Concordia Veil - Central Airlock
Despite her best efforts, Amelia found nothing in the way of spare weapons inside the lockers, only several extra Dusk suits hanging in them. Aside from them, herself, and Crash, the only other things she managed to come across was the now severed cable which had bound her wrists together before the spider-bot freed her, and a jagged piece of the latch which had broken off when she kicked open the door to the locker in which the hijackers had imprisoned her.
It occurred to her by then that wherever the men were, it was likely they had heard the racket she had made when she broke out, although whether or not they considered it worth investigating, she wasn't sure. They had sealed the hatch from inside the ship when they left her, and there was no way to open it from within the airlock, so it was reasonable to assume that they probably would still consider her contained, but what if they didn't? She could hear one of them moving about in the darkness towards the bow of the ship, and her eyes were slowly adjusting enough to make out a dim light coming from up there, likely coming through the cockpit hatch's window.
The sound of another hatch opening in that direction, followed by quick bootsteps on the metal decking made her blood run cold. Then another hatch opened, and the light ahead got slightly brighter, although still not nearly enough to illuminate anything very well. She could easily assume the light was coming from the displays in the cockpit; although it seemed the interior lamps were all knocked out, the cockpit still had power.
Before she had time to act, she realized she could hear her captors talking to one another in moderately hushed voices.
"...think I can bypass the lockouts, but it isn't going to be easy," Paul was saying, sounding clearly rattled. "The computer's so old I'm amazed it even still works. And aside from that, it's like something--"
"God damn it, why the hell are you telling me all this?" Datsan snapped, cutting him off. "Tell me something good or get your ass back in there and back to work!"
"No, listen," Paul retorted defensively. "I can get around the lockout on the controls, but we got a bigger problem than that. The diagnostic is showing a fault in one of the main relays. Now that's not something I can fix from the terminal, it's a mechanical problem."
There was a dull thump, probably from Datsan pounding his fist on something in frustration. "God damn rusty hunk of junk," he spat. There was a racket, likely from him hoisting himself out of the pilot's couch. "You get back in there and keep working on the lock outs. I'll go back to the engines."
"Wait, you're gonna leave me up here alone!?" Paul asked incredulously.
There was the sound of a solid smack, followed by a yelp of surprise and mild pain from Paul. "Computer room. Now," Datsan commanded.
Amelia then heard more movement, and then bootsteps descending the stairs from the cockpit, heading in her direction.
Ye Olde Den
Sienna was hunkered down behind the kicked-over table, sitting on the floor with her back to it and tilted onto one hip, her legs sprawled out in front of her and pistol in hand. After the hail of massive bullets ceased, she waited until the booming ultimatum finished resonating through the bar (and the following, delayed crumbling sounds of destroyed furniture collapsing and pulverized rock from the walls clattering to the floor), then gingerly peeked out around the side of her cover. What she saw made her eyebrows raise slowly - it was a bloodbath. She'd been in her share of scrapes before, but she could never remember being involved in something so grisly.
She muttered a quiet curse under her breath as she turned her head back to look at Oreza, crouched nearby and holding a dead girl, just a few feet from the man she had shot dead moments before. She nodded at her companion questioningly, as if seeking confirmation that the ordeal was over, and slowly slid her pistol back into its holster.
She watched the Freespacer "medic" take the dead girl off of Oreza's hands, and prop the horned Iromakuanhe up in her place in front of him. Involuntarily she frowned, partially at the way the odd Freespacer was using Oreza as a nurse, but mostly in irritation at the stupidity of the Iromakuanhe that had started all of this. Were it not for the threat of a trigger-happy minigun-wielding four-armed bartender watching over the blown-apart war zone, she would have strolled straight over to the newcomer and pistol-whipped him, not because of the unnecessary death and destruction he'd caused, but because his cowboy antics had probably driven away their lead for work, likely for good.
Six Four turned to leave, but Sienna wasn't about to let him just dump his mess on them. "Hey, wait just a damn minute, you," she said in a voiced, terse whisper, pointing at the limp Iromakuanhe. "We don't know this guy, and he ain't our problem. Don't just--"
The bartender's voice came over the loudspeaker again, and the group suddenly became very aware once again of the sound of the minigun's barrel still spinning and primed to fire. "Doctor Unit," the bartender demanded of Six Four. "Your services are required here. Attend to the wounded immediately, and assist in disposing of the corpses. All others, remain where you are. Failure to comply will be met with deadly force."
