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Ambush at Chandrila
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| Rath_Tahlo | Date: Monday, 15 Mar 2010, 5:38 PM | Message # 1 |
 Private
Group: Users
Messages: 6
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| Adoven Ryner, expecting rest and relaxation after a miserable week, would instead find that his week was about to become many times more miserable. He would notice rather soon upon emerging from hyperspace above Chandrila that the Sharra, his yacht, was not alone. One would assume that this is not unusual, however, since Chandrila is a busy world; an assumption that the vessels around Ryner would use to their advantage as they closed the distance to his ship, inauspiciously, from several directions. A droid pilot, certainly, would not be concerned by this—that is, not until the ships began acquiring targeting solutions on the Sharra. The first shots came from the medium laser cannons on the Wayfarer-class transport that strafed the Sharra. Its blasts connected with the engines, but splayed against the shields and did no damage other than to tremble the yacht. The Wayfarer was accompanied by an R-22 Spearhead, a Z-95 Headhunter, and an X-Wing. It was the last of these which dropped in behind the Sharra and loosed a proton torpedo, also at its engines, before peeling away. The other two fighters strafed Ryner's ship indiscriminately, confounding the attempts to evade or to return fire that it was likely to make. The Wayfarer transport, meanwhile, began a long arc that would bring it in line for another pass—this one with its quad laser turret. A simple, anonymous transmission was sent to the Sharra; "Stay your engines and your shields, and you won't be harmed." The other option, of course, was to make a break for the planet. Chandrila did have space defenses, after all, but had infrequent cause to use them and, thus, they would be a good few minutes away from being of any help. Chandrila itself was a good few minutes away, and it was likely that the hostile fighters would have the yacht's shields down and its engines blasted asunder before it could get there. If Ryner wished to spare the Sharra the unnecessary damage (and, possibly, total destruction), he'd be wise to do as the aggressors said and take his chances.
Rath Tahlo
Former Jedi Knight
Message edited by Rath_Tahlo - Monday, 15 Mar 2010, 5:45 PM |
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| Adoven Ryner | Date: Tuesday, 16 Mar 2010, 5:56 PM | Message # 2 |
 Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 66
Status: Offline
| His two glasses of wine done, Adoven wandered about his PLY and basked in its gleaming perfection. He knew everything had been prepped as per his instructions but felt some sort of restless lassitude, something that compelled him to wander about despite being exhausted. It was that damned journalist, Fiske, his delegation and that wretched report. They preyed on his mind. The Sharra was an older make of PLY 4000 but he spent a great deal of money on upkeep to ensure it was fitted with the most recent technological fixtures and fashionable accessories. Both outside and inside were kept spotless and Adoven himself often partook in the cleaning to channel some of his obsessive compulsive personality disorder to good use. Finding everything in order and highly acceptable, he returned to the cockpit to leave instructions with the R8 droid before retiring to his master suite. The droid, despite being only just that... a droid, was capable of piloting the ship on its own so long as no complications arose. And seriously, what could go wrong on a routine flight it had done countless times? Adoven rummaged in a suitcase for his dark blue silk pyjama ensemble and entered the refresher to change, splashing cool water on his face to calm himself once in his sleepwear. He settled down in bed and rested, but sleep did not come after 20 minutes despite his exhaustion. The Imperials again. Curse that Fiske! Curse his snobby assistant with his look of— that’s when hit him. Adoven bolted upwards, instinctively opening the bedside lamp as the memories rushed back to him. He remembered where he had seen the blasé and smug assistant, remembered that strong jaw, straight nose, militaristic black hair... and most of all, those grey eyes as cold as durasteel. Trennen Dacres. He had met him once at the Emperor’s court. Before Damas Ryner’s treason was brought into light, he took advantage of his status and position within the government and attended many functions to further the lie of his Imperial allegiance and to gather as much information as possible for the Alliance. Adoven followed his father many times and was often left to his own devices, socializing with other people of his age group. Although he was on good terms with people like Leia Organa, Trennen Dacres was another story of its own. His father had been the Moff of some sector or other