Operation Infinite Horizon (Ascension Crew)

[Squee]

Her datapad offered her a ding, vibrating in her hand. Cersa, gliding down the hall in long, smooth strides, picked up her hand to examine the new message. The docking bays. She was to report to the docking bays and meet up with two other fellows, one a human and another twi’lek. Both male, both below her rank, making her superior for this mission. That wouldn’t be so bad. Now, the docking bays… ”Okay, Cersa, follow your past experiences about where docking bays are located on ships such as these, and your nose. Or just follow the signs. Haha. Signs… der…”

The datapad snapped back onto her belt with a gentle click. Even walking, Cersa was still preparing. The strap of her sword was flashed over her head, saddling the sword at an diagonal angle across her back. Her expert fingers fiddled with the latches, securing the sword in place once at her shoulder and another just over the location of her kidney. This way, her most prized possession – besides her datapad – and weapon weren’t lost scuttling about and fighting the ship plunderers of the deep black and vast sea of space.

A couple of lifts and a wrong turn once, Cersa managed to arrive at a docking bay where dropships were being prepared. There were infantry squads, lining up and preparing while given a blood riling speech before they boarded and shot off for the medical frigate. And off to the side were her men in black, who had already noticed her arrival and were quite surprised when she headed their way. They both snapped salutes, sharp and crisp and worthy to be drooled over, in which Cersa returned and instantly telling them they could relax. “It’s the eye of the storm. Be casual,” were one of the things she directed at them.

Something floated across Cersa’s mind, a slithering thought with a voice that didn’t belong to her. Cersa kept her face expressionless, but her mind mused over the weirdness of the occurrence. I really didn’t expect the ‘cathar’ we were told about to be a pure bred kitty. It was male, and based on a matching of accents, it was from the human. The thought confused Cersa, and the cathar woman really believed the human man had said it allowed. She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Meow, corporal.” He appeared startled at first, but then shook his head and grinned somewhat.

“Almost as if you heard my thoughts, ma’am.”

The plan was laid out. Basically, a search, destroy, and rescue the helpless mission. Cersa stated that the element of surprise would be welcomed at any rate if the two males knew how to do so. “It might be best if I leave you two by yourselves, considering you prefer the hardcore energy of a blaster over the hardcore shing of a blade. And due to my ‘feline ethnicity’, I could work out more as a scout for us and the other squads that are with us. This really shouldn’t be that hard. Otherwise, have fun lasering the ‘raiders of the deep’.” A little more talk went on and it was decided that Cersa would part ways from the friendlies going with her. Cersa, of course, may be best a little on her own devices, but she wouldn’t stray too, too far from the group. “Last squad’s leaving, and we need to be on it.”

The human and twi’lek grabbed at their stuff and followed Cersa onto the drop ship. There was room made, but the Special Operations trio didn’t take up too much space. The twi’lek tapped on her shoulder, handing her an earpiece. She shot the male a glance, examined the earpiece, and found the best way to put it to her lion-like ears was to attach it to the base of her ear, just under her hair.

The dropship made Cersa a little uneasy. It swerved and dove and bucked and shuddered enough that the cathar was beginning to wonder if the pilot was a civilian instead of a trained professional. The trip for the cathar woman was rather tense, and she often hand her fur covered hands into a fist. The speed slowed, the shuddering decreased, and there was a low hum as the dropship came to a complete halt. The earpieces were checked, Cersa patted her sword, glanced at her new comrades, and prepared for the doors to unlock and let her out of the stuffy mini-ship. Cersa’s ears pulled back against her head in mild anxiety. The opening presented itself, and Cersa was the first off the ship, slinking away silently from the rest of the boarders and keeping to the shadows. Reaching the first wall, she slid by the nearest door, asked for a ready through her piece and hearing the positive return, she went to depress the button.

But the doors opened before she did. Cersa shied off a little, and concentrated fire lit of immediately on the pirates coming in to investigate. Smoking bodies fell and she heard a “clear”, and Cersa slipped through the door, keeping to the sides and remaining a slippery half shadow against the corridor. This place had already become a mess, she thought as she hooked the first left while the others took different paths, and the squad remained together.

Cersa started in on closed doors, opening them by standing off to the side. Sometimes she was rewarded with brief fire, the reaction of the people within. Over ninety percent of the time, it was pirates. And Cersa would wait as their confusion to the open space beyond the door turned into a curiosity. Their shadow would grow on the floor. And when they were just big enough…

Cersa rounded the corner, crouched down to half her height, and lunged. Her claws unsheathed and dug into the bodies of the pirates. She slashed her claws across an unprotected rib cage, tearing through clothing and flesh and scraping them across bones. Her reward now was a hole, which ended with a bubbling, gurgling sound as she swiped her claws across the jugular. Three others stood about in the room, surprised at the blur of quickness in front of them. Cersa was crouched again, the bunched muscles in her legs propelling her forward as delayed blaster bolts scorched her former place. She knocked pirate number one off his feet and allowing him to face plant as she twisted and jumped upward, driving a boot into number two’s face and giving him a broken, dislocated jaw before raking his hands with her claws. She left him to scream in pain, number two being in the way of three at the moment, and focused one, who was standing up. Male, human. Her foot planted on the ground pivoted, and her leg curled and then thrust out, driving her foot into his groin. One was back on the ground for now. She ducked under two’s attempt and punched, did a full spin around him to slash her claws across number three’s throat and ending his life quick. Twisting around, she grabbed two’s head and gave it a jerk, snapping his neck, and let the body tumble as she slid out her sword and cleaved it into the torso of number one. It sank through his right shoulder and freed itself on the left side of his body. Blood spurted and poured freely on the floor as she wiped her blade clean and returned it to it’s sheath. No one else was in here. Cersa exited the room and continued along.

There was one particular door that did not open when she pressed the button. She tired to open it twice more, and nothing happened. The cathar woman, rather stained in blood by now – mostly others but she had a couple of cuts and her armor was scorched from a lucky shot – glanced upward to see what this room would be should it be special. The medical bay. Well, wasn’t that dandy. Of all doors to refuse to open, it had to be the medical bay. Glancing about, Cersa positioned her full body outside the door, pressing the edges in case it was loose enough to force and trying to think of a way to open it. It was locked… maybe survivors were inside? Banging wouldn’t help. Any survivor would believe her a pirate. Sighing, she drew out her datapad and link it to the controls, and then realized that the controls didn’t work whatsoever. They were fried. Damn. If she was a Jedi, this would be SO much easier.

Cersa pressed her ear to the door. Something loud seemed to crunch. She blinked. There had to be some WAY into there. There was always the squishy was of ventilation… Cersa was looking now, and rounding a corner, she found it. An open supply case rested not far from the bodies Cersa had made short work of. She dragged the case over and used it to her advantage. Using a knife, she worked off the secure bolts and slid the panel off. She paused.

And then she struck her earpiece. “Corporal, where are you?”

“Approaching the medical bay, over.”

“Left or right side?”

“Right, over.”

“I need you to find the supply crate when you round the corner. I just climbed into the ventilation.”

“Ma’am?” His tone was surprised and confused.

“Just stand next to it while I find my way into the medical bay.”

“Acknowledged. Ma’am, you don’t use earpieces much, do you?”

“What do you want from a primitive race?” Cersa grunted as she wriggled into the ventilation, forced to lay on her stomach and pull forward with her forearms. She smiled to herself. “Over.”

She just hoped no one in the bay, if there was anyone, freaked out when they heard something crawling over their heads.

[10Tickler]

While the Squad was waiting for Sean's Arrival, Damien watched as another Squad left the Hanger bay, their Transport Arriving rather Quickly. Hmm he muttered, tapping the Pilot's shoulder and drawing his hand across his neck before turning and facing his Squad.

