Log:Black Sun: Odessa's 11 - Slice of Life
The Mirage. A beautiful, lovingly crafted Ubrikkian Minstrel-class space yacht owned by Kalcitres Donshak. It serves as his own personal home and a casino for those that love to tout their wealth and extravagance. It's truly a sight to behold. The customer-facing side of things, that is. The employee corridors and cargo areas are where costs have to be cut, after all.
And that's where 'Zero' finds herself.
THEN: "Of course, love. We'll make sure you have the credits for /anything/ you need," remarks the Festian-accented voice of Ryo Odessa, standing in front of a holocomm that's only returning a jumbled mess of holographic nonsense. Tends to be the case when you're working with professional slicers. "Now, to recap; all we need you to do is stowaway on board, be as discreet as you can, get to the engineering room, and when you hear the sign; force the ship into lockdown, but get those cockpit doors open. Good luck, Zero." The comm drops and Ryo returns to his work.
NOW: "Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together; it's time for 1159 Mirage Sabacc Championships!" shouts a voice over the loudspeaker in the main gambling hall. People shout and cheer, excited for the impending display of gamesmanship that's about to unfold.
Seated at the table is none other than Mr. Ryo Odessa himself, wearing his finest chiffon dress shirt, stylized with rhinestones to give the impression of a foggy night's sky. He idly stacks chips on the table in front of him, smiling slyly at the competition.
Elsewhere, a lone slicer, packed away in a shipping container finds that the timed release on the container's lock has just popped loose, giving her free reign within the inside of the big ship's cargo bay.
Celes busied herself in the container between Then and Now playing with one of her wrist mounted computers. The bottom half of her mask rolled up from her mouth so she can chew absently at a toothpick stuck between her lips. A few minutes short of the timed release, she checks the chronometer on her oposite wrist and reaches up to roll down the mask. THe bottom is tucked into the high collar of her shadowsilk top and an equally smooth, dark hood is raised over her head once she's fixed the microgoggles onto her eyes.
One last equipment check of her pair of her shivats gone south blasters and she springs easily and absurdly quietly out of the box where she's been cramped for the better part of several hours. Synthetic muscles do not need get tired in the same way as humans so she requires only a slight stretch before continuing towards the first access terminal in the small storage compartment in an attempt to gain access to camera feeds to check if the corridor beyond is clear for sneak level.
Celes's big robo eyes notice first-off that there's a whole lot of nobody in the cargo hold. It's a little unsettling, but not all that surprising, considering that it's a pleasure vessel and not a cargo hauler. There's a few crates of freeze-dried rations and some boxes of wine here and there, but for the most part; not a lot to see here. Aside from a door at the end of the room that seems to be the only exit.
On the other side of the door is a long corridor, branching off this way and that to different essential areas of the ship. BUT WAIT. A patrol! Two armored merc-types are wandering their way down the hallway.
"You see that guy at the table with the cape? It's people like that that make me just wanna start a firefight in here, y'know?"
"Yeah, I feel that hard."
Not noticing anything suspicious, they carry about their patrol and disappear around a corner.
Celes hears them before they can see her and she ducks back into the recesses of the room from which she was about to emerge and leans up against the wall just to the side of the doorway. Her hand rests on the grip of the pistol straped to her chest, but doesn't yank it free. Ready incase she has to without committing to the act if she doesn't... when they disappear around the corner, she peeks her head out to gaze around the hall in both directions. Specifically looking for cameras or some way to get access to them, she presses buttons in the palm of her hand in rapid succession to release the seeker droid from the brackets on her back. A series of short coded commands sent to find a vent and wait for further instructions and then she's pressed against the wall, side walking around the curved corridor in the direction of engineering.
Now that the immediate threat has passed her by, the lone slicer can rest easy. For now. Luckily enough, he once-over of the area has revealed to the woman an access port in the wall just a few feet in front of her. Looks like the coast is clear.
At the access port, Celes kneels down and extends a cord from one wrist computer to the junction slot. Quick motions of her fingers brutalize the security protecting vital information and she quickly brings up camera feeds to the right side of her HUD of the corridors ahead of her, as well as highlighting a path that will lead to the engineering room. Any side information is stored on a portable drive in one of the pockets across the front of her vest. Ghosted away for return flight and/or shitter reading.
When there's nothing left to find, she unhooks, slips the cord away, and starts moving towards engineering in a determined, if slow, pace that makes her ney invisible. The camera feeds alerting her to any potential dangers long before they'd become a problem... at least for now.
Thanks to Celes's quick-clittety-clackin', she's able to manuever herself around the guards with ease on the relatively-long walk to the engineering room.
Standing in front of the room is another pair of guards looking all-around bored. Like they've been working this job far too long to care about much, anymore. But they've still got guns, and they still look mean.
