Dastardly Tristar

Theev / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2116) Urien, Eirene, Dazl The Downport, Theev, 019 (Harrier, Week 4, Day 6) 1105, Imperial The art of disguise and deception often relied on understanding who you wanted to deceive. One set of disguise might get you through a checkpoint at a highly secure spaceport, but might also get you strange eyes in a funky diner downtown. Knowing the people, the environment and the customs played a larger key in how you keep beneath the radar. For Urien, Theev may be an alien world to him, but a familiar culture. It wasn't a Teucer, but the same pervasive oppressive feeling was painted all over the city, from the brightly lit spires to the dingy Downport shacks. Keep your cool, don't ask too many questions and keep a watchful eye over your shoulder. He kept it simple. Spiked the hair, smeared a little bit of grease over his features and changed into another set of clothes that fit the locale better. He stood before his mirror, his expression neutral, before launching into an array of emotions, stretching the corner of his mouth, eyes and ears. He settled for a slightly disinterested look, hedging between a perfectly neutral expression and scowling. He added a slight hunch, rolled his Rs until he developed some phlegm in the back of his throat and alternated his cadence. By the time he was on the streets, he had the swagger of a city walker and the confidence of a traffic street runner. He kept his briefing to Eirene and Dazl straightforward: "My name is Matthew K. Szabo. Remember that. We mingle with the residents, and if we need to, we gain their trust in the Pits. By we, I mean you, big man. You're built like a linebacker for the NFL, sizing up all those juicy quarterbacks to break - if you don't get it, look it up." There was a distinct drawl that Urien was evoking as he ran through the briefing, though it was getting harder not to spit at any of the duo while he spoke. "I'm your leadman - manager, hypeson, whatever you want to call me. Ms. Eirene here, she's your accountant. I find you places to fight, she handles your cash, and you're your own bodyguard and product." Urien flicked out a cigarette from his jacket and lit it, sucking in the flavoured smoke of tobacco and applewood. "We're here to make money but you're also looking for sponsors, patrons - you're tired of having to sell out every match, you want to walk into the next fight with a big man in your pocket. That's our story, so let's not mess it up. If you feel like you need to bail, bail - we'll think of somethin', but let's try not to kick the hornet's nest." The Downport. Getting there was like taking the commute in Teucer. The lift was horribly cramped, the heat was oppressive and you tried to avoid looking at the crazy person by the roadside. He also tried not to look at their tail, though she was gone too quick for him to see anything more than a silhouette. He excused himself from the pack, making an excuse to use the public restrooms. He found an open stall with a small awning window and shut the door behind him. Pulling out a small spherical droid, he tapped its power activation button to wake it up, and then let it fly out the window, gaining some height until it could see the street from a bird's eye view. The drone hovered for two minutes on the clock, trying to spot anyone who fit the profile of their tail. It was a shot in the dark, so Urien kept an eye out for other possible landmarks of interest - the nearest 'law enforcement', the nearest bar, and the quickest route to the lift in case of a quick extraction. Any groups of gangs that might be a problem or opportunity for distraction. He also saw the Blood Pit a couple blocks ahead, but didn't approach it yet. Not wanting to waste the drone's battery, he flew it to a nearby rooftop and nestled it between some exposed piping and aerial antennas, making sure to keep the connection for quick activation. Urien returned to the duo after washing his hands, and a look of disgust. "Don't." was all the word of caution he gave. They continued their jaunt through the streets until they reached the Blood Pit - the most imposing structure around for several miles. He paused his stride to quickly act as though he was speaking into a wrist-comms unit, but was secretly maneuvering the drone to cover the group's approach to the cordon. Urien was perfectly content to wait until approached, shifting his eyes around and chewing gum. "Same üzlet, like the one that goes behind that fal. We sell jó stuff, you know? It's all about a jó price and jó quality. This here's -" he jerked a thumb back at Dazl, who clearly looked as though he belonged here more than Urien 'Matthew Szabo' and Eirene did, "- Dee." It was a name that quickly came to mind. "He's the uh. . .Legjobb ár a legjobb harcért. Y'know, best fighter, good money?" He jabbed a thumb to his chest a little too forcefully, making him cough out his gum out to the street. He apologized, squashing it beneath his shoe. "Manager." He pointed at Eirene. "Accountant." Urien squinted at the building behind the cordon. "This is the Vér Gödör, yeah? Pit Blood? Where you throw hús-meat and get pénz-coin? I have the hús, and want the pénz. Now let me in."