Looks like We were either lied to, or we get to watch as some Officer Jumps into a deathtrap...Either way, Stand Down Squad, Head to your Quarters, relax, Maybe listen to some light music. It seems we're not needed on that ship anymore he said, watching as they left, disembarking from the ship. Following after the squad, Damien and Ishtar stood at the Open door of the Transport as he triggered his com, hailing Sean.

So, did that Officer not get the memo that H.A.L.O.A.T.W. Was supposed to go in and clear the way for the lighter troops, or did I not get told that we weren't needed? he asked his Second in command with an Exasperated sigh.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

((eep! o.o how'd i get so behind?! lol...time to insert one floating head with two sharp daggers and a bit of the force ^_~ ))

It didn't take Rah long to find where she was supposed to be headed. There was a steady flow of people headed to the docking bays, and once there, into the drop ships. Slipping into one of them, she noted that she was on the same drop as the heavy artillery. Great...big guys and gals with big guns to get in her way. Well, on the bright side they'd clear the landing space of the tougher characters and allow her through to the more scattered ones on the interior of the med-ship. To the blue woman's pleasant surprise, however, there was a familiar face among the soldiers: Sean. A smirk formed on her face, the only sign of emotion from the crimson eyed sniper...that smirk, however, was swiftly wiped from her face as the head of this heavy weapons team called for the transport's engines to be cut.

Belay that command pilot! Ho! You!

Red eyes scanned for his rank insignia and name.

Sergeant Meesha, what the hell do you think you're doing? Your team can't cool their heels here, get 'em back and into the transports, that's an order, soldier!

She didn't hold much rank over him, but she DID hold rank on the man. Rahja hated using that damned ranking system..."to hell with it" was her thought most times, however, times like this she found it useful. Flipping her cloak aside, she allowed the band she wore around her upper arm with the rank symbol of command sergeant, her "last name", and the Hell Hound insignia to show...not that the last would mean anything to anyone besides Sean and another Hound.

You have direct orders from the Commander to get your rears on that ship and support the transports! There's still this these two and one more light transport that needs to get in safely. Now get a move on sergeant!

The chiss' eyes flashed a near murderous red as she stared down the younger man. Sender shifted uncomfortably on her shoulder as he eyed the situation and the other AER (in the form of a woman), but she ignored the motion. As she spoke she stood, holding on to one of the grips at the edge of the transport's entrance, and practically bristled. The little training she had in the force was used to add extra weight to her words, but unconsciously it did more than that, making the air around her practically prickle with energy. Turning her head to look at the pilot, the chiss sniper glared at him as well.

These transports are leaving in one minute with or without them. Also, Inform the Commander of the situation down here.

While more civil with the pilot, it wasn't his fault after all, the raven haired woman's voice made it clear that those were his orders, and come hell or high water he was to obey them or he might very well have a dagger at his throat. The pilot nodded and turned to his com, immediately moving to notify the Commander of the interaction.

Aye ma'am. Commander Vossk....

Between the exhaustion from her previous mission, the hunger that was starting to gnaw at her gut, and the new irritation of this stuck up little snot, it was a miracle that those daggers weren't out already. A tired and hungry chiss was never a pleasant one, but Rah had never tolerated hunger well and so her temper was twice as bad. Rah knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that later she'd not be happy with herself for snapping like she had, but for everyone's benefit she needed to cut this man down to size and obey his orders. What a hypocrite I am...not like I take orders well...However...I DO take orders, and complete them, like it or not. Huffing heavily, she withheld a snarl as Sender shifted again, accidentally digging a talon into her shoulder as it slid off the cloak and her leather armor, cutting through the shirt and into the skin.

Sender....your talon is cutting into my shoulder bird.

[Val - Warning:Contains Sarcasm]

"So where are we at the moment, Doctor?"
The bird was certainly going to take its time getting readjusted to the current situation. Jessica tutted a little, looking around as though it should be rather obvious where they were. She decided to indulge the little bird, but in her own little way.
"Where do you think we are?" She leaned with both arms on the cane, staring at the much smaller droid. It looked around, supposedly scanning the surroundings. It stopped after looking around 180 degrees, not bothering with the wall behind it.
"Scans suggest a medical bay, Doctor. Likely a starship based on the size and shape. The incision in the ceiling indicates..."
"Incision? Nice diagnosis on that. Yes, a starship. Under attack by pirates. Republic... She paused, hearing voices from behind the door. She held up a finger, instructing the droid to remain silent. It didn't sound like a typical voice. Something... exotic about it. A few seconds later she couldn't hear anything again.

She turned back to the droid, slowly drawing the finger back to join the rest of the hand.
"...troops are apparently wandering the corridors. Whether they'll get past that fried door or not, is anyone's guess." She jabbed the end of the cane in the direction of the door, as if the droid needed indication. Wexon moved itself to the edge of the table, observing the door and, for the first time, the body of the Zabrak lying on the floor. The bird looked silently for a moment before cocking its head to the side.
"It appears there is a patient requiring urgent medical assistance, Doctor." Jessica sighed, lowering her head slightly.
"Please, Doctor is so... informal. Call me something more personal, like Chezz." The bird made a strange whirring noise, as though struggling to understand the concept.
"You find your surname to be more formal than your title, Doctor? That seems irrational..." Jessica held up a finder, arching an eyebrow. The droid paused, readjusting itself to assimilate the new logic. "Sorry, Chezz..." The bird didn't seem to be comfortable with using the term.

"Apology accepted, and as for my patient. He's sadly no longer with us. He's suffering from a condition known as Zabrakian Hyperenergenial Idiopata." She paused, watching the bird's reaction.
"I am not familiar with that disease... Chezz... I must not have been updated with recent disease breakthroughs." Jessica smirked a little.
"Don't worry about it, it's a new disease. So new, in fact, that the only ones that know about it so far are me, you and Mister Bodybag by the door. It's my diagnosis for this patient. It means Idiotic Zabrak, suffering from a shot with a blaster pistol. Now aren't you just really impressed how I diagnosed that so quickly? I mean, the corpse is still warm and everything." She tapped the base of the corpse's foot with her cane as it to further prove a point.

"But Chezz, what you're saying does not make logical sense. You cannot make up a diagnosis based on a cause instead of symptoms. The Zabrak patient probably sufferered from internal organ failure, heart failure or third degree burns." Jessica stared for a moment, quite in disbelief, before taking a hand to the pocket of her jacket and removing the pain pills there. She popped one into an open palm and swallowed it, revelling in the relief.
"You got a definition of sarcasm floating around in that cybernetic brain, by chance?" She hardly imagined a response coming from the droid, and as it would happen didn't really want one. There was a noise from the other side of one of the walls. Something was moving about in there. Something big. She hardly had time to get the blaster pistol from the other side of the room, so instead picked up the first sharp thing she could find - a syringe.

[A®heim]

The briefing was more interesting than most he had received back at HALO, but Sean still found himself barely paying attention. His mind had only just recently clicked into the identity of the floating head. Rahja wasn't exactly what you would call a friend, but she was slightly more than a comrade. She held a special little place in Sean's heart (not in that way, wipe that scowl off your face Crass) as the first soldier he had distributed an AER to personally. He and...Sender was it? Yes. Interesting name... Well he and Sender went far back, not in a personal way, strictly business, but all the same Sean had known that AER since he was an empty shell with a fresh coat of paint.

Feeling like he was back at the academy, he had resorted to hushed chatter during the briefing. It wasn't that he didn't care about the mission, he just didn't want to think about the others in the room at the moment. He knew deep down that they meant good and REALLY deep deeeeep down that they were right about him making such a big deal about the mission, but it still stung. They didn't understand what it was like to loose their AER...what it was like to loose a familiar. Sean looked into Rah's crimson eyes; she was blessed to have Sender and Sean truly wished she didn't have to suffer the same pain he did.

