| abstract
| - ""Holding Cell 1"" The holding cell is spartan, with only the bare essentials being utilised. In fact, it could be classed as less than spartan, as the bed is only just a metal base with no matress to make it more comfortable to sleep on. A biddet rests in one far corner, same as a shower that rests in the other. This cell is sealed with a field, simular to that prevents people from returning to the crew quarters. The walls are bare and smooth, same as the floor. The deckhead exposing piping and nothing more. Thu Jun 14 13:15:55 3007 The sound of someone coming makes their way down the hall. In fact, it's actually the sound of someone skipping down the hall way. "Mister Razorback! Mister Razzzooorbaack!" the young girl bellows as she makes her way in front of the field. Razorback's ears twitch in agitation. With a slight inward groan, he sits up in his bunk. "Missss Whissperrr," he replies quietly. "What brrrings you back sso ssoon?" "Nothing," Whisper replies, as she looks up to the Demarian. "I was sooo bored, that I decided to come say hello." She pauses for a moment, before offering a smile and a toothy grin. "Hello!" A deep chuckle emanates from the Demarian's throat. "Has anyone told you that yourrr name is anything but apt?" he asks rhetorically, his visage softening somewhat. "Well, how have you been doing?" Whisper gives a bit of a shrug. "Alright," she says, giving a disheartened sigh. "Missing Unky Andrew." She then makes her way towards the edge of the field, leaning against the wall. Her voice drops and seems to take on a mature tone. "Mister Tiller says that he'll have things organised on his end in a day or so... Be ready." Razorback frowns tighly, his ears flattening out. "I am confused about all this. Why is Missterrr Tillerrr inssissting that he needs my help. If you arrre any indication, I am prrrobably the leasst physically capable being on thiss vessssel." Whisper gives Razorback a long look and shakes her head. "I don't know how to fight," she states, frowning a bit. "I'm only twelve... I suppose I could throw my flute at them." Razorback nods slightly, accepting this. "That would make ssensse. And thiss sship'ss ssecurrrity detachment, arrre they ... alterrred in any way?" Whisper gives a slow nod. "Unfortunately," she comments, giving a sigh. Her attention remains on the door in the distance, as if keeping an eye out. "But Mister Tiller will be able to find a way to distract them." Razorback considers this, nods after a moment. "I ssee," he replies carefully. Whisper's entire personality changes once more and she turns her head back quickly to the Demarian. "I know I really shoulda brought by flute, Mister Razorback!" she exclaims loudly. "Because I can play it really good... Unky Andrew says that I could be really good one day and be able play professionally. Isn't that sooo cool?" Two footsteps start to draw closer, the familiar blue suits from the ship's security becoming clear to the Demarian in his cell. Razorback's ears swivel towards the pair long before they reach the cell, the aspect of his face changing as his ears flatten out against his head. His lip wrinkles in a silent snarl as they appear and his narrowed eyes shift from the girl. Whisper takes a step back from the cage and peers up to the guards with her eyes wide. She then moves closer back to the cell, lowering her head. The guard on the right pauses, studying the young girl and the caged Demarian. "Look at me like that again," one of the guards starts. "I'm going to pull those fangs out." "Leave it alone, Jim," cautions the other. "Neither of these freaks are worth the time. Should just jettison them both." A low growl sounds in the bottom of the Demarian's throat as he stands. The sound suddenly erupts into an ear-splitting roar, his aforementioned fangs gleaming in the fluorescent light of the cell as he stretches them wide. As the sound goes silent, the dark mass of fur continues to glare down at the guards, almost as if daring them to make good on the threat. Whisper back tracks, carefully making her way back down the hall. Certainly moving away from the scary Demarian and the guards. The mouthy guard takes a step back, before puffing out his chest in an attempt of defiance. His hand slips in this jacket, while the other guard starts back down the hall way. "Oh... You're in for it now, you worthless walking rug!" Razorback's eyes quickly slide over at the girl as she makes her exit, then back at the humanoid, his lips curling back in a fang-filled grin as he lowers his head. His leg muscles coil beneath him as his tail twitches relentlessly back and forth. "There is morrre than one way to leave a prrrison," he growls, his narrowing eyes focused on those of the guard "Dead," the guard