Umbara

[Vangar]

The Mantis dropped out of hyperspace just beyond the edge of Umbaran controlled space, deep within the Ghost Nebula. Here there were no stars visible in the sky that wrapped all around them. Here, Umbara was not even visible. Looking out the viewport, Vangar shuddered slightly. This is what it felt like to feel utterly alone, a speck against the backdrop of the universe.

 

The interior of the freighter was cramped to say the least. Vangar had brought along a mostly trusted Cloud City Wing Guard, a young Bespin-born human female, Chrissie G’late. She was a computer and electronics engineer of the highest caliber, having managed to hack her way into several highly encrypted networks in the years before she crossed paths with the Wing Guard. Something about redirecting an entire fleet of ore haulers from their destination, Coruscant, to Csillia. From that point on, she had chosen a life of service over a stint behind bars. It had been a good investment for the Wing Guard. Criminals seemed to excel at hunting their own. Now Vangar was hoping to put her skills to another use.

 

Seeing that they were once again at sublight speed, the Barabel scanned the cramped interior of the ship. They were an eclectic group, not the rank and file of the Imperium or even the mixture of hardened warfighters that made up the Rebel Alliance. If anything, they looked like pirates, raiders of the space lanes . Even now their position bellied that, lying in wait; but where were the others?

 

Pulling a small datascreen from his pocket, the de facto head of state shouldered his way towards the cockpit and offered it up to the clone pilot. “Follow the blinking red dot. That should take us into sight of the ship. Just stay out of Umbaran space.” He did not need to finish that thought. Anyone as battle hardened as @Tilt07 and his team understood something of the delicate intricacies of trans-galactic diplomacy and what happened if certain lines were crossed, even accidentally. 
 

Winding his way back to his seat, the Moff tried to avoid clipping anyone with the armored suit or assorted bits of gear that jutted from it. Once they were aboard, they would need to be quick and quiet. Finding his seat, Vangar fell gently into it. On one side, Chrissie sat nervously twiddling a port override interface device expertly cobbled together from an astromech droid and several state of the art computer pieces and chips. On the other, @Raphanel and his fellow Knights. 
 

“I am glad you came.” He whispered. “The slaves,” he continued before pausing to glance around at everyone else as they checked their gear and made final preparations before docking. With any luck, the shield arrays were down; safely nestled deep in the Ghost Nebula. “If there are any transports available; perhaps they can be utilized to help get the refugees safely away. Otherwise, they will have to come with us to . . .” He paused, catching himself as he drew up short. “Well,” he put his hand on his knee kine some sort of grandfatherly figure as his eyes ran about the room, “there is no sense going into that until after the ship is safely in our hands. Besides, the ship will have to be screened in a secure location before anything else.”

 

Sitting back into his seat, Vangar cleared his throat before speaking loudly to the hold. ”Does anyone have an idea for a name for this ship in her newly christened state? @Qessax Jal Todda what was this ship originally called? Maybe our friends from the Clone Wars recognize it and can give us some insight.”

 

 

 

[Vangar]

Vangar tensed at the realization of inbound fighters. That would complicate  things. Where had they even come from? Had someone leaked their mission plans? There were few outside this ship that even knew this operation was taking place. Officially, Vangar had resigned himself to attend to some personal matters related to his newfound position. Technically true.

 

The reptile’s eyes shifted from the clones across everyone in the hold. There was not a thing he could do aside from bark some order or another. He trusted these people though. Without that trust, what sort of leader would he be? No, those who could do something would.

 

As if an answer to an unspoken prayer, the trio of Knights rose and knelt. Even Vangar could feel the subtle ripples of the force as it seemed to wash over the ship, over them, over him, a cleansing wave that doused the darkness that might identify them to the small squad of short range interceptors.

 

”Salvagers.” He growled coldly seeing the hodge podge of different cobbled ugly-class fighters. At least he hoped so. Their pilots had brought them close to Umbaran space than he had anticipated. “We were not fast enough.” This might require a bit more diplomacy if they got caught.

 

Craning his neck to see the slowly looming Lucrehulk, he noted the planet falling away to their port side. A small fleet of corsairs and a single aged assault corvette seemed to be closing on the Lucrehulk from deeper in the nebula. Undoubtedly, they had the same idea as the Alliance crew that was now in a race against not only time, but armed men of lawlessness with no qualms regarding unnecessary bloodshed.

