Predator and Prey

[CrypticQuery]

The eerie, peaceful moment of silence that preceded the energy blast's impact was one that left an imprint on Neil's mind.  It was practically the 'calm before the storm' personified, and the knot in his stomach wasn't exactly keen on letting up.  Soon thereafter, and much to his chagrin, that hesitant moment of calm was shattered and the lurching of the ship knocked his balance off.  Slamming his back into the rear of one of the various computer monitor consoles installed around the bridge, the raccoon gasped out a few choice pieces of vocabulary before getting back to his feet, pumped up on adrenaline alone.  The pain would surely come later, but for now his eyes remained open, and his tail hung limp behind him.

 

"Anything you need, call it out.  Let's get this sonofabitch!", he called to Trask, more than antagonized now than previously. 

[russiandog38]

Ashlin wasnt prepared for the blast. As it hit the ship she was thrown off her feet, landing on the floor with a hard thud. Pain flared from her side, causing a groan and a few profanities to escape her lips. "Alright, so what do we do?" She asked, shakily getting up.

[Clearwater]

''I'm on it!''
Sal moved over to where the helm controls were located, as the ships all around the vicinity of space engaged
in battle. Really though? Just hitting buttons as they lit up? More like a child's game than anything. But still,
if this was going to get them out alive...
''Haven't got anything a little more exciting, eh?'' Salto mused, as he procceded to hit the buttons that lit up
with the palm of his wing as he watched the battle that was taking place.
''Someone get this one back awake!'' He added, pointing to the unconcious helmsman.

[Star_Dragon]

"Helm, bring us over enemy ship's aft quarter; Tactical, target all weapon coordinates, Alpha-Three! All disruptors, FIRE!" Trask commanded. Disruptors discharged, seemingly from nothingness, at Hakeev's ship, phasing through the shields and hitting weapons as the smaller Reman Vessel flew toward the enemy ship's aft. Hakeev still seemed to concentrate on the other two warbirds firing on him, but occasionally fired a plasma beam or torpedo in an attempt to find the Retribution's Thunder.

 

Trask looked at Neil and Ashlin. "Can either of you hack a starship's computers?"

[Clearwater]

(C'mon guys, let's keep it going. I'm waiting on someone else to post before I continue.)

[CrypticQuery]

(Sorry about the wait; I completely overlooked Star_Dragon's post.)

 

"Nope, I can't help you there," Neil replied, somewhat exasperated at his own lack of usefulness and unable to even add in an ill-placed joke.  He remained on alert though, and was ready to provide assistance if anything that he could actually assist with came up.  Annoyed, he glanced around the ship's bridge.  An air of helplessness washed over him; there was nothing he could do to stop any shots toward their own vessel, and there was no direct way for him to counterattack either.     

[Star_Dragon]

(Truthfully, Clearwater, I was waiting on you. Sal took over the helm station, remember? And Trask asked him to get the ship over Hakeev's aft quarter, which is directly behind the ship.)

[Clearwater]

(Truthfully, Clearwater, I was waiting on you. Sal took over the helm station, remember? And Trask asked him to get the ship over Hakeev's aft quarter, which is directly behind the ship.)

(Well, I was again waiting on someone else to post before I continue, so...)

 

''Got it! Bringing her around!'' Salto shouted, pressing another combination of buttons. ''It's gonna be rough, so hang on!''

[russiandog38]

"Sadly I cant help ya either. Always been better with a gun the a computer. " Ashlin replied. At Sal's words, she gabs onto one of the bridges desks, supportsupportIng herself against it. "But if there is anything else, ill try an help."

[Star_Dragon]

The Retribution's Thunder glided over Hakeev's aft, disruptors blazing. With fire pouring in from three warships, Hakeev's ship was taking heavy damage. It was no surprise to hear him cry out over the still open channel, "GAAAAAH! My eye! You will pay for that, impudent whelp! I promise you that!"

 

Shortly thereafter, Hakeev's ship retreated into warp. After that, a beep sounded from one of the consoles.

 

"Sir," one of the crewmen proclaimed, "Another ship has just warped away from Virnat."

 

"Romulan?" Trask asked.

 

"Negative, sir - computers didn't recognize the ship," the crewman answered.

 

"Think it could've been our uninvited invisible assailant?" Tovan suggested.

[Clearwater]

Sal broke a sweat after seeing Hakeev's ship warp away.

''Phew... Glad we're out of that.''

But after hearing about another ship warping out, and Tovan thinking it might be their mutual friend, Sal got up and walked over to Trask and Tovan, stretching his wings.

''If he was one of the last to get out of this place, then it's possible.'' He suggested. ''But if we picked him up just now, I think he might be wanting us to follow him.''

Sal paused. ''...But then again, he might also be expecting us NOT to go in after him. I say we call his bluff by waiting for a while, then chase after him. In the meantime...''

Sal moved over to the crewman that was knocked out and tried to haul him up onto his shoulders, struggling under his weight.

''Someone give me a wing getting this guy to the medbay,'' He asked.

