Prison Pit

Cell A-006: Jump the Crew

Jumpspace koutala-bucroth, 15:06 shipboard time 111/1106

Kimii and the crawler - click it for larger image!

Kimii glanced around and peered over at the crawler. "Are you ready to start freezing the patients?" she asked. "It's about time!" As Alice directed the doctor to the rear of the crawler to airlock in, Martha picked up Minion. "Patch me into the ship's internal cameras," she directed. There was a pause, and then images began to appear suspended above Minion's surface. I can only connect to the 'public' camera feed, it explained, if the antihijack kicks in I will be disconnected. Alice nodded absently, already absorbed by what she was seeing.

Cameras covered the hold (which filled most of the lower deck), but one was faulty, leaving a large blind spot to the right of the crawler. The comparitively small drive rooms to left and right were unoccupied. Moving up to the upper deck, she ranged forwards, trying to locate the crew as listed on the manifest Minion had obtained from Shendgor flight control. She found one man in the sick-bay, presumably Ander Emerson the ship's medic, and spotted the gunner Randla List heading to the showers forward of the low berth chamber. Vernon Shaw the chief gunner was walking forwards along the main corridor, and two men dressed in ballistic jackets and armed with laser carbines were preparing a meal in the galley. Those would be the security guards Shonkweiler and John. Finally, all three flight crew were at their stations in the bridge; Captain/pilot Dirck Bailey, Navigator Kirk Horner and Elrad Cameron the Engineer. All three seemed to be completing their routine post-jump checks. That made eight; but the cameras didn't cover the staterooms, so it was probable the third gunner and shuttle pilot Mario Vance was in his quarters.

A few of the crew had pistols in holsters with them, and Dr Emerson had an assault rifle leaning in the corner of his sickbay, but none of the crew had anything more serious in the way of weapons.

Kimii was in the airlock by now, the outer door closed, but the inner one didn't open as she expected. "You need to take your helmet off," said Alice apologetically. The doctor looked puzzled and a little alarmed, but hesitantly did as she was directed. Alice then opened the inner hatch and ushered the doctor out, covertly eyeing her for weapons or communication equipment. "We have a confession to make," she said apologetically. "We're not who you think we are. May I introduce you to my fellow prisoners?" Kimii gasped, hand to throat, and turned pale. Even without Hurker's sickening leer, she knew she was in deep trouble. Anyone desperate and capable enough to escape an Imperial Prison Planet was not going to scruple at extinguishing any witnesses along the way. Martha searched her thoroughly, and cuffed her to one of the chairs in the crawler. Kimii submitted meekly, trembling with fear, but as she took stock her eyes fell on the two 'ill' cons sprawled sweating and shaking in their chairs across from her. "So it's true after all?" she said, "you do have some kind of sickness loose?" Gripper shook his head. "No, I gave them 10cc Cantaminol and 2cc Voltigene," he explained. She nodded slowly. "Can't be fun for them," she commented, "but no lasting harm other than feeling like crap for a few hours." Gripper said nothing, but internally sighed with relief. He'd had just a lingering doubt that what he'd given them might have been a fatal dose after all, though he'd not told anyone.

DM Note: Derek's phone rang at this point and he got hauled away back to work. Bummer, but it did make choosing a diversion leader kind of easy!

Alice, Martha, Manx and Gripper discussed options for the taking over of the ship. As ever with a boarding operation, the key locations were the bridge, the computer, and the power plant. With a ship of this class and age, the first two were the same; such computer as a scow like this carried was located on the bridge itself. A slow smile spread across Martha's face as she studied the deckplans. "There are two manual hatches in the ceiling above us," she explained, "that lead straight up onto the bridge! If they're not dogged, we can get straight into the control room and take over from there." Alice shifted slightly. "I'm not for killing the crew," she stated firmly, "I suggest we use the grenades from the prison." "If we use stun grenades in a space that small," said Martha, "it'll pulp the crew and damage the controls. We need to use the sleep gas." Alice nodded. "Just to be sure, we need a distraction, too," she added.

jumpspace koutala-bucroth, 15:30 shipboard time 111/1106

Gripper and Chris appeared through the rear hatch, carrying a stretcher loaded with the recumbent form of Spanners. Even over the fairly poor-quality internal camera feed, it was plain to see that he was ill. With elaborate care they carried him down the hold to where the low berths had been hastily bolted to the floor and began a cunning simulation of the process of preparing him for hibernation. Chris returned with the stretcher, and a few minutes later emerged with Benkin, the stretcher loaded with the suffering Slippers, once again moving with enormous care.

