[CONTINUED] A Paradise Lost Over the Edge (Doren, Kurrsk, Rev)

[Professor Mors]

The wait was agonizing, as was the simplest of questions: why? Why was their reply so late in coming? Had the Ssi-Ruu already come suspect the Action-V of foul play? No, certainly it was too early for such a conclusion; at least on the basis of logic anyways. If the reptilian interlopers were about to indulge paranoia, what had stopped them from firing on the transport? It occurred to Doren, that their suspicions had yet to warrant any concrete decision-making, and the trade deal was still a matter of hot debate. Then, with seemingly on-cue timing, Vassyl witnessed Ryder altered sales pitch, and a sly grin curled across the young officer's face. The businessman was indeed as cunning as the reports had supposed. With the added sweetener of "fresh fuel", the cold-blooded overlords were sure to consider an audience with such handy traders. Entechment rigs were no lithobattery in terms of lifetime productivity, and the living component that powered them, depending on the race, would only persist so long under such tortures. For the Imperial's part, it was a risky bluff, but given the gravitas of this encounter, it was simultaneously their best chance at moving things along. Such was Doren's assessment, and his fervent hope.

[Doctor Krussk]

Aha! Our interloper was either not the master of improvisation they thought they were or they didn't understand entechment as much as they needed to in order for this charade to work. All it took was one casual slip up, the offer of beasts before slaves were quickly brought up as the substitute. Entechment required a fully developed and sentient mind in order to function properly, and any Muun looking to deal with the Ssi Ruuk wouldn't be making such an obvious mistake. Krussk began shouting in an even greater fervor that this was a trap, and this time the military commander seemed to begin believing he was in fact correct. The worrying prospect now would be if it'd take too long for this to run up the chain of command before the ship cleared the ideal targeting line. As it turned out however, the general had a much more nefarious goal in mind. A series of sharp hisses and gutteral language went out the relay to the ship, indicating permission to land. The general wanted whatever was on the ship, alive, in order to be properly utilized. A risky gamble, especially for someone who already had the gall to attempt something on a ship this large. For now Krussk continued working on his bonds, hoping he'd either be let go or could escape before the end of this encounter.

[Corran Vellar]

A reptilian alien voice boomed through the bridges’ speakers and Ryder’s droid quickly translated. They had been given permission to dock with the Ssi-ruuk vessel. Ryder gave his thanks before stepping away from the console and approaching the Imperial.

“Prepare your men and I’ll meet you at the airlocks,” Ryder spoke to the good Commander. He turned towards the rest of the bridge crew. “Put us on red alert and have security forces prep for potential contacts.” Immediately a set of red lights began flashing as the ships crew began to prepare. With that Ryder stepped out into the hall and went for his armory where he’d dawn his heavy boarding armor, and clip his Merr Son Deck sweeper to the magnetic seal on the suits back. He checked the fuel cell in his wrist mounted flamethrower and then attached his Cortosis blaster sword and heavy blaster to his armors belt. With that he stepped out and made his way to the airlocks to meet up with the Imperial soldiers.

The Command would take note that the Black Star security forces were backed up by heavy Warbots now that the ship was on alert, maybe even taking note they were Sith models. As the armored businessman approached the airlocks he was joined by his crimson espionage droid. Ryder planned on gaining as much intel on these aliens as he could, potential even taking on alive. He also hoped to glean more on exactly what Command Vassyl was after on this world.

“Commander, if your men are ready I’d be honored to join you for this boarding operation.” Ryder spoke, his voice now modulated from the power armors’ speakers.

[Professor Mors]

It was time for the ruse to test its mettle. The tableau had been set, the Black Star staff were ready, to fight or to maintain the deception. For their sake, Vassyl hoped it would continue to be the latter. Nonetheless, it was Doren's predisposition to prepare for the worst. With fluid haste, the Commander set about gearing up, donning his personal commando armor and trusted sidearm. His wards soon followed suit, and in little to no time the Imperial retinue was drawn up for whatever might come their way. Due to previous dealings with the Ssi-Ruu, Vassyl and his retinue wore augmented helmets, modeled in the likeness of the old katarn-series of the Clone Wars. The mild change in cosmetics, with any luck, would give the impression of a mercenary group, as opposed to a licensed military corps. [Look alive], Doren called out to his comrades over his helm's commline, [There's no telling what's waiting for us].