Shaking his thoughts back to the briefing, he managed to catch a few of the details. Subterrel, shoot important person, got it. Wait...no... Cave + shoot + quietly =/= easy. Or rather =/= possible...generally... Sean looked back at Rah and Sender, then past them at Cersa who was scowling at him. He noticed the datapad she seemed engrossed in and was tempted to say something along the lines of, "Mr. Vossk! Mr. Vossk! Cersa's texting in class!" but then, deciding a snide comment wasn't worth his life, looked back to Rah and Sender. He recalculated: Sniper + sniper + AER + shoot + cave = almost impossible. There. Much better odds! Sean then decided it may be in his best interests after all to pay attention, he would need to know more about his target after all.

Who would have guessed it? Paying attention in class actually pays off! The target wasn't in the caves, she was on the surface! Now that was a situation Sean could work with. Nice open area that DOESN'T echo + sniper uno + sniper dos + state-of-the-art reconnaissance seagull + shoot = all too easy. It seemed like that was the end of his involvement in the briefing, however, so Sean decided to take some time to practice sleeping with his eyes open. His pathetic excuse for a rest was short lived thanks to the report of the distress call. Bloody pirates, why do they always have to attack during nap time?

After listening vaguely to the orders Crass issued, Sean stood with the others and feel in next to Rah. He still wasn't completely sure what was going on, so he figured that would be his best bet, Rah had always been a beter student anyways: A worthy candidate of 04 without a doubt. He met the various scowls and unsavoury glances with a harried smile and occasional sarcastic comment. It was just a cover. Sean wanted nothing more than to take the contempt others held of his "complaining" about his "little failed mission", convert it to ammunition, and put it right between their eyes (a man can dream can't he?). However, that annoying thing called a conscience told him that it was not their fault. They didn't know what it was like to be seperated like he had. They were stupid. No, just ignorant. Yeah, stupid!

They got to the lift in which he had, not an hour ago, made a spectacle of himself, Cersa striding forward at a remarkably fast yet fluid pace. Sean couldn't resist. Hey Rahja, think if we pushed the Cathar down the elevator shaft, she would land on her feet?" He muttered in barely a whisper that only Rah and maybe Sender could hear...he hoped. It wouldn't do good for his health to be socked through a wall by a pissed off kitty.


If Cersa heard, Sean didn't notice. At the bottom of the lift shaft, he and Rah parted ways for a little while, each going to their quarters to equip themselves for battle. Sean hadn't actually been to his quarters yet, but he found his belongings laying on the small bed where someone must have delivered it. Not 10 seconds later, the contents of his hurriedly packed bags were strewn across the floor as Sean picked out his camouflage: an "I survived the Rylatt trail" souvenir tee-shirt and a pair of purple-striped sweat pants. As long as he was going to be shot at by space pirates, he may as well be comfortable. Then there was the cere-dynamic plastiplating sewed into the cloth inside, but everyone knows that stuff was just made to scam money out of xenophobic people.

Now for weapons, oh boy! First choice normally for Sean would be his tactical sniper rifle, but those aren't practical in close-quarters combat, right? Wrong! They make good clubs! But he didn't plan on using it as one. Why go toe-to-toe with a smelly, brain-deprived pirate when he could just stand at the end of the hallway and shoot them? Sean grabbed his rifle, removed the scope, removed the stock-extension, took apart every segment of the barrel minus one, and shouldered his original hunting rifle. Besides Ayer, his rifle was Sean's pride and joy. Though at this point resembling any other spec ops rifle when completely assembled, in truth it's just his old childhood rifle that's gone under a bit of heavy modification. It worked for him though; the grip was familiar and the weight comfortable.

He grabbed small blaster pistol and holstered that as well. No archaic weaponry for him.....alright fine. Sean grabbed a vibroknife and slipped it into his boot. Sean started for the door and then fell on his face as his feet landed on something that gave out from under them. Glowering down at the offending flotsam, his expression lightened as he realized he tripped over another familiar sight. He placed the wildfire grenade into his bag and closed the door behind him. While not intended to be lethal, the wildfire would not be fun to be sitting on if it went off, he really needed to get his head back in the game unless he wanted to stomp on a thermal detonator.

Using his seismographically generated map on his datapad, he found his way to the launch bays just in time to watch the ship cannons finish slagging the corvette. Good, their opponent would be limited to the boarding party. He spotted Rah and Sender boarding one of the dropships and rushed to follow. Stepping up the armored ramp he gave a slight chuckle of surprise. There was Damien and what was left of the squad, as well as the greens. He hadn't spent much time with the squad during their week of leave, partially because he was busy gathering information for them and partially because he was still nervous around Damien. He knew that man well, well enough to know that he could very easily deduce Sean's part in the recent prison break.

If Damien knew, he didn't show it. Sean seated himself silently between his squad leader and an unfamiliar woman. All in all she was rather stunning with ample form and skin so pale it almost seemed to glow...wait....it WAS glowing. Sean's curiosity got the better of him at last. I don't believe we've met, ma'am. I'm Private First Class Mu'haro, are you a new member of our squa... Sean trailed off as his mind began running through the evaluative checklist. She was glowing, where her skin touched solid objects was slightly skewed, and Sean had just noticed her shadow cast by the dim, red security lights in the transport's bay. It was about the same size and shape of a seagull...

...you're...you're an AER? But- ...none of them were installed with a hologram projection devi-.... Something finally clicked in his brain. 09?! The "woman" just gazed at him with a bemused smile. 09 would be the only one that didn't know Sean, other than 01 and 07 of course as those two had some sort of classified tech working with them. It- SHE, had not been completed at the time of his full involvement in the project.

Sean wanted to bombard Damien with questions, but he knew now was really just not the time. They were about to board a vessel overrun by very angry pirate-type people. At least they WERE until Damien, looking rather irritated, gave the order to the pilot to cut engines and remain in the hangar. At first Sean thought something was the matter, but when he heard Damien's reasoning he had to focus not to shout at the man.

Sergeant Meesha. Those are our men in there. Sure they may have made a foolish decision and sure they may have just signed their death sentence and you can't hear a word I'm saying over the din of those blasted fighters outside can you ya hopeless, sniveling gits- A loud detonation ended the most recent bought of combat from outside the hangar. -but they are soldiers of the Galactic Republic. Our comrades. Our brothers.... So with that little speech, I put my opinion in with Sergeant Kel, it is our duty to save our men and any survivors on board that frigate....this is the part where you clap and blow your nose, etcetera. Sean sighed and settled back down in his seat, striped sweats and tee-shirt clashing sloppily with Damien's polished armor and 09's flawless hologram. Rah and Damien just sat scowling at each other apparently hardly listening to Sean. It was going to be a looong raiding party...

[Squee]

The ventilation shaft was squishy for the cathar woman. Being rather larger than many females, she simply could not do this like she could at fourteen years of age on that blasted pirate ship that sometimes invaded her dreams. That ship did not haunt Cersa, oh no. She had dealt with those bloody pirates once and for all and they hadn’t a clue where she was or what she was doing. The best part about that story is an eighteen year old cathar had planned it all during those captive stages, and waited long years to carry out the final administration of killing off the…

Her ears brushed the top part of the ventilation shaft as she heard something. Her lion-like ears slid almost all the way forward, twitching to the sides to catch the sound like some kind of satellite. And they snapped back against her head as a creaking sound reverberated down the shaft, echoing and making the sound louder. Whatever that was, it couldn’t be good. And Mister-No-Good could be arriving anytime he wanted to knock on the door. Cersa braced a forearm and pulled herself along, lowering her head a little. There was little she could do with her legs to ease the strain in her arms. The shaft was narrow. It was barely wide enough for her shoulders to fit through. Everything now and then, one of her gadgets on her belt would scrap the interior, sending shudders down the cathar woman’s spine and instantly making her change her position so the scraping sound did not irritate her further. Lucky for her, there were two or three inches of space between her sword and the top of the shaft. That was lucky. Very lucky.