Alice slipped out of the back of the crawler and wormed her way around the side until she was directly below the single working forward camera. Using a combination of a handy crate and some pipework she climbed the wall until she could reach it. Below the body of the unit was a cluster of twisted cables leading up into the ceiling. Alice pulled a pair of cutters from her pocket, and sawed crudely most of the way through the cables, causing the red light at the front of the camera to flicker on and off as if there were a malfunction - which of course there was. After a few seconds of this, she cut right through and the camera went off. 

Inside the crawler, Hurker saw the view from that camera go off. "OK, Go!" he muttered into the communicator.  

Rising from where they'd been hidden behind the bulk of the crawler, Manx and Martha hurried across to the base of the ladder leading up to the ceiling hatch. Scrambling up, Martha laid hold of the opening wheel while Manx, lower down, prepared two sleep gas grenades. 

Slowly, Martha turned the wheel, feeling for the increase in resistance that would mean someone had locked the hatch from above. Inch by inch it moved, and she found no resistance. Flashing a quick grin down at Manx she turned it a fraction faster, slowly drawing the bolts back into the hatch from their sockets in the deck. Finally the wheel would turn no more and she knew it was ready to open. 

Alice had taken over from Hurker monitoring the cameras, and now saw to her alarm that the navigator and engineer had got out of their seats on the bridge and were starting to walk towards the right-hand corner. They could be heading for the iris valve leading to the rest of the ship, but they could also have heard the floor hatch moving. Alice was taking no chances. "Go now, go go go!" she rapped into the comm and Martha sprang into action. 

The bridge and lounge area

Gripping the hatch with both hands she heaved it up and open. At the same moment, Manx flung his two grenades up through the hatchway to bounce across the floor. Thick, choking vapour poured from them, rapidly filling the bridge. Cries, curses and coughing marked the reaction of the three crewers as Martha vaulted up into the bridge closely followed by Manx. 

Horner and Cameron, half-blinded, were fumbling for the hatch leading to the lounge, but Martha had placed herself in their path and their faces creased with bewilderment as their groping hands encountered an armoured body instead of the hatch controls they were seeking. Manx had emerged from the hatch in the other direction and slipped past them; reaching from behind he siezed Cameron's collar and yanked him backwards. Already dizzied by the gas, the engineer went down on the metal deck with a crash which knocked the breath out of him. With a gasp, he took in enough additional gas to render him unconscious and subsided where he was. 

Martha had lifted her rifle to club the crewers down but lowered it; there was no need. Horner was helpless and would be asleep in moments, so leaving Manx to prevent him accidentally opening the hatch until that happened she went over to the control consoles. Captain Bailey had never made it out of his chair; his hands were inches from the emergency helmet mounted on the top. She left him there, and searched the antiquated controls for the atmospheric monitors. She found them on the navigator's console, with a physical light (of all the primitive dinguses!) flashing to indicate compromised atmosphere. She located the reset and shut it off; the LS was already sucking the gas out of the bridge and some was escaping down into the hold - it wouldn't be likely to go off again. 

Chris and Gripper were already waiting at the bottom of the ladder, and Manx had started passing the sleeping crewers down to them. The wrestler and the Zhodani tied them to the tracks of the crawler out of the way. Their quiet conversation about how to do this drifted into the crawler and reached the ears of Kimii Mruaak, and unbeknown to them had reduced her to tears of terror. 

Martha called down to Alice. "Ask Minion where the monitors are for the security cameras," she asked. The answer that came back was borderline sarcastic; "Behind You!" She turned, to see the main console for - in fact, the entirety of - the ship's excuse for a computer built against the back wall of the bridge. Sliding into the chair, she set to work. She didn't know much about computers, but then, this wasn't much of a computer, and she did know a hell of a lot about breaking into places and systems. A few minutes work was enough to get her into the system and to disable the anti-hijack. For good measure, she cut the feed from the remaining hold cameras and passed the word that the acting down there could be packed in. Then she locked the two iris valves leading from the lounge to the bridge.