Walking in a straight file, the Imperials quickly gathered round Ryder and his counterparts within the airlock. Nervously, Doren regarded the Sith warbots lining their ranks with a nod, before moving ahead to rejoin his host. [The honor shall be mine Mr. Ryder], Vassyl answered in response, [Let's hope we can get over the threshold without too much trouble]. Turning about, Doren scanned the entirety of the boarding party, and openly addressed them, [We remain the envoys of this company until the last possible second. The Ssi-Ruu honor strength above all else, we must move in solidarity, and display no weakness. If we can take this vessel without lethal force, we will]. Vassyl paused and looked into the visor of each of his peers, hired and otherwise, [If things should come to blows, do not hesitate to defend yourselves]. With that, the Commander spun back about, and hefted his blaster into the ready position. In a moment, the airlock doors would open, and the culmination of the mission would hopefully see a modest end.

[Doctor Krussk]

As the company exited the ship they were met with no greeter. In fact the entire bay seemed deserted. The wary boarding party casually, attempting to remain incognito began moving towards a hallway. At the other end of the hallway a lone P'wek waved the party forward and disappeared around a corner. The feeling of success in infiltration was only fleeting, however, as stun traps located underneath the bulkhead began triggering after mere seconds, knocking organics unconscious and droids inoperable. Mass hysteria followed as further directed stun blasts began to be shot from every conceivable direction, from what initially appeared to no source. This was quickly realized to be a trick of the light and the shots were in fact emanating from narrow slits in the bulkheads that were rapidly opening and closing as to disorient the interlopers. To make matters worse the door leading back to the ship was now locked tight and cutting said lock would be a fool's errand with the trap springing so constantly around the party. With little else to do, a plan was made to loop back around to another entrance to the landing bay and escape. Meanwhile Doctor Krussk had finally worn through his bonds and was sneaking up on his guard as the sound of blasters and low yield explosives sounded. Taking the initiative, a quick chop disabled his captor and Krussk quickly re-armed himself, quite literally in part. Boarding armor, flechette rifle, combat arm, dart shooter, and steely determination to get back to his ship was all the good Doctor needed. Though still a novice, Krussk was able to sense general life patterns enough in the vicinity using his force training to avoid most proper guard patrols, and he nearly made it to the entrance to the hanger when he bumped into the boarding party, desperately moving in the same direction. Not willing to take any chances Krussk immediately opened fire, unaware of who he was even fighting.

[Professor Mors]

[Take cover!], Vassyl bellowed over his helmet's commline as the boarders made contact with an unknown third party. The Imperials, relatively uninterested in an early grave, quickly did as they were told, leaping behind various pillars and Ssi Ruu ornamentation, and leaving Doren to size up the situation. Whoever this was, they seemed to have every intention of shooting first and asking questions later. Likewise, their armor was not inexpensive, and would not be penetrated easily. The Commander thought it strange that the saurian zealots would employ something such as an outside mercenary, and he began to wonder if this newcomer was a traveler caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Regardless, for now, there was little time for negotiation. Seeing as his comrades had achieved a modest semblance of safety, Doren turned to his newly acquainted business partner, and posed the offer, [We won't make any headway with this interloper blocking our path; shall we introduce ourselves Mr. Ryder?].

[Ben Kenobi]

A Corridor of Fate.

Blaster fire flashed from a dozen muzzles, the ion based blue bolts discharged rapidly from the elder model BlasTech DC-15S Carbines that nine of the Imperial Marines carried while two carried heavier model BlasTech DC-15LE Heavy Rifles to produce clear support by fire operations and the final member, the Sergeant, carried twin DC-17 Pistols as he stood amidst the silver beamed lances that were consistently showering his personnel; the ambush had happened so swiftly that there had been hardly any time to react though the hardened members of the Imperial Navy Marines would not lay down without a fight and they had taken cover wherever they could find it.

