The turbolift whisked open into SARC's massive hangar bay. The Ranger 5 stood out clearly at the other end of the bay, glistening in its new-ness. Technicians moved all over its hull and beneath the vessel, securing systems, and loading supplies. Closer to the Turbolift, droids performed routine maintenance on a number of hover-vehicles and power-suits for heavy work in Zero or Heavy G.

Nearby another SARC ship was approaching a landing zone. It was a large, modified Action V transport with clearly marked medical symbols identifying the ship as a non-combatant. The vessel was stenciled with the Crest of Merridon, the SARC logo, and the name 'Lifeline'. As the warning sirens died down, technicians rushed to the new arrival to secure umbilical power, and data feeds.

"As you can see, SARC has a great deal of resources at our disposal." Dreego hollered above the noise. "Unfortunately, not everyone in the Senate sees the need for each planet to support its own SARC. We need, unfortunately, to become a little more politically aware in the future, or we could see our services 'nationalized' by the Empire. This way now... we can go aboard Ranger V now."

Mishri peeked over the shoulders of every tech possible, to see how they were doing. Occasionally her tail lashed, sometimes it rose slightly, sinuously, but for the most part she observed impartially. Soon enough it'd be her ship, and she could fix all the ridiculous mistakes by herself.

Laarde stifles a few more sneezes as he looks around the docking bay, impressed by what he sees.

Absent-mindedly scratching his arm where Mishri touched him, he looks over the Ranger V, and asks Dreego "Isn't that ship a bid big for just the five of us?" stifles another sneeze

Styxar's eyes flash around the docking bay, taking in details as a drowning man gasps at oxygen. Hazel coloured eyes squint in the light, instinctively taking an inventory of all people, droids and equipment present.

He absently carries the toolkit in one hand, somehow looking lost and incredibly, dangerously curious at the same time. Joining Laarde in examining Ranger 5, his thin lips purse in a frustrated frown. "I hope you're uh, a better learned pilot than I am Laarde. Um, because I have some flight experience, but anything that... size I only flew in well... sims"

Never ceasing in his scans of the bay, Styxar runs his hand along a nearby ship as the group passes by.

Dreego seemed to scoff at Laarde's remarks about the crew size of the ship. "Hrmph. Did you think we would be heading in to space alone, just the five of us? Ranger V can operate with as little 2 persons at the controls. However, we will have 3 droids at our service, to assist in operations. At any time, we need to be prepared to deliver supplies, relief workers, or even to evacuate crippled ships. Simulations show that this ship could carry nearly 300 people in an emergency."

Doing so would violate safety protocols, Lieutenant Dreego. Chimed a mechanical voice. From the base of the ship a red-metallic protocol droid appeared and approached the group.

"This is TC-19, operations assistance droid." Dreego motioned with his hand. "Unlike the Power Droid and the R2 unit we have aboard, this droid speaks."

Frequently, I also interject wisdom into my words. Do not take them at face value. warned TC-19. I am to be your reference resource for all local customs laws, procedures and Imperial guidelines. I am also responsible for collecting performance data on all members of the crew, including Lt. Dreego.

"Why don't you go collect data on EG-4." sneered Dreego. His contempt for mechanicals was obvious.

Indeed. At least EG-4 is being useful. With that, TC-19 spun around and made for the aft end of the ship where a boxy-power droid seemed to be interfaced into one of engine #2's intercoolers.

"In some law-enforcement situations, we can also use Ranger V to carry 3 squads of SARC officers into action." beamed Dreego. "As you can see, we've removed the proton torpedo launchers and replaced it with a tractor beam. The dorsal turret has also been replaced, but with an ion cannon. In short, this is one very versatile ship. We're lucky the Empire has let us keep it. Come this way, I'll show you to your cabins."

Art is trailing along behind, not looking at anything except her clipboard, her eyes occasionally flicking up to make 'course corrections' as you cross the bay. Unfortunately, she doesn't seem to be following the "safe paths" clearly marked in yellow tape on the bay floor. She's in the middle of scribbling something when she trips over a mousedroid, sending her clipboard, datapadd, pen and (fortunately empty) coffee mug flying, and lands gracelessly behind Mishiri on her stomach.

As Art trips and sends her paraphanelia flying, Styxar's ducks aside to avoid the flying objects. One hand darts out and snatches the datapad out of midair, allowing the other objects to land on the hangar deck. The mug might get damaged from the impact, but the datapadd is the more likely prospect for damage.

Whirling abruptly, Mishri's hand slid down to her right thigh momentarily. Seeing Dr. Artemis' predicament, however, she promptly is pushed aside so Laarde can help our intrepid doctor, and decides to instead retrieve the coffee mug.

Laarde offers his hand to Art, helping her to her feet. "Are you okay?"

Once Art is back on her feet, Styxar hands her the datapadd gravely, commenting softly "It's best to uh, step over those Doctor." He flashes her a brief smile and a subtle wink before following Dreego up the hatch into Ranger V.

Red faced, Art thanks Laarde, then Styx... giving the first a smile and the second a raised eyebrow. "Stars I hate mornings!" From the state of the doctor, it might not actually be morning, but to Art it definitely is.