[Clearwater]

(Gagh, another delay. C'mon guys, let's keep it going. Or, if you're at a loss on what to do next Star, I vote we regroup in a PM and discuss what to do from there.)

[CrypticQuery]

(Missed that post again. Sorry!)

 

Responding to Sal's request, Neil rushed over and supported the free side of the injured crewman.  If it helped someone out and made him feel useful then it was definitely good in his book!  Grunting as he wrapped the individual's arm around his neck and supported the weight with his shoulder, the raccoon scanned the room around him before posing another question to the bird.  "I hope you know where the infirmary is, 'cause if you leave it up to me we'll wander around for a few hours or so and settle for the custodian's storage room."   

[Clearwater]

''How the hell should I know where it is? Or rather, how should I remember where it was?'' Sal retorted, finding it easier to lift the unconcious figure now that Neil was

helping him. Although Salto could keep a map of a place in his head for quite some time, he'd have to know said place first. And he'd only been on the Retribution's Thunder

for the best part of 2 hours.

 

 

(On a side-note, I've noticed that Naza Sutera is back online - we should let him rejoin should he asks.)

[CrypticQuery]

(Hopefully S_D will pop back in for a plot advancement sometime.)

 

"I sure as hell hope there are some signs around here," Neil muttered under his breath as he began to move, injured cargo in tow, and without necessarily securing his co-medic's consent to do so.  He had seen doors and other entrances with placards atop their frames dictating what lay beyond their thresholds; surely the same would be true of the infirmary.  It didn't help that the vast majority of the ship was built to the same sort of specifications, in the same architectural style, with the same color palette and material selection.  After bumbling around for what felt like hours, and yet was only slightly more than a minute, the trio happened upon what they were looking for. 

 

Nodding his head in satisfaction, the raccoon turned to face the avian and cracked a grin.  "Let's call a cab next time."  

[Clearwater]

''Heh, agreed.'' Sal smiled and chuckled, before shifting over to the door. It opened automatically. He could see the medic sat down at a table, looking like he was dealing with some papers.

''Excuse me?'' He asked. ''Sorry to bother you, but after what just happened, we've got a crew member who's down.'' Sal said. ''Doesn't look like he was hurt, but the blow he was dealt was quite a heavy one. C'mon Neil, let's get him over to a bed.''

[CrypticQuery]

I'm going to lock this now.  If S_D pops by again we can reconvene.

---

Aaaaand it's open for business once more.

Edited May 11, 2015 by OneUnder

[Star_Dragon]

"Sir," the comms officer piped up, "We're being hailed by... Admiral Temer."

"Let's hear it," Trask said. The comms officer patched the Admiral through, and he was quick to congratulate him.

"Congratulations, mister..."

"Trask - Subadmiral Trask Makron," Trask introduced himself. "Look, I'll be direct with you - we have a shitload of refugees who need a safe haven. Know of any such place?"

"Well, you could bring them to the Republic Flotilla," Temer responded. "Just follow us - and D'Tan will want to speak with you personally, given what you witnessed today." The transmission cut out shortly afterward.

"Not very chatty," Tovan commented.

"At least he isn't shooting at us," Trask said. "Tovan, take the helm, follow Temer's warbird to this... flotilla."

Shortly afterward, the RRW Retribution's Thunder warped out with the other two Republic Warbirds, leaving Virnat as yet another casualty of the Tal Shiar.

(Naza, if you want back in, you can come back in, but please - try to keep up?)

[Clearwater]

(I'm kinda busy as I write this, i'll get a proper post up Saturday. Also, I haven't seen russiandog around for a while as well, s/he may have gone AWOL.)

[Star_Dragon]

(Very well. If any of you have any friends you think would make a good addition to this RP, please - do not hesitate to pass on my invitation to join up.) The Retribution's Thunder dropped out of warp in an area of space that held little strategic value - except for the mass of Romulan and Reman ships in the area. At first glance, one would surmise that Admiral Temer had dropped the Retribution's Thunder into the lap the bulk of the Tal Shiar fleet; only these Romulan ships weren't emblazoned with the logo of the Romulan Tal Shiar. "I'm receiving a message for you, Subadmiral," Comms reported. "It reads, 'To Subadmiral Trask Makron, I am D'Tan, the leader of the Romulan Republic. At your earliest convenience, I would like to meet with you in person. There are matters we should discuss. Signed, D'Tan.'" Trask thought this over, then made his response. "I'll go meet with D'Tan." He paused get Sal and Neil on a radio channel. "Neil, Sal, we can get you properly equipped later - we're off to meet with the leader of the Romulan Republic. Please meet me in Transporter Room Two." He looked to Tovan. "You have the conn, Commander." Trask then rose and headed for the aforementioned transporter room, his H1M1 still slung across his back.

[Clearwater]

''Okay, acknowledged. Let me just get properly equipped up before I forget to do it. I'll be a few minutes'' Sal said over the comm line, before cutting it and lifting the boom on his mic back up. Sal looked at Neil for a few seconds. ''Better leave this one to rest.'' He said, motioning his head to the unconcious crew member and walking out of the medbay.

