out without the cops. Also, if somebody's already waiting for them, trying to get out the main door is just asking for trouble.

"Oh, I'm all for a plan that doesn't involve shooting more cops in the face just because they don't agree with our terms. I'll all fucking ears." replies Max, glaring at Davis for his antics.

Davis considers getting into a shouting match with Max, but decides that's an activity best undertaken when there's a lower chance of them being ambushed by a couple of squads of soldiers, and starts looking for another way out.

Angel stashes the pistol and unslings his rifle, sliding the safety off.

"Captain? Something's up outside."

"Noted."

"Save it for the enemy!" Taylor barks. "You heard the captain, pack it up and move it out! Mellish, you're trailer! Sumo, with me and the crate!"

Max is trying to get a signal from the scavenged vox. He's got an ingenious little gizmo of his own invention plugged into the USB port on his Toughbook - all he needs to do is find the "glowing spaghetti" on any Imperial device and clip it into the alligator teeth on the USB attachment. His laptop runs a translation program to his first alien widget, hardwired into the Toughbook's frame, and Max hits paydirt.

*bzzzt... skrrrrtports of suspicious activity, Hab 3, quarter 45 mark 7 dash 10. Recon in progress.*

Hugh finds the back door first. A wave over the unencrypted holo-panel reveals a spiderweb of gantries, a combination fire escape and double-decker back alley. Steam (or something) plumes rise from exhaust ports and refuse bins lie in what must be areas for drone pickup. There's cover from aerial units due to the two-level nature of the alley and sight lines are severely hindered, but it's a good bet they could still track you from the air, even if they can't shoot you.

Davis finds another possibility. A chest-height panel with glyphs proclaiming it to be a utilities access hatch. The hatch refuses to open at first, but the stolen Kansat Gatecrasher cycles it open with a protesting whirr-clunk. Davis backs away from the open hatch, his eyes tearing up at the smell. It's dark, it stinks, and it's cramped, but there's no way the cops could track you from the air.

There's a high-pitched squeal at the front door. An electronically-enhanced voice pipes through the hab-module's internal systems:

*This is a Kansat sweep. Failure to comply with regulations will result in your pacification.*

No time to waste - and no time to go through that vent.

"*Everybody out through the alley. Taylor, you're leading! Stanhill, you're on the defense with me!*"

He brings up his rifle and aims at the front door. Anybody who tries to come in through there will catch lead.

Hearing Hugh's orders, Semo jumps to, double-timing the crate out through the back as quickly as he can. "On it, sir!"

Davis looks longingly at the vent, then leaves it open as a distraction and pockets the Gatecrasher on the way out the back door.

As Davis opens the vent, Max chucks both of the procured PDAs down the tube in hopes of a more convincing distraction.

*Can't talk, leaving.*

Taylor explodes out the back door, sweeping his weapon across the myriad nooks and crannies in the shady, creaking, metal lattice connecting Hab 3's living quarters. Arketta and Semo are next out. Arketta covers Semo and the crate with her SCAR.

Max gets another intercept from the Kansatai vox network. *Offenders are moving! Hit the hab!*

Mellish pushes Max out the door in front of him. The Hebrew Hammer stands by the doorway to usher Davis out a moment later. Angel's halfway out when the front door slides open, revealing a spherical drone, perhaps 2/3rds the size of the Turai attack drones. An angry red light pulses in its orange-and-black shell, thumping in time with a voice broadcast from the machine:

"Put your weapons down and get on the ground! Do it n-"

*BADABANG* *BOPBOP*

Hugh and Luis fire a three- and two-round burst, respectively, into the drone. The rounds punch through and the machine splits apart, fireworks spilling from its shell. Max gets the tail end of another transmission:

*Backup is two minutes out, I'm tracking offenders moving west through the hab connectors.*

*Understood - dropteams are inbound.*

*Hold - I'm also reading Kansatai trackers in the building's aux. They're splitting up! Alert industrium control, we need agents down there!*

"That'll piss 'em off," Mellish quips, trailing after Angel. "Whoa - contact high!"

A twin of the first recon drone arcs down from the skimmer circling above Hab 3 and darts into the twisting alleys. It's moving as fast as a greyhound and it's making a piercing, wailing siren. Disorienting lights flash from ports on its exterior, turning the already shadowy connecting alleys into a strobing mishmash of crossbeams and grids of black.

Taylor leads the team through the claustrophobic alleys with no real idea where he's headed. He ducks and weaves around support beams and cross-bracing, changing direction at random.

"Talk to me, Max!" he shouts back.

*Offenders on bearing 282 towards Hab 4. They're heading for the EPIA!*

*Unit 6 - My drones are intercepting on grid 8, 3 seconds.*

Taylor spins to the right and heads down another branch just as two more drones, their strobes flashing, scream down the alley you were in a moment ago. There are three drones now, right on Hugh's tail. It's all he can do to keep his eyes on Luis in front of him. The drones' aural and visual assault, combined with the confusing terrain, is like dropping a dozen flashbangs into one of those Laser Tag arenas and then trying to walk a straight line.