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 Hard Time

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Phlegm

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Number of posts : 751
Registration date : 2007-04-26

PostSubject: Hard Time   Mon 27 Jul - 8:27:00

Hard Time

So, new mission time, Anastacia would be sure to have some sort of quick and easy money spinner we were sure, but there were slight concerns over Thud, especially when her bodyguard spelled out to him in a friendly message just how many parts they would cut his body into if he so much as looked at her funny.

Meanwhile Skarl had spent the weeks we were away industriously setting up a religious/ charitable/ only for profit organisation established apparently to spread the word of the one true god/ look after a few peasants/ make a bundle of cash, not necessarily in that order.

We landed meanwhile and went shopping, no doubt inspired by the same philanthropic instincts driving our psyker colleague, although our charity donations were largely spherical and activated by removal of their pins, and the lucky recipients of our gifts would probably appreciate them only for a second or two.

I picked up a laser rifle and to celebrate this and my acquisition of a thousand credits* distributed by party treasurer Sar, decided to visit the handy local casino. As a fully integrated advanced tech level four society, the casino was fully integrated with a brothel, and by now in full charitable mode having just donated a thousand credits to the casino, I decided to fully integrate myself with as many fallen women as possible.

*Sadly my acquaintance with this particular thousand was fleeting only

Happily reunited we now listened to the next incident free completely safe expedition planned for us by the lovely Bolokov. We were to recover an experimental gas code named 442, handily located on a huge Terra Prima prison complex, known as the Lab. The said complex held some 10,000 prisoners, but the sentences served were relatively short. A sign of the systems liberal penal system? Not exactly, the prisoners were used as test subjects for various experimental procedures materials and processes.

These operations appeared to result in a constantly reducing prisoner population requiring regular new consignments, brought in under tight security under the guns of two permanently orbiting battleships who saw them into the arms of the waiting ten thousand guards and wannabe Dr Frankenstein’s aboard the Lab.

So we sent an absolute age discussing our approach. Ideas included disguising ourselves as scientists of the Ross foundation, getting ourselves sent there as prisoners*, some kind of prison inspectors, possibly led by some infamous leader who would inspire terror and a lack of security checking, smuggled aboard in water tanks or a thousand other methods of questionable merit.

*This was Anastacia’s idea. We didn’t like it.

We eventually decided on a boarding tube that would be fired from long range and drift in stealth mode to the Lab where it would lock on and breach the hull, hopefully in some remote unguarded storage area and not in the main weapons testing area. We jumped successfully and then made an in system jump towards Pratel where the Lab was in orbit.

We closed slowly and locked on just as planned, the boarding systems worked as advertised and we found ourselves in a remote corridor just as we had hoped. We had chosen a long narrow section of the station to board, eschewing the two larger areas which we presumed to contain most of the living quarters and station population, whether captor or captive. The fourth area was shaped like a reverse capital E.

So now we were aboard. All we had to do now was locate the no doubt heavily guarded mysterious 442, working our way through a prison several cubic miles in size, so doubtless containing much surveillance, automated defence and containment systems and highly trained guards and possibly highly psychopathic inmates. Then we had to retrieve it, find a way to get off the station and back to our ship undetected and escape. Easy then….

26.7.15
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