When Salto was out, he sighed. He never figured he'd go THIS far in a journey... Well, no point on moping about it. Trask was waiting for him, and Sal didn't want to keep him long. Sal headed for the Ready Room, which was filled with all different kinds of weapons - Pistols, rifles, swords, you name it, Sal saw it. Slowly walking around, carefully examining each weapon, Sal eventually decided to keep the rifle Trask had gave him, as per his recommendation. But what he did grab however was a Five-Seven, along with a few magazines of ammo for it.

''I feel a little better now.'' He said in content, checking to see that the magazine already loaded into it was full and putting it away. Sal called Trask again on a comm line. 

''Trask, it's Sal. I'm on my way up.'' He said, this time leaving the line open and deciding to fly the rest of the way. He was quite surprised to have the room in the corridors to spread his wings and fly about in here.

[Arminius H O Fiddywinks]

As the battle between the Elachi died down and the Retribution's Thunder approached the Republic Warbirds, four of the refugees became restless. "That is it!" announced a hulking dragon with a heavy Ruthenian accent, pacing around while the other refugees sat strewn about. He adjusted his belt, which contained a pistol holster on one side and a bastard sword in its scabbard in the other. "I am going to their bridge to speak to their commanding officer. Then we shall find out what is going on." However, one of the refugees stood up in front of him.

"Hold on there, leather wings," the female refugee said defiantly, slinging her sniper rifle over her shoulder. She had a fiery look in her eyes. "You're gonna tussle with the people who just saved your, and our, asses?" she inquired, looking around at the various refugees in the room.

"I will not fight them," the dragon assured. "I will talk to them. You can come with me if you want, Elizabeth." After pondering the foray endeavor in her mind for a few moments over the coughing and concerned conversations of multiple refugees, she made up her mind.

"Alright, Bo," she said. "I'll babysit you." While the duo headed to the door to the corridor, two other refugees, a young, well-dressed beaver and a teenage, shabby-looking tykeriel were sitting beside one another. The tykeriel's left arm was wounded by a disruptor ray, but he hid them from the medics because he did not trust their care. The beaver took off his blazer, revealing a shoulder holster with a Van der Sloop semi-auto blaster pistol.

The beaver wrapped the blazer around the tykeriel, who was visibly shaking.

"I'm not cold," the tykeriel said with a thick Magyar accent.

"I don't care," the beaver replied. He looked to the tykeriel's wounded arm. "It's bad, Sandor. Hold on..." The beaver turned to his right and rummaged through his bag full of medical equipment. He plucked from the black bag a small device, its purpose mysterious. The beaver pointed the device at Sandor's wound from a few inches from it and pressed a button. It starting whirring and pulsing green, and almost miraculously, Sandor's wound began healing. The tykeriel breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Korben," Sandor said, dislodging the 71-round box magazine protruding from his light automatic blaster's (like an SMG) underbelly, checking how much ammunition he had left.

"No problem, kid." Korben replied. He noticed Sandor attending his gun. "You empty?"

"Almost. Those savages damn near drained me whole."

[Star_Dragon]

(I'd have replied sooner, if this damn reply screen would load right. Sorry.)

Trask made his way to the transporter, nearly colliding with the dragon. "My apologies," he told him. He paused, then added, "You present the appearance of a man with a specific purpose - you looking for something?"

[Arminius H O Fiddywinks]

Bohdan, realizing the importance of the figure he bumped into, straightened his posture. Elizabeth followed suit. Bohdan's 7 foot tall stature dominated the corridor, but with a clearing of at least 5 feet, his head was safe. He folded his wings as tightly as possible in order to allow others to pass by. "My name is Colonel Bohdan Zenobi Chmielnicki of the Ruthenian Imperial Army," he announced. "As an official envoy of the Czar, I request that you take me to the leader of this ship."

"I'm with him," Elizabeth said bluntly, nodding her head.

[CrypticQuery]

"Yeah, I'll be over as soon as I can," Neil called back over the air of the open radio channel, letting go of the key on his mic before patting himself down to make sure all of his gear was in place, and that there weren't any parts of him missing.  Pistol?  Check.  Baton?  Check.  Back up armament?  Yup.  Satisfied, the raccoon strode out of the infirmary willfully, and did his best to follow Salto's lead.  Whistling to himself as he made his way through the corridors, he couldn't help but to feel a slight trepidation over this meeting.  Who was to say that it wouldn't be a trap or an ambush?  He didn't like the odds, and the sour look upon his muzzle exemplified this.  The male's fear, coupled with his impatience, was making him irritable. 

"You'd think Trask would have a goddamn floorplan laying around here somewhere," Neil grumbled aloud as he continued, not entirely sure that he was headed the right way, but pressing on nonetheless.  All of the hallways were starting to look the same - their dark, metallic aesthetic and similar architectural styles didn't do his sense of direction any favors.  He was beginning to think that he'd be bumbling around in that maze forever before he came upon the signage that he so desperately needed.  Unable to suppress a slight grin, the raccoon ran his eyes along the listings, finally coming across Transporter Room 2.  Turning to face the direction of the arrow and beginning the brisk walk down the hall, he was glad that he at least appeared to be making some progress.