StarDestroyer.Net BBS

454 continues putting hot plasma in anything that moves and isn't Imperial.

As the smoke cleared, soon the only thing that wasn't Imperial left alive
on the lower level of the base was the wounded Rebel from the Command
Center.

All over the bases, corpses were scattered, some of them frothing bright
pink at the mouth from the nerve gas, or missing heads or various other
pieces of their anatomy from blaster bolts.

"Allright, bring in the Engineer." ordered 114.

Several minutes later, Olsve entered through the shattered turbolift
at the edge of the hangar, and was vastly relieved to see that his
ship was still in one piece, and like he had left it, except for a few
blaster bolts here and there. Hanging from the back of his neck was
Lt. Cmdr Scott, who was carrying a holdout blaster pointed directly
at the back of Olsve's head.

"Took you kriffing morons long enough to clear this base," muttered
Scott as Olsve put him down onto one of the repulsorlift sleds that was
stored against the wall and used for carrying wounded.

Once Scott was seated on the sled, Olsve began to push it towards
the command center.

As they both entered the command center, Scott wrinkled his nose at
the smell of smoke pouring from the shattered computers.

"Nice kriffing job morons, how the fuck are we supposed to find anything
on those pieces of shit now? Your orders said you were supposed to SAVE
the kriffing computers." snapped Scott.

[OOC: The shooting part is over, and you can hear faint scratching from
the upper level through the ruined turbolifts near the command center. Let
them try digging out thru 1 shitload of rock before they starve, HA! Now,
you guys must find what you came for, start thinking boys!]

"Command center clear!" shouted 114 over the commnet.

"Roger that."

147 slowly walked backward toward the command center, still facing the hangar and scanning for more possible threats, especially from the lifts and doors. He took the time to change out his current grenade cartridge for a more conventional proton explosive, and called up his Sorosuub's power capacity on his eyepieces.

Mostly full. Good.

As he entered the command center, he heard the tech's whiny voice again, and 147 suppressed an internal groan as he heard the man's words.

"Nice kriffing job morons, how the fuck are we supposed to find anything on those pieces of shit now? Your orders said you were supposed to SAVE the kriffing computers."

It was then that he noticed the Rebel that 114 had knocked out.

"Sir, we got a live one here!"

147 rushed over beside the unconscious Rebel, who was still twitching spasmodically, frothy pink blood spilling from the gaping wound on his chest and dribbling from his mouth. It was a textbook case of a sucking chest wound, comprising a front breach of the chest cavity and a collapsed lung leading to tension pneumothorax, as well as a missing foot and severe nervous system ionization.

Time to go to work.

"Hey, techie, help me prop this man up against something. He might have something useful for us if I save him in time."

The engineer balked as he saw the man cough up another gobbet of gore.

"Well don't just kriffing stand there, get him up! The sooner you get him into an upright position, the faster I can start working, and believe me, with injuries like that he has literally seconds to live. Now get him up!"

As Scott hastily helped the wounded Rebel into a sitting position, 147 set his medical pack to the ground and connected the leads of the UniDoc to the remnants of the man's chest, while unrolling patches of synthflesh. Flipping a laser scalpel out, he sliced open the man's cumbersome clothing, exposing the puncture.

"There you go..."

He slapped the large patch onto the three-inch hole, leaving one corner open so air inside could escape but the pressure of the outside could not cause the already crushed lung to compress further. Almost immediately, the man's noisy breathing grew a little quieter, and 147 consulted the man's vital readings on his eyepieces.

"Typical tachypnea, 33 bpm, pulse is high at 140 bpm, blood pressure is low at 90/70. Damn, I knew I forgot something!"

147 scuttled back to the man's foot, which was still spurting blood a t a prodigious rate from the chewed-off ends. He unrolled a "smart" tourniquet and wrapped it somewhere around the shin, then activated it. A small cry of pain came from the man as it tightened painfully, and the flow of blood slowed and stopped.

147 turned back to the Rebel, who saw only his own face reflected in the mirrored lenses of the storm commando's patchwork outfit.

"Good, you're awake. I know you must have archives of the MagPulse torpedo transactions around here - otherwise you'd have nothing to do except wish in one hand and shit in the other in case your supplier decided to screw you. So tell me - where are the records?"

With surprising bravado for a man so badly wounded, the Rebel spat in 147's mask, leaving a pinkish-red stain that oozed slowly down the cerametal faceplate.

"Get fucked, Imperial scum. Your mother was good with that Kowakian monkey-lizard..."

"Wrong answer."

147's other hand came up. It was holding a remarkably primitive instrument - a stainless steel venula, essentially a four-inch hollow needle, intended to rapidly infuse fluids into a dehydrated body. It was a crude tool, but a remarkably effective one, especially in the right hands.

"You see, I am a medical professional. Thus, I have a very detailed knowledge of the human body. Where your blood vessels are. Where your bones and muscles are. Where your nerve centers are. When you anger me, you force me to use that knowledge for... negative purposes."