She picks up whatever hasn't already been retrieved and smiles wanly at Mirishi, "If I get injured I suck it up and wait for port. But doctors never get injured, right? No worries."

"Oh stars, Dr. Artemis, that was a nasty spill. Are you okay? Umm... what do you do when you need a doctor, can your medical bay take care of you if we can't?" A frown barely shows through the felinoid's fur, but Mishri's tail moves restlessly enough to reveal her discomfort

"...impressive armor as well." Dreego suddenly realizes that everyone has stopped paying attention to his guided tour of the ship, but doesn't know why. "The vessel has four entry ramps, one at each air lock. We'll use this one... come along."

Laarde follows Styxar up the ramp, resuming their previous conversation. "I don't think I'll have much of a problem flying this thing. I'd be more worried if it was heavily modified, like the other transports I've flown. Since this thing still has that 'new ship' smell, it should still be at factory specs. I'm still a bit concerned about the size... and the addition of the droids hasn't changed that, but with a little practice, everything should be fine." He smiles.

Laarde does look suitably impressed with the ship though, since it definitely is bigger and better than anything he's been in so far. He drops his duffel in the starboard side bunk-room closest to the bridge, claiming that room as his own, and makes sure to sit himself down in the pilot's chair when they tour the bridge. "Hmm... I'll have to work my ass-groove into this thing, but it's not bad."

For the rest of the tour he's somewhat distracted though, thinking about when he's going to get the chance to fly this puppy. He'll sit still for the bloodwork, and he reminds the doc of the antihystimene treatments... he's not gonna get stuck on this ship with a cat without treating his allergies. "Hey Doc, are these shots going to take care of this permanently, or am I going to have to keep taking them?

Mishri continued to follow Dreego, mostly attentively. Her attention was continually drawn to the unblemished bulkhead, untouched access panels, and insidious 'new ship' smell. She'd never had her hands on anything as new as this! At ever-increasing intervals she snorted to get the scent out of her nose, finally sneezing abruptly with a flash of very sharp white teeth.

"Excuse me!" she apologized. "It looks like I'm going to need something from the medical bay too, at least until I can air things out." Ears drooped and tail coiled around one leg, the Farghul almost looked as dejected as a wet cat.

As with the hangar bay, Styxar's eyes are constantly scanning the surroundings, noting every detail. He moves more at ease with himself now that there is something happening and he has a better idea of things. While still not entirely certain what he has signed on for, at least he'll be doing things.

He's most interested in the bridge and associated galley, and while Laarde familiarizes his posterior with the pilot's chair, Styx makes sure he knows the rest of the bridge layout and controls. Finally locating the linked fire control, he smiles briefly to himself and makes a quick note on his own datapadd.

The doctor speaks up since she figures this is the end of the tour. "Maybe while you boys familiarize yourself with the nerf-hide and big guns, I'll take Mishiri down to medical... it's down at the back... I mean aft end of the ship, so from there it's stumbling distance to Engineering."

Graciously retrieving her toolkit from Styxar, Mishri smiled, as broadly as possible without showing any hint of teeth, at Dr. Artemis. "That sounds like a good idea, it means I can check out my turf without getting too much fur in Laarde's space."

Walking down the corridor with the doctor, Mishri glanced at the spotless panels and not-fully-settled deck plates almost perturbedly. She wondered how anyone would make a ship without some interesting secrets, then considered how difficult it would be to add some of her own.

-o-

While checking out the pilot's station, familiarizing himself with the location of the main engine throttle, attitude thrusters, and hyperdrive controls, Laarde distractedly asks Dreego:

"So, Lieutenant... when do you think we'll be able to take her out?" he asks.

"Oh, probably not for 2 days. We need to get this ship in the air, but there's no chance we'd do that until you got some basic training." nodded Dreego. Suddenly, the rodian's comlink buzzed like mad. He quickly picked up.

"Yes?"

Lieutenant, you are hereby instructed to power up the Ranger V. You and your crew need to lift off immediately. squaked the comlink in a voice similar to Captain Omar.

"You must be joking. Honestly, you humans and your propensity for humor..."

Either that ship is lifting off in 5 minutes, or you are out of a job, Dreego. There's a freighter drifting towards the sun, and the Ranger is the only ship that can get there in time. Move it! I will send further information to you en-route. Omar out.

"Eachee doo'saboa!" Dreego cursed under his breath in his native tongue. "Torosken, sound general alert, power up the engines. So much for training."

"Yes sir!"

Keying the ship to alert status, Laarde cringes at the volume of the alarm klaxons. He gets to his work though, starting the engine startup sequence.

As the alarm klaxon sounded throughout the ship, Styxar quickly moved into his role as co-pilot/navigator. As Laarde eagerly began prepping the engines for takeoff, Styx raised the boarding ramp and started the repulsorlifts. A flick of several switches began the power-up sequence of the nav-computer, and then Styxar looked at his new captain, Lt. Dreego.