 

Turning to @Qessax Jal Todda he growled, “How did they find out about this?” He pointed an aggressively clawed finger out the window at the fleet that was hurtling towards the Lucrehulk from another direction. They were not even Squibs. At least Squibs could be negotiated with.

 

”Pilot.” He called out loudly. “Get this bird docked on the double. We’ve got company!” Turning to look at the crew he spoke, reiterating a point they all should know. “No unnecessary bloodshed. Minimal casualties. We are the good guys. Lets act like it now.”

[Vangar]

As the craft slipped to a stop in the lengthy shadows of the bay, Vangar stood,  the helm of his titanium-imbued armor tucked under one arm. “Nice landing,” he growled in response, noting that somehow aside from some curious glanfes they had not activated any immediately apparent countermeasures or drawn much attention. At least nothing visible judging by the still deactivated droids. It was a work area after all. Apparently lights were optional.

 

With a pneumatic hiss, the barabel fit his bulbous facemask into place obscuring his persona from the outside world. “Right. To work then.” He moved towards the open door as streaks of shadow blurred past him into the darkness. Only the ultraviolet sensors betrayed their very existence as they moved. A smile played across his obscured lipless mouth, a line of needled teeth twisted into a smile. He had little worry that the Imperial Knights could handle their own. 
 

His cohort followed suit, pulling her UV goggles down over her eyes to complete her shadowsilk crafted shadow suit. Tucking her computer equipment in a marching satchel, Chrissie swung it over her shoulder and moved towards the door. Clutching her muted relbly to her chest, the woman nodded at Vashak. She was ready to move.
 

Stopping at the doorway, he nodded to the others. “Minimal casualties.” He reiterated before alighting to the deck below with a soft landing from a lifetime of hunting, generations of evolution into an apex predator. Chrissie quietly dropped into an athletic crouch beside him. 

 

Vashak moved, flitting from shadow to shadow until he too had circled about the dimly lit hangar, careful to avoid the sweeping headlamps of those hard at work. Chrissie meanwhile stuck to the edges of the room, skirting the bulk of the persons and droids in the room. She only stopped when she made it to the closed door leading from the bay to the interior working walkways of the ship. Not regular hallways mind you, but the circulatory system of the behemoth itself.

 

Vangar joined her momentarily, his shatter gun and eyes sweeping the chamber as Chrissie set to work on the access door.

 

With deft fingers the Wing Guard easily pulled the panel loose exposing a mess of wires. Counting quietly to herself she ticked off red, green, blue, and black wires  until she came to a braided strand of twisted yellow-sheathed wire. Pulling a small pair of clippers from her back pocket, Chrissie took a breath and then cut. The panel slid open with nothing but a faint hiss. Slithering inward, Chrissie began a perilous trek down the causeways, catwalks, and ladders through the external ring of the craft. She knew what she was looking for. She just had to find it.

 

Meanwhile, Vangar tucked himself against the opening in the wall, shatter gun held at the ready, covering until the rest of his companions were safely aboard. Truth be told, he had little desire to use the thing; but on the off chance, it was loud, it was violent, and it sure looked intimidating. Much better to slip aboard without distraction.

[Vangar]

“Bloody hell!” Chrissie hissed, nearly dropping her computer as she jerked herself forwards around a blind corner of the catwalk. A pair of softly clinking robotic insects scurried down the wall from higher up in the catacombing catwalks . Only the Wing Guard’s hostile-mobile-armaments sensors soft buzzing had tipped her off in time. Still, her hiss seemed to have drawn the droids’ attention as they paused, their sensors sweeping the area.

 

At the entryway, Vangar watched across the darkened bay. Everyone on his team seemed to be functioning properly; a surprise to say the least. The slaver that approached their ship would beed to be dealt with. He hoped that Qessax’ agents could handle it. His shotgun at this range would be more a distraction than needed.

 

And the. It happened. Above them, in the dark, a beam seemed to break loose. The faint bending of worn metal was all that foretold the rapidly plummeting chaos. Vangar’s eyes widened as he ducked back into the access bay. He slid the panel shut in front of his very eyes. It sealed with a hiss as if he had never even been in the hangar bay at all.

 

It was then that he heard the faint clatter as the telltale scan of the patrolling assassin droids pinged in his ear and across his heads up display. With a pneumatic hiss, Vangar slung his scattergun. In the same motion a pair of elongated songsteel blades found their way to his hands, drawn from the back of the warrior’s waist.

