Bad Kitty
"This is the transport ship Makesh to anyone within the sound of my voi..."
The man's vision went black, as the console he leaned over suddenly lurched upward with the rocking of the ship. When he came to a moment later, he tasted blood as he found himself on the floor of the cockpit. He felt something wet as he reached a hand to the console to steady himself, finding his own blood splattered there from where his face had struck before the fall.
Wiping the blood from the side of his face, the man steadied himself as he returned to the console. "Repeat, this is the transport ship Makesh. We are under attack," the man uttered, coughing as smoke began to fill the cockpit. The hum of ion engines resonated, as blaster points dug into the hull of the transport. "To anyone within the soun..."
"Please help!"
As the sound of someone among the crew screaming reached his ears, the man leaned forward and looked out into a sky full of fire, and stars that looked on without care.
"Is anyone out there?"
"No one's coming," the man uttered finally, bowing his head in defeat. "No one's coming..."
A flash illuminated the cockpit, like lightning in the night sky, before a large shadow suddenly blacked out the light of the stars. As the man turned his eyes up, he saw the miracle they'd been waiting for.
"This is the Alliance ship Redemption..."
"Sublight drives on-line."
"Shield generator at full power."
"Manuevering thrusters at your command."
As the small droid stood in the center of the bridge of the frigate, he was the eye of a storm of activity. Rebel militia mulling about command and control stations, feeding him information as he monitored the heads-up displays scattered about the room. "...all vessels, stand down," the Rebel droid uttered flatly, continuing the ship's introduction to the widowing field. "Or we will engage you as hostile."
"Raiding vessels appear to be regrouping."
Turning his head, the afro-headed droid merely gave a nod toward a tall man who stood along the bridge railing. "Light 'em up," the former Imperial officer barked loudly, before turning to shout toward the helmsmen. "Adjust heading two mark thirteen, z-minus twelve degrees."
As the first mate directed the engagement of the raiders, the young-looking automaton turned his attention to a different task. "Fly away team, status?"
"You. DROID."
As dark irises gazed up, the child-like machine saw the ship's Twi'lek doctor marching toward him. And the blue skinned woman didn't seem all that happy to be there. "This delay is inexcusable..." she began, stuttering to a halt as the droid ignored her. Putting up a hand, the youth turned to look at the technician he'd addressed earlier.
"Fly away team ready, sir."
Pausing just a moment, the droid tilted his head to turn just slightly back toward the Twi'lek woman. "This delay is why we're out here, doctor," the boy uttered flatly. Turning back to the technician, he said, "Launch rescue shuttle."
"We have medical supplies we must get to Ryloth," the woman snapped forcefully, unwilling to yield the point.
"And we will," the droid assured the Twi'lek doctor, in the same matter-of-fact tone. Turning to face her, the young-looking machine remarked simply, "In the meantime, I suggest you prepare to receive casualties, doctor."
[member="Armand Temi"] [member="Marque"]
The man's vision went black, as the console he leaned over suddenly lurched upward with the rocking of the ship. When he came to a moment later, he tasted blood as he found himself on the floor of the cockpit. He felt something wet as he reached a hand to the console to steady himself, finding his own blood splattered there from where his face had struck before the fall.
Wiping the blood from the side of his face, the man steadied himself as he returned to the console. "Repeat, this is the transport ship Makesh. We are under attack," the man uttered, coughing as smoke began to fill the cockpit. The hum of ion engines resonated, as blaster points dug into the hull of the transport. "To anyone within the soun..."
"Please help!"
As the sound of someone among the crew screaming reached his ears, the man leaned forward and looked out into a sky full of fire, and stars that looked on without care.
"Is anyone out there?"
"No one's coming," the man uttered finally, bowing his head in defeat. "No one's coming..."
A flash illuminated the cockpit, like lightning in the night sky, before a large shadow suddenly blacked out the light of the stars. As the man turned his eyes up, he saw the miracle they'd been waiting for.
"This is the Alliance ship Redemption..."
"Sublight drives on-line."
"Shield generator at full power."
"Manuevering thrusters at your command."
As the small droid stood in the center of the bridge of the frigate, he was the eye of a storm of activity. Rebel militia mulling about command and control stations, feeding him information as he monitored the heads-up displays scattered about the room. "...all vessels, stand down," the Rebel droid uttered flatly, continuing the ship's introduction to the widowing field. "Or we will engage you as hostile."
"Raiding vessels appear to be regrouping."
Turning his head, the afro-headed droid merely gave a nod toward a tall man who stood along the bridge railing. "Light 'em up," the former Imperial officer barked loudly, before turning to shout toward the helmsmen. "Adjust heading two mark thirteen, z-minus twelve degrees."
As the first mate directed the engagement of the raiders, the young-looking automaton turned his attention to a different task. "Fly away team, status?"
"You. DROID."
As dark irises gazed up, the child-like machine saw the ship's Twi'lek doctor marching toward him. And the blue skinned woman didn't seem all that happy to be there. "This delay is inexcusable..." she began, stuttering to a halt as the droid ignored her. Putting up a hand, the youth turned to look at the technician he'd addressed earlier.
"Fly away team ready, sir."
Pausing just a moment, the droid tilted his head to turn just slightly back toward the Twi'lek woman. "This delay is why we're out here, doctor," the boy uttered flatly. Turning back to the technician, he said, "Launch rescue shuttle."
"We have medical supplies we must get to Ryloth," the woman snapped forcefully, unwilling to yield the point.
"And we will," the droid assured the Twi'lek doctor, in the same matter-of-fact tone. Turning to face her, the young-looking machine remarked simply, "In the meantime, I suggest you prepare to receive casualties, doctor."
[member="Armand Temi"] [member="Marque"]