infinitest | Flashpoint

On cue, the ship is rocked by... something, that sends most people tumbling to the floor; the good news is that artificial gravity also fluctuates a bit, so the falls are not as hard as they could be.

The Jedi did not fall... she helps the Twi'lek up. "I guess the rumors were true; I should go to the bridge, see if I can help."

"Its never too late to try." The Twi'lek nods, and the jedi hurries away, her Trandoshan companion following close.

Annabelle makes herself known to the Twi'lek. "Should we head to the bridge as well?" she asks, "or is there somewhere else we ought to head to and start dealing out the trouble in kind?"

The woman is a bit surprised, but nods to Annabelle. "If you want to help, I recommend the bridge too; the captain is the best qualified to decide what needs to be done."

Annabelle nods. "Good luck to you."

Then she takes off for the bridge at a run. Hopefully, Corso will follow.

Corso is right behind her; he left his rifle in the cabin, but of course he brought the pistol and vibroblade.

They do not go very far before finding that several of the service droids seem to have gone haywire and attacked crew and passengers.

The way the droids were taken apart shows the Jedi and the Trandoshan are good fighters too.

Hey, there they are, entering that lift.

Might as well catch the same lift up, right?

Annabelle calls a greeting to the duo as she makes for the doors.

The jedi seems to have cast off her light coat for the sake of mobility. "Greetings." My, what beautiful green eyes.

...and it might be that her tube top stays on by the grace of the Force?

"Greetings," Annabelle replies. Annabelle's eyes are a dark blue.

Annabelle is betting on glue. Damn it, it's not fair that someone who's supposed to be celibate is that hot!

The lift door closes right behind them and begins its ascent. "Nice work on those droids back there."

The Jedi nods. "They were sliced, but not remotely."

The Trandoshan says something in his own language, and the Jedi nods again. "We will let the Captain know."

"Someone on board's in on it then, most likely," Annabelle says with a sigh. "Is no one on the up and up in this galaxy?"

Yeah, she's aware of the...irony of a criminal making that statement.

"The Master Hunter agrees, the attackers had some of their own in the ship. Maybe as crew, maybe as passengers." The Jedi dashes off as the lift stops and the door opens; one crewmember steps up to say something, likely to stop her from entering the bridge, and she waves a hand at the man, who stops and stares blankly into nothing.

The bridge is a mess, a few consoles burned out, several crew injured. Two men are standing by the viewscreen.

"You are in charge now, Captain. What we should do?" says the tall, rotund one.

"Do? Weapons are out, shields are out, engines are out, and that thing has us trapped in a tractor beam." He gestures at the viewscreen; holy mother of space, that is a huge ship! "We are done for."

Annabelle makes a note of the crewman's suddenly staring out into space. Looks like the tales about Jedi being able to mess with your head ARE true.

"It's a Harrower Dreadnaught," she says, her tone a little off. "I'd...rather hoped that I'd never see one up close."

She shakes herself a bit, trying to clear her head. "Not done for as long as we're still breathing," she argues.

"Consular Onemi Arael." The jedi says, and shows a badge to the captain. "I'm a Republic Field Commander, Lieutenant equivalent. Calm yourself down, Captain; this woman is right, if the Imperials wanted us dead, they could have destroyed the Esseles already."

The man blinks in surprise, and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry for losing my temper, Lieutenant. I'm First Officer Haken, currently in charge of this ship." He gestures to the tall, big man. "This is my second-in-command, Ensign Plex."

Annabelle nods and introduces herself and Corso to the hot Consular, the First Officer, and his second.

"Good to meet all of you, although I would have preferred it be under better circumstances."

"They want the ship intact. I'd guess there's either someone on ship important enough that they want a captive or the ship is carrying something that they want."

It's why she'd pull a job like this!

"It makes sense." The jedi nods.

"Also why they have someone already inside, sabotaging your systems." Corso pipes up, and the Trandoshan grunts his agreement.

"But..." Haken starts, but the comms officer interrupts. "Captain, the Imperial ship is hailing us."

"What? Well... put them on." Talking beats being shot at, after all.

The image of a tall, ruggedly handsome man in Imperial uniform appears in the ship's main Holo. "Republic ship Esseles, I'm Grand Moff Rycus Kilran. You are transporting a known anti-Imperial terrorist and seditionist, the so-called Ambassador Vyn Asara. I've come to collect her." Well, right to the point.

Haken shakes head, stepping forward. "You must be mistaken, this is a simple passenger ship, and we received no diplomatic envoys aboard."

"Hm." The Moff rubs his chin. "Lying, or simply incompetent? No matter, my agents already confirmed the presence of Ambassador Asara aboard the ship. A shuttle will be docking with your main airlock, and I suggest you cooperate with my men. Kilran out."

"Wrapping this 'Ambassador Asara' up and handing her over seems like the easiest way to fix this problem, assuming she's actually here."

"Where is your main airlock, Captain?" The jedi obviously disagrees with Annabelle. "I will hold off the boarders while you think of a solution."

"Are you crazy?" Ensign Plex raises his voice. "She is right, we have to find this 'ambassador' and send her off, or they will kill us all."

Haken intervenes. "No, Plex, that is Rycus Kilran, the Butcher of Coruscant; the moment he gets what he wants, he will destroy the Esseles and kill us all."

"Right, makes sense, he wants this Asara person and will not blow up the ship and lose her." Corso agrees. "Keeping the Imps out buys us some time."

"Figures the easy way was too good to be true," Annabelle allows. "You want help at that airlock?"

The jedi nods. "I would, yes."

"Take the first hallway right out of the bridge, and then take the lift down three levels." Haken directs them. "I'll have our security chief, Commander Narlock, meet you there."

Annabelle nods. "Sounds good." Hopefully, there will be a plan before they get overwhelmed.

Annabelle starts heading for the hall. "I've never gotten to see a lightsaber used in combat before, should be interesting," she says to the Consular with a grin.

"Likely." The woman nods, hurrying along, and... well, she moves with the kind of grace that encorages someone to linger a bit back and watch.

Its not far to the airlock, where they find the security chief and four armed guards. "Oh, you must be the ones the Captain was talking about. See, men? We will not be fighting alone; we have some very experienced volunteers. Imps will not have time to even figure out from where the fire is coming."

Good thing Annabelle can watch and run at the same time. (Hey, she might be about to die, might as well enjoy what time she's got left!)

"Shouldn't be too bad, long as we hold them here. A choke-point's a defender's best friend."

"The master hunter and I will take point." The jedi nods to her Trandoshan companion, and the big lizardman readies his electrosword. "You all get to cover, and give us cover."

Right on cue, the sound of a laser torch is heard against the airlock doors; Narlock scatters his men behind bulkheads.

Annabelle gets herself behind a bulkhead as well. Cover is important when you can't deflect blasterbolts.

Annabelle grins to Corso, her blood already pumping. "Didn't mean to get you involved in this kind of trouble, but it's good to have you at my back."

"What is life without some crazy impossible fights?" Corso actually chuckles, readying his blaster.

Onemi walks close to the doors, and hits the 'open' switch; the result is nearly comical, the soldiers who were cutting the doors fall forward, giving a clear line of sight to the boarders behind them.

Oh, look, blaster-packing people: a bunch of stationary targets, crowding a narrow space...

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