The Med Bay simply couldn’t be too far into the wall. She just needed to find some place she could drop in. From there, she could be the she-devil from hell falling from heaven, or something an furry feline angel falling from the graces of paradise to rescue some bodies. Take your pick.

There was another creak, but Cersa dragged her lanky body along further. Suddenly, the creak didn’t fade, and there sounded to be a strain in the metal…

The shaft suddenly dented, about midway along Cersa’s body. A large dent suddenly bowed in the metal coverings and Cersa cracked the top of her head at the same time she heard the strained metals release. Stars sparkled in her eyes and the echoing thrums sounded like starving banthas for a moment. At least the denting noise had covered her head bash. Cersa’s ears twitched as the galaxy’s stars cleared away from her deep colored eyes. She shook her head slightly, realizing then the mistake. It cost her a few moments of dizziness.

Cersa glanced across her shoulder at the dent that may pose as a problem. She did her best in pulling herself forward. Luckily Cersa tried tugging forward first, hissing in some frustration when her belt caught. Backing up a little, she tried again whilst pressing her hips tightly to the ventilation shaft. Her belt slid by, but her infuriated rearend stopped her this time. Once more, Cersa wriggled and squirmed like a beetle that had a finger pressed in its center. She slanted her body, as pulling closer to one side of the shaft seemed to have a little more room. Or, so, that’s what the soldier gathered from her limited view across her shoulders. Pulling herself awkwardly, Cersa felt as she slid by the dent. A hiss of relief escaped through her teeth this time. And onward she pull.

She hadn’t gone much further before sparks of electrical current danced before her. Wires lay in a tangled mess, as well a few hoses dangling. The framework of metal was present, though mangled and twisted. That shaft had a gaping hole in the middle of it. How delightful.

The feline dragged herself to the edge, ignoring the sparking and the drops from the hoses that could be acid for all she knew. She peered down, her eyes slitting smaller against the great sparks of light that flash up back at her. Cersa saw limbs, but not of a fleshling. More wires were everywhere, and even a couple of scorch marks were down there. Otherwise, there was nothing potentially dangerous. Yet.

Cersa scanned the edge of the shaft, find places to put her hands without jagged metal cutting into them. She pushed half her body out of the hole, eyes alert. And then she let go of the shaft and stretched her fur covered hands downward, sliding from the ventilation and falling, headfirst, to what could be called flooring. The lower half of her body followed easily. Cersa’s hands hit the floor first, the shock of the fall shaking up to her shoulders, collecting between the shoulder blades. The cathar woman flexed her abdominals and kicked with her legs, and shoved off with her arms. Lower end flipped over upper, feet landing somewhat heavily against the floor, her knees bent completely to absorb the shock.

And there before her, when her head came around, was a woman, another one of those blasted birds droids. The woman held something in her hand, something sharp and pointy.

Cersa rose up on her legs, tipping her head slightly and raising an ear while leaving one down. There was an amused twinkle in her feline eyes and a smirk threatened to overcome her solider stern features.

“Doctor, I don’t know if you plan to attack me with a syringe or not. But, let it be known that you would be the one taking the shot to the butt. I don’t do well with shots.”

[Val - Warning:Contains Sarcasm]

Jessica watched as the large figure dropped from the ventilation system. Surely something that large couldn't fit inside those ducts, could it? It was furry at least, but not a Wookiee. She paused, waiting to see exactly what it was. A Cathar? An actual, proper Cathar? She was impressed, sort of. It made sense as to why she actually managed to fit inside the ventilation shaft at least. Whether it was a pirate or not though, she couldn't be certain, and so kept that syringe held up at neck level. The Cathar seemed to drop her guard somewhat, and mused over Jessica's apparent skill with the syringe.

"Perhaps it would be best if we coop..."
"Be quiet." She gave a warning tone, knowing full well that co-operating could prevent any sort of violence. At the same time, if she got it wrong, it meant that all she had to defend herself with would be several feet of cane. And she could certainly use that at least. The Cathar were dangerous though, and quick. She'd spent almost three weeks going over their biology and illnesses. The thought quickly quipped into mind that this one probably wasn't suffering from Dumariticus at least, considering she had fur and wasn't bleeding from the eyes and ears.

Focus! Is she a threat to me or an asset? Part of her wanted to throw the syringe at the Cathar, knowing that she could not trust anyone, but perhaps this one was truely here to save them. Perhaps. She rubbed her thumb across the glass syringe, making her decision, before begrudgingly placing the syringe down onto the table top. Wexon flapped a little, taking the syringe and lifting off, depositing it back where Jessica had retrieved it from.
"OK kitty, who are you with and why are you here? Answer nicely and I'll find some yarn for you to play with." She mused at the Cathar, knowing full well she could end up being brutally clawed, but at least she'd know if she was right or not. Her eyes darted to the blaster pistol behind the Cathar. No chance of getting that. At least not right now.

[10Tickler]

For slightly more then a minute, Damien stared right back at the Chiss woman, another Sergeant, his eyes betraying both annoyance and a heavy lack of sleep. Then, without a word, he slammed his helmet onto his head, slapping a battery into his Blaster Rifle and Turning, Moving back onto the Dropship, followed by the Members of his Squad, each donning their helmets in turn, turning off the incoming Comm to avoid listening to the Screams from the Dying and wounded who were already aboard the ship.

When Sean had arrived, just in time to hear Damien's order and the command from another Rah, another sergeant from another division entirely, and then started in on Damien, the Tank of a man considered turning on the Noise Dampener unit in his helmet, if only to Cut off the Tirade from the sniper, but reconsidering he merely held up his hand in silence.

The ride over to the Medical Frigate was silent, for all 2 minutes of it, the tension thick as they landed, the Bay doors opening and the Heavy gunners Deploying Quickly. With simple hand Gestures, Damien sent the Two other comrades running, off into the Hallways and decks of the Ship. If nothing else, They would wipe up the Refuse that were the remaining Pirates, something that the First Squad in should have been doing. Damien's men were trained for Heavy assault aspects of combat, Damien's men should have been the first in, but Rashness had caused the deaths of several good men.

With Tails taking the point position, Damien's Comrade started moving, quickly towards the Flight Deck and the command center that would be there. Establishing Flight control was a Priority, and With Tank, Heat and Ishtar following him, the commandos started to move swiftly towards it. Reaching the Blastdoors, a lighter model, resistant to Blasters at the most. Reaching into his pack, The Sergeat Removed a Limpet charge, affixing it to the doors and motioning for the Squad to step back.

With a Flash and a deafening blast, the doors were blown inward with a rush, following it by a second, the Comrade was through the door, Damien and Tails taking shots with precision and skill. Triggering his comm, Damien spoke for the first time in nearly half an hour. Meesha to command, Command Deck is secure, no prisoners taken he said, turning to the Team he had moved with, feeling a weight on his shoulder. Turning, he raised an eyebrow behind his helmet...Ishtar merely sat there, silent. Awaiting further commands

[Jace]

Blaster fire lit up the darkness of space, as enemies clashed in a beautiful dance of rolls, swerves, and spins. In the midst of all this, a lone blind female, weaved through her enemies in a elegant but deadly fashion. Though Shenhua was concentrating intensely as she always did, she was still managing to have the time of her life.

Nothing like a good dogfight to get your blood flowing

The five other fighters who had followed her left, were now flying in pairs. When it came to flying, there should always be someone watching your back. She was currently flying with two flight, who was also known as Hops.