 

A red light began to flash on one of the miniature droids as it sensed the threat that the obscured Barabel presented. Meanwhile the second continued to scan, convinced it had sensed another.

 

Springing forward, Vangar was airborne in an instant. A momentary burn of his rocket boots carried him the extra distance even as the droid raised it’s electrified tail to strike. The Barabel did not need the force, a lifetime of combat training and hunting having honed his skills. His blades flashed in tandem. His left hand lashed out in a jabbing arc to bisect the tail from the body of the droid; all the while his right plunged forward, driving straight through the insect-sized bot leaving nothing but a sparking front and back of the droid as it clattered over the railing and down into the depths. Clink. Clank. Pitter. Patter.

 

He did not stop to admire his work, the second droid whirring about, it’s energized scorpioned tail

lashing forward. The electricity arced across the elegant silvery blade as Vangar brought both blades across the second droid sending pieces of it in opposite directions. Spinning about and dropped into a predatory stance, the Barabel’s eyes and sensors looked for other threats. He did not see any, for the moment.

 

”Are you alright?” He hissed to Chrissie as he lowered his blades.

 

”Aye,” she nodded, eyes slightly widened at the surprising dissolution of the immediate threat. “Thanks boss.” She pointed up a runged ladder nearby, her finger running a path along a catwalk three stories above them until it intersected with a computer console. “Gotta get up there.” She moved towards the ladder and began to climb.

 

Vangar moved towards the ladder as well, sheathing his blades once again. He waited until Chrissie was at the next level the  he began to climb. As he reached the second level he paused, his HUD illuminating another insectoid droid a ways down the walkway. In the shadows, the Viceroy paused. He did not tense a muscle beneath his armor, as if that would do anything to hide him any further. It felt like an eternity before the droid moved onwards and out of sight. He began to climb again, not stopping until he made the desired landing shorty after Chrissie.

 

The Wing Guard hurried forward until she reached the console. Carefully she began to examine the entire system. She ran her hands along the edges of the console where intersected with the wall. She dug her fingers into a panel that swung open at a push, fishing out a wad of wires. Standing on her tiptoes, the technician peered at the twisted wires. With a careful fingernail, she separated the third white wire from the others. Pulling a clipper from one of her numerous pockets, she cut the wire. Nothing seemed to happen. No alarms were triggered. Lowering back to her heels, Chrissie pulled her hacking equipment from her satchel and set it on a durasteel deck plate adjacent to the viewscreen. She set to work, her fingers flying from her equipment to the console and back, her eyes darting back and forth as she entered a trance-like state.

 

Vangar stood a half dozen steps back, letting the woman work. He scanned the area cognizant for threats. It would take several minutes and then they would be on their way to their next objective. All Chrissie had to do here was input a couple strands of code that would disabled the locks across the ship. Then it was on towards the command station within the sphere. It was going to be a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG walk.

 

 

[Vangar]

Apparently the bay they had landed in was not one of the main bays at the end of one of the arms of the lucrehulk, as Vangar had assumed. Moving along the walkways outside the walls of the usual hallways and rooms, the Viceroy-incognito moved like a predatory cat. A half dozen steps behind him, Chrissie followed, her eyes darting from a handheld console to the walkway before her. “Looks like we’re a lot closer to the bridge than we thought boss. Somebody’s getting nervous though. They locked all access ports.”

 

Behind his mask, the barabel’s heavily muscled brow furrowed. Somebody had slipped up. Little did he know the prowling assassin droids, murderous sentinels aboard a highly mechanized ship, and their demise, may have been the cause.

 

He picked up his pace. They were on the clock. He hopped the others had heard the message and were effectively making their way towards their goals. Slaves needed their harnesses deactivated, tracking beacons needed shut down, hostiles neutralized or removed. All of that needed to happen before they left the nebula. If they were given away before that, things could get quite sticky.

 

And that was what it came down to. Standing there with a gloved hand against the smooth metal wall, Vangar knew the bridge was on the other side. Who knew who was in there or what they were packing. Looking around, Vangar nodded well out of reach above, directly over the yawning abyss tangled with walkways and wiring was a vent; an exhaust port to a large heat sink that helped cool the computerized consoles of the command bridge.

 

Pulling a silvery K-23 from his drop holster, he pressed it into Chrissie’s hand even as she objected. She was already carrying a drop gun. “Just in case. I’ll let you aboard once it is secured.”

 

With a carefully aimed wrist, the Imperium’s Crown Regent caught the grate. Hitting the rewind, the grate easily swung free. ‘Memo to self. Secure those.’ Vangar noted to himself.

