The Ithrian Gambit
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World – Round 1, Turn 3
Use 7H - Warlord ship arrives
Back on the Virginia Dare, Proteus listened to the unfolding radio chatter with increasing interest. There had definitely been another voice on the comm, and some other troubling noises as well. Judging by his tone and forced bravado, it stood to reason that Jericho was in a bad spot. Wisely, he and Captain Kain had kept quiet, not saying anything to jeopardize his situation.
Lines of status output scrolled past his vision from his connection with the derelict freighter. The ship's computer was shot, and he'd only managed to get a few backup systems to come online. The main control module was currently running a self-diagnostic. Very, very slowly. Without more functioning systems, it was hard for the genomesh to get eyes inside the ship to see what Jericho was up against. He hoped the Captain was having more luck.
Just then, an indicator light on his console stating blinking insistently in the darkness of the half-powered cockpit. Most of sensors were powered down to help them remain hidden on the far side of the freighter, but Proteus didn't need them. Remaining calm, but with a growing sense of urgency, he created a secure communication tunnel directly to Captain Kain.
"Captain, the other ship has arrived. They're moving to dock."
# # #
Outside the Nimbus Light, the huge mass of an old and massively-retrofitted warship rotated slowly in space and finally made contact with the drifting freighter with a resounding thud. General Baal's flagship, the infamous Appomattox, was a mess of salvaged and reworked ship components roughly stuck onto the body of an old UTAF destroyer. Bristling with weapons, the warship was an imposing and terrifying sight wherever it appeared.
On the bridge, General Baal looked through the murky viewport out over the wrecked freighter drifting in space below.
Identity: Insensitive Soldier
Description: Lazily / Rustic
Motivations: Attempt Racism / Steal The Public
Bearing: Cautious / Accident of History
The self-proclaimed General was a tall man, powerfully built but poorly kempt, with a dirty uniform composed of various contradictory rank and insignia from different armed forces. A curly mess of dark, greasy hair poured out from under an old cavalry hat reminiscent of Earth's past wars, while an unmanaged beard clung to most of his face.
"General, we've made contact with the freighter. But the airlock's been breeched." One of the warlord's bridge crew stood nervously behind him.
Baal was silent for a moment, staring out into the slowly spinning star field beyond the viewport and rolling his tongue in his mouth. Salvagers. Finally he spoke. "Get a crew over there, won't ya. And keep an eye out. I want my cargo." He looked down at the other man and slowly raised his eyebrows. "Alive. Got me?"
The crewman nodded curtly. "And what about the mercenary?"
Baal grinned slightly and turned back toward the viewport. "I figure you oughta know what to do about that."
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