Behind fallen Black Star Droids, Ssi-ruu devices and a small amount of crates, they’d formed up a defensive semi-circle with the solid door to their rear and they returned a furious fire back at those gun ported slits in the wall that were just as difficult to shoot from as they were to shoot at. It was a cowardly exchange though quite typical for a race that feared death outside of their own consecrated worlds.

This chaotic battle was not going to be found as an easy victory for either side. Carbon scoring brazed the Marines, near misses put their heads down behind what little cover they had with tingling extremities as a result, direct hits to the chest and abdomen put men to the ground unconscious. The fighting style of the Ssi-ruu was difficult to determine though the tactics were solid; injure, wound and maim to take twice as many men out of the fight for the Imperial Infantryman wouldn’t leave a living man behind where if they were slain in combat it only took one down. With no hope of reinforcements they had few choices. They could either wait and pray that the Black Star Droids would recover in time to flip the tides or they could make to an egress point.

Ryder himself was leaning up against a jutting stanchion, his armor’s left leg was malfunctioning after the initial ambush had been sprung from a failure in the suit’s systems to isolate the ionized assault fast enough and properly defend him. He felt no panic however as he still held tight to his Merr-Sonn Deck Sweeper though with very small targets to fire at, he’d yet to discharge his weapon and for the moment he produced a measure of patience whilst his suit ran the proper diagnostic and repair settings. It’d be foolish to suggest he’d not been greatly frustrated by the outcome of the situation, he’d been in enough scrapes to know better than to walk right into an ambush like this. If Ryder was overly aggrieved by the situation though he was hiding it very well.

He watched the walls carefully, the Imperial Marines were lighting the firing slits up though the bull’s-eye point was so small that extremely few rounds hit their mark and even then it was difficult to know if they’d hit anything fleshy on the other side. The walls were now becoming greatly marked with burning holes, eating through thick armored plates slowly and melting metal panels into red hot sparking affairs. There was no pattern as far as he could tell, there was simply an organic and systematic impulse to attack. It was emotional, raw, determined… these things he could focus on. The primal instinctive action of a predator.

A green light pooled up upon his internal viewscreen and his malfunctioned leg was given power once more. With a pump of his legs he sprang from cover towards a particular weapon port along the wall and just as he’d supposed, the tenacious predator on the other side opened up… and received Ryder’s deck sweeper barrel. The discharge was bright, muffled by the wall and produced a scream as the Ssi-ruu on the otherside was taken point blank by the cone shot and sent hurtling backwards to rest heavily unconscious somewhere on the other side of this mynock shoot. Without hesitation he yanked his barrel free and shoved the nozzle of his CZ-28 into the hole and a sheet of flame engulfed the enclosed space.

More screams followed as half a dozen weapon port holes on either side of Ryder expelled gouts of flame from them. In moments the sickly smell of burnt wiring, rubbers, conduits and most of all the acrid smell of flesh, all wafted into the heated hallway. The Ssi-ruu realized their mistakes and the weapon ports largely went silent. Though now down the hall towards the intersecting junction that would lead to another corridor back to the hangar the bipedal aliens rushed to thwart the escape. This was by far a more open conflict now than the previous entrapment.

The Sergeant bellowed orders and the two fire teams began to launch covering salvos down the corridor, bounding forward to what basic covered positions they could find and now the excellence of Imperial training began to truly shine. Ryder did not hesitate to fall in behind and let these professionals to their bloody work.