Deep Space / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2016) Rahne, Mahan, Kesperziaiepr, Urien, Eirene Parsec 2017, Sindal Subsector 019 (Harrier, Week 3, Day 6) 1105, Imperial Secluding himself in the sensor room at the bow, Urien kept himself busy with his studies, playing with Astrid and cards with Dazl. At one point he showed up with the chest that the marine had left behind on the Dee Vee, pushing it towards Dazl with the intention of giving it back to him. "Teach me," was the only request he made during the short exchange. There was more to it than simple fun - learning how to play increased his repertoire and opportunities to gamble. It was something of an investment, although he didn't abscond from his duties. When Arryn refused to space walk to assist in the refueling, Urien sighed and placed down his cards, donning the suit without fuss. As the ship refueled, Urien decided that the best way to spend his time was to catch up on a cat nap. His room and usual hangout was empty, although the more observant could swear they heard some muffled noises in the vents near the gunnery station. Then a quiet snore. Theev / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2116) Rahne, Mahan, Kesperziaiepr, Urien, Eirene The Downport, Theev, 019 (Harrier, Week 4, Day 6) 1105, Imperial "Well that is a way to make a statement, I suppose." Urien commented dryly at the Skull. He swung around in his seat, fishing around in his jacket for a cigarette and lighter. Aboard a Solomani navy vessel, what he was doing was a blatant breach of safety regulations and could land him in the brig. But Urien didn't put past the Sindal captains of old from quaffing whiskey and smoking a fat cigar in between jumps. "Try not to lie, but avoid telling the truth either. Information is a commodity, always has been." He waved the smoke away from the crew, suppressing a cough. "If we want to avoid sticking out for too long, we may want to book some lodgings and lay low, get the lay of the land and acquire information on the whereabout of Silverhand. Rushing into action - tsk." He squashed the stub in an ashtray, taking a swig from his thermos of tea. "Easy way to get ourselves in a bad scenario. My advise, we keep an ear to the ground, cover our rear, watch our flanks and adopt a flexible strategy." Urien remained in the rear of the party as the reception party approached them. The Black Widows were new to him, but it was a similar situation back on Teuton with competing departments in SolSec. Appear underqualified and underappreciated, and avoid staring. Instead, he looked around the hangar, looking out for cameras and hidden turrets. He had strong reservations about using Krssh's code, but it seemed as though Theev was a highly exclusive club. In a prowler ship, he might have advocated to try and sneak into the planet's atmosphere, but the Intent had a radar signature as wide as a cargo hauler with her signatures on full blast; a dinner plate when running cold, but little else in ways of infiltration capabilities. He tugged his collars and made a show of being cold, rubbing his two hands together and blowing into them. "Ask if they can tell us who the big gangs are." he whispered into the team taccoms, covering his mouth with his hands. "Good chance Silverhand is paying courtesy visit to one of them."

Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219) Rahne, Mahan, Kesperziaiepr, Urien, Eirene The Reclaimer's Intent, Borite 019 (Harrier, Week 2, Day 4) 1105, Imperial Urien sucked air through his teeth. They had been dangerously close to butchering civilians. Who knew what the next battle against the raiders might bring? He shook his head, rolling his wrist - the pistol whip had rattled his bones. There was a much bigger problem on hand. The agent looked at the mess of blown coolant pipes and pistons, shaking his head wordlessly. He approached the nearest console that wasn't sparking, remembering the last hostile console. Luck wasn't with him initially, as the screen proved unresponsive. He tried his best to ignore the raider's engineer, cracking a guess at the state of the ship's engineering room. His initial analysis? It looked - bad. There was a pungent smell in the air as well that came through his suit's filters. Holstering his weapon, he pointed at the engineer and asked for the name. Arryne. Hoping that the engineer was as useful as he claimed, he directed Arryne towards the fuel tanks and to give him a reading on the levels. As he returned to the console to give it another crack, he heard the reply back from the other engineer. "Son of a bitch. . ." he muttered softly. "Well I have good news and bad news." he radioed back to the boarding party for their ears alone. "Good news is - this bird still has some life left in her. Seems like the missile did a number on the engines and powerplant, so the ship is bleeding power and thrust. The bad news is, she is also bleeding fuel, and she has got just about enough to make an emergency landing within the next hour or so." He paused to double confirm the readings, making sure Arryne hadn't fed him false information. Clearly satisfied, he gestured to Dazl that he was going to leave the engine room - they didn't have the parts to perform any repairs, so it was time to regroup. Pulling his mag-revolver out, the Solomani marched Arryne out into the common room where presumably, everyone else was gathered. He made a slight detour towards the cages, picking up the cuffs on the way. "Well, I suppose it is a good thing the missile did not do more to the ship than it already has." He held up the cuffs towards Kesper. "Thought you may want to cuff them." He pointed at the pilot with a smug expression. "And maybe gag this one. Or would you rather we have you strung to the hull of our ship, so you can beg Chief Keia to rescue you? Choice is yours."

Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219) Rhane, Mahan, Kesperziaiepr, Urien, Eirene The Reclaimer's Intent, Borite Downport 019 (Harrier, Week 2, Day 4) 1105, Imperial Urien kept his cool watching the beam signature flare up, then cool down only to be subsumed by the exploding ball of fire that was Romeo 1 mere moments ago. His jaw however, remained clenched with tension. He snapped out of his temporary malaise to mark the location of Romeo 1's trajected landing zone for retrieval and salvage: he had very little hope for any survivors, but the scrap could be potentially useful. Something else occupied his mind. This was, by and large, a pointless exercise in self assured suicide. The raiders must have sported the hardware on the approach, and yet decided to make a bold move. As one half of his brain made the preparations for a targeting solution for Kesper and Eirene's next shots, his other half spat out a quick and dirty scan of the airspace: what if it was a distraction, a gamble to get information off world? As one monitor pinged green to affirm its success, the other gave a dour, neutral tone that may as well have been failure. Urien smacked the monitor angrily, and opened his mouth to spit out an insult, but had another idea. Keying into the open radio frequency, he mocked the remaining raiders openly. "Your 'fight'? Your fight just fireballed, and you are next. Stand down and live, or flee and die like a dog." he made sure they knew he had a lock on them when he made the declaration. The reply was admittedly what he expected. Switching to ship comms, he addressed Kesper and Eirene through their headsets. "Try to cripple their engines if you can." It would simplify the process of hunting down the Oghman spies on the planet, and maybe squirreling a bit more information from them too. Chief Keia? New names and new records to fill - life was getting busier and busier by the day for the agent. Watching Romeo 2 limp back pitifully, Urien kept up his mockery of the enemy ship - the most harmful thing he could do at the moment anyway. Pulling out an old Solomani stereotype from the depths of his mind vault, he keyed into the open frequency again, taunting the enemy. "Chief Keia a bitch, and you too. C'mooon, powerful enemies? You're piloting tinpots strapped to an engine and firing mining lasers at us! Powerful my ass, you can't even take a light hit like that? Bitches."

Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219) Rhane, Mahan, Kesperziaiepr, Urien, Eirene The Reclaimer's Intent, Borite Downport 019 (Harrier, Week 2, Day 4) 1105, Imperial Seeing the Intent burn at a quarter to lightspeed on an intercept course for the field team blew any fears that the Solomani had, replaced with a manic grin of excitement. "Oh you better believe they are. Get strapped in - find a cabin and stay there until we tell you to." Urien gave Earrod his general orders, before rushing up for the bridge. He made it just as the ship lurched as it took the first instance of damage from the approaching craft. He nearly slipped, but held onto a safety railing - a function he didn't expect a Sindalian ship to have - and regained his footing. Urien hopped into the sensor station and slipped the headphones around his ears, muffling everything but the rumbling of engines and the whirring of his station's processor. Fingers flew across the keyboard, as he ran a quick diagnostics of the ship. "We have taken minor damage to the grav-plates." he cried out, confirming what Mahan probably already knew. As the ship ran its diagnostics, he flipped open the communications channel but held off on broadcasting. Just what would he say, in this exact moment? "Unidentified vessels. You have just open fired on a 200-d ton warship. Not only are you engaging with limited weaponry, but your combined weight and displacement barely equals to our own. You have until our gunner starts to turn your ships to slag to power down and land. What happens next is entirely on you. Godspeed."

Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219) Kesperziaiepr, Urien, Eirene The Mine Expedition, Borite Countryside 019 (Harrier, Week 2, Day 4) 1105, Imperial Five thousand credits for regular maintenance? Urien had heard worse offers before, but kept his loose mouth shut for once and accepted the work. The journey through the woods was peaceful for once - no longer bombarded by the flood of white noises that he had gotten acclimatized to in the Intent, the Solomani visibly relaxed. Astrid acted as she pleased, bounding through the long grass and often disappearing for hours on end only to return with her own lunch and dinner, though Urien was certain that a wildlife preservationist would weep at the ecological destruction of the planet's aviation population. The party separated as they entered the box valley, with Kesper going with Earrod and Urien stuck around with Eirene. He didn't bother to engage her with small talk, even if there was several years worth of life to catch up to - he knew her to not be a pleasant conversationalist even at the best of times. Instead he put his energy towards the life support pumps. Earrod's crew had done a commendable job to mask the pumps with what tools they had, but there was a sense of pride in him that refused to acknowledge it. "Crude." he simply commented before going down into the bunker, torch out in case the lights weren't working. He wished he had thought about wearing a full body suit, just in case of a gas leak. When the steaming cloud of ammonia hit his face he jumped back, swearing wildly and ran out of the bunker. Wiping his face and using his canteen to wash off the stench, he took a moment to settle down and reassess the situation. Or rather, the sabotage. The planet's history with raiders, keen on suppressing their technological development was well known to him. This had to be the work of those raiders - he just wished they hadn't resorted to bodily waste. Looking at Eirene and wondering if she too, had been as badly affected as he was by the gagging stench, Urien simply sat by the gnarled roots of a nearby tree, breathing in the fresh air. After recomposing himself and wrapping his face with a piece of cloth, Urien returned to work as quickly as he could. He kept one of the damaged air filters in a spare bag, making sure to keep it sealed to avoid the smell from leaking. Maybe the good doctor could extract any leftover urine sample and give a clue to the saboteur's identity. He had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been one of the miners or mining officers. Maybe they were on a payroll - either way, he at least had proof of sabotage, in case anyone doubted him. At each and every pump, he'd swear death threats to the saboteur. It kept his mind from thinking untoward thoughts, and reduced the stress from the disgusting work. "Dirty mother****ers!" he said at the next pump, angrily kicking the damaged air filter out of the bunker. By the time they regrouped with Earrod on the fourth day, Urien was fuming. Even if he didn't get shot at, it was the mere indignation of having to work in the wake of someone's waste. It damaged his Solomani dignity, whatever there was left that wasn't soaked in ammonia. "Please," he pleaded from 'horseback' to Earrod. "Please tell me there is a hot bath somewhere on this planet." Midway through their trek out of the valley, Urien heard Astrid's distinct mewing in a copse of trees. "Here girl!" he called out to her, but the cat refused to return. He could see her snow-white tail swishing in between the branches. She seemed to call him to come to her, almost yowling. Urien slid off the saddle and whipped out his shotgun, just in case there was danger ahead. As he approached Astrid's position, he spotted the radar dish. Astrid, ever the explorer, jumped out of the bushes, licked her chops and stared balefully at Urien. There was no mistaking the purpose of the surveillance gear before him. He lowered his weapon and called out to Earrod, pointing out the dish. "Well, so much for your efforts, old man. I have to ask - how long ago was this mine set up? Because I think the Oghmans knew all about it, possibly from day 1." He pulled out his signal jammer, tossing it in his hand thoughtfully. The man looked around, trying to identify any lookout positions in the nearby hills and woods. At the risk that they were being watched from afar, he called Astrid to him and turned back to their mounts. "We need to go back, quick as possible. We can come back later, I already have a plan to catch this rat of yours. As a betting man - your skies might have some unwanted visitors as well." He posited the next question to the Intent's crew. "Do you think they will jump the gun, or call in the cavalry?"

Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219) Kesperziaiepr, Urien Aboard the Reclaimer's Intent, Cargo Bay, Borite Downport 019 (Harrier, Week 2) 1105, Imperial Urien scratched an itch, but said nothing. Their request was reasonable, but nothing of the immediate surrounding area spoke to him about the presence of a mine. Granted, they had suggested that it would be a journey to get there, but. . . He went back inside the ship to pick up a few tools from the nearby ship's locker. Their offer for tools was generous, but like their planet he didn't have a high opinion of their 'tools'. More than likely, it would be a few homemade hammers, wrenches and screwdrivers. Nothing in comparison to finely machined and measured tools that were the galactic standard. He made a quick pitstop by Mahan and Eirene, lugging his toolbelt over his shoulder and a toolkit under his arm. "The locals are asking for help with some machinery down by the mines." He paused, then added: "There is a mine around here so we might be gone for a bit. We should be back by the end of the day." Urien lingered briefly to glance back at the ship's galley, then walked down to the landing bay. "Anneer shifted ona pit-pump 'fore."I have never worked on a mine atmospheric pump before. He drawled in his best impression of a spacer mechanic from the depths of Solomani space. Pipe-talk was a linguistic development of coherent speeches - or devolution in Urien's eyes - among many of the deep spacers. "Cannae two licks ey? Hoofer's d'pit?It can't be too difficult eh? How far is the mine?"

Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219) Kesperziaiepr, Urien Aboard the Reclaimer's Intent, Cargo Bay, Borite Downport 019 (Harrier, Week 2, Day 1) 1105, Imperial "Hrmm." Urien let the stare hang for a minute before slowly returning to his seat, crossing his arms. As much as he enjoyed tormenting the Vargr for information, there was too many cooks involved. Maybe he would check on the wolf man later, at an unspecified time and date. With actual truth serum - that went on his internal checklist. His arm buzzed. Looking down at his multi-function device wrapped around his arm, Urien saw the notification that was reserved for approaching unknowns by the ship's loading ramp. Raising an eyebrow, he stood up with a grunt and summoned Astrid to his side with a click of his tongue. "Someone is by the ramp." He told Mahan quietly, making sure that the Vargr couldn't hear his words. "Finish up with Fido here, we will want to offload the goods as well. I do not think this planet has much for us specifically, so I would rather us depart for anywhere civilized." He flashed the vial of water to Krrsh, and then pocketed it with an evil, smug grin. With that he left the galley and made his way to the cargo bay's loading ramp. He leaned against one of the mechanical supports behind Kesper and Dazl - close enough to listen to the conversation, far away enough that he could run to the emergency shut off button and close up the ramp, in case the locals tried storming them. While he made no moves to his weapon, he made sure that it was visible to all parties. An exercise in trust that was undercut with Astrid mewing like a babe, running between Kesper's legs with her tail raised up. She was eager to greet the guests that didn't smell like an oversized dog, and not even the large horse offended her as much as Krrsh did.

Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219) Urien, Rhane, Lindsey, Eirene, Mahan Aboard the Reclaimer's Intent, Ship's Galley, Borite Downport 019 (Harrier, Week 2) 1105, Imperial "So not Hrrsk, but Krrsh." Urien feigned a growl, rubbing his jaw. He decided to switch up things, on the feeling that the mutt's pathetic play was a ruse. Had to make sure that he wasn't just leading them by the nose. Listening in to what he had told Mahan, there was still something off about his story. Urien remembered an old trick a fellow colleague had used before - called it the Bloodhound Stare, was supposed to unnerve and unsettle 'harder' cases that fell on their laps. He had seen it done a few times, but he was fairly confident that he could mimic the stance. How did it go? The man remained quiet for a few moments, as he adjusted his posture. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the Vargr's movements - the twitches, the odd inflections and the passing body language that might have been ignored in a casual setting. Breathing slowly, Urien leaned in, resting an arm on his lap and soaking up all the details of this passing conversation. "Fido. That is what I am calling you right now." His voice went deeper, rougher. It was the voice you'd hear on, say, a drug lord or a chain smoker. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. He let Krrsh squirm under his inspection for an awkward minute, not saying anything further. He took a deep smell, trying not to flinch at the possible stink of an unwashed Vargr. "You do not strike me as a leader in a wolf pack, Fido. I find it hard to believe you ever became a captain if this is how you react in a shitty situation. Then again, it might explain the mutiny. I would want to eject my captain too, if I knew he was a mewling sop like you. Astrid has more guts than you do." He leaned in close, getting off of his seat and almost going eye-to-eye with the Vargr, and if Krrsh tried looking away his hand would shoot forward and grasped his muzzle, making sure that both of them were staring into one another's eyes. "Just judging from your explanations, you are a pirate captain formerly in service to one of the major pirate players in the Reach. You are not from Oghman, so why are you surveying this shithole? It does not seem like particularly rich plunder." Urien dangled the vial of water in front of Krrsh, raising an eyebrow. "Tell us about Redthane, and what is his problem with Darokyn. Summary notes, I do not think you have time for an autobiography, Fido."

Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219) Urien, Rhane, Lindsey, Eirene, Kesperziaiepr, Mahan Landed at Downport, Borite 019 (Harrier, Week 2) 1105, Imperial Urien recalled Astrid to his side, and had to bend his knees as she leapt from the cupboard and landed on his shoulders. Curled up around his neck, it gave him the appearance of a very furry scarf. It mewed as the group walked passed the kitchenette, but remained otherwise firmly planted on Urien's shoulders, even as he pulled a seat for himself. He didn't take a seat just yet, as the Vargr inquired for a meal, and Urien rummaged into the cabinets. He eventually returned with two steaming cups of hot coffee, and handed the wolf a bowl of kimchi noodles, topped with shredded cucumbers, layered slices of ham and a hardboiled egg. With one cup for Krrsh and one for himself, he returned to his seat and stroked Astrid gently, eyeing their captive from the corner of his eyes. "I would not worry about all 'that' for now." He gestured with one hand. Astrid slinked off at his command, weaving between his legs. "Let us start with general introductions first, shall we? I am -" He paused, recollecting his old personas. "-Olaf Sigurdsson. Let us operate on that for now. My companions can introduce themselves if they wish. See, we just have a few questions that need answering, and we were hoping you could give them truthfully. " Urien waited until the Vargr ate the meal provided, and smiled. He made sure the Vargr could see the vial he was toying with in his hand, spinning it idly in the galley lights. The liquid inside was clear, and to Urien's mind it was simply water. But for the Vargr- "I think you will want this in three minutes, which should be enough time to establish a few concrete facts. Shall we return to the first? Your name - your actual name - and why you were found on the derelict station with two very angry bugs, please."  

Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219) Urien, Rhane, Lindsey, Eirene, Kesperziaiepr, Mahan Landed at Downport, Borite 019 (Harrier, Week 2) 1105, Imperial Urien watched silently as the Borites made themselves feel in charge- in power. The only problem to that idea was that the Reclaimer had more than enough firepower to turn the whole area into one smoking crater; it was a good thing Urien was far more diplomatic than a few well known Solomani generals. Judging by the radio message they received, it seems like the planet's telecommunications network wasn't as primitive as he was lead to believe, though it wasn't a high bar. He was among the few passengers by the loading ramp, taking in the breath of fresh, unrecycled air. The warmth of the sun felt good on his skin, and though he wandered around the 'landing pad', it wasn't more than a few meters away from the ship. He returned after he did a couple of full perimeter laps, stretching and grunting as he went. It was a good excuse to get eyes on the local defenses and atmosphere as well. Eventually he returned to the ship, shaking the dust of the planet by the foot of the loading ramp. He had slipped out of his vacc-suit, exchanging it for a snug fitting, two-seasons-old clothing set; armored, and deceptively so. He had to use one of the spare berths to change, now that the passengers were off board and Krrsh occupied his room. As he returned to the bridge he heard Mahan speak of clemency - against a pirate? He slipped into a seat and cracked his neck, sighing in between each satisfying 'crack'. "If he is part of the bounty, that offer might as well be a lie." He countered, rolling his shoulders. "I doubt the Provost is willing to let even one of them go unanswered. Especially the 'captain'." "Personally, I vote to shove him in a low berth, freeze him until it is over and collect the bounty. After we squeeze every bit of information from him as well."

Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219) Urien, Mahan, Eirene Aboard the M.V. Delta Vee 019 (Week 2) 1105, Imperial Spacewalks were always a hair's breadth away from fun and death, which was a surprisingly ubiquitous occurrence in Urien's life. Perhaps he was simply an adrenaline junkie in denial, but more likely he simply found any situation which robbed him of control terrifying. He took the safer option during the traverse of the ship's hull, trying to ignore the screaming in his brain. Which was up? Which was down? Don't look at Borite, don't look at the expanse and most certainly ignore the call of the void to simply let everything go and float away. The intrusive thoughts went away temporarily as he descended into the cargo area, feeling the security of the magnetic clamps locking onto the floor. The vacuum left behind by the suicidal urge was replaced by the tension gnawing on his nerves as the lights blinked in and out. The hairs on his skin stood up, rubbing against the Vacsuit's rubber insides. They linked up with Eirene, who took the admittedly safer way into the ship, and reached the entrance of the engineering spaces. He opened his mouth to ask Eirene something, only to curse loudly as the wave of radiation struck the group. "Shit!" His helmet screamed at him, telling him of the near-lethal dose of radiation that would've cooked them all had their suits been improperly suited - or bought from a cheap manufacturer. Thankfully the sealing held, and all that did was disoriented Urien briefly. He didn't have long to be dazed, as the tell-tale signs of an impending nuclear meltdown stricken his heart with fear. It lasted for a century of a second, before he snapped back to reality. He pushed his way to the room, finding the engineering console and booting it up. He pointed to the various sensors and readouts on the other consoles. "I am going to try and stabilize the core, but I need someone on the readouts in case there is any power fluctuations. When that happens, get ready to hit the emergency AZ-5. Someone else needs to get on that console-" he pointed a finger at a spare terminal. "-and help me divert power to the core's backup systems." Urien threw himself at the console, wanting to wipe the perspiration of fear and anxiety away but unable to. Fingers flew across the keyboard, inputting commands to reboot the system. He couldn't care less if the system said it was unsafe - a nuclear meltdown ranked higher on the danger scale for him. He watched, breathing heavily as the terminal loaded, then froze. He smacked the screen, shaking it. When it didn't budge, he almost gave up. He cursed it in all the languages he knew, grammar be damned. The glowing intensified - - and then a screechy robotic announced the booting sequence of the OS. A textbox, in neon green, screen shimmering from screen damage, asked if he wanted to start the safety protocols and stabilize the reactor. Never had his hand slapped the command quicker than it did then. 'ARE YOU SURE? Y/N' 'Y' 'SEQUENCING.' Urien nearly screamed in terror as it slowly loaded again. It must have felt Urien's palpable fear, because the progress bar quickly loaded in that instant, and the readings normalized. And that was that. They weren't going to die. Urien leaned back in his chair, his breathing ragged. "I cannot believe they are still using TravSpace OS 98. Who still uses '98?!"

Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219) Urien, Mahan, Eirene Aboard the M.V. Delta Vee 019 (Week 2) 1105, Imperial Urien nodded, rubbing the 'chin' of his bubble helmet. "Better make sure we do not risk explosive decompression then." Hopping on the spot, he gave the idea a thought, not particularly relishing the idea of interacting with the bridge's consoles. The last time he tried, sparks flew in his face - was he ready to gamble again? The hopping stopped, and the man made a decision. Nothing ventured, nothing gained in his books. He walked past Eirene on the way to the bridge, and made sure not to bump into her. Avoiding the offending console, he found one that looked the least damaged and slipped into the chair. When he was hit with an error message, he slapped the screen in frustration. Then he felt it, through the thick gloves of the suit - a back panel. Cracking it open and exposing the wiring, Urien licked his dried lips, trying to remember his technician days. The error message shown told him that it was an issue with communicating with the ship's main server, but if he could splice some wires. . .he fiddled with a wire cutter, and then made the necessary cuts. He winced with each slice, but no explosive reaction occurred. Eventually he reconnected the wires, and tried again. Success. With a few swift key strokes he vented the pressure from the engine room in a slow, controlled operation - if he did it too quickly, it might blow out some of the more touchy electronics, or even shake the ship too much. Out of sheer curiosity he requested another diagnostics check on the engines. When the report returned, he was pleasantly surprised, and relayed the information back. "I have depressurized the engineering section. We should not face any issues there. The ship's engines are also fine, but it seems that whatever knocked the ship out ambushed it at close range. Judging from how the pirates from the Misery's Company operate, this may be a lead." He left the bridge and assembled by the airlock, checking on everyone's suit and making sure his hadn't suffered any other damage that he wasn't aware of. "It is losing power slowly, and should not have risk of cutting out on us, but time is running short."

Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219) Urien, Mahan Aboard the M.V. Delta Vee 019 (Week 2) 1105, Imperial Urien watched as Kesper and Rahne carried the corpses of the Delta-Vee's crew back to the Intent. When Cat-Killer gestured that he wanted to pick something from his room, the Solomani gestured back for him to lead the way. They made through the bridge, and into his stateroom. Urien leaned by the doorway to keep an eye on him as he rummaged through his belongings, trying his best to look disinterested. Though from the corner of his eyes, he caught the sight of a pouch tucked away in his oversized fist, and a moments hesitation as he reaches out for a wooden box. He leaves the box behind, and stands back up, signaling that he was ready to leave. Urien jerked his head towards the good doctor to escort him back. "Stay/Fix/Engine/See/You/Later." He rapped on his bubble glass helmet in solidarity. The moment D walked away however, Urien descended on the box and cracked it open slowly. "Hm." It wasn't like he expected to find gold, but what he saw still puzzled the man. It could have some personal bearing for their new stowaway. Either way, it was a shame to leave it behind. He closed the box shut, and walked back to the Intent, staying clear of the other passengers and the medical center where Rahne may be inspecting the injured crew. Astrid mewed angrily at Urien as he opened the door. He kept a gun trained on Ksrrk the entire time as he deposited the box on his bunk, in full view of the camera and the mutt. "Stay put." He simply warned him, and then locked the door behind him as he left to return to the Delta-Vee. Pointing at the doorway to the cargo area, he made a simple query to Mahan. "What is our plan?"

Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219) Urien, Mahan Aboard the M.V. Delta Vee 019 (Week 2) 1105, Imperial Urien was already strapped within his vacc-suit, and merely waited for Mahan to slip into a spare suit. He fitted the helmet over himself, and then double checked the comms, made sure Mahan's was on properly and gave him the thumbs up. Life was too short to die to suit malfunctions doing EVA work. Memories flashed briefly of an unfortunate comrade, whose tether snapped during an emergency job. He could still hear the screams faintly. A chill ran down his spine as the airlock equalized the pressure. It could have been him. He kept his weapon holstered as they cleared the common area. He paused to cross his right hand over his left shoulder in respect to the dead, and tagged them later for pick up. When the door to the bridge opened, Urien followed Mahan closely behind and observed CAT-KILLER. He was huge, and judging from the call-sign may have been part of the marine complement on a naval ship. Except this was a Far Trader - heavily modified for running against Oghman raiders. He sniffed. There were too many holes in the story to piece together, but their main priority was rescuing the man, and the ship. He dialed in to an open frequency, but paused. Urien mimed wanting to check the man's suit out, and when CAT-KILLER assented, he ran his gloved hands over the suit's communicator. Trained eyes visually inspected the dials and knobs, and came to a conclusion that it was none worse for wear. Stepping back, he allowed Mahan to lead the conversation as he went to the bridge console. However it took only a few tries before he pounded the console in frustration. Sparks flew back at him in retaliation. "Guess we will need to do this the old fashion way."