Alice went down to the far end of the hold and climbed the ladder to the ceiling hatch there, emerging cautiously into the ship's drive room. The power plant thrummed quietly, delivering energy to the lifesupport and other systems. Opening the forward hatch, she slipped through into the low berth room, a chilly mausoleum lined with rows of coffin-like hibernation pods. To her right was a dim alcove holding the ladder and hatch up to the ship's launch; she ducked into that and waited.

Manx sat in the pilot's seat, glancing out the forward ports at the eye-bending rush of jumpspace, something he'd never expected to see again. He picked up the pilot's headset and keyed the intercom for all stations. "Bailey to crew," he said in a passable imitation of the captain's drawl, "please gather in the lounge; I have something to announce."

Martha, watching the cameras, saw the crew members look up at the speakers as they heard this. Annoyance rather than alarm was their reaction, showing a reasonable impression by Manx, as they stopped what they were doing and trudged off towards the lounge. "Excellent. We may be able to capture the lot without having to kill anyone." she commented.

As Alice lurked, she saw Doctor Emerson emerge from his sickbay and head forward, muttering "Wonder what the pompous arse wants now?" to himself. He was joined by a wet and furious Randla List wrapped in a towel. Once they were well along, Alice peeked into the sickbay to check it was empty, and followed them at a safe distance, slipping from doorway to doorway to keep in the shadows. They were the last ones to arrive, joining a grumbling group kicking their heels in the lounge.

Unnecessarily Killed - click it for larger image! (Ok, Manx should be at the other door... artistic licence)

With a flourish, the doors opened and Martha and Manx stepped through one each, armoured as Max corptroopers, rifles levelled. "Put your guns down!" roared Martha at a volume that was an intimidation in itself. "No one will be unnecessarily killed!" added Manx, not necessarily reassuringly.

All the civilian crewmembers reacted as expected. Completely flat-footed and outgunned, they froze where they were. The two security guards, though, went rather unwisely for their carbines, hung from their power packs at each man's side. They'd barely moved the weapons, though, when Alice fired a fully-automatic burst from her own rifle. Because Randla List was inbetween the two guards, she concentrated on one - the quickest - Greg John. Ten 4mm needle bullets tore into the man's back and out of his chest in a massive spatter of blood and gore, and he dropped on the spot.

Unfortunately, Alice's aim wasn't entirely perfect and Randla List, shot in the chest, went sprawling in a pool of blood and bathwater. 

DM Note: A critical roll for Martha's bitch-slap, nearly took his head off!.

"Put it down," ground Martha at the second guard, "or you'll get what he got." Morgan Shonkweiler blinked down at the remains of his comrade and wisely released the pistol-grip of his carbine. As he looked up, he met Martha's rifle butt going the other way and collapsed into unconsciousness.  That was the end of any form of resistance, and as Martha picked up a waste-paper bin and held it out for weapons, comms and hand computers, Alice stepped into the lounge, rifle held ready. "Get naked, boys," she said with relish. "You're welcome to check their buttocks, ladies," commented Manx, "but count me out!" Martha flinched. "Keep your shorts," she amended, taking the filled bin back into the bridge. 

"All right," said Manx after the crew were searched, "you have a choice; a nice long cold sleep after which you can resume your illustrious careers, or a new career?" The crew exchanged glances but no-one spoke. "Very well," said Alice. "Down to the hibernaculum and climb into a berth each; Dr Emerson will put you under; Gripper, will you please then send the doc off to sleepy-bye as well?" Gripper grinned and escorted his underdressed charges down to the low berth room, where he supervised the ship's medic as he loaded them in. Part-way through the process, though, he noticed that several of the berths were already occupied. 

Alice had made a point of apologizing to Randla List for accidentally shooting him, and had made sure Dr Emerson treated him before he went into the freezer. When Gripper pointed out the occupied berths, she turned to the doctor and asked what they were. After considerable foot-shuffling, Emerson admitted that the crew of the Exismolia were accustomed to skimming off a small percentage of the cons, expunging their records from the manifest, and selling them to 'some guy' at Bucroth on the return trip. "You mean you're trading in slaves?" asked Martha sharply. "We don't know where they end up!" blustered the doctor, "they're doomed anyway going to that sinkhole; we might as well make some money on some of them!" 

