*When Samus arrives in the Valgish system, she scans first for hostiles; finding none, she sweeps for signs of life. The docking ring around Neurtid shows some light damage, and the debris cloud around it is consistent with a running firefight between two medium-sized ships. The ring's comm array is a slagged lump, either the victim of a wild shot or pirate strategy. She sets a sensor sweep and beacon to keep an eye out for Ali, and to greet her when she arrives, while the Hunter herself rummages her arsenal for weapons that won't fail her planetside.*
*Samus does afford them the courtesy of waiting until Ali and Adam catch up before doing more than securing the docking area. When the hatch opens for Ali, Samus is standing there looking like the heroine in a war movie, all denim and bandoliers of knives.*
Welcome aboard. This port's secure, but the power's a little iffy. The door to habitation's reading an atmosphere on the other side, so at least we know that wasn't breached.
"Good to know, thank you. Hunter Aran, this is Captain Adam Malkovich. He'll be taking care of things here while we're planet-side. Do you want to do a sweep of the ring before we go?"
"I follow your lead." To head off the startled protests forming in Adam's head, she adds, "You are, after all, the expert here. Just tell us what to do."
I'll take point, you two watch the flanks. We'll go room-by-room, clear it and lock it down. If something looks odd, make noise. If it looks hostile, don't play around.
*But she doesn't really wait for an answer; keying the door open, she prowls carefully forward, gliding from one piece of cover to another, often slinking low to avoid crossing their fields of fire. The habitation section is eerily silent, the hall they're on alone holding quarters for dozens of sentients, all empty but for bolted-in fixtures and a thin layer of dust.*
Ali cuts off any replies the captain tries to make with a look, then follows Samus. While most people would find the signs of abandonment eerie, Ali's all business, a small blaster cupped in her hands and a shock-whip wrapped around her right forearm. If anything jumps up to say "boo", she's ready to answer in kind. If by "in kind" we mean "with a lot of pain".
*There is nothing to find in the empty crew quarters but tension; all the same, after each room has been checked, Samus locks it down before moving on to the next. There will be no ducking into or out of side rooms for anyone coming up behind them. Their search eventually brings them to what must be a mess hall; most of the chairs are toppled around the tables, although a few of the former are still stacked atop the latter. The corner closest to the kitchen looks to have been wiped free of dust, and one table there shows more (read: any) wear. From what is probably the door to the kitchen come faint, muffled sounds, vocalizations and what might be struggles. Samus glances to her companions, gesturing for Malkovich to cover from the door and Ali to go in low while she goes in high.*
Adam knows enough, at least, to not argue right this moment. He's instead making a mental list of notes for his report. So, so many notes. Instead, he nods and takes his position.
Ali nods as well, crouching down into the unfamiliar position of being the short person in a firefight. Half crawling into position beside the kitchen door, she waits for Samus to give the signal.
*The signal is Samus surging through the door with a crash, pushing it back until it hits the wall, and bringing her weapon to bear on the source of the sounds: a green-skinned humanoid and a cerulean-bodied insectoid half-in Federation Civil Corps vacsuits, grappling on the kitchen floor.*
"Um." Ali lowers her gun and looks up at Samus, knowing her friend will understand the blushing and not mention it. "I think the briefing forgot to mention something."
*Samus nods agreement to Ali's remark, but her own words are reserved for the, ah, urgent couple. Ali can rest assured, no comment will be made about the blushing.*
In the kitchen? Really?
*The pair are alarmed, to be sure, the humanoid having hit her(?) head on a cabinet in the course of scrambling off of her companion. Both are pulling their suits into some semblance of modesty as quickly as they can. The insect's lame explanation serves for both.*
Blushing aside, Ali is an Admiral, and it's time she act like one. By the time the pair are somewhat dressed again, she's on her feet and looking stern.
"I am Admiral Trainer, and this is Hunter Aran. You could fill the hours by doing your jobs," she points out, "or something useful like attempting repairs on the damaged communications array. Out of there, both of you. Report to Captain Malkovich and assist him with the repairs."
*The pair grumble and whine somewhat, but follow orders with the half-heartedness of civilians doing a boring job.*
We signaled distress, while we could. The next supply ship wasn't due for half a solar cycle. What were we supposed to do, climb out on the hull with tinfoil hats and a cable in our kvknptm?
"I suggest you stop complaining and make yourselves useful before I throw you both in the brig--separate cells--for dereliction of duty. Now move!" Her voice is the scariest command voice of all: one learned through years of parenting.
*For her part, Samus just sighs. Sometimes dealing with civilians is worse than wrestling with Command.*
Did anyone board the docking ring?
No. We were, um... on recreation, up in the lounge, when we took a hit. We checked it out, saw the ships going down, and called it in. A stray shot must've hit the comm array. Um, ma'am.
*The green woman swallows nervously.*
You're... not going to tell my mom about this, are you?
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Welcome aboard. This port's secure, but the power's a little iffy. The door to habitation's reading an atmosphere on the other side, so at least we know that wasn't breached.
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Not on foot, but yes. Shall we start with habitation?
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I'll take point, you two watch the flanks. We'll go room-by-room, clear it and lock it down. If something looks odd, make noise. If it looks hostile, don't play around.
*She gives Malkovich another, appraising once-over.*
You have seen combat, right?
*But she doesn't really wait for an answer; keying the door open, she prowls carefully forward, gliding from one piece of cover to another, often slinking low to avoid crossing their fields of fire. The habitation section is eerily silent, the hall they're on alone holding quarters for dozens of sentients, all empty but for bolted-in fixtures and a thin layer of dust.*
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Ali nods as well, crouching down into the unfamiliar position of being the short person in a firefight. Half crawling into position beside the kitchen door, she waits for Samus to give the signal.
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But that was not the sight.
"Um." Ali lowers her gun and looks up at Samus, knowing her friend will understand the blushing and not mention it. "I think the briefing forgot to mention something."
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In the kitchen? Really?
*The pair are alarmed, to be sure, the humanoid having hit her(?) head on a cabinet in the course of scrambling off of her companion. Both are pulling their suits into some semblance of modesty as quickly as they can. The insect's lame explanation serves for both.*
Well, there's not much else to do up here...
Are... are you pirates?
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"I am Admiral Trainer, and this is Hunter Aran. You could fill the hours by doing your jobs," she points out, "or something useful like attempting repairs on the damaged communications array. Out of there, both of you. Report to Captain Malkovich and assist him with the repairs."
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We signaled distress, while we could. The next supply ship wasn't due for half a solar cycle. What were we supposed to do, climb out on the hull with tinfoil hats and a cable in our kvknptm?
*Well, the bug might be whinier than most.*
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Do you want to tell her?
*For her part, Samus just sighs. Sometimes dealing with civilians is worse than wrestling with Command.*
Did anyone board the docking ring?
No. We were, um... on recreation, up in the lounge, when we took a hit. We checked it out, saw the ships going down, and called it in. A stray shot must've hit the comm array. Um, ma'am.
*The green woman swallows nervously.*
You're... not going to tell my mom about this, are you?
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