"Sir, obviously some of the umm... nuances of SARC regulations are unknown to us. But wasn't the idea behind well, um recruiting us to bring in some people with experience? It's better for some people to well, learn on the fly."

"Power systems and engine output are reading in the green, Captain." Laarde reported "We're ready to go!"

-o-

"Wait!" "Wait!" "Hold the ship!"

The dark haired Sullustian trundled across the hangar bay waving his short arms frantically and building up speed. "Blasted! Danged…" A bulky helmet slipped momentarily over his eyes but blindness did not seem to be an impediment to his forward motion. He banged painfully off of a barrel. "…can't issue anything the right size…" He careened off a slow moving technician. "Out of my way, beanpole!" A shake of his head finally settled the helmet back to it's proper place. He swore vehemently at what he saw.

The gangway was rising quickly. The little alien could hear the warning klaxons and the rising hum of an engine coming to life. "Going to fry my poor little beige butt off…" "Remind me again why I'm getting paid less than some cushion loving scientist?"

With an overstuffed rucksack and a rifle longer than he was bouncing awkwardly across his back he practically disappeared beneath his equipment. Hanging belt pouches and clanking canteens. If you were taking bets (and some of the technicians clearly were) you would probably like the odds against the Sullustian making his flight. But with a surprising burst of speed he threw himself onto the platform and lay there huffing and puffing trying to catch his breath.

Like a turtle placed on its back, it took him a few tries to roll to his feet. He huffed and hummed and brushed himself off looking around with some embarrassment to see who might have noticed his predicament.

-o-

With its newest passenger freshly aboard, Laarde lifts the Ranger V off from the deck of the SARC hangar. A powerful thrumming begins as the ship's full systems come to life and the vessel spins around to face the open air of Merridon. With what seems like a quick kick, the vessel shoots out of the hangar bay and quickly makes for orbit.

Aboard the Ranger V, Dreego nods his green head in satisfaction. "Well done. That might have been the quickest departure I have ever seen."

The rodian then examined the ship's status display. All systems appeared to be functioning perfectly. Mishri had obviously worked on Correllian starships before, and had gained an appreciation of their thirsty but hardworking engines.

'Donovan Squib reporting for duty' squawked the ship's comm.

"By the moons of Rodia... how did he get aboard?" Dreego's demeanour suddenly became more familiar - sour and harsh. He angrily smacked the intercom. "Dr. Artemis... please report to airlock 2, and greet Mr. Squib."

Then, turning to the pilots, "Helm, steady as she goes. Styxar, please plot a course to the crippled ship. grumble... Squib... grumble "

Laarde smiles at Dreego's compliment, but concentrates on his work... weaving the ship in and out of the departure traffic in order to make a more speedy orbit. Quietly, he says to himself... "I love these Corelian ships."

"Dammit, who needs all these buttons?" Styxar quietly mutters as he pokes at the controls at his station. After accidentally cancelling the nav-computer's calculations, Styx realizes that he's completely forgotten the whereabouts of the other ship. He quickly keys the comlink, "Styxar to engineering. Can you boost the sensor power? It's not responding very well right now."

-o-

"Who? Me? Oh, yes, I'm Engineering. Sure, Styxar, whatever you need!" chirped the Farghul.

Mishri happily bounced over to the station after grabbing her toolkit. One never knew when something would need fixing right where one was, after all - although on a new ship, that might not be true. She'd never worked on anything that wasn't previously owned and subsequently 'borrowed,' or scavenged from somewhere else. This ship was constructed strictly 'by the books...' ((How dull, maybe I can do some improvements while I'm here?))

((Sensors...)) Well, there they are, exactly where they are in the manuals. ((How novel.))

Tail weaving sinuously, ears swiveling to catch all the sounds of the ship, the felinoid set to work

Mishri found a little more power for the sensors, but frowned. The star was putting out enough radiation to melt the delicate components of the sensors, as long as they were still directly facing it. What in the heavens was Styxar up to?

Cousin Rashlass's words came to her, the story of how he'd once upon a time been engineer on a ship until he said, "Captain, what the hell do you think you're doing flying that close to a star? Are you drunk or something?" At the next spaceport, 'everyone' went off on leave - only the others flew off as soon as Rashlass was out of eyesight of the ship. ((Not something I'm interested in, still gotta be out of the way for another few weeks...))

"Styxar, the sensors just can't handle the radiation out there, I'm so sorry. We've got to get closer to the target ship to compensate." A slight growl issued from the tall lean woman, and her tail lashed in anxiety. Would the excuse be accepted.

-o-

Seeing that Styxar is having some trouble, Laarde reaches over to toggle some options on the sensors."Here, try this configuration, I've seen this work in the... damn! That should have worked!" he cursed.

Glaring at the factory spec controls, he says "Sorry Styxar, you were right, there's a power loss with the sensors... we're going to need those online soon. I'll see what I can do about the navcomputer though... I've learned a few tricks..."

Accessing the navcomputer controls, he runs a few backup scripts in order to pull up the latest computation backup. (He's working on the premise that many military navcomputers do constant backups as the computations are made, just in case there are power fluctuations due to damage.