Captain Vassyl, largely letting his NCO control the members of his own unit, fell in with the Alpha fire team, adding his own BlasTech DH-17’s scarlet red bolts into the fray. He was slowly making his way forward now to the next set of cover, a heavily stunned Marine’s arm slung over his shoulder while two other Marines, crouched into firing positions, provided the Imperial Officer a stout portion of covering fire. Silver beams splayed over the wide corridor, Doren himself had been grazed in the early outset and his left hand still throbbed as feeling was now returning to him. They arrived at cover and he set his wounded counterpart down, a meek nod from the Marine showing thanks was the only sign he needed to see as he popped back over his cover and sent a sizzling bolt screaming down range to slam into a hastily moved crate used as a Ssi-ruu’s cover. Sparks flew and a puff of smoke showered the position forcing the lizard’s head down. Doren retreated back behind cover and checked his pistol charge, it was good, he’d only fired a few times so far, there hadn’t been many targets of opportunity and he knew better to spray blindly into a combat scenario. For one thing it simply was unlikely to hit anything and for another that grizzled Marine Sergeant would probably have a fit too and that wouldn’t have been a pleasant thing to be on the business end of much less to have witnessed.

It seemed however that the unfolding situation was going to be a slow fight back to the hangar, if they’d even be able to make it that far. Though it seemed fate wasn’t content to allow the battle to continue without tossing a wrench into the mix. By wrench, of course, fate meant a desperate and angry Trandoshan! Just when Doren sought to break his cover once more and dispatch a few more rounds into the enemy formation a high bearing maintenance hatch sprang open from the ceiling and another lizard-like being was dispensed. Though this one did not resemble the Ssi-ruu and it surely wasn’t friendly as by Doren’s horror, the being landed atop a crouched Imperial Marine and pumped a flechette round into him.

The sight was horrific as even the durable Katarn-pattern Carapace was unable to withstand the might of a Salus Corp DF-D1 Flechette Rifle. Armor cracked and the black bodyglove underneath parted, crimson fluid spattered onto the flechette rifle’s barrel and the spasms of the Marine below ground to an eerie still as the steaming puncture holes of the flechette smoldered from the Imperial’s corpse.

Immediately next to the scene though had been the grizzled Sergeant who leveled his DC-17 to the attacker’s head and pulled the trigger. If it hadn’t been for a Trandoshan’s incredible reflexes and most likely the waves of the Force’s call, Krussk would have found his end right then and there. Instead, however, the armored lizards ducked and spun, swatting the Sergeant in the midsection with his plate covered tail and sending the Marine NCO sprawling into the open with relative ease. Krussk continued his rampage, ignorant to who he was fighting as they weren’t in any unit he recognized, his flechette rifle leveled again and bucked under his control. It sent a swath of lethal buckshot towards the flank of the Imperial Beta fire team though they leapt from cover or further behind to avoid the critical rounds only to have silver beams rake across their position.

Doren Vassyl engaged this new threat with haste, he held his position and with both hands his DH-17 discharged a trio of accurate bolts into the back of the attacking newcomer. The rounds found home and melted craters into the armored hull of the battlesuit. Krussk, spun around as alert klaxons blasted his sensitive ears and burnt wiring harnesses assailed his sensitive nose. He was losing hydraulic pressure and fast, Doren’s hits, whether planned or otherwise, had burnt out the main hydraulic lines of the suit and there was now super hot liquid spraying all across Krussk’s back, fortunate for him he was encased in the armor and was not privy to the touch of broiling fluids.

Despite this small grace, Krussk was met with warnings of overheating systems throughout. Even now, already, his knee and elbow joints were rising to temperatures so intense that they’d begun to fuse together and seize up. His time was limited and he needed to act fast. As he spun to face Doren, whom he failed to recognize thanks to the customized armor of the Imperial, he leveled his flechette rifle and triggered both barrels to fire at once but he was never able to loose his shells as he was bodily taken off his feet by a shoulder tackle that felt as if it’d come from a gravtrain.

From the side on the blind right flank came Ryder, head low and shoulder leveled. While he thought to discharge his deck sweeper, he didn’t know if the round would take the foe down and so he elected to act in a way that he knew would do so. He rammed Krussk and the both of them separated from the point of impact for the collision was far too intense to hang on and they crashed to the deck, their armor dented and armored plating crushed.