With a flick of the wrist, 147 disconnected the needle from the infusion bag it had been attached to, then quickly picked out a choice spot on the man's arm, a nerve cluster which just happened to be resting on top of solid bone.

"Such as this."

147 stabbed.

The scream of the Rebel must have echoed through the base for an eternity as the wounded man's nervous system, already wracked with the numbing effects of the stun blast, was suddenly flooded with pure, unadulterated agony, made only worse as 147 methodically worked the needle back and forth to cause as much suffering as he could with just one strike. He was monitoring the man's vitals too, in case it proved too great and he needed resuscitation. When at long last the cries of pain died down, 147 was again staring into the man's eyes, now glazed over from the pain.

"Can you hear me?"

Silence. The needle withdrew and poised itself over the man's eye, and suddenly he scrambled to life.

"Yes! Yes! By the blood of Slangg, I'm awake! I'M AWAKE!"

"Good. Now, do you see why you have to pay very... close... attention... to when I talk?"

OOC: Okay Shep, now you decide what the man says.

Evil Sadistic Bastard wrote:OOC: Okay Shep, now you decide what the man says.

*cough* *cough* *gasp* *choke*

"All I know is Major Gubr was the one who handled that kind of shit."

147 looked at the Rebel and began to wag the needle.

"Is that all you can remember? They say suffering can really jog
a man's memory...perhaps you need a little... encouragement..."

"OK OK OK, I do know that every 2nd Thursday of the month,
Gubr always left the base to go to Beda, where he met with
whoever was supplying him with the kriffing things!"

"When was the last shipment of torpedoes?" asked 147 as he played
idly with the needle.

"Six days ago, some asshole by the name of Kliar or something like that
delivered the damn things."

The interrogation continued for several more minutes until it was clear
that this was the extent of the prisoner's knowledge

"So. That is all you know, it would seem. Very well."

147 drew his blaster pistol, and the prisoner's eyes went wide.

"Wh-wh-what are you doing? Y-you promised-"

"I promised you nothing, Rebel scum. But now I will promise you something - relief from the pain of your wounds."

"But you're going to-"

"I will administer the Emperor's Mercy upon your unworthy skull. Now give my regards to your comrades when you meet them."

The man struggled to get away, but the stun blast dulled his movements, and all he managed was a feeble slump to the ground. A slow grin spread across 147's face as he eased back on the trigger.

"Let it not be said that I am unmerciful."

A flash of light, and the man's head was a smoking ruin as 147 lifted the barrel of the pistol away and reholstered it. As he packed his gear up, he looked squarely at the Lt. and the others.

"Well, that's that. Any more ideas, anyone?"

"Looks like we need to break into this "Major's" quarters to start with," spitting the word like he considered the existence of Rebel military ranks to be a personal insult.

"Fucking rebels and their grenades... Oh and 147.. you killed him to quick, I call dibs on the next prisoner" 424 said with that evil tone of voice when he thought of a way to kill somone that even imperial troops would consider unethical.

"Anyne know where this Majors's quarters are? And please tell me we didnt seal it off...."

"454. 661 try and find the major's quarters, he may have personal comp. 424 get the hanger doors open and see if you can salvage anything from the comps here. If it is hopeless go help 312 with the demo. " After switching off the external mike, "147, 735, take the eng and Olsve to the transport, once he gets you aboard, truss him and drug him. I have plans for him later." Then a cunning idea hits 114. "529 your with me. We'll be in the hanger. Let's movie it people, we've been here to long already, I want to be gone in five minutes."

424 follows orders and goes to open the hangar doors and salvage the computers.

114 and 529 will stop by the armory where 312 is working first. "312, set aside a dozen torpedoes and eight laser accuators, use everything else in the charge." Next 114 and 529 will go down the hanger, looking for two intact X-wings. Assuming we can find a couple, we'll start fueling them if they are not already full. Once 312 brings the torps and accuators, we'll start loading them. Everyone else exept 147 and 735 will join in to help once they are done with there tasks.

454 sets off to find the Major's quarters at a jog, pausing only to look before leaping around corners.

529 wandered down the hanger with the LT, interested in what the Lieutenant had planned.

"Lt. SLight suggestion, I think we should search the corpses and take everything that could be... usefull"

"424, if nothing is working, grab what is left and move it to the transport. We don't have time to search everybody, so just take care of anyone near you.. 454, while you are searching, see if you can find a couple of flight helmets and flight suits that will fit you and 529."

"Roger that, el-tee." Remarked the Sgt. without looking back.

"Well, you heard the boss, let's get looting!"

147 removed several folded plastic pieces from his pack and snapped them open, revealing them to be highly-compressed body bags. He opened one up halfway, then tossed it to one of the others.

"We can throw stuff we find in these. Let's get to work finding intel bits for the spooks back home to pore over."