says, approaching the keypad area. He pauses, pressing in the keys and such. "Oh, you just wait." The hand that isn't working on the keys slowly withdraws a stungun. "Always wanted a Demmie tooth necklace." Razorback's eyes don't leave the man, his snarling grin taunting him. "I have been dead forrr yearrrs," he replies in a barely audible growl, his muscles tense for a spring. Meanwhile, his ears remained swivelled down the hall, insuring that Whisper has in fact left the hallway. Whisper? She's gone. most likely hiding somewhere. The guard flicks on the stun pistol, before powering down the shield. "Oh, you're fucked," the guard says. Moments pass as the shield powers down. Razorback waits until the split second before the shield goes down to pounce, his throat rending with second roar of blood-curdling intensity. His paws stretch out a foot or two on each side of him, claws extended. As he goes airborne, his head turns to one side, fangs aiming for the man's throat. Those fangs are sharp, as they have no problems in latching on the throat of the guard when DRC-002 catches the guard. His stungun drops out of his hands, clattering to the floor. A muffled scream is given. He didn't really have time to react as the large Demarian takes him to the floor. ""Holding Cell Corridor"" The main corridor of the holding cells aren't all that interesting. This area has been constructed straight into the freighter's bulkhead, exposing it to potential damage. The main door is barred by a field that bars access from those unauthorised to reenter the crew deck of the ship. The walls are pretty much that, just bare metal walls with nothing simulating in sight. The deckheads are the same, bare metal with nothing else to cover them. Thu Jun 14 23:25:09 3007 Razorback splays his paws out to catch himself on the floor, his claws biting at the decking for purchase. Without wasting a moment's thought, the dark-furred fury bites down as hard as he can, pulling his head back in an attempt to rip the man's trachea out of his neck, or at the very least, crush it. It's out, one bloody reminder for DRC-002. The corridor is strangely silent, with only the faint sniffling of a young girl to be heard. The Demarian releases his hold on the humanoid, as well as a more quiet roar into his face. His body heaves as the adrenaline begins to wear off and his body calms down. The predator begins to recede from his face as he looks around. His ears swivel towards the remaining sound and his massive frame sags slightly as he glances around for its source. Well the Demarian may find the young girl hiding in the locker down the hall, shaking slightly. Once the Demarian approaches, she'll extend her hand, offering a passcard out to the Demarian. But she certainly doesn't look up at him. Razorback does move towards the girl and looks down at her, his ears drooping as he sees the effect of what he has done. "You will not come with me?" he asks hesitantly, making an effort to keep his bloody fangs concealed behind his lips. Whisper slowly nods, and carefully extracts herself from the locker. "You better move quick in the next few compartments," she warns. "I think most of the men are at dinner." She sniffs loudly, before wiping her nose against her arm. There's no glance towards the body either. Razorback nods in shamed silence, offering a paw to help the girl make her exit from the locker but not particularly expecting her to take it. Whisper doesn't take it, but she does slowly adjust her skirt before reaching up to take the Demarian's paw. "We'll be alright," she murmurs. Razorback gently takes the girl's much smaller hand in his paw. He nods quietly as he moves towards the door, his boots barely making a hint of a sound. Whisper makes up for Razorback's lack of sound, making a bit of noise as she walks. But nothing out of the ordinary for a young girl. She follows the Demarian onwards. ""Crew Deck"" The wardroom fills out the second deck, providing living and work accomadations for the freighter's crew. The outboard walls are set with a series of double bunks, bordering the large bay. A set of lockers are recessed below each pair, and each pair are separated by a set of tall storage compartments. Each bunk has a pull down shade for privacy. The floor is a made up of diamond gridded steel panels, each set with countersunk bolts allowing access to the service ducts below. Above similar panels form the room's ceiling, some replaced with squared grillework, behind which are mounted a transluscent diffuser lens and cool flourescent lights. The aft wall is an array of integrated support equipment, including an entertainment center with a large screen display with supplemental monitors. Forming a center island is the ship's galley, the cooking