After the ship had landed John and Wolf quickly popped out to re-align the grav-dampener, it was a quick job and soon enough they were back on ship. Wolf headed for the engine room but John went for the cockpit. Nodding an ‘OK’ to Wyatt he in turn gave the OK to the girl and, after she had done a strange little routine, they set off. The girl was a good pilot, take-off was smooth and she executed some graceful loops, rolls and tricks without hiccup, until…
“Well, Capt’n, I ain’t sure we should go out to the black and go fer hard burn, seein’ as how that ruttin’ t’su lao hu already spent’n wasted quite a bit of this little lady’s fuel. What…”
And then she was cut off by the bleeping of the proximity alarm, checking the displays with her mouth catching flies she announced an unmarked ‘Angel’ with a missing pulse beacon. Interested, John came over to check the display. Angel, to him, meant a medical ship, his old M-ALST from the war. Checking the display he saw it wasn’t his Angel. Klaxons went off, both in his head and all around the ship, as he realised. I was an asrev. Unmarked meant black-ops, but that and a missing pulse beacon meant black market. The realisation that a black market asrev had launched seekers on them his John like a tonne of bricks. Barely hesitating he dashed for the secondary controls at the other side of the cockpit.

Standing before the console, chair spinning behind him where he’d knocked it and not sat down, John flicked the short-range comms into life, adjusted the frequency, and began typing on the keyboard. Figures flying across the keys in a desperate panic he somehow, quickly and accurately, entered the long and complex, but well known, code as he called across to the pilot, over the cacophonous klaxon.

“It’s black market, probably damaged from the war. Push it and something might break.”

The missile auto-destruct code typed in John tapped the ‘Enter’ key with a flourish and radioed the engine room.

“Asrev’s got missile lock, disable the pulse beacon.”

((If the missiles do not auto-destruct))
With the missiles still chasing, and gaining, the code had obviously not worked. A part of his brain desperately wanted to calculate the odds of their survival but the rest of his brain wanted to survive so John remained focused on disabling the missiles. He could attempt to hack them, but that would be impossibly hard, or he could set the comms to broadcast powerful wide-frequency static, but with a visual that wouldn’t help much, alternatively he could broadcast on an official channel to their pursuer, but that wouldn’t help with the missiles. Instead John decