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| - "Hello Mr Urfkgar," Ryan says in Zantra after climbing down the ramp. The language is still mangled and heavily accented. But he's trying. "Siiiiissssss Iss" grunts the Zangali in reply as he continues to scan the landing pad. Having made an attempt and guessing more than getting the reply he tries again No trouble?" "sssSSs" says Urfkgar after a moments thought. "chufffff Siiiiissssss cusshhH Iss SrreimM hitth Siiiiissssss SHishhiSH hrunth" "Easy Mr Urfkgar," says Ryan smiling. "I'm still picking it up." "cusshhH" says Urfkgar, keeping his answer short. The lunite nods, "I guess we'll head into town and wait until the officials contact us." He seems to be done attempting his poor zantra for now. "You have permits valid for here?" Urfkgar snorts and says, "Urf stuckeded stupid softskin place." "I believe the Bluenose Grill is the local..." Jeff glances up into the sky, spotting something that doesn't seem quite right. As Jeff trails off, Urfkgar looks over at him then tries to decide what he's looking up at, looking that way himself. It soon becomes clear, as the dot Jeff was glancing at grows rapidly into a fullsize Defiant Class Starfighter. It is also clear the vessel isn't attempting to land and it's making a bee-line directly for a target at the foot of the boarding ramp of the Haste. "I thought, I was wanted alive..." He's got no more time to say anything as the vessel fires. Yeah, the Zangali doesn't bother with the talking bit as he tries to grab Ryan and toss him away from the Haste as opposed to inside the unshielded, grounded, easily targeted ship. He moves, too, if he manages to get Ryan out of the way. It becomes clear a few seconds after the vessel fires, that this starfighter is modified for bounty hunting. Especially when you don't have permission from the local government. From the cord that's streaming out from the rapidly approaching vessel, it looks almost harpoon-like, moments before reaching it's quarry the 'missile' pops open, tiny explosions the weapon spreading to a full-sized net. Fortunately with Urf throwing the lunite out of the way, the net *flops* into the ground not far from Jeff. The starfighter streaks overhead. "It seems they do," says Ryan scrambling to his feet. The LTDF have not been idle, as the vessel streaks away, the few guards around the landing pad began firing at the rapidly fleeing vessel. Jeff yells at Urf, "Get aboard." The Zangali starts to step around the net and to get Jeff again, pointing towards the ship now that the attacker fired a net at him instead of a torpedo or something actually destructive. When Jeff yells about getting aboard, the Zangali waves him ahead, following him into the ship. Jeff Ryan runs up the boarding ramp. Cockpit - IND Saviour's Haste - The cramped cockit barely has enough room for the pilot's bench and second officer's station behind, every square of space inch filled with monitors, switches and system telltales. The glassteel canopy provides minimal headroom, the long slender bubble providing an excellent view of the surrounding space. A holographic heads up display provides navigational information while the console signals add faint rainbow reflections. Wed Mar 29 09:53:54 3006 A worksuit is here. Contents: Exits: Weapons Console Out Communications Console Engineering Console Navigation Console Urfkgar enters from the corridor. Urfkgar has arrived. Ryan throws himself into the pilot's seat and quickly fires the thrusters for take-off, "You know how to fire?" He gestures towards the co-pilots chair. It'd be a tight squeeze. "Yup," says the Zangali as he gives the seat a disgusted look, but he gets in like he's done it before. He punches a couple of buttons to start the weapon status checks before trying to strap himself in somewhat. The lunite has automatically pulled on his own straps, his fingers flying over the controls and it's clear Jeff knows what he's about. The display calls up the local area and the vessel that tried to take him down is rapidly fleeing. Just clear of the landing pad, Jeff fires his own thruster-pack at fullburn. The speed at which the Haste and Defiant are seperating starts to diminish, and the Haste is just starting to pick up speed. The Zangali checks the console again, grunting. "Fake fight stuff no good." "Give me shields," says Jeff. He's simply gunning her engines in an attempt to close the distant between the fleeing Devil's Horn and the Haste. "Problem with the Haste is she's got legs, but her bite is pretty feeble." He shrugs apologetically. The distance between the Horn and the Haste stops growing and starts falling as both ships begin to pull out of the atmosphere. A voice comes over the General Space Channel, "This is La Terre Control to Haste. What's the problem?" The Zangali manages to route some power to the guns and the shields, grumbling all the while. He ignores the comm chatter from control and tries to keep his elbows from banging against anything important. Keeping his eye moving between the power readouts and the viewscreen, he tries to keep track of what's going on. And what's going on is the Horn is making out from the normal space lanes, with the Haste in fast pursuit. "I'm a little busy," says Ryan over the comms. "Some guy just took a shot at me." As Ryan's talking the Horn maneuvers. Within seconds the starfighter is within attack position and opens fire on the Dasher II, warned by his readouts Jeff manages to evade the incoming fire, probably from two plasma cannons and growls at Urf, "Fire." The Zangali doesn't need any more prompting, eagerly mashing down on the fire commands. He's a bit too eager, though, or maybe he doesn't account for the extra dimensions in space combat because the lead he gave the Horn was too wide, and he misses. Jeff Ryan doesn't even bother cursing as the two vessels maneuver around one another trying to get into position to fire once more. "They're what?!" says LTC. "We don't have pirates rou..." Another voice breaks in, "Copy that Haste, we're mobilising Militia fighters, should be with you in... four minutes." The second voice is much more authorative, probably military. As Jeff listens with half an ear he notices the Horn has made a definite error in her attempt to get in on the Dasher II. Swinging his own ship around, the armoured plasteel cockpit of the Defiant is right in sight of the Dasher's guns. Plasteel it may be, but it's also the weakest point in the ship's armour. The Zangali only has one eye, but even he manages to spot the chance, grumbling to himself. He gets a shot off with both of the Haste's plasma cannons, exploiting the advantage Ryan's piloting gave him. The plasma fire nails a hole through the other ship's plasteel armor. There's no explosion, just a flash of light as the twin-plasma blasts burn through the armor. However it's clear the shot took out their target. Almost eerily with her engines still burning the IND Devil's Horn shoots off in a straight line, instinctively Jeff begins to maneuver to follow, but it becomes clear whoever was piloting that ship, is no longer at the helm. Leaning back in his chair, with the battle adrenalin rushing out of him, he remembers the wound and winces before answering, "Negative on that LT Control, she's gone. Your boys might want to chase after her for the scrap though." He glances over at Urf and smiles, "Good job." The Zangali grunts vaguely as he looks over at the sensor readouts. He manages a shrug despite the straps. He says, "Stupid softskin boss doeded. No need Urf do Urf do. Mosterer stupid stuff do." "Confirmed," comes the voice from LT Control. "We think we'll let this little bee fly away, not worth the effort." Ryan chuckles, however the pain again forces him to wince, "Now don't be modest Mr Urfkgar, I can't fly the ship and control the guns at the same time. Team effort." The Haste swings around, and begins to make approach to New Paris. "Urf doeded fake fight stuff," says the Zangali as he extracts himself from the seat. "Urf no doeded job. No doeded good." "Good enough Mr Urfkgar," says Jeff. "And that's what counts." Final clearance granted, the Haste fires her landing thrusters and lands into her earlier berth. Urfkgar snorts and holds onto the seatback during landing. He asks, "Stupid softskin boss know stupid softskins doeded?" "Fleeters probably," says Jeff. "They might not be the bullet, but they're definitely the ones pulling the trigger." He sighs as the ship comes into land, "It just occurred to me, I have no idea what my reception will be." The Zangali shrugs, looking out the viewport to possibly find an answer.
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