Celes leans up against the wall just inside a cubby created between two plates and watches the guards for a second. Her fingers dance inside her palm to issue commands to Zero hovering in a vent near the access port she left behind and the little seeker droid lowers down to jack in and provide her a basis from which to operate remotely. Her fingers key up her wrist comptuer, glancing up frequently to make sure the guards don't get investigative, and remotely open/closes, open/closes, open/closes a door further down the hallway.. Dangling a bit of bait for the fishies with the mean demeanor and guns.
"Ugh...you hear that?"
"Yeah, it's probably just Vaskez. Idiot likely spilled another FizzyGlug on his terminal. C'mon, let's go check it out."
The two guards groan and stand up straight from where they were leaned against the wall, turning to make their way down the hall to go investigate what's going on with the door. They honestly don't get paid enough to put up with Vaskez.
Soon as the coast is clear of mean spirited guards who should probably file a complaint with management, if not with better business, Celes runs directly for the vacated entrance and slips inside. The door closes behind her and she gazes around from behind her nightvision(TM). Time to get this ship in lockdown.
Zero unplugs from the access and returns to perch in his vent awaiting further orders. He too should probably file a complaint with management: Always being left behind to record data and provide rear security.
With Celes's big ol' booty in overdrive, she slips into the room, replete with all sorts of sensor readouts and big fancy datastacks full of winnings information, security systems, and probability matrices. But those are of no concern right now. What is of concern is the loan technician sitting at a big terminal, working away quietly at some sort of new formula for tweaking the house advantage on the new lugjack machines they just got in earlier this week.
Pulling blasters and walking silently is as complicated as chewing gum and skipping, apparently. Celes nearly knocks against one of the probability matrix terminals, but manages to dance around it barely. With her gun in hand, however, she slinks up behind the lone technician and places the barrel of said blaster right up against the back of his head with enough force to push his nose towards his work. Her voice is a synthesized droll like a machine trying to speak in coded alphabets, "That is a Bryar K-16 blaster pistol pressed against the base of your skull." Leaning forward so she's whispering the words against his ear, "For the next few minutes, you and this Bryar K-16 blaster pistol pressed against your skull are going to grow increasingly friendly. The nature of your relationship thereafter is completely up to you. You can remain on a friendly first named basis with the Bryar K-16 blaster pistol pressed against your skull or..." She reaches up and deliberately pulls back the bolt receiver to feed a charge into the chamber with a vicious sounding whirling sound as the notoriously volitile pistol starts to charge up a shot, "The Bryar K-16 blaster pistol pressed against the base of your skull can violate you... Do you understand? Nod if you understand." All very quiet, only as loud as she needs to be.
"Ah geez," murmurs the technician, lifting his hands away from his work as he feels the blaster pressed to his head. He's not much of a fighter, apparently. He swallows hard, but makes no moves to run for the door. What with the Bryar K-16 he's heard so much about. He nods slowly as she demands compliance from him, but doesn't say anything.
"Good lad. Slide over, huh?" Celes pushes his chair to the side and steps into the void in such a way that the barrel of the pistol rotates from behind his head to pressing up against the side of his jaw until it's right inbetween his eyes. It's probably dimpling the skin a little with the pressure she's applying and certainly makes the noise it's making as it charges a shot even more frighteningly apparent with it right there for him to see. She looks down at the keyboard and runs her tongue against the back of her teeth. It's all a waiting game now, once she gets the signal, bring the ship into lockdown.
"Uh...y-yeah," remarks the technician," doing his best to not trip over himself as he moves out of the way.
Elsewhere, it seems like Ryo's gotten himself into a bit of trouble. "What do you mean five Pure Sabaccs in a row is unheard of!? You're hearing of it, now!" shouts the Festian as he's flanked by a quartet of guard. One of them grabs his wrist and activates the card-spitter he so delicately hid away in there. That's when upwards of twenty sabacc playing cards go spilling all across the table and the other players. "I swear this never happens," the gambler asides to one of the guards just before the brute brings the butt of his rifle to bear across Ryo's temple, sending him flopping over-top of the table.
But then, just as things are about to take a turn for the worse? An explosion rocks through the ship from somewhere near the direction of the dock couplings keeping the ship locked in place over Artus Prime.
That's as good a signal as anything, one would reason. Certainly not what she would have preferred, but it satisfies the criteria of her arrangement. "If you run, I feel confident I can shoot you before you waddle out into the corridor and they will be dealing with the explosion, so... nobody is going to give a shivat." She tells the technician in her hollow voice, slipping the blaster into the holster on her chest, "You might even make some credits out of this if you stay over there in that corner and out of my way." She indicates the corner, still within view, but as stated; out of her way.
She jacks directly into the terminal and starts keying up command prompts to fluid the primary buffer security with access hits. It forces it into a cycle loop, endlessly trying to decypher the repeat user access as fraudulent, which it is, and sets it into a full system shutdown while she reroutes main system access from the remote server to primary, on site, resources. The ship goes into an immediate lockdown while attempting to sort out both the physical and holo security risks, but allows Celes to continue manipulating the system to regain control of individual signature hits... like the cockpit doors. Two fingers go up to her throat mic to press it in against her larnyx, "Let me know when you are ready to enter the cockpit."