equipment within a circular service ring. Across the floor has been set several large pieces of furniture, including two pool tables, a ping pong table and several couches and chairs with integrated data terminals. Forward a large viewscreen looks across the long bow of the ship and the surrounding space. Thu Jun 14 23:44:31 3007 The wardroom is actually vacant. There's no real noise anywhere about, and it seems that everyone is off working for whatever reason. Well, apart from four of the white coated Doctors and Patrick Tiller, and one captive blue suit (who at the moment, is barrelled up by a rather skinny and non-threating doctor wielding a syringe). "Two days, and everything would have been ready," he grumbles. "All I needed was two days and everything have been ready. Should have expected it from lesser stock." Razorback's ears turn directly towards the sound and he drops to a half-crouch while surveying the situation. If Whisper can, she'll get her hand out of Razorback's paw and run across to Patrick. "What about this one, Mister Tiller?" the doctor asks, seeming unsure about the situation himself. "Umm... I don't know," states Tiller, shaking his head. "I've never had to take hostages before." He remains unaware of the Demarian. "Mein gott, all we needed was that signal to be sent and we'd be home free." Razorback doesn't stop the girl, in fact he pads along behind her, warily eyeing the group as he approaches. "Mister Tiller!" squeels the girl excitedly. "Mister Tiller! Mister Razorback is soo cool." She casts a glance back over her shoulder. "If not scary... He tried to eat that guy." Tiller offers a faint smile, and actually kneels down to hug Whisper. His blue eyes rest on the Demarian. "Well, aren't /you/ going to /do/ something? We do need to get out of here, you know. We're not soldiers." Razorback eyes Tiller for a moment before he tilts his head to one side with a loud pop. "Wherrre arrre we now?" he asks quickly as he strides towards the blue-suit, flashing him a bloody smile. The blue suit takes a step back, holding his hands up high. "I... I don't know," he says. His eyes dart between the doctor with the injecty thing and the bloody mouthed Demarian. "Oh god... What'd you do to him?!" "I'll stab you if you don't talk!" the skinny doctor claims, trying to match the level of menacing with the Demarian. That acts stops as soon as he looks up to the Demarians. "Oh... I do say... I'm not suited to this, you appear to be an expert of being a brute. You can handle him." Tiller doesn't seem the least bit worried. "Middle of no where... We do, however, have a ship ready to go." Razorback glares down at the doctor, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He tosses off a nod to Tiller before he moves in on the guard. "You will come with uss, and keep yourrr mouth sshut," he growls into the man's face, "Yourrr frrriend was foolissh. I have people who have waited forrr me to rrreturrrn a long time, sso I will thank you to act wisely and not forrrsce me to do anything to frrrighten the child." He pushes in a bit closer, "Am I completely underrrsstood?" The blue suit slowly nods his head, before, well, he makes a scene of himself. Those trousers most likely never smell the same again. While the skinny doctor returns to the other three and starts to jibber away in Waldhiemer. Patrick and Whisper just remain where they are, the young girl with her arms tightly around the man. Razorback's arm snaps out to grab a pawful of the man's clothing. He turns to Tiller. "If you have that sship rrready, let uss go now before they," he jerks his head towards the doctors, "Brrring the entirrre facility down on uss." "I completely agree," comments Tiller, as he pries himself from Whisper's grip. "Now girl, don't go making a spectical of yourself." He reaches down to take the girl's hand, as he glances across to the Demarian. "It's in the hanger... You do remember where that is, don't you? Well, the bowels of the ship. Blue suit? Well, he just turns white at the paw that latches onto him. He opens his mouth, stares at the paw, and doesn't say anything. The four scientist just send unsure looks between each other, as the topic of the conversation apparently turns to the Demarian. Razorback nods, then turns back towards the scientists. He shakes his head disgustedly for a moment before saying, "You hearrrd the man, time to go. Now move out." His tone is clipped, brooking no argument as he drags his charge towards the door. Razorback's charge doesn't resist, only giving a surrendered, ashamed walk towards the door. The skinny scientist gives a nod, before translating for the other three. Patrick and Whisper slowly follow after the Demarian. ""Loading Bay"" Set forward of the engineering