Post by Storyteller on Dec 13, 2017 2:04:58 GMT
[23:55:27]
Harla Dane:
The ship bustled with activity all around her. This wasn’t a warship, which meant that the walls between compartments were thin: she could hears booted footsteps in every direction, mingled with the echoes of conversations and of violence. This one room was slightly emptier: the command hub of her improvised carrier, now occupied only by the comm officer. Everyone else was busy.
The ship was a BFF-1, a vessel that started its life as a cargo freighter. They’d strapped magnetic clamps to the outside and bolted some laser cannons onto the front, and just like that it had been converted into the galaxy’s most unwieldy warship. With a complement of TIEs it did fabulously as a pirate ship. Such was the case right now: they were just done boarding a vessel that had put up quite the fight, a YT-series transport that would make a nice addition to her improvised fleet.
[23:57:08]
Harla Dane:
She moved from the command station, finding the BFF-1’s captain overseeing the transfer of captives, a member of her crew who joined up for the Dor-Nameth heist, and chose to stick around after that. There were six crewmen from the YT transport, two dead, three injured. The last one had been hiding under a bed when they found her. “Anyone of any value?” She asked quietly to the captain, who replied by shaking his head in the negative. “Then get them transferred over to the Heretic like all the rest.”
“Can’t the men get some enjoyment, first?” The captain asked. A long-time pirate, he’d long since given up being coy about the worse horrors that men like him sometimes visited on their victims.
[0:00:02]
Harla Dane:
“I can’t afford the wait.” It was only half true. In reality, she just couldn’t be bothered to wait. “Add this ship to the rotation with the indentured crews. The outside is in good enough shape, we should risk sending it further, to more densely inhabited systems. Lothal is a good choice.”
The captain didn’t argue, knew better than to argue. He didn’t know why Harla was devoting the majority of their captured ships to this weird scheme, transporting infected between worlds, but he figured he usually didn’t know why Harla did anything. There always seemed to be an angle in the long-term, and that was good enough for him.
In moments Harla’s ship had been loaded up - two corpses, four living people. All six were strapped to the same walls along the cramped cargo hold, forced to rub shoulders with each other. The wailing made queer music for her as she settled at the pilot’s seat of the vessel and detached from the BFF-1. Another of her ships had taken some captives as well, so she plotted a route to it next. It should be a quick transfer, and then she could head to base and get to work doing the only thing she actually enjoyed in this gods-forsaken galaxy.
She looked forward to that.
Harla Dane:
The ship bustled with activity all around her. This wasn’t a warship, which meant that the walls between compartments were thin: she could hears booted footsteps in every direction, mingled with the echoes of conversations and of violence. This one room was slightly emptier: the command hub of her improvised carrier, now occupied only by the comm officer. Everyone else was busy.
The ship was a BFF-1, a vessel that started its life as a cargo freighter. They’d strapped magnetic clamps to the outside and bolted some laser cannons onto the front, and just like that it had been converted into the galaxy’s most unwieldy warship. With a complement of TIEs it did fabulously as a pirate ship. Such was the case right now: they were just done boarding a vessel that had put up quite the fight, a YT-series transport that would make a nice addition to her improvised fleet.
[23:57:08]
Harla Dane:
She moved from the command station, finding the BFF-1’s captain overseeing the transfer of captives, a member of her crew who joined up for the Dor-Nameth heist, and chose to stick around after that. There were six crewmen from the YT transport, two dead, three injured. The last one had been hiding under a bed when they found her. “Anyone of any value?” She asked quietly to the captain, who replied by shaking his head in the negative. “Then get them transferred over to the Heretic like all the rest.”
“Can’t the men get some enjoyment, first?” The captain asked. A long-time pirate, he’d long since given up being coy about the worse horrors that men like him sometimes visited on their victims.
[0:00:02]
Harla Dane:
“I can’t afford the wait.” It was only half true. In reality, she just couldn’t be bothered to wait. “Add this ship to the rotation with the indentured crews. The outside is in good enough shape, we should risk sending it further, to more densely inhabited systems. Lothal is a good choice.”
The captain didn’t argue, knew better than to argue. He didn’t know why Harla was devoting the majority of their captured ships to this weird scheme, transporting infected between worlds, but he figured he usually didn’t know why Harla did anything. There always seemed to be an angle in the long-term, and that was good enough for him.
In moments Harla’s ship had been loaded up - two corpses, four living people. All six were strapped to the same walls along the cramped cargo hold, forced to rub shoulders with each other. The wailing made queer music for her as she settled at the pilot’s seat of the vessel and detached from the BFF-1. Another of her ships had taken some captives as well, so she plotted a route to it next. It should be a quick transfer, and then she could head to base and get to work doing the only thing she actually enjoyed in this gods-forsaken galaxy.
She looked forward to that.