"Captain, if I might make a suggestion," Larrde began "if we can establish comm-contact with the shieldship, and get their exact coordinates, we might be able to make this jump more precise..."

Dreego nods and Laarde sets about contacting the Shieldship, which immediately responds.

Laarde's sensor panel starts blinking and he glances over... "I've got a reading on the Shieldship and it's course! Feeding the data into the navcomputer... at current speed, ETA in 30 minutes... damn... they'll be roasted bantha by then! Increasing to Attack speed... "

Laarde increases the throttle, but the ship doesn't respond... "Mishra?... Mishri? I need more power to the engines if we're going to get there on time... can you coax a bit more? Try diverting power from all non-essential systems." He scrolls through the ship's available functions, and activates the viewscreen polarization, darkening the transparasteel viewports as they get closer to the star.

-o-

"Mishra?" Ears flattened right back, Mishri dashed over to the droids working on Engine 2 and looked past them at what they were doing. "Oh no, just what we need..."

"Lard, I'm sorry," she replies, purposefully mispronouncing his name "I can give you a little bit more boost, but when they installed the engines back at the spaceport they forgot to join the power couplings. We've got one good engine and one that needs all I can give it. Use what you got, I'll try to keep us together." Adding a whimper and a growl for good effect, she sighed. This ship was almost unshipworthy! Never trust factory specs...

Opening her kit, she started doing what she could to help the droids

-o-

Screwing up his mouth at the sudden thought he's had, he turns to Dreego: "Lieutenant, what are the rules on making micro-jumps this far into the system? We could be there in seconds instead of crawling along like this!"

Dreego hovers over Laarde's shoulder and turns quickly to watch Styxar's difficulties with the astro-computer.

"You're asking me to authorize a micro-jump, when you two cannot even pinpoint the location of the Blixo? You've gone mad!" Dreego practically screeches.

Inwardly cringing at getting Mishri's name wrong, and probably upsetting her (given her immediate mispronunciation of his name), he keys the comm again, saying "Mishri, what about that power droid we saw outside the ship... if he was still there when we took off... "

Laarde closes the comm and accesses the navcomputer controls...

"Sir, I've got an exact location of the shieldship, and that close into the system there is bound to be very little traffic. Like it or not, I've learned some tricks like this from my previous contacts. I know it can work... "

Laarde pauses a moment, thinking about something. He then turns and gives Dreego his full attention.

"If I might be so bold sir, if we pull this off, you're going to look very good in your Captain's eyes... as it stands now, with the engines in the condition they're in, we're not going to arrive until that ship is molten slag... and as the Captain said... your job in on the line. We all want to save this ship, and this is the ONLY way we're going to arrive on time!"

Shaking slightly at the emotion he's put behind this, Laarde stares at Dreego's incomprehensible alien features, waiting for a sign that he got through to him.

-o-

Meanwhile, Art was hoofing it down to Airlock 2, a hypodermic in one hand an a small vial in the other. She pockets the vial and the (untipped) hypo extends her now-free hands to help up the new crew member. "Mister Squib?" I'm Dr. Artemis... If you'd just come with me we can stash your things and strap down in the cockpit." She hit the doorpanel on one of the (un-used) bunks along the wall and helped toss in Donovan's bag and rifle.

Squib flinched with the stowing of his rucksack, "Careful there!" His hands fluttered nervously for a moment until he jammed them deep into pockets. He eyed the placement of his gear critically. "It's not going to roll around is it?" He took a moment to assess the Doctor, his gaze lingering briefly on the medical insignia.

Art yawns and smirks at Donovan. "Not unless the ship rolls over and we find out your bunk isn't bolted in."

Blunt teeth chewed on lower lip. "You don't always wander around with a vial and a syringe do you?"

He added in a slightly conspiratorial tone, "That's kind of creepy." He then waited to be lead to the cockpit.

"You're right, it is. But our pilot's going to need a histamine shot before he gets within 20 meters of our engineer again. If you'll follow me, we'll strap in and call up what we can on the mission we've started on..." she said, leading Squib towards the cockpit.

A last dubious look at his equipment and he fell into step behind the Doctor. "The geniuses planetside didn't see fit to give me a briefing on the particulars." he allowed. "Officers. I'm surprised that they manage to grunt and clean themselves. "Speaking of which..." his eyes fashioned on Dreego as they arrived. The cockpit was more cramped then he had imagined. The three current residents were deep in some sort of calculation. "It's awfully quiet in here," he stage whispered to Artemis. "It's never a good sign when things are this quiet."

-o-

"You have a point..." Dreego stated plainly as the two new arrivals came onto the bridge. It was hard to see, but his eyes were swimming with the implications of pulling this micro-jump off... or not pulling off. He absent-mindedly stroked his snout. "Alright... if you're wrong about this Laarde, I guess I won't have time to ship you off to Kessel, as we'll all get fried."

Dreego gave a twitch of his snout and paused long enough to snicker while putting his hand on Laarde's shoulder. He was obviously convinced that Laarde's previous 'experience' would be the only way the Blixo stood any chance.