Alright, are the computers at all salvageable?

*if they cant boot up, I can try to grab the hard drive and go*

As 424 reached for the power switch on one of the computers, Scott's
voice boomed through the ruined command center when he saw what
424 was about to do.

"Kriff booting them up!" shouted Scott. "No telling what you morons did
to them! Let the comptechs back home fix them up and defuse any viruses
the Rebels might have lying around; you enter the wrong code, BOOM,
all the info is wiped; I've seen it happen!"

"They arent able to boot up anyway... CPU is gone... very gone"

424 powers down(Or rather, makes sure that wasnt done already) and quickly disassembles the computer. The harddrives were intact, as was the RAM, he takes those relevant parts

He then searches nearby bodies, taking anything useful(even remotly) and that done, goes to get those hangar doors open.

661 shouldered his rifle and stalked off to find the major's quarters. He entered, and methodically searched for any kind of personal computer or data pad.

After 4-6 minutes of thinking and eating, Gorp started to mull over one of the mission paramaters given to him by the Imperial commando's commanding officer. He recalled it quite clearly:

"Give us four days, then come back and pick us up. We'll have to spot a pickup point about 50kms from the base once we get close enough to observer the planet."

The've given the expectation that I was pick them up, was the obvious summarization of that command.

but then... I was given the expectation that they'd use the first deck's cargo lift. And yet they changed their minds after telling me. Miserable little liars.

His speeding Ugor train of thought paused for a brief quarter of a second, then churned out a manupilative rationalizaiton of his new plan. So who's to say that they didn't tell me one thing concerning pickup, and then decide on another after leaving? Flitty little nerf-fuckers have a tendancy to do that, afterall; tell me one thing and do another, so why should I bother to accept their oders as correct?

He hauled himself up the wall and into the vent, blobbing his way back to the cockpit. I was clearly told to wait out of the system for no more than 4 days and wait for a transmission. Nothing specific, just a simple signal that was my cue to return to the drop point and get them, Gorp rattled off his new story in his head. The truth was neither food nor garbage; it was therefore worthless. Who knows what crazy plan they came up with after they left; I just know what I was told. Just wait for the signal...

He poured himself out of the vent shaft and into a 2 meter-wide puddle on the floor of the cockpit. His shapeless form pulled itself together and crawled up the backseat of the pilot seat, plopping into the bucket that replaced the seat cushion. I'll just take the ship back over to a different edge of the system, much further out before finally jumping, in case they want to dispute the facts. Then I'll wait to see if I get their signal. If I don't receive a signal by then, I'll leave as instructed. Just gotta wait a few days in case I get a signal.... His greenish form took on the shape of the bucket as he settled in to his second favorite spot.

He formed his usual 5 eyes and other appendages and began fiddling with the mess of controls. "Well, at least I got 25k and a load of garbage for this week," he said aloud, and pulled several commscan controls to shut down the Great Gospel's communication scanners and transceivers.

"312, what's your status with the demo?"

OOC: This is what I want to hear from 312. It is of course subject to change.


"Sir, I have two thermal wells set over the fuel storage and I have four torpedoes and all the detonite set up. The thermal wells will fire first, they will have a 20 second head start and then everything else goes. I have a torp in the command center and the other three are strung out in the hanger. There is detonite at a number of structural and load bearing points. The hanger doors have been rigged with a remote so we can close them after we leave. If we don't bring down the mountain top, I can gurantee that no one will ever be able to salvage anything from this base."

"Outfuckingstanding. Get over here and help 529 and I prep these fighters. 735, you have hanger door security. 454, once you find the major's comp report to the hanger. 661, when you are done provide security for the command center and quarters. 424, 147, once you have everything, prep the transport. 424, check the comm freqs between all three ships, and make sure they have Imperial codes uploaded. After all this, I do not want to get vaped by a turbolaser. We are leaving in ten minutes regardless of whether we found everything or not."

661 entered the major's quarters pistol first, scanning the room intently. It was disheveled and unkempt, with uniform pants thrown casually over a desk and random datapad diskettes scattered on the bed. Untidy. 661 found the major's computer buried under a pile of soiled clothes. He grabbed it, then made his way back to the rest of the team.

[OOC; anyone else find anything of note? I'm not going to do dice rolls
on what you find, be creative; I'll allow anything you find, even gay rebel porn ]

As 424 quickly searched the crew quarters, he found lots nd lots of porn, including snuff porn, he filed away the data storage devices in a small pouch until the came accross the quartermasters computer, this would contain all manner of things as he was in charge of equipment, shipments and the like. If anyones personal computer would have what they were looking for, his would be it.

In addition, he found several sealed cathoders, unused buttplugs and sime very very traumatized rodents.

He grabbed diaries and other nifty tidits of their personal lives, and placed the heavier stuff in a sack(which he found in another room), which he took with him when he went to prepare the shuttle