 

Once his hook was nestled flush back with his wrist, Vangar’s booted and palmed rockets fired, short bright blue conical flames that lifted him upwards and outwards towards the hanging grate. Alighting to the opening, Vangar pulled himself inside. It was a tight fit and his gear scraped lightly as he belly-crawled inside.

 

Slowly, carefully, Vangar pulled himself arm over arm through the heat sink. His under weave  and armor worked to wick away the excess heat. Even so, the lizard felt his blood warming beneath his fatty layers. He did not stop, turning left at the Y in the shaft. He kept moving, only slowing as he approached the dead end of the sink, the back of the computer core that relayed into a bank of screens and equipment. “Well, that wasn’t what I hoped for.” he grumbled. “Druk.” He flicked his tongue turning his comm back to Chrissie, “Relaying my helmet feed to you. What do I gotta pull to get some attention inside?” Flicking his eye in a preprogrammed pattern, Vangar allowed his HUD view to be accessed by Chrissie.

 

Chrissie pressed her earpiece further into her ear, not wanting to miss a word. Keying in a string of alphanumeric monikers into her datapad, she authenticated her Wing Guard identity and accessed the HUD feed. “Hmmm.” She stuck her tongue out and chewed on it, judging the gentling hovering feed before her. There were certainly a lot of wires and switches. “You’re not gonna like this.” She sighed

 

”What?” Vangar breathed, knowing the answer was going to instantly complicate their operation. 
 

“There is no way to know what will lead to what. The wiring is third party and not standardized. Anything I tell you would be a total guess.”

 

”Kriffing druk.” The barabel swore as he stared at the hodgepodge of electronics, his body warming more and more with each passing moment, only mentally accelerated by the countdown. As he canted his head, Vangar considered his possibilities. Then he raised an eyebrow, an idea puncturing his heat-filled brain.

 

Scrambling backwards, Vangar instinctively shielded his head behind one arm while extending his other towards the core. “Fair warning. Not sure what this os about to do. Probably going to get some attention.” He voiced into his radio for the others. With a squeeze of his palm, depressing the sensor within a 5 second gout of flame arced from his wrist, blasting the core in licking superheated flames; flames that bathed every nook and cranny of the already uncomfortably warm machine in hellfire. Hopefully it would cause the entire core to shut down; maybe it triggered a fire suppressant, maybe it didn’t. If anything, Vangar hoped it bought them all some more time as the engineers scrambled to figure out what went wrong, and where. It was a huge ship.

[Vangar]

Even inside the sink, Vangar heard the dull yelling of the commander on the opposite side of the computer consoles he was nestled behind. He wasn’t sure what was being said, but clearly his actions had warranted a bout of anger.

 

 

On 10/2/2022 at 8:59 PM, Qessax Jal Todda said:

Vangar, I hope you are at the control room, we are running out of time here” 

The comm settled it. Even if he had bought a little time, it might not be enough. With some effort, the large armored lizard worked himself around in the shaft. It sure was hot. He moved until

he had reversed. His feet faced the fried panel and he began to kick. One. Two. Three. The panel screamed as it screeched outward and tumbled to the deck plating inside the bridge with a crash and clatter of broken bits.

 

Raising a wired hand overhead, the warrior gave a minute blast of his rocket glove. It sent him skittering through the opening where he flopped to a standing position before the shocked duo still inside. Without a word, the armored warrior pulled his second relby from it’s holster and blasted the door controls causing the doors to snap shut with a loud clang. With gun hand still raised, Vangar turned the bulbous amorphous face of his armor to the captain and his man. “Captain. Surrender now.” He raised an open palmed hand forward in a stopping signal. “Nobody will get hurt.” All it would take was one potentially hostile or reactive movement and he would activate the wrist-bound sonic projector and cripple the pair with pulsating vibrations. “We are taking over the ship.”

 

——————————-

 

Below on the catwalks and walkways within the bowels of the ship a line of 8 Umbaran troopers were quickly making their way to where the arthropodic droids had gone off line. Chrissie’s eyes grew wife as she snapped her computer shit and shoved it back in her satchel “Looks like I’ve got company. Time to go dark.” She hissed into her comms before swinging from the railing out over stories of dark open space to grab at relays of wires secured to the opposite wall. There she began climbing, gloves hands testing each handhold before she moved upwards out of the dimly lit walkways and into the cold dark bowels of the vessel.