compartment, the loading bay is a large open space within the supr-freighter. Framed within the harsh skeleton of the starship's gray hullmetal ribs, the high bay has a battered industrial feeling. Sized for oversized cargo and its own transfer dropship, every inch of the space has been given over to pragmatic utility. Even the cargo and supply storage areas are kept in meticulous and disciplined order, ensuring that not a single square inch of space is wasted. A gantry crane and heavy duty repair gear make a lattice across the ceiling, while the floor plates are studded with a gridwork of anchors and equipment tie downs. Forward a pair of huge pressure doors leads to the ship's spinal workshaft, which provides access to the ship's ten cargo holds. Fri Jun 15 00:19:08 3007 Whisper steps into the bay from the lift. Razorback's grip on his captive doesn't relax a hair as he pushes him ahead through the lift door. He pauses just inside the loading bay for a sniff, look, and listen. The loading bay has had some serious work done to it. No long does it appear to be a place of off loading cargo all the time. In fact, it appears geared towards paramilitary operations and the such. There is movement, workers priming the ships for take off, and blue suited figures walking the permeter and providing security. Razorback comes to a quick halt, moving his grip to the back of his captor's neck and extending his claws. "Which sship?" he asks succinctly of Tiller, his eyes bouncing off of each guard. Patrick takes his time to locate the ship, his finger going directly towards the IND Hope's End. "Not much, but it should be fast enough to get us out of here." There's a glance up to the Demarian. "Lead the way, we'll be right behind you." His voice is infact quiet. Whisper, also, is silent, as she peers around the area with wide eyes. "That is just wonderful," replies Razorback in his native tongue as he begins to briskly push his charge across the bay towards the indicated ship, not looking to the right or left as he hurries on, his ears continuously scanning for anything out of the ordinary. "Mein gott," Patrick mutters, before he starts to run towards the ship, after Razorback. "Speak a civilised tongue!" Whisper is pulled along. The three scientists, well, they're running for all they're worth. The prisoner that the Demarian has in tow, he seems to be trying to get some attention of the guard. "They're over here! They're escaping!" Razorback snarls angrily and leans his head over. His extended claws dig into the back of the man's neck as he tries to keep the man from moving out of reach. His jaw extends again, pulling his lips back from his teeth as he brings his jaws down towards the man's skull in an attempt to bite through his temples. Kind of like biting into a giant jawbreaker. The prisoner does scream, especially with those fangs now piercing his temples as he's pulled into Razorback's embrace. That scream is rather shrill and blood curdling. That scream is also mimiced by Whisper, who has stopped in her tracks. Patrick now draging her along. "Halt!" yells out the first guard on the scene, dashing around from behind one of the ships in the distance. Fortunately, stun guns take some time to build a charge, so he doesn't fire just yet. Razorback finishes his bite, then releases, turning to hurl the man in the general direction of his nearest compatriots. "GO!" he roars to those behind him, pausing just long enough to let them pass before taking off towards the ship, moving to help Tiller with the girl if she causes them to fall behind. The blue suit who just yelled crumbles to the dead in a heap, blood coming from both of his temples as the last breath of life leaves his body. The scientists don't need to be told twice, running flat strap towards the open door of the ship. Whisper tries to get a look at the body as she's dragged past. While Patrick gives DRC-002 a long look. "Give me a hand with her, would you?" With the stun gun charging up, and at a considerable distance off, the guard takes a shot at the retreating duo. However, the sound of the claxxons screaming mightn't be the best herald in the world. "Containment error in labs. Specimen escaping with hostages," announces the cold, female mechanical voice. Razorback doesn't even blink. He charges towards the ship, scooping the girl up off the ground as he comes up on them and grabbing Tiller's arm with his free paw, hurrying him along. "MOVE!" he calls after the fleeing scientists, hoping to Demar that he doesn't have to run them over to avoid being shot. There's one thing about being shot at, it certainly makes people run faster. Heck, one of the scientists even gives a girly scream as he sprints up the ramp. Whisper squeels as she's scooped up easy