"Start the calculations, Laarde, Styxar and I will help you." With that, Dreego began to punch in data into the navicomputer. He quickly looks up from the console as Art and Squib enter the cockpit. "Quickly - get yourselves strapped in. We are going to try a micro-jump in system."

"Well, I think fried is better than Kessel, but I definitely can't argue with you there..." Laarde mumbled as he turned to the astrogation computer and prayed to the forces of fate. He begins laying in a course to arrive very close to the Blixo, paying close attention to the shieldship's projected course data. He makes several adjustments based on Styxar and Dreego's input, and then stands by for both the returned course and the order to execute.

Art straps in (there should be a chair opposite her for Donovan) in the back and starts querying the computer for anything about the situation. Her goal is to determine how many people we're going after, the radiation they are likely to have been exposed to (starting to plan out treatments).

Donovan stood gaping at Dreego for a moment. And then he started to laugh. "Okay… I'll admit you had me there for a moment" he wiped tears from his eyes with the backward swipe of one hand. "Micro-jump. Put one over on the new guy. That's pretty good." He paused waiting for the others to join in the joke.

Without looking up, Styxar comments wryly, "This ship is brand new, it would be a shame if we were to mar the bulkheads with a life-sized imprint when we jump. Strapping in is much advised."

"You're not joking..." Donovan sputtered. He looked at Artemis strapping in. "I don't think he's joking..." The dawning realization sent the Sullustian into a spasm of activity. "Belt... where's the other snap for this... can't believe..." He struggled into the safety harness and sat glowering at no one in particular.

Conversationally across the way to Art he said "You know... I heard about another ship tried this once. Ended up being turned completely inside out. Inside out. The ship and everyone in it. Funny, when the recruiter promised I'd get to see things I'd never seen before I didn't know he was talking about my lungs."

Art snickers and shrugs back at Donovan. "Relax. If this doesn't work, we'll be dead so fast we'll hardly notice."

The navicomputer blinked its green confirmation indicator. It was now or never. Dreego checked his harness one last time with a nervous tug.

"Engage!" he splurted. Laarde pulled on the levers to activate the hyperdrive and with a terrific lurch, Ranger V shot off into hyperspace and almost instantly reappeared in realspace. This sudden dimensional shifting proved to be too much strain for the compensator units as the entire crew were thrown forward! A horrific sounding bang and dent on the cockpit door to the galley accompanied a shower of sparks from the navicomputer! The ship's power seemed to fade in and out momentarily, and the whole keel of the new Corellian ship seemed to shudder with the tremendous strain.

The white light of hyperspace left Donovan blinking as he is thrown forward into the harness. He manages a half smile to Artemis before he is thrown back in the chair violently to the squeal of tortured metal. Bolts pop. Metal peels away from the hull plating. The smile fades replaced almost with an apologetic shrug. And Donovan's seat smashes forward tearing from its moorings. It crashes into the Auxiliary panel with a shower of sparks and crunch of bone. There was the start of what might have been a scream but it ends when chair meets unforgiving metal.

Swearing profusely, Styxar hits the release on his seat restraint and staggers to his feet. Shaking his head to clear the ringing, he stumbles over to a nearby station, ignoring both the smoking ruins of his original station and his own injuries.

He coughs roughly as he hits the controls, before calling out across the cockpit, "Trying to bring the Blixo up on sensors now." He takes a moment to look around, assessing the status of the other crew members.

Art unstraps quickly and skids across the deck to the wreckage that was Donovan's chair. Checking to make sure that there isn't anything actually impaling him (which would require a tricky removal) she'll check for a pulse and breathing before starting to release the straps so that she can move him and/or stop the spurting blood. "If a free pair of hands can grab me a couple towels from the locker just outside the door, that'd be GREAT!" She announces to the cockpit.

Dreego seems to react slowly... perhaps not believing that the ship is still intact.

"Sta..Status?" he calls out, hoping someone will answer him. Then he hears Art call out for towels, and notices for the first time, the condition Squib is in. Quickly he release his bindings and tries to make for the galley. "Laarde... get us stabilised, and give me a damage report."

The door to the Galley does not open as he approaches. The Rodian pounds on the manual controls, and the doors seem to shudder, but still do not open. There is a strange, droid-shaped dent in the doors, that seems to be preventing them from opening.

"Olloo-greska!" Dreego swears. "There is a medkit in the galley, but we can't get to it!"

Laarde, having prepared himself for the expected inertial backlash (but not for how this damnedable ship responded!), relaxes from his braced position, and slaps the polarization controls for the viewscreen... better not to be blinded after surviving that!

Coughing on the smoke coming from the co-pilot's station, he reaches down under his station and rips a canister of fire-retardent foam from it's bracket, liberally applying the foam to Styxar's station (and Styxar, if necessary).

Without turning around, he says: "Is everyone alright?"

His eyes sweep over his controls, trying to take in all the information it is flashing at him. He yells over the claxons: "Hull integrety down to 80, but the shields have automatically engaged and are holding! Power is fluctuating, and I think there's a fire in Engineering."

