Dervish — Roleplayer Guild

Saseen, the other “captor” of this little plan, was perhaps the most relaxed of any of the recruits. The asari was a pleasant enough personality, and indeed seemed to be one of the few people wholly excited for the impending operation. Tanya suspected the two of them were going to get along just fine, which was fortunate considering Saseen was going to be the one flying the captured ship.

“My story’s the same as yours. If it’s likely to be laughed off the face of the galactic map from anyone with a respectable living, chances are I’ve drawn a pay cheque from it.” Tanya grinned to Saseen. “As far as stupid plans go, this one at least took me a few days to line up. Given my record of pulling rabbits out of hats on the spot, that means it’s guaranteed to work.”

The two women didn’t have long to catch up as the star of the show approached, asking for a blade. That was unexpected. “I like watching people get shivved as much as the next girl, but given this is the 22nd century, I tend to anticipate people preferring firearms. I’m not removing your omni-tool, so if you have a blade programmed in that thing, use it. If not, fucking stab them with bullets.” She said dryly, patting the M-3 on her hip. She nodded when he held his hands out, and she gently put his hands behind his back. “It’s less obvious when the cuffs come off and for me to hand you a gun. What’s your dominant hand? The cuffs will undo from one side only at the first command. I managed to put a small shield generator in the cuffs so you’ll be able to take a few grazing shots without much concern, but I need to stress the capacitor is really fucking small, so don’t be a brazen asshole when the party starts.” She said, making final preparations with Kesik and Saseen. The trio were soon ready and standing like they belonged there. Tanya noticed the drell woman, Daryna, walking around like a tourist in a god-awful shirt, arguably having the most convincing cover of anyone, although she wondered if anyone loved the station enough to wear a shirt proclaiming how great it was. Valok was doing his best to appear disinterested closer to E-16, close enough to support Kesik and the others if need be, but not close enough to be overly alarming. There were a few others here and there, and the hacking team had already departed to do their thing. She hoped they were well on their way to blocking the comms and locking down the ship, because this was going to be a shit show otherwise.

Finally, the docking lights of Bay E-15 illuminated, informing the occupants of the hanger that a ship was cleared to dock and would be making contact shortly. Tanya and Saseen arose from their seat and helped pull Kesik to his feet. She spoke lowly, shotgun in hand, into her omni-tool. “Alright people, look sharp. It’s show time.” She hoped her various team members were brilliant enough to keep their communications open and synced with one another. This would be a terrible time to figure out somebody fucked the dog, as her boot camp instructor was fond of screaming.

To her relative surprise, it was not an asari or turian ship that docked, but through the large glass viewport emerged a salarian corvette, the long sloping lines that seemed to form seamlessly together and giving it a similar profile as one would have expected from one of their firearms. Salarians were notoriously fond of small-scale operations, usually strictly off the books missions that would bring untold amounts of hellfire to their doorstep if they were ever discovered, and they needed the craft to pull it off. Small, fast, and extremely efficient, salarian corvettes were among the most iconic of the salarian fleets as much as cruisers were ubiquitous for turians. It was an appropriate vessel to receive a wanted prisoner, as it likely had a containment field in its brig that was second to none.

What emerged from the docking arm was a small armed precession of seven mercenaries, three asari, two turians, and two humans in the ironic black and grey purple-striped armour of Siame Industries PMCs and security teams. All were armed with assault rifles, likely one of the newer Rosenkov Materials line of Kovalyov rifles. From her run-ins with Siame Industries, they weren’t fans of skimping out on proper gear.

That would have been nice. Tanya thought, her mind briefly flittering to the crapshoot that was whatever Nova had carried in the dozens of crates littered around Tyrus’ cargo bay.

One of the asari and a turian approached as the rest of their team fanned out, establishing a perimeter, securing their escape route and taking a knee, weapons trained on possible threats. It was too much to hope that they’d be idiots. The duo stopped in front of Kesik and the turian called up his omni-tool, holding it up to Kesik’s face. The turian blinked, apparently surprised. “It’s actually him.” He said.

The asari remained impassive. Tanya smirked. “What, you Siame Industries blokes think that you’re the only ones who are good at their jobs? I’ve been hunting slavers for the past seven years, love.”

“So it would seem, Miss Piers.” The asari said. “What account do you want the credits transferred to?”

Tanya held up her arm, her fingers running a sequence on the same hand as the omni-tool activated. Her shotgun remained firmly in her other hand as she read the display. A pair of quiet pings were almost lost against the whirling servos of the omni-tool, and a quick timestamp appeared, the message was sent 4 minutes and 32 seconds before. The teams were set.

“This one, if you could. The longer I’m stuck with this filth, the more I’m worried his stench is going to impregnate my armour.” Tanya said.

The asari followed the instructions, her face a stone wall until her eyes raised a quarter of an inch, concern across her face. “What is this, the account is-”

Suddenly, the asari’s omnitool shattered in an explosion of sparks, the account number having triggered a self-destruct sequence that piggybacked over the account frequency into the asari’s omnitool, overloading the process with the same command that commandos and assassins used to destroy their personal evidence. The sparks were enough to blind the asari and distract the turian long enough for Tanya’s Katana shotgun to come to point, the weapon barking loudly as four shots were fired in quick succession. The asari’s chest caved in from the second blast and the turian’s face was all but removed save one set of mandibles on his left side. Tanya pulled Kesik behind the crates they had been sitting on that she had placed there for this purpose and quickly hit the command for the cuffs to become undone. A pistol was shoved in his hands. “I want that back in one piece!” she exclaimed, calling up her omni-tool as rounds plinked off of the heavy crates she was using as cover with her companions. She opened a communication channel with the team. “Get moving! Secure the docking arm!”

sandman9913 said
I noticed that midway through the process of making the damned thing. I didn't read yours until I got to the relations part, then SURPRISE! You did it too. I just said screw it and went about my business.

I don't know, seems kind of too good to be a coincidence that we both came to the same idea of an illegal medical research group that has specialization in genetic augmentation and basic medical supplies based on Noveria that purchases slaves and abducts people to run tests on and contacts with one of the "big three" merc companies, and a sheet complete with nearly identical formatting, including a company slogan at the top of the sheet in the same manner I did.

We'll see what the GM says. I'm not really a fan of having my ideas ripped off.

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