Gripper looked at Alice. "Should we thaw them out? They'd probably join us." he asked. Alice shook her head. "There may be cons in there we don't want around," she said. "Mind you, there are cons already with us we don't really want around...." Gripper hustled Emerson none too gently into his low berth, injected the drugs, and switched the freezer on. Ten seconds later there was a discordant squeal from the control panel, which sprouted a row of red status lights. The sometimes hazardous process of going into low sleep had proved fatal for Dr Emerson. 

While the rest of the cons brought up their gear from the crawler and set about selecting staterooms, Martha, Alice and Manx searched the ship from top to bottom. No-one knows how to deal with a cell-search like a time-served prisoner and this makes excellent training for performing one. 

• The bridge they'd already seen; the flight controls were all shut down as normal for Jump. 
• The turrets made Benkin chuckle; they were so antiquated that a gunner actually had to sit in the turret and fire it, meaning that if someone shot one off, the gunner went with it!
• The occupied staterooms held a mixture of the usual; books, socks, mucky mags, and so on. Each had an emergency case containing a snub pistol and two speedloaders, one tranq and one slug. 
• The captain's cabin held a small safe, which Martha cracked with little difficulty. It contained: the ship's papers (both electronic and paper), the vital documents that proved what ship it was and who it belonged to; a gauss pistol, some thirty thousand credits in cash and a small, dog-eared book that proved to be manual records of the side business Bailey had been running selling prisoners to a contact on Bucroth. The book showed significant sums of money - Cr50k per sale - but there was no sign of that money, though Martha was to spend much of the following week tearing the ship apart searching for it. All there was was a name of a bank and a mnemonic sentence to remind Bailey of the passcode. 
• As Manx rummaged through the lounge, a voice spoke unexpectedly to him. "Hi there! Now that all that's over, would you like something to eat?" Once Manx had recovered from the shock, he discovered that he was talking to the galley's autochef. Like the rest of the ship, the galley was a mess; worn, grubby, and greasy, but he had been living on prison food for four years and was still enjoying the novelty of different food, good or bad. The steak sandwich he received was different, all right - greasy enough to knock five years off a man's life - but he wolfed it down anyway. Edible enough, and if the autochef was cleaned properly it would be worth keeping. He scraped gunge off the ID panel and read off the robot's designation. "OK, RAM-C," he said cheerfully, "you're hired."
• The sickbay was a distinct disappointment; from a facility designed to ensure the safe transit of the fifty cold-sleep passengers, it had degenerated to a 'patch the crew' level and was badly understocked. Plenty of Rennies and aldetox, some retrorad, no adrenalin injectors and few trauma kits. There was no autodoc and no regrowth berth.

Martha had appropriated Captain Bailey's stateroom as her own, and after stowing her relatively minimal personal kit stretched out on the bed to try the fit. She lay for a moment, and then her eyes snapped open - the nightmare of the last four years washing back over her. Specialized claustrophobia kicked in and she sprang up. A few adjustments to the mechanism jammed the sliding door open, and she settled back, subconciously reassured that she wasn't back in her cell, and dozed off.

jumpspace koutala-bucroth, 16:05 shipboard time 111/1106

Alice and Manx went down to the crawler, where some of the cons were still unloading equipment, to collect Kimii Mruaak. Alice looked at the woman sympathetically; she was exhausted and terrified. "Manx, unclip her," she said gently, "and take her upstairs, Give her a stateroom of her own and make sure she's comfortable." Hurker ran his scabrous gaze up and down the medic's slim body. "I can make her ...comfortable..., hur hur hur," he leered. Alice spun on him, her rifle cradled but tightly gripped, and her pale eyes bored levelly into Hurker's shifty ones. "No." she said evenly but with great force. "If you even breathe in her direction, you'll find yourself on the slab, is that understood?" Hurker may have been a victim of his own deviant drives, but he was not stupid. "OK, Alice," he mumbled, "didn't mean no harm, anyway." Manx uncuffed the doctor and led her up to the crew area, keeping her away from the body and blood in the lounge.

Over the next few days, he and Alice spent some time with Dr Mruaak, befriending her and reassuring her that she would be safely released after their escape was completed. Gradually, she relaxed, to the extent that she agreed to treat the wounds still carried by Manx and Martha. Martha also consulted her about her other injuries, which Kimii examined readily enough, though without regrowth equipment there wasn't much she could do for them.

	Session Date: 25th May 2011 (145/-2507 Imperial)