Switching on the comm, he yells into it "Mishri? Mishri, are you alright!"

Saying to Dreego: "Sir, we may need someone to help out in Engineering... we only have 15 minutes left on the shields, so Styxar and I are going to have to find that ship fast... Styxar, anything on the sensors? Where are we in relation to the freighter and the shieldship?"

A whisper from the underside of the chair. Rasping, hoarse, pain-laced "Doc... hey doc..."

One hand waved limply from beneath the chair beckoning.

Art stares in disbelief at the droid shaped dent and concentrates on extricating Donovan as best she can. If this uniform has a jacket and an undershirt like the Star Trek ones then my jacket is what's doing blood-soaking right now. "I'm right here, Squib... you should be happy, the droid missed you! And I can't see your lungs, either. So your positive mental attitude saves the day again." She's mostly chattering to keep him focused so that we don't loose him from shock.

"Good thing the staps held huh..." A weak chuckle lapsed into a shuddering cough. Donovan swallowed with difficulty and winced. "I'd hate to think what might have happened if not for these straps... feeling pretty secure right now... yes indeedy..." One arm was twisted and wrong. A jarring angle. He didn't look at it. He bled mostly from his head. "Having problems breathing... ribs... I think..."

The doctor calls to Laarde over her shoulder "Maybe you can get one of the astromechs to help put the fire out in engineering. We may need engineering to get us out of the cockpit!" She turns back to Donovan "Just breathe nice and shallow, won't hurt so much. You don't have any holes in anything other than your head, so I'd say you are perfectly repairable. I'm just going to loosen your shoulder-strap now, and it's probably going to hurt in your left arm, alright?" She wads up her jacket and presses it into his good hand, guides that up to his gashed forehead. "Can you hold that there for me? You know what else would be really great? Tell me those two goons who are flying are doing... give me a play by play. The blue one is Larrde and the human one is Styx." Again, she's mostly trying to distract him so he doesn't go into shock.

"Well... one of them is busy putting out fires... ahhhh... and the other is... can't see..." A sudden thought occurs to him. "Say... if you undo these straps... won't it... dump me onto my arm and chest?" He pressed the jacket to the wound in his head. "Maybe if you spun the chair..."

Squib, I already have spun the chair. You haven't moved your head yet."

Donovan blinked twice to clear his vision. He chuckled dryly, "So you have..." When the straps came loose he sucked in a surprised breath. "Arm definitely hurts..." he tried to sit up and peer passed the Doctor.

"Hey... ahhh... Laarde was it? We aren't floating into the Sun are we?"

Laarde makes a snorting sound and replies "No... we are not flying in to the sun." He then turns back to his job. "I have the location of the shieldship, at sensor range... estimated flight time of 5 minutes at Cruising speed. I don't have anything on the Blixo yes... Styxar? Anything yet?"

"Excuse me," Styxar says hurriedly as he hits a few controls on the panel Squib was just extracted from. He swears again and moves onto Aux2 workstation, wiping blood off his hands onto his pants as he moves. He heaves an exasperated sigh of relief and calls out, " I think I've got the Blixo coming up on our sensors, stand by. We're going to need our engines working though. Where is the... oh right. Engineering. Styxar to Engineering, status."

"Great!" Laarde exclaims "Send that sensor data to my station... then, can you see if you can help the Lieutenant get that door open? I think that since Mishri hasn't responded, she's either too busy, or she's down... so one of us is going to have to get down there... how are your repair skills, by the way?"

Opening up a comm channel to the shieldship, he says: "Shield One, this is Ranger Five.
We are here to assist the Blixo, but we are having trouble with our sensors this close to the star. Can you provide us with navigational coordinates on the freighter's location? Over."

Ranger V, this is Shield 1 calling... what are you doing in this area? What port are you out of? Over crackled the Comm system.

Laarde quickly responded "Shield 1, we are a SARC vessel sent to assist the Blixo... You can authenticate our identity by contacting the SARC HQ on Merridon, but if you need to do so, please do it quickly. I don't think the Blixo will be able to survive much longer. Over."

Meanwhile Dreego has made progress with the manual release for the bulkhead doors. No sooner does he get the doors open, than the smashed form of TC-19 falls through from the galley. A few sparks shoot out of its head, and it becomes obvious the droid requires extensive repairs.

"Quickly... Laarde get us to the Blixo, Syxar... help him." Dreego ordered. "Doctor? Join me in Engineering once you get Squib stabilized."

The rodian quickly reaches into a storage cabinet in the galley and produces a first aid kit. He hears Laarde respond with "Yes sir!" and he tosses the kit to Artemis. "Everyone get moving!"

With that, Dreego quickly rushes to the back of the ship.

Turning back to his pilot controls, he says: "Okay Styxar, let's do this thing, we've only got about 10 minutes to find the Blixo and secure it..."

"I'll pick up here Laarde, my station is fried. Transmitting co-ordinates to the Blixo now. I'll do what I can." He swings into the seat in front of the panel and sets to work.