Krussk slammed into the ground and slid into the base of a crate stack that toppled over onto him, burying him underneath. Ryder spun and landed hard on his other shoulder, popping the armor joint out and shattering its responsiveness, when he came to a stop he cursed as his entire right arm was inoperable by the suit, though his own strength could still move it. He knew right off that he’d not be able to do much in this condition, it was then that he realized that he’d lost his deck sweeper. Doren rushed up to the prone Ryder and knelt behind the broken chassis as cover, inquiring to his charge’s wellbeing.

Though respite would not be found. Rising from the crates was a suit of armor, smoking from the joint valves and with the face plate torn aside, that is when the combatants first caught glimpse of their assailant, Doctor Krussk. Above Krussk’s head was held a large metal crate, it’d been crumpled at the center though that wouldn’t stop it from making a harrowing projectile once thrown. Doren’s pistol spat energy bolts towards the raging Trandoshan, a series of them triggered sparking detonations across the torso though they could do nothing to stop Krussk as he threw the crate.

It spiraled in the air and Doren ducked down low, preparing for impact. Ryder heaved and lifted his right arm into the air to intercept the flying object for his left was pinned underneath his prone form. On impact the weighted object split apart and Ryder’s own right arm went instantly numb. Pain was a good sign, no pain meant something was drastically wrong. Half the crate went up and over the pair, half went into the deck, slamming into Ryder’s armor, the contents spilled everywhere. Hardware of all kinds scattered across the corridor, several units dropped onto Doren’s shoulders, they were heavy and he could already feel the bruising though nothing serious.

When they came to the Trandoshan was atop them, his DF-D1 spitting its contents and Ryder’s armor took the brunt. Projectiles of this kind did overall little to armor like this but the impacts themselves were terrible and Ryder was near instantly concussed inside his shell, blood running from the ears and nose. Doren kept low as richochetting projectiles filled the corridor, one pellet bounced off the ceiling and hit his helmet visor, he could only thank the Empress that the armor held lest he be out an eye. Another pellet shot straight and true, right shin, passing easily through the plastoid and lodging itself between bone and meat. He grit his teeth but failed to suppress the painful shout.

Rolling away from the carnage, the Imperial Officer fought to obtain some distance and he maneuvered out into the open, unable to rise to his firing knee with the sharpened pain of a wounded shin. He wanted to just lie down and seek the medic’s attention, to do anything but sit there and let a searing hot slug burn the meat of his leg further. He could feel warm liquid running the length of his leg and seep into his sock. He could feel the fractured bone grinding together against the once round pellet that had likely fragmented into several pieces to further ravage the leg. Overall it wasn’t a devastating wound, but it surely was a painful one. If Doren were to glance down and merely brush his leg he would be able to feel the jagged pellet’s remains for it was but a surface wound with moderate kinetic impact damage. He’d never taken his eyes off of the enemy, to his own merit.

Krussk had semi-mounted Ryder and his arms were working like pistons, hammering his opponent’s armor over and again. Doren’s assessment was short and clear; that Trandoshan had to be neutralized. DH-17 raised, Vassyl limped forward, spitting forth single shots steadily ahead. As the first shot glanced from Krussk’s shattered helmet, he looked up to see his assailant and he shoved away from Ryder. Shot after shot pelted Krussk’s armor, systems failed, joints seized and locked up, he fought to break them free and perhaps he would have done so but now the corridor battle was over and the Imperials had their way out of harm’s way, the grizzled Sergeant ordered his gunners to direct fire on Krussk and the heavy rifles obliterated the boarding armor into scrap.

With Krussk unconscious and trapped inside his armor, the Imperials and Black Star Contractors were free to make their move away from this mess once and for all…

[Ben Kenobi]

Corran Vellar (Ryder) & Doren Vassyl vs. Doctor Krussk


Victorious

Ryder
20 EXP
80,000 credits
Minor Wounds

Doren Vassyl
20 EXP
65,000 credits
Minor Wounds


Defeated

Doctor Krussk
5 EXP
20,000 credits
Moderate Wounds