"Stick close Two, this is about to get real ugly"

She received a click over the comm from Hops, signaling that she had understood. She headed straight for two of the enemy fighters, and they shot past each other, moments later. Shen pulled back on the stick, and increased the throttle, sending her into a high speed turn. The pilots must have been poorly trained, because the enemy fighter was just beginning to turn now. She accelerated forward, and took aim at the enemy fighter. She waited until she heard the loud beep of locking on to the fighter. Without hesitation she fired, and heard the laser cannons fire four bursts. She was rewarded with the eclectic beeping of Arthas, which elicited a small smile.

"We are far from done yet, my friend"

She was about to go for the next fighter, when she received another set of beeps from Arthas.

"Nice one Hops, lets go mop up"

She hit the throttle and accelerated to where the rest of her squad was. She hadn't got any reports of anyone being shot down yet, and she wasn't expecting any. This squad was the best in the Navy, and some rag tag pirates weren't about to best them.

[Dire Wolf]

Crass furrowed his brow slightly as he noticed that one of the gunships never made it to the frigate. After a quick check he couldn't help but notice that the final ship never even made it out of the hanger... Why? What was keeping them? The ship was in perfect running order... not a single malfunction registered on the scanners. His questions were quickly answered when the pilot called him and informed him of the situation down in the hanger bay.

Why did these warriors, who were supposedly labeled “best in the Republic,” act like a bunch of school girls when a bunch of regulars left before them? Another act that irked him by the by. Sure, he did not give certain orders as to who should go first... he never thought of it. To be honest they should know who jumps in first.

“I do believe that Sgt Meesha will get a stern talking to when this is all over.”

The Zeltron said as he glanced back at the communications officer, but he only afforded the woman a glance. He was far too busy watching the little dog fights out of the transpari-steel viewport of the bridge. Crassus sighed. It was taking all that he had to not suit up and join the dog fight. That was the one thing he missed: flying. Little bright dots marked the black void of space. Each of these were another pirate fighter turning from just that into scrap metal, but to be honest it wasn't a large jump from the former to the latter.

The man looked down at the little terminal that allowed him to command his ship and crew from the little observation window that he seemed to be glued to during his stay on the bridge. For some odd reason he did not feel right sitting down on a “captain's chair” while in combat. Perhaps standing kept him focused? Alert? That was probably the case. Though he didn't particularly care either way.

“Finally! I see that not all of the folks on that team are complete puddles of piss.”

Crass couldn't help but mumble as the final dropship lurched into view. His respect for that particular “H.A.L.O.A.T.W” team had most certainly fallen significantly during this turn of events, he had only heard good things from their command up until then. That respect, however, was slowly beginning to return when he heard back from the team so quickly.

Meesha to command, Command Deck is secure, no prisoners taken...
Awaiting further commands

To say that Crass was an incompetent ground commander would be a massive understatement. In all his years in the military he never once fought a battle on the ground, save the time he crashed and was forced to, but that hardly counted. So he turned back to the infantry coordinator and awaited his response to Meesha's question.

“Roger that, this is command to Meesha. The infantry just went through a nasty firefight and have a few more pirates en-route to their position. I am marking an intercept point on your droid's map.”

The woman said with a strange aire of calm about her voice. In truth the regulars could probably handle the corsair scum that was moving towards them under normal circumstances, but they had taken a lot of wounded during the firefight and it was highly likely that the more heavily armored shock troopers of the H.A.L.O.A.T.W team would incidentally demolish the brigands with the same prowess that they used to take the bridge so easily. The infantry coordinator patched in a comm through to the regulars just after he contacted the first spec ops team. A calm yet urgent tone plagued the man's voice.

“This is Command to Fire team gold, you have hostiles en route to your position.”

“Sir, I am reading a pair of corvettes dropping out of hyperspace.”

Crass cursed audibly. These pirates had friends, and no doubt more where on the way. He instantly turned around and looked over his crew, there was more talent in that room then there was in some fleets.

“Tell our boys and girls to hurry it up down there, we need to get the hell outta here before more of those corsair dogs show up.”

With that he had the Ascension move up so that it could defend the medical frigate easier than before. There was little doubt in the Zeltron's mind that his girl could more than triumph in a fight against a pair of corvettes... which were basically glorified patrol boats... not only that, in fact, but the ship would probably make it out unscathed.

The other ships that were coming where the only things that worried him. Two corvettes weren't much of a problem, but when confronted with ten... now that. That was a problem.

[skaral]

Sergeant Bakkara sighed before giving his reply.

"Copy that bridge, see you guys when we get back." said Bakkara.

The 28 year old Twi'lekk felt much older than he avtually was. He was now in charge of a beat up fire team because his "freshie" C.O. was hit by an IED.

"I want Lieutenant Sharkal stabilized! We need to move into some cover. According to the bridge we've got more hostiles headed our way!" shouted the Sergeant.

The medic and the nurse stabilized Jarka. He was unconscious, and both of them hoped it would stay that way until they could get him to a proper medical bay. Sergeant Bakkara lead the Fire Team Gold into corners of the hall they were in. Everyone kept an alert ear out for any signs of trouble. The nurse took Jarka's side arm and dragged the lieutenant into a storage closet. After a few moments of waiting, the sound of running feet were heard.

Bakkara aimed his carbine toward the noise. To him it sounded like there were five, maybe six. The fireteams had lost three men already, they were outnumbered. As the footsteps got closer, voices were heard. The pirates were cursing the Republic and breathing heavily. Bakkara signaled that he was throwing a grenade and lobbed the metallic ball toward the voices. Just as one of the pirates came into sight, the grenade exploded into flames. Then out of the flames came blaster bolts.

"Suppressive fire!" ordered the Sergeant as he pointed toward the direction the blaster bolts were coming from.

The fire teams laid down a volley of fire, and when the smoke cleared, three pirates were charging, swords in hand. Bakkara shot one dead, the pirate nearly landed on top of him. Another pirate tackled a Cathar Specialist. The two wrestled violently, finally, the Cathar took the sword from his rag-tag assailant and skewered the man on it. Bakkara saw their medic, Corporal Shinn smack a pirate with his rifle and smash the brigand's head into the durasteel.

Just as they thought the battle was over, more footsteps could be heard.

This whole blasted ship is infested with pirates...

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

There were few things the Chiss hated in this galaxy, pirates, idiots and people who didn't follow orders were among them. Right now she was facing all three: pirates were coming up, and she was looking at an idiot who didn't follow orders. Even Rah, with as maverick as she was, followed orders....mostly....and especially when others were counting on her to do a job to keep them safe. Perhaps it was the remnants of the Jedi in her, or perhaps that was just her personality, even she wasn't certain. Either way, she'd heard Sean's attempts to cool the two down, futile as they were, but she just kept glaring back at Damien. Just as she'd been about to signal the pilot to take off with the other transport, the armored man shoved his helmet on and she walked back into the transport, sitting down with a huff and folding her arms across her chest as the doors closed and the transport started on its way. She barely even noticed the woman sitting near by. Sender, however, did.

09? Well I never thought I'd see you her sister.

The ride over was...uncomfortable...for the woman, her connection to the force allowing her to feel the emotions of the people around her. Determination, fear, anxiety, frustration, irritation, anger....love? One black eyebrow raised as she turned her head between Damien and "Kitty"...interesting. Shrugging it off, she pulled her cloak back around her and lifted her hood, ensconcing herself in the comfortable semi-darkness of her camouflage and allowing her form to meld into the backdrop of the transport, the grey cloak now reflecting the colors of the empty seat across from her. Sender shifted on her shoulder slightly, giving his tail a slight flick before he gave her an 'irritated' squeeze of his talons.

Miss Kel, you must be insane.

Rah shot the bird a look through the side of her hood, but didn't bother to move anything more than her eyes. She knew the droid was there so she didn't need to turn her head. Instead she simply huffed quietly at Sender's irritated and sarcastic tone.