and he chose his associations quite selectively. Adoven had spotted him before and had found him rather attractive despite the serious attitude adjustment he thought was needed. Plucking all the courage he could muster, Adoven had approached him to engage in conversation. Despite being socially superior than Trennen, rumours of Damas Ryner had clearly been circulating and Adoven’s attempts were rebuffed. Assertively. Terrified, he rushed back to his corner and had spent the remainder of the function on his own until Leia and himself had started catty banter about the arrogant Dacres. Snapping out of his reverie, Adoven couldn’t help but smirk at the silly situation that had been. Good gracious Trennen had been an arse... and was still very much one apparently. Still, his beauty had increased and he was ever much the handsome man. Shaking his head, he resumed his supine position and succumbed to his fatigue. ---------- Adoven’s sleep proved to be a beneficial and recuperative one but his uneventful trip was coming to an end. R8’s beeping and chirping blared from the comlink on the side table, rousing him from a sound slumber. Perplexed, alarmed and slightly groggy, Adoven rushed to the cockpit to assess the possible situation. The droid’s dome swivelled back and forth as it continued rambling droidspeak, the translation flashing by on a side screen. “Honestly, what were you thinking of, waking me up for this!” he commended indignantly as he waved a hand to showcase the approaching ships. “This is Chandrila, of course there is bound to be other air traffic. We’re not in the Outer Rim...” Adoven was cut short by more beeping and his eyes darted once more to the translation screen. “Yes, yes. I know they’re coming our way, but there’s an X-Wing with them. Nothing to worry about”. Although he had uttered the sentiment that all was normal, apprehension washed over him as he watched their closing formation. Shouting at the droid to engage manual control, Adoven sat down in the pilot’s seat and took to steer the Sharra. He wasn’t as adept or creative as a starfighter pilot, but he was a good enough and could hold his own with a ship this size. That’s when it happened. He was attempting to veer away when the Wayfarer fired its shots. The Sharra rocked and Adoven shook in his seat, panic and anger replacing his initial apprehension. Who did they think they were? Didn’t they know who he was? “Send a call for help planetside, engage the turret and resume flight control. I’ll man the gun” he ordered strictly as he fumbled about to activate the ship’s sole weapon. The Sharra continued to rock under the salvo and as good as the shields were, Adoven knew they wouldn’t last long against four opponents. “What do you mean they’re blocking our transmissions to Chandrila?!” he shouted as he fired madly, his usually excellent marksmanship failing him. He was soon sent stumbling into control panels and swore madly as alarms and flashing lights erupted all over the cabin. “Damage report...” he asked the droid, the details scrolling by even before he had finished asking. Had he been able to slowly read the report and analyze it, he would have been able to assess the situation on hand: but in his panicked state, it was merely technical mumbo jumbo that he could not decipher. “State your identifications!” he demanded pompously on the only channel he could access: theirs. “I am Ambassador Ryner of the New Republic. Any attack upon me is an attack on the government. Cease and desist immediately or face the consequences”. His only answer was an even more menacing repeat of their demand. Damn it all. What was he to do? The Sharra was still in relatively good condition but far from peak performance thanks to their initial attacks. If he retaliated or attempted to flee, he was sure they’d engage him again and he was even more certain that the PLY could not withstand such a barrage. He turned to the droid and sighed, what he was going to do weighing heavily on him. What did they want? Would they hold true to their word and abstain from harming the ship and himself, or would they blast both to smithereens once they’d acquire their prize? “Patch my transmissions via comlink 832-D9 and transfer theirs through the speakers in the master suite. Give me some time to reach it and once I’m in... lower the shields, immobilize the ship and shut down the engines”. He grimaced as he gave the order, the words leaving a sour taste in his mouth. It was clear that this plan was not one he was looking forward to. Almost on cue, the ship came to a standstill and the shields were dropped as soon as he entered his room and closed the door. Working quickly, Adoven searched through his baggage and drawers to amass all of his blasters. If they boarded and proved to be aggressive, he’d fire back—and in this case, his marksmanship would not fail him. Positioning himself, he took a defensive stance and waited for the “fun” to begin. Let them do the work.