"Okay, got it... thanks." Laarde brings up the sensor data, locking in the position of the Blixo, and keeping tabs on Shield 1's location as well. He slowly throttles up the engines, laying in a course to intercept the crippled freighter.

Opening up a comm channel: "Freighter Blixo. This is SARC vessel Ranger Five. We are en-route to assist you. Can you read us?"

Styxar keys in a few commands and brings a fuzzy picture onto the pilot's viewscreen. The ship is spinning along its axis, and displays some obvious signs of damage. "I estimate the Blixo is about 2 minutes away, but we're going to have to tractor her to bring that spin under control. Hope the tractor beam still has power, there's at least 6 people alive over there.

"Styxar to Doctor. I know you're busy, but expect another six plus injured from the Blixo in the next five minutes or so."

In responce to Styxar's update, Laarde says "Right, I confirm that..." Switching on the intercom to Engineering: "Lieutenant, ETA in 2 minutes. We're going to need power to the tractor beam to stabilize the Blixo."

Laarde punches in a course that brings them around, approaching the Blixo from sunward... Laarde is attempting to offer some extra shielding from the star's radiation (I'm hoping that the magnetic properties of the shields will create a "shadow" for the Blixo to hide in), while at the same time, allowing him to lessen the polarization of the viewscreen, so that with the decreased sensor capability, he can perform the necessary maneuvers by visual reckoning.

Art snatches the med-kit as it lands and quickly applies it to Squib, slapping a bright blue gel-strip across his gahsed forehead and stopping any extraneous bleeding (at least three more wound points... so I've healed 4 on you in total).

"Ready Squib? I'm going to help you stand up... your legs are fine, your ribs aren't in any danger of poking into anything as long as you don't do anything stupid. Dreego wants someone at the airlock, probably to flip a switch or something. That's going to be you. Now your arm here... well, just keep it tucked in and as soon as I put out Mishiri, I'll check on it. Try not to put too much load on it if it hurts, okay?"

And she'll walk him as far as the junction to make sure he's not going to collapse, point at the airlock controls where he came in and then RUN down to engineering, pausing long enough to grab a med-kit before skidding into Engineering...

Warning... 13 minutes until lethal radiation exposure. Please move the vessel to minimum safe distance. Chimed the ship's computer voice.

"Greeeat... I was wondering when the voice o' doom was gonna speak up." Laarde says "Styxar, I can handle the docking from here. Can you man the tractor beam and stop that thing from spinning?... it's makin' me ill just lookin' at it." Working the sensor controls, Laarde focuses them on the Blixo, muttering aloud, "How are they keeping their shields up? They've been out here longer than 15 minutes..."

After initiating the scan, Laarde cuts power to the engines, reducing to Docking speed. Looking at the results of the scan... he comments aloud "They have as much shield time as we do... and they've been out here longer... how are they doing that?" He focused the scan on their shields, attempting to see if they are just stronger, or if they are doing something to prolong the effectiveness.

"Whoever designed these controls must have been on spice... this is awful," Styxar muttered to himself as he worked the unfamiliar controls. A light on the panel began flashing suddenly, and Styxar slapped the button just beneath the light in irritation.

To his surprise, the tractor beam power came online. Ok... I meant to do that... "Tractor beam online, bringing her to bear on the Blixo." Under the tractor beam's power, the wildly spinning ship slowly stabilized along its axis. Styxar co-ordinated the tractor beam movements with Laarde's piloting, and before long the two ships were nestled up next to one another.

"Styxar to... umm the person at the airlock. We're in docking position, engage the airlock grapples so we can get those people out. Call if you need any uh... other help."

Laarde uses the maneuvering thrusters to ease the ship up to the Blixo, lining up the airlocks. "Hey Styxar, do you think we have a strong enough lock on that ship to tow it with us?" He switches on the intercom to Engineering: "Lieutenant, how are the engines holding up?
Do we have enough power to tow the Blixo?"

Laarde contacts the Shieldship once again: "Shield 1, this is SARC Vessel, Ranger 5. We have located the Blixo and are currently assisting the crew. We are going to require assistance soon though, as our shields won't last much longer than another 10 minutes. Please advise if you are able to intercept or wait for us."

The comm system returns little more than a frustrated sort of static. There might be a reply to Laarde' message but solar radiation seems to be scrambling it a great deal.

-o-

At the airlock, Squib considered saying a great many things in reply to the comm message from the bridge, but in a rare show of discipline confined himself to a single curse and a scowl. "Will do, whoever you are." he replied and punched the disconnect with a snarl. Could it be that SARC was no better than the Empire?

Donovan always felt safest when he was alone. There was something about 'others' that you had to be wary about. He leaned his head against the wall and enjoyed the cool press of metal. The thrum of the engine was a comforting sound. He sighed and looked at his left arm. He probed at it gingerly. It felt like a clean break but he'd probably need both. No telling what might happen next.

He gritted his teeth. Left wrist in right hand and PULL and TWIST. He gagged and lurched forward. Swallowed down rising bile and nodded grimly. He wiggled fingers experimentally. They hurt. The whole arm throbbed but it would do until he could get it splinted properly.