Really? I hadn't guessed...going into a ship full of pirates with a pair of daggers and a talking bird droid...I never once considered myself insane. Out of sheer curiosity, however, why do YOU think I'm insane? THIS TIME I mean.

Her words were more than a bit sarcastic, tinged with her annoyance at the little creature. For as much as she loved Sender, she was already annoyed enough and his starting in on her for who knew what reason only irked the sergeant more.

Your earpiece, Rahja.

Pausing, she let out a long stream of curses in Cheunh, trusting that her soft tone and the elegant, complex, language of her people would be lost on the others in the transport. Sender, however, caught the hint, since she'd started (recently) uploading the language into his processors. It was far from complete, but he was able to at least catch her drift. She ended the quiet tirade as soon as the transport touched down.

Sender, I need you to be eyes and ears for ahead. Report back every two minutes on my com, I have it, it'll be on. Go, now.

The doors had opened and the droid whirred as his propulsion came online, sending him out of the transport with a blast of displaced air. The nearly hidden form of Rahja waited for the heavy gunners to exit and clear the hanger, not like it would take much by this time, before standing and turning to look at Sean.

Come with me if you like, Sean, Sender can help us both out. Besides, we can keep each other out of trouble. Though I wouldn't blame you for going with your team.

A slight motion would be seen as the colors her cloak reflected undulated while she reached around behind her and withdrew her daggers, flipping one of them into a reverse grip and keeping the other as it was. Slipping away from the team of heavy gunners, the nearly invisible chiss headed down one of the many corridors, death and gore meeting her eye at every turn. Some were Republic, others pirate, but most were the medical staff and crew from the ship. What a waste of life. As she moved along, Rah kept her mind fairly closed, allowing her to feel for threats, but not so much for allies. It was because of this that the chiss woman was unsure of if Sean was with her or had gone on with his team.

Turning down another corridor, she found a group of pirates huddled over something and being considerably noisy. Reaching out toward them through the force, she found the one with the weakest mind and slipped herself inside. What she found was far more disturbing than what she'd thought before. It was a young woman, barely out of her teens, that they were huddled over, pawing at her ripped clothes and tormenting her before they "had their way" with her. Furious, the azure woman stalked silently down the hall. It wasn't until she came upon the group of five men that she made a sound.

You want to let the girl go. If you do, I might kill you more swiftly.

[Squee]

((My posts are getting shorter. AH. >.< Sorry for spelling errors. It's three thirty here and I'm too tired to check for stuff.))

Those eyes never wandered from the woman with the syringe. Did the medical personnel really think she could harm her with a little shot? There was far too much interference for the syringe to be much use. The armor Cersa bore was light, yes, but thick enough to protect to a very brief degree. Cersa, however, did not depend on her armor to take anything other than a few minor scrapes. The cathar woman had become very proud of her skills, and perhaps a bit cocky. There was no way for her to perform to her highest unless the armor was light and easy. Cersa was flexible, nimble, swift, and quiet. Her armor had to be just the same.

That and there was her fur. But, any doctor could get through fur with a syringe. On Cersa, one would have to aim at either her hands or her head. Her head was the least likely to hit spot. Cersa always moved dodging-like because of her exposed head. Helmets limited her peripheral vision and well as played with her eyesight. It was dark in that helmet, and her eyes would grow accustomed to it far too quick. The lack of helmet thing was mostly because Cersa just wanted to be able to see all around her without feeling like a bird turning her head to see around in the limited vision they had.

Cersa’s hands were always in motion. They were either supporting her body, slashing, disarming, arming herself, or simply just causing physical harm. The doctor had a very slim change of sticking that needle into Cersa.

And rather hesitantly the doctor put it down. And there was another one of those birdlike droids! The Chiss woman had one, and now this one too? What were the things doing? Breeding when no one looked? Perhaps, just perhaps, Cersa was going to have to control the population.

Random cat joke. Not that anyone else would get it in this blasted galaxy.

"OK kitty, who are you with and why are you here? Answer nicely and I'll find some yarn for you to play with."

One of Cersa’s hands raised, fisted. “All right. One,” one finger went up, “I am Staff Sergeant Cersa Raterre’ta of the Republic Special Operations. Two, if you’re familiar with the Republic you have nothing to fear of that name. If you do turn out to be one of the pirates around here, you better fear my third finger. Three…” up went the third finger, “if I mew, you better fear it. It’ll be the last thing that touches heavenly on your ears. Four, I suppose I don’t get my yarn because I didn’t answer so nicely. Darn. Five,” Cersa dropped her hand and simply gazed at the doctor figure before her. “Do you want to get out of here or do you want to stand around insulting my species?” Her ear flicked a little and something tugged at Cersa’s lips. “Or maybe you want to find that yarn?”

Cersa, after the years of name-calling and stares and comments, rumors, and whispers, had simply adapted to accepting and embracing what others said about her. If such things were spoken out loud and directly to her, Cersa now managed to grab whatever idea was tossed her way and make light of it by running away with it. So many did not expect Cersa to go along with such statements or claims. The woman had decided she liked the reaction enough she would learn to pay attention a bit more to what others directed at her. If there was a chance to catch the idea and jump off a cliff with it, she took it. First of all, it was simply so much fun for Cersa, who got the pleasure of toying with said ideas and getting the reaction out of others. Second of all… well, if could lighten up the mood of others.

Which this place and air was in dire need of. Cersa finally let her slit eyes wander the medical bay, seeing the corpse not to far clothed with the stingy rags that only pirates wore. The controls by the door sparked sometimes, displaying that they were indeed fried. Boxes were somewhat strewn about. The place was in a bit of a disarray, but that was okay on a raided frigate.

“And, seriously, if you want to get going, we should leave now…” Cersa had raised a hand and pressed her fingers lightly to her ear piece, twisting it about so she could hear better. “We’re got more company arriving out of hyperspace. If you are indeed a pirate, that would mean as much to you as if you were staff on this ship. Because if you’re a pirate, my claws are a little itchy for flesh. And if you are staff…” Cersa gestured just above her, “The ventilation shaft, please.”

[Val - Warning:Contains Sarcasm]

Jessica paused, noticing the Cathar's apparent withdrawal from being angry. Or at least not acting in a typical way inkeeping with how the rest of the people did. She could wonder more about this later though. Maybe the Cathar was used to it, or maybe she was losing her touch. To be fair, she hadn't left the medical bay for several days except to eat. Maybe she was just out of practice, but either way the Cathar was not suggesting something quite humourous.

"First of all, if I was a pirate, don't you think I'd be wearing something a lot more combat ready, or some skimpy leather or something? Jacket and trousers aren't really screaming piracy. Oh, and second, I don't use a cane for show. Us cripples don't tend to jump through the ceiling well."

She judged the distance. Several feet above her head, never mind her record jump level. She twirled her cane around the right wrist a few times before reaching for another pill. Wexon eyed her with his little receptors, raising himself up to her shoulder and digging himself in comfortably.

"Ah, Geratadin, listed in my memory banks as an addictive pain medication. Are you annoyed, Chezz?" She delayed her answer, swallowing the pill first and waiting a few seconds for it to kick in. She had felt the first few twinges of her leg pain returning and didn't feel like putting up with a bird and a cat at the same time as the burning sensation in her leg.

"Yes, Wexon, Geratadin. Addictive to some. And no, not annoyed. Apparently having dead muscle ripped out of your leg results in it hurting like hell for the rest of your life." She pocketed the medication again, before moving over to the cabinet on the wall. She could feel the Cathar's gaze on her as she removed a few more bottles of Geratadin and pocketed those too.
"Just in case." She reassured her, musingly.