The Hon. Adoven Ryner
Political attaché to the Chandrilan Senator
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| Rath_Tahlo | Date: Wednesday, 07 Apr 2010, 9:06 PM | Message # 3 |
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Private
Group: Users
Messages: 6
Status: Offline
| The aggressors wasted no time as soon as the Sharra's shields were lowered and its engines stayed. The Wayfarer-class transport broke off its attack run, came about and beside the yacht and, in a matter of moments, docked with the captive vessel in a precise, deliberate manner. And so it was that the fate of both ships were sealed together, figuratively and literally. The freighter's cargo bay also opened, revealing inside a modest, makeshift hangar in which first the X-wing and then the Spearhead landed. The bay doors closed behind them, and with it closed the momentary glimpse at the activity within the ship. There was little doubt what was occurring, however—they aggressors were preparing to board. If Ryner had left the door unlocked, this would be an easy task. If not, it'd take a few moments longer. The Wayfarer, however, was not waiting. It fired up its sublight engines so as to maneuver both ships away from Chandrila and begin to proceed into deep space, out of the planet's sensor range and out of sight of flyersby. Meanwhile, the boarders would have gained access to the Sharra. Its security suite was no doubt a sophisticated, expensive one, but it didn't protect from tampering a la lightsaber. From inside his stateroom, Ryner would hear several beings conversing with each other in an alien tongue, and the sound of their boots on durasteel and, sadly for Ryner, on carpet also. In fact, two Nautolans had boarded the ship, their black eyes glancing deliberately—and, at times, disgustedly—about the extravagant rooms and corridors on the way to the Sharra's bridge. There, they found a lone R8 unit tending to the yacht's computer. One of the Nautolans, dressed typically for a spacer, had a rather impressive blaster rifle slung under his arm. His finger rested lovingly on the trigger. The other was dressed more casually, in garb reminiscent of a Jedi, but more functional, less traditional. He appeared to be unarmed. The two spoke again in a language that was undoubtedly Nautila. The R8 droid, however, simply swiveled its head confusedly between the two of them. The latter of the Nautolans knelt down beside the droid and asked it in Basic, "Where is Adoven Ryner?" The droid beeped in response, and the Nautolan nodded. "He's locked in his stateroom, down that hall," he told his partner, before glancing back to the R8 unit. "And where is the nav computer, little one?" he asked. There was another series of beeps in reply, as the droid mindlessly relayed the information. The Nautolan stood, patted the droid's dome gratefully, flicked off its power switch and walked purposefully to one of the consoles. Without any resistance, it only took a moment to slave rig the Sharra to the Wayfarer-class freighter's navigations computer. The Nautolan finished his work, spoke into his comlink again in Nautila, and a moment later the bridge was illuminated by the radiant blue glow of hyperspace outside the viewport. "Let's go," he said to his partner as he turned away from the console and strode off the bridge and down the hall, "And set your rifle to stun." The other one nodded and did as he was told, following his apparent superior to the master stateroom. On his way there, the unmistakeable, silver hilt of a lightsaber appeared in the leader's hand from whence it'd been concealed within his tunic. The door to Ryner's suite was a far simpler obstacle than the exterior hatch had been. Only when a knock on the door went unanswered, however, did the Nautolans apply the necessary coercion to the door's control panel to open it. Rath Tahlo, the one dressed in the approximation of Jedi garb and who was, clearly, a former member of that Order, was the first to enter the room. He did so casually, with his lightsaber, deactivated, held at the ready in one hand in case Adoven had the foolish notion of trying to shoot at him. Assuming, however, that the diplomat was true to his profession and was, in fact, not keen to fire unless fired upon, Rath glanced about the room with his brow raised sardonically. "I can't believe a Republic diplomat would be paid so well," he said in Basic with a mild, but exotic accent, "or would deserve to be." The other Nautolan with the rifle appeared in the doorway, training his weapon on Ryner.
Rath Tahlo
Former Jedi Knight
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