He turned his attention to the airlock controls and chewed on his lower lip while he watched the controls run through their sequence. "Docking clamps...locked. Equalizing pressure." A few precious seconds ticked away. "And we're good to go." he announced over the comm. He checked his watch and smiled. "Just like at the Academy..." his expression soured at the memory.

-o-

The stinging stench of burnt electronics and scorched fuel assaulted Dreego's olfactory senses as he forced his way into the Engineering hold. His trip through the center of the ship was uneventful, so he made good time. Even so he paused reactively to take in the scope of the damage.

Regaining his composure he immediately sought out and found the wounded Farghul sprawled well away from the engine which had caught fire. She was coated in a layer of fire-retardant foam.

Dreego quickly checked for vital signs, and was pleased with Mishri's condition - in that she had one and was not dead. A lone R2 unit was the only thing moving in the compartment, and he was hurriedly trying to keep the power trimmed to the 2 remaining engines.

Laarde's request for tractor beam power suddenly awoke Dreego to action. He smacked open the intercom, "Acknowledged... Power to the tractor beam shouldn't be a problem, but if I read these displays properly we might be close to losing another engine. Mishri is alive, but wounded - Doctor. get down here right away!"

The doctor, having been only a short distance behind Dreego, comes into engineering just then, and moves over to Mishri, administering a hyposhot to her upper arm. Mishiri slowly comes too as the doctor is wiping fire-retardant foam off her face and nose and eyes. "Mishiri? How many fingers am I holding up? I just gave you a shot to get you up... I think other than being covered in this foam, which is NOT going to do wonders for your coat, you're alright."

"Now let me help you sit up... Styx and Larrde are yelling about power to the tractor beam... I think Dreego and the astromech are working on that engine."

As Mishri's eyes cleared and she sat up, she realize the doctor looks rather... strange. Sort of ... green, in fact. Her face and lips have taken on a strange, emerald green hue!

Moving automatically, dripping clots of fire retardant foam, Mishri staggered to her feet. She'd never felt like this before. Nothing smelled right, nothing was the right colour - well, almost everything was, but if the doctor was emerald green then obviously nothing was looking right - but they needed the engines working and that meant they needed her. Glancing around once, the Farghul noted that the droid that had softened its impact by using her body as a bumper was still in rough shape, then moved to decide what she needed to do most. After their tails were out of the fire, she'd thank the doctor. A green Artemis wasn't something Mishri was willing to contemplate yet

Dreego sees that Mishri is back on her feet, and calls out to her, "The fuel lines to Engine 2 are gone... Can we hook up that Power Droid that's on its side over there to feed this engine?"

Blinking, Mishri finally processes his words and turns to the droid. It must be useful for something... Shaking another clot of foam off her tail, Mishri examined the power droid, frowning. But then she nodded.

"Dreego. Help. It'll take a lot of work. It won't last long. We need it." Gathering her toolkit from where it had ended up, she selected one of the instruments for herself and one for her commanding officer. During an emergency, rank didn't matter as much as the expertise and need.

The intercom squawks and Laarde's voice filters through: "Lieutenant, how are the engines holding up? Do we have enough power to tow the Blixo?"

"Soon. Few minutes. But not much power. Ten seconds or so before EG-4 is drained. It's all we have..." Mishri sighed. Things were moving well, but it was nowhere near enough. Once the droid was used up, she'd have to get right back to trying to mend that leak. Hopefully, next time she was doing the job, the ship wouldn't lurch like a beast alive.

Dreego continued to check the power-regulator coupling EG-4 to Engine #2. It was going to take time to continue making this hook up. The Rodian listens to Mishri's analysis, and nods in agreement.

"We'll be lucky to have enough power to get ourselves out of this mess." Dreego called out to the open intercom. "Unless... wait... If we can get the Blixo's engines to fire, while we're coupled to it, it might allow both our ships to make it to safety!"

A plan started to form in his mind, but hit a stumbling block. He and Mishri had a lot of work to do in order to get Ranger V ready for the trip home - she couldn't be spared. Then, inspiration hit him.

"Doctor, get a spare toolkit to Squib - he had some technical training at the Academy. Go over to the Blixo with him and have him look at their engines. If there's any chance both our ships can make it home..."

"Listen everyone... I want the boarding party to be comprised of the Doctor, Squib and Styxar. Laarde will stay in the cockpit here, Mishri and I will try to get these engines back in order, in case Ranger V is the only ship we can use to get out of here. Dr, see to their wounded, and get them onto this ship, Squib - Artemis is bringing you a tool kit, get a look at their engine damage, and see if you can make their main thrusters fire, and Styxar... make your way to the Blixo's helm and see if there's any manoeuvring control up there."

The Rodian stopped... the thrill… the exhilaration of the 'Hunt' was upon him. This nirvana-like state could take over his people from time to time in periods of intense danger and action. Fortunately, Dreego had long ago learned to master that instinctual part of himself, in order to better work alongside the other sentient beings of the galaxy. A quick breath was all that was need to maintain composure.

"Good Luck. We have 5 minutes."