[Squee]

What the doctor figure had said about her choice of clothing was true to some degree. However, Cersa had been taught not to look at outwardly appearances and to not trust those she came across unless she knew they could be trusted. Trousers and jackets could mean simply peaceful or civil intentions, or they could be the choice clothing of a spy of malevolent intentions. Leatherwork or armor might’ve been the clothing of the immediate pirate, but it could also be the protection of some civil being. Therefore, Cersa couldn’t be sure and the cathar woman believed this human’s spite back at her uncalled for. Stupid people. Didn’t they ever understand the ideals of military minds? Especially the special forces? Well, no, they really couldn’t, considering the military was confusing enough, and the special operations were advanced branches of the military tree. It was a long, hard path, physically and mentally, to climb up that tree.

“Not necessarily,” came Cersa’s rumble, her vowels pouring out in a low roll. “Directly it is not piracy.” For now, let’s take her as a friendly. And for now Cersa would keep the doctor figure in front of her, just in case that silly cane of hers blew poisonous darts or something. The human woman was not familiar to Cersa, and she hadn’t offered her name. If the woman did prove to be a pain and a spy, though, Cersa would have her hands full: the blame would fall on her and she’d have to dispatch the doctor, Cersa was beginning to doubt this human being was even a doctor.

Wait a second…

“Hey, AER,” Cersa snapped to gain the AER droid’s attention. Her large feline frame began to approach the doctor. Her ears were pressing back against her starched hair, the pupils of her dark eyes becoming menacing slits as her expression grew hard. “Since your human friend here has decided not to tell me, you may tell me her name before I decide to end her life on the muse that she is a pirate spy. I need name, profession, and affiliation. Unless you, miss, decide to tell me yourself.”

Despite Cersa’s musing, she just couldn’t be sure. Her soft soled boots hardly gave over a scuffle as the tall cathar continued to close distance between her and the human woman. The less distance there was, the less likely the human was going to try anything stupid. In the dimming light there was in the medical bay, Cersa’s claws could be seen escaping out the tips of her fingers, and her hands were swinging fluidly and ready to strike at any moment.

Past experiences were nagging too strongly now. Cersa had been about to stupidly decide to allow the woman to come with her without being sure. And with the snarky comments the human was sending her, as well as the bad temper, Cersa was doubting more now. No, she had to be sure, or the woman died right here and now. No more Miss Nice Kitty. She wasn’t going to be tricked as Urth (a particular strong memory) had tricked her. She had played a little and now that was unacceptable. This was working time, though, to Cersa, this work could be more like her playground. Cersa enjoyed it, as morbid as that could sound, and to add a little more blood to the pile would not be very hard for her to accomplish. It was as simple as raking a few claws through an animal.

The lion-like features of Cersa became more predatory as she halted within arms distance of the human woman. Her brow and nose were wrinkled so that they appeared cruel and mean, unforgiving. Her triangular nose twitched slightly as she could smell the medications different scents wafting from the cabinet. With one hand, Cersa shoved the cabinet door closed, her claws scraping slightly. Though she had only seen the woman grab pill bottles, there could be other things handy in there, from other syringes to a blaster pistol or some kind.

If the woman turned out to be a friendly as Cersa had before been ready to accept, the Cathar had no problems addressing the woman’s handicap. The cane did not have to be a primal blow weapon that fired darts. It could be just a cane, as Cersa really hoped to believe. In that case, Cersa would heave the woman into the ventilation shaft and then climb in after. Her comrade would be waiting on the other side when they came out. All would be safe for the human woman should she actually be a doctor.

"Sergeant Raterre’ta,” crackled her earpiece, whispering her name and making Cersa blink once, though her expression didn’t falter. Her hand came off the cabinet door and fixed that silly earpiece a little.

“Yes?” Cersa responded, never taking her eyes off of the human woman, continued to glower as her voice gave a tone of raw authority. Her hand was out before her now, between the staff sergeant and the assumed doctor. Her claws were still out and posed as a silent warning.

“I’m witnessing the infantry, not HALO, being overrun by pirates…”

“Stay with them. If they’re having issues, your job is to help them. Escort them either back to the dropships or where they were ordered to go. If their smart, they’ll want to take their wounded to the ships. Understand?” He would have aided them anyway, Cersa knew, but he had to have her orders to remain with them without getting howled at. If there were casualties, she wanted them protected. They were still Republican soldiers. Not as foremost as the special brotherhood she had now, but the other soldiers were like her cousins. It was still family, and one tended to like his/her family enough to risk their necks for them. This was no an exception. Hopefully Cersa herself could link up with them.

“Understood.” her twi’lek comrade replied over the crackling background and whine of weapons. And then the line was dead.

“Now, back to you, Doc,” Cersa growled, eyes once again focused on her. “Tell or die.” “Name, affiliation, profession.” “I gave you mine all in one shot. I’m now asking for the respect back, as well as to seal your fate.” “And I’ll only wait so long. So, don’t choke over your words.”

[Val - Warning:Contains Sarcasm]

Jessica's eyes narrowed as the Cathar strode towards her, covering a large distance in a small space of time and invading the personal space around her quite aggressively. She slammed the medical cabinet shut, almost leaving a few extra fingers inside, before demanding from her. It wasn't how people with manners asked, she was certain. People with manners asked nicely and didn't bear their claws and act threateningly, as if she was ready to kill her. The Cathar's face contorted to an angry expression, though Jessica hardly cared, relaxing her weight mainly on the cane.

"No manners? Shame. OK, fair enough. I'm Doctor Jessica Chezz, M.D. Affiliation? Republic. Profession, well. I've been trained in more things than I could list without your fur falling out." She paused, considering making some sort of offhand diagnosis of the Cathar right now, but decided it would serve a better purpose another time. Glancing at the Cathar's claws, she smirked. She knew the Cathar could easily kill her with one swipe, but she wasn't scared. Death wasn't something she was bothered by - at least not at the moment. She'd be missed, but the Republic would hardly court marshal anyone over it. The only thing they'd miss would be her diagnostics.

It wasn't like she'd lived an amazingly exciting life, and looking back she saw that she was more of a medical machine than a person. An amazing medical machine, but still nothing that couldn't be replicated. She returned attention to the Cathar, half expecting the feline to not believe her story. She was hardly believing the Republic was appointing Cathar soldiers are ventilation cleaners nowadays. They'd be much more useful in battles. She darted her eyes to her shoulder, looking at Wexon. He wasn't really engaged in the conversation, as though distanced from it. Useless droid, never paying attention when needed.
"So are we going, or are you going to carry out some organ cosmetics?" She was talking about her skin, but she decided to let the kitty figure that one out.

[10Tickler]

Hearing the order to assist the first of the Squads that had left, Damien literally twitched, Ishtar laying a Holographic hand on his shoulder. Disconnecting his com from the ship for a moment, the Sergeant swore loudly, causing his Fireteam to Jump. With the annoyance let out in his words, he reconnected the comm and spoke. Roger, Moving now he said, his voice flat, toneless, hiding his disgust at the lack of proper direction, direction, that if had been given would have avoided this situation entirely.

Turning to his Comrade, he looked at Ishtar and nodded, not having to speak... Where the Female figure had stood a moment before, there was now a detailed map, showing the most direct path through the corridors, leading to the Location of the Downed Squad. Heat, You're on Point with me. The rest of our Squad will meet us there after they've completed their own goals... Turning his Comm back to the Command deck of the Ascension, Damien spoke once more to the commander. Advise, we have no Medical Support On our team, Request assistance from another Unit in stabilizing the Other Unit once we arrive he said, his team already moving.

With Ishtar's assistance, Damien and his squad were on scene not two minutes from receiving orders to move there, and First through, the Pyromaniac that was on point with Damien Instantly moved forward, setting up a Forward perimeter with the others while Damien moved to the Crouching Sergent. You in command here? Damien asked, not really caring one way or another, he had orders to give, and heaven help the man who didn't follow them to the letter. We have Medical Support on the way, Pick 3 men to stay behind with us, the rest need to fall back to the Hanger, which has been fully secured...They need to assist with the Evacuation of the Ship's Crew and Staff, then leave. he commanded, Standing back up and Hoisting his Rifle, a glint in his eye...There would be no pirates leaving this ship today, he didn't care if he had to Board any other ships on his own, he'd make sure of that.