 

 

[Vangar]

As the Umbaran captain spoke, Vangar slowly lowered his weapon. He did not even think about it as he returned his blaster to it’s holster, leaving his hand resting on the weapon’s back strap. From within his bulbous and reflective helm, the leader of the free galaxy regarded the Umbarans before him, his other arm held loosely before him as he listened and watched, waiting for any sign of hostilities. He hoped that they could end this peacefully yet. He bit his lip as the man called him a brute. It was an assumption so many made about his kind, even of it was usually the other way around. That they were just brutes. Well it was true, Barabels were brutes; albeit intelligent, calculating and deadly ones.

 

So when the captain struck, Vangar allowed his extended arm to be directed away and towards the mechanic. He moved with the blow, spinning away from the secondary blow as he blasted a cone of ear-splitting disabling noise towards the mechanic as his hand found a songsteel blade at his back. Spinning around, the Barabel threw his full weight into the Umbaran captain and slicing the weapon deep into the captain’s gut with an animalistic snarl, splitting the man’s abdomen wide.

 

He did not stop there. Pulling the blade back, he flicked a trail of blood droplets across the ground and a spray across the consoles. The warrior stepped backwards blade held in one hand as he pointed at the mechanic with his ruptured and bleeding eardrums. One more movement and he would be engulfed in a superheated gout of flame. Meanwhile, a faint whistle played through the air as the targeting array brought a single micro-rocket online and it targeted the captain.

 

”I guess its a good thing I brought a crew of my own then. A crew that is not self-serving and lead by selfish ambitions of glory.” The Barabel flicked his helmet comm switching from broadcast vocabulator to comm relay, “Got ambushed on the bridge. Any time someone wants to come and help fly this heap.” He growled, his transmission inaudible outside his helmet as he eyed the downed crewmen. “Nobody else has to get hurt. Now; how do I broadcast an evacuation signal?”

[Vangar]

Vangar sighed. He shook his head at the so-called captain. This would not be doable at all. With a steely booted foot, he stepped forward and kicked the commander solidly in the head. A cognitive reset might do the fellow good; but for now, the Umbaran’s eyes rolled back in his head as he went unconscious. 
 

“Thank you.” He responded turning to look at the mechanic and take the comm chip. “Now if you will secure your commander here, you may yet be of use to us.”

 

Vangar moved to one of the not-smoking consoles. “We’re gonna have to fix that,” he commented on the entire section he had managed to boot out into the bridge when he entered. Inputting the communication code and chip, a ship wide evacuation began to sound.

 

Across the entire station, klaxons began to sound. In a half dozen different languages, Nemoidian, Muunish, Huttese, Skakoan, Goss, and Koorivian pleasant robotized monotone voices instructed anyone and everyone to make for the nearest escape pods as the ship’s integrity was compromised. Red warning lights circled and flashed.

 

Vangar nodded. That ought to do it. 
 

Hearing Tilt’s communication, Vangar responded, “The front door might be busted. If you come through the heat vent we made a door, either way; come on in.”

 

As the alarms began to sound, the hunters that were looking for Chrissie quickly abandoned their search. Survival was much more optimal. They turned and hurried away towards the nearest means of escape.

 

Chrissie breathed a sigh of relief. “I hope you did that.” She hissed into her comm unit. 
 

“Yeah that was me.”

 

”Be right there.” Chrissie began to carefully climb back towards the catwalk. From there she finagled herself precariously to the heat vent and onto the bridge. Looking at the unconscious ship commander and the cowering injured mechanic, she raised an eyebrow. “Ran into trouble boss, and they’re still

alive? Looks like you’re going soft.”

 

Vangar chuckled. “We’ve gotta act civilized now. Besides,” he jerked a thumb at the mechanic, “as long as he stays useful, might as well let him help. Now how about you two get the bridge back online?”

“Come on,” Chrissie sighed, rolling her eyes as she gestured to the mechanic. “Don’t get stupid.” She added tapping the pistol in her waistband.

 

Kneeling by the smoldering console, the two began to piece things back together.

 

[Vangar]

Vangar smiled. It was an invisible and unintentionally fearsome visage lost behind the mirrored helmet. It was time to go and time to cause a little chaos too.

 

The pair of opposing techs easily

slid the console back into place. It wasn’t a challenge after assessing the mostly peripheral damages wrought by the latter’s flamethrower. Standing up Chrissie symbolicaly brushed her hands off, “a simple day’s work boss. Now what?”

 

The Umbaran was more hesitant, shooting several worried glances over his shoulder at his downed former-commander and now the other commandos who had fallen into view. Chrissie clapped him on the shoulder, startling him back to the reality of the moment.

 

Vangar nodded to the clones before turning to face the entire group. “Gentlemen?” He said as a catchall for the group, “The ship is ours.” He turned towards the bay of consoles and stepping toward the main control console. “If you will assume the positions, we will make our break for the freedom of the stars. Captain,” Vangar pulled a drive from his thigh pocket and tossed it to the clone, “this should overwrite any remaining Confederacy or Federation orders and give them something more,” he hissed a moment, “chaotic. They should be able to encourage any stragglers to make for the e-pods.” The drive would activate the deactivated droids within 17 seconds, less than 2 later the new programming would overwrite their programming. The Lucrehulk served as the command post and conduit for the droids. The takeover would be quick and complete.

 

”Fire up the engines again there chief,” he pointed at the Umbaran. “They’ll work this time.” His voice carried a sarcastic tinge of a smile to it.

 

Chrissie traded looks with her fellow tech. She offered a nod of encouragement before stepping to a bank of screens. With a flourish of keystrokes the consoles illuminated; readouts of systems across  the whole ship. Chrissie whistled, impressed by what she saw. “Looks like these phantoms knew what they were up to boss. Maybe when we come and take them over we can use their skills.” The Umbaran tech paled. Quickly he began to bring the engines online.

 

Across the drifting ship, power began to surge through long dormant lines, exceeding the long-used emergency lighting and power that they had been operating under. Lights began to flicker to life bathing the interiors of the ship in sterile white light. Occasionally a panel of fixture burst into a waterfall of sparks as the long dead electronic was unable to handle the surge of life-giving power. Engines rumbled to life as reactors warmed towards a functional level. Within minutes the entire vessel would be back online, including the automated internal and external defensive mechanisms, shields, turrets, turbolaser batteries, and shield walls.

 

Grabbing a comm mic, Vangar depressed the ship wide broadcast button. For those speakers that were not completely garbled by the fuzz of static, the voice of the Galactic Alliance’s new leader resounded across the craft. “Attention all, this ship is now under the control of a sovereign military order. All Umbaran nationals will be allowed to vacate the ship by way of the nearest escape pod provided they offer no resistance and lay down their weapons and tools of oppression and war. Anyone held in servitude or wishing to make a new life for themselves are instructed to surrender themselves to any patrol of operatives or battle droids. Resistance will be met with force. Do not endanger anyone else.” Releasing the button, Vangar turned to the clones, “give us a ten minute countdown eh?”
 

Then he turned to the sole Umbaran on the bridge, his eyes wide with fright, “and as for you?” The technician shook with fear before turning to bolt towards the doors, which were sealed shut. He crashed into them when they did not open. Twitching on the floor, he stared up in shock at the sealed doors and back at the attackers. He quaked, completely overcome by his fear.

[Vangar]

It did not take much more. The activation of a droid army was the encouragement for numerous slaves, those not yet too brainwashed by unspeakable horrors and tortured, to rise up against their slave masters. Those Umbarans who could not make it to an escape pod post haste were met with brutal revenge. Cleaning bots would mop up the worst of things. Anything that remained would be sanitized by specialists when they got to safety.

 

On the bridge, Vangar regarded the scene before him. Clones, a Wing Guard, and the preverbal leader of the free galaxy dressed as rogues, pirates. He smiled behind his helmet. Life had a way of stating interesting. “Can you ensure that recordings are erased any any automatic outgoing transmissions jammed?” He queried as the Wing Guard technician shook her head. “Thats a tall order boss. It is gonna take the entire team . . .”  
 

The Barabel nodded. “So we keep our buckets on til we get there. Set course for the Burnin Konn System, Anoat Sector. We will meet up with the reclamation team and offload the slaves to Hosra, from there, the Knights will assist them reintegrate into society.”

 

Vangar flicked his tongue activating his helmeted comm relay to the remainder of the boarding team, “Buckle up everyone. We’re about to jump. Any hostilities left aboard need hunted down and detained. We’re not in the clear yet. Not until we sweep the ship for bugs and outgoing transmissions.”

 

Minutes later, as the last of the escape pods cleared the massive carrier ship and the Lucrehulk burned away from the nebula and the Umbaran homeworld, the countdown for the hyperspace jump began its countdown before streaking into the future.