as can be, but Patrick doesn't seem too impressed about his arm being grabbed. He runs beside the Demarian, almost stumbling a couple of times, until they reach the ramp and head in. Whisper boards the IND Hope's End. Razorback boards the IND Hope's End. ""Cargo Bay"" - IND Hope's End - A tight and short space, just over a meter and a half high, the cargo bay runs along the underside of the transport. The hold's form is a direct result of the ship's aerodynamic shape, the floor and walls mating the curvature of the hull. Small shielded lamps provide a sparse light, casting shadows along the exposed structural ribbing, luggage racks and anchorage points. Sealed access panels allow loading from outside, while above a matching sealed panel leads back up to the ship's aft compartment. Fri Jun 15 00:49:40 3007 Razorback boards through the ship's airlock. Razorback releases Tiller in order to slap the door control. "Please tell me that you can fly thiss vessssel," he growls, putting the girl back down on the floor as gently as the grab had been rough. The scientists are gone, cowering somewhere else inside of the ship. "Hold them off here, and I'll get fly us out of here," states Patrick. Whisper, she's back to running, vanishing up the ladder and deeper into the ship. Razorback grumbles, moving about the ship to see what he can toss in front of the airlock. Claws aren't much good as ranged weapons after all. Patrick starts forth, glancing back to the Demarian. "Don't forget to close the door!" he yells back, as he puts his foot on the first rung of the ladder. Razorback doesn't respond, finding a few large crates to barricade the airlock with. There's the sound of stungun fire from outside, as it impacts onto the hull, but it's awfully hard to reach up to the door once the ramp has been withdrawn. Slowly, the ship starts to tilt to one side and then the other, before a ear splitting screech is heard. It continues along the length of the ship. It's safe to assume that Patrick has hit the main doors as they were closing. A moment or so later, his voice comes across the intercom. "Umm... Yeah. We're still alive, and we're out of the hanger. We've got no weapons or anything else. Trying to run for it." Razorback presses a his paws against his ears as the sound collides with his audial nerves. With a tight growl, he clambers up the ladder, headed for the cockpit. ""Cockpit"" - IND Hope's End - Set in a forward sweeping arc, the cockpit consoles wrap directly beneath the sloped panel of the ship's forward canopy. A pair of reinforced padded leather seats are mounted tandem, to serve the ship's pilot and co-pilot. The headroom is low, with illimination provided by recessed fixtures along the top and sides of the aft partition, framing the reinforced hatch leading back to the main cabin. Across the twin workstations the monitors and telltales flicker and datascroll, adding a pattern of vibrant color to the transport's command center. Fri Jun 15 01:01:02 3007 It's pretty outside, with all that laser fire coming up from the Diamond Black. "Usually, they can't hit the broad side of a barn," Patrick comments to himself. "But what's the better that they'll..." The ship pitches forward a bit. "... They hit us." He glances back towards the door and yells, "Can someone man engineering and tell me what they shot out?!" "Thiss is yourrr field, not mine," Razorback growls, barely grabbing onto a console to keep himself from flying into the canopy. He lurches over towards the engineering console, trying to make enough sense of it to comply with Tiller's request. There's flashing lights and things that go bing! on that engineering console. Unfortunately, one of the warnings suggests that the heat shielding on the bottom of the ship is out, same as the landing struts. "I'm a scientist, not a pilot," states Patrick. "I work in the field of nannoooo... Oh boy, that was close." The main vision port flashes a deep green, before the automatic shading takes it away. "Can we jump? Please tell me that we can jump." A low growl comes from behind Tiller, "Jump? I think we can jump," the bewildered Demarian replies. "But I do not think we can land wheneverrr we get to wherrre we arrre going. At leasst not anywherrre with an atmosspherrre." "Sivad... Sivad's got orbiting dry docks," comments Patrick. "My cousin is in the RNS, so we should be alright to get clearence to land... Somewhere. Besides, that is what was already programmed in." There isn't one solid press of the button, but actually a mutliple of presses in a panicked rush. Razorback glances out at the beam-riddled space around them. "Let uss hope you have good relations with yourrr family, then..." the Demarian mutters.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)