[Mara]

((So our Venoms have astromechs? Have to find a name for mine...))



More fighters spawned from the pirate ships as Pak led his half of the Venom squadron in a shallow arc to regroup with Shenhua's half. He had noticed the six blips on his sensor screen coming his way. They had easily dispatched most of the earlier pirate fighters. Most were just clouds of debris floating around but a few were still with their ships but dead in space. The Balosar would leave them be; the Republic wasn't the kind to shoot down defenseless beings, even if they were the enemy. The pirates could be captured later after the battle was done and taken as war prisoners.

As the group of pirate fighters throttled closer, Pak turned to the pilots he had taken control of: Six, Seven, Eight, Eleven and Twelve. "Split up, grab a wingmate and take care of these guys. Six, with me." He hoped Shenhua would be doing the same thing as her half of the squadron met up with his. They would have a better chance of disabling these fighters as pairs and not going full-on with all twelve of the Venoms, superior firepower they may have.

He and Six had just gotten close to one of the fighters, both accelerating on its tail as it tried to find cover with its friends, when something beeped on his sensor board. Pak fired his lasers at the fighter before making a dive to come up behind the fighter once again. In the short lull as Six fired at the enemy, he glanced down at the screen. Two more corvettes. Nothing major but it still added to the number of pirates out there attacking the medical frigate and now the Ascension.

And the newcomers were releasing fighters as well. Now this battle was really going to get interesting. The amount of pirate fighters out there was doubling, even maybe tripling with the additional corvettes' deployment. "Be advised, more enemy fighters coming from those corvettes," Pak spoke over the squadron comm frequency. He was sure the others, including Shen, had seen them, but it was good to show solidarity anyway. "Keep in pairs... stay to the original plan." The Balosar kept his voice steady; he wasn't afraid, but he knew some of the other pilots might be, and he needed to assure them. "Don't worry about the new ones yet. Let's focus on these guys." They had to do as much damage as they could before the new squads came into firing range.

[skaral]

"Temporarily, yes. I am glad you guys showed up. I thought we were gunna be alone here for a while. I am Sergeant Kha Bakkara, our C.O. was hit by some kinda explosive and it tore up his arm. He is in the utility closet down the hall with a nurse that's taking care of him." explained Kha.

The Twi'lek knew they were safe from all being whiped out now. There were only two injured counting Jarka and two dead. The nurse emerged from the closet helping the drowsy and numb lieutenant move. Jarka's arm was heavily bandaged up and down and still had the appearance it was going to fall off at any second. The Lieutenant was woozy from the blood loss, but the nurse had stopped the bleeding.

"I am Lieutenant Sharkal...I run this outfit," said Jarka, his tone of voice was that of someone on heavy pain medication and his words were slurred a bit.

Jarka did not expect a battle injury to hurt so bad, the nicks and scratches he had received from the ambush in the medical bay were nothing, but his left arm needed amputation, and he hoped that his recuperation would be swift enough for the mission that was ahead. He wanted to be part of it, and he knew he could handle it, he just wanted to show his men he could handle it.

"Bakkara, Ssissk, and Lark, stay behind with these guys, everyone else, on me and the nurse." said Jarka woozily.

"Sir, are you sure you are okay?" asked Bakkara.

"I will be fine...I just need to get off this damned ship and into a medical bay," answered Jarka.

The nurse helped the injured lieutenant walk, Kha, a Trandoshan private named Ssissk, and a Human private named Lark stayed behind with the Special Ops unit. The Cathar corporal that had helped Kha earlier grabbed the other wounded man, a Mon Calamari Staff Sergeant and hauled him on his shoulder. In a few minutes the men made their way back to the hangar, the dropships were waiting, along with a medical shuttle. Jarka and the Mon Cal Staff Sergeant were loaded onto hospital beds and set with fluid drips.

"Alright, what would you like us to help with?" Kha asked the Special Ops Sergeant in front of him.

[A®heim]

Allow me. Sean snarled from the doorway at the far end of the hall. The man closest to Rahja convulsed as fell to the floor, a neat hole in his forehead just above the right eye. Sean didn't blink as the tip of his rifle moved to the next pirate in the group...

The rifle cracked again, and the pirate fell without preamble.

Two were dead before their trains of thought arrived at the station and began to move and draw weapons. Sean didn't even blink as two more reports echoed through the hall, one after the other. A pirate who had drawn a carbine yelped as it was blasted out of his hand (and took a piece of his thumb with it) and another clasped the side of his head where his ear used to be. The remaining pirate, Rah could handle perfectly fine he was sure. Keeping the rifle raised, Sean barked out in a harsh and threatening tone.

Step away from the lady or so help me, you will join your friend as a throw rug! Oddly enough for a sniper, Sean never cared much for killing of other sentient beings, but these pirates had gone to far. Perhaps chivalry was dead, but that didn't stop him from feeling utter disgust towards any who would harm an unarmed woman. You don't do that, unpunished. By threatening the pitiful girl sobbing upon the floor, they had forfeited their humanity or whatever they were. They were just beats now, another animal for Sean to hunt. They had lost their immunity long ago...

He nodded to Rahja and raised himself out of his firing stance, though he still kept his sights trained on the heads of the surviving pirates. Trusting a pirate for any length of time was never a good idea. He had just started walking towards the group when the burly Rodian brought the vibroblade down upon his back from behind. He had been too distracted to avoid the blow altogether, but his reflexes allowed him to roll with it enough to avoid it being fatal. The humming blade cleaves neatly across his shoulder shearing a good amount flesh from the bone causing Sean to take in a sharp breath of pain.

He landed well enough and rolled back to his feet just in time to fall forward again to duck the blow that would have decapitated him in an instant. Forcing back the pain and terror, Sean managed to hold his composure and jump back out of range of yet another swing. His boot slammed down hard on the hallway floor, and the tiny vibrodagger lurched out of it, glittering in the air momentarily before Sean snatched it up in his right hand and brought it to bear in a reverse grip just in time to catch another downward slash of the vibroblade. Both men grunted in strain as both tried to overcome the other in the clash. Sean was strong, but the Rodian had the ship's artificial gravity on his side and the vibroblade inched slowly towards Sean's face. Sweat poured down both men's faces, the droplets falling around a manic smile the Rodian somehow managed to display on it's small snout. Sean matched it with his own: a calm, satisfyed, yet somewhat cruel expression crawling across his face. The rodian's multi-faceted eyes twitched slightly as they gazed down at Sean's left hand.The emerald green was replaced with one much more pale and sickly as the blood ran from his face. The Rodian lurched and dropped the vibroblade from shaking fingers as Sean emptyed his silenced slugthrower into his gut.

The Rodian fell gurgling against the wall as Sean strode alertly towards Rahja and the remaining three pirates once more. He kept a glare to kill small rodents trained on the pirates as if to dare them to make a move towards either women ahead. He gave a kurt nod to Rahja and knelt down, being careful to stay on the balls of his feet in case he should have to move quickly, alongside the girl on the floor. Don't worry ma'am, we're not going to hurt you. You're safe now...

Sean offered his hand to the lady in what he hoped was a kind and unthreatening manner. Cautiously, she took his hand and stood on shaking legs. The sniper looked up to scowl at the pirates again. He couldn't have looked very terrifying with his souvenoir tee-shirt and striped sweat pants, but the the pirates stared at him as if he were a graul waking up from its nap. Turning to Rah, he spoke in hardly a whisper.

These...animals...have made their decision. Do with them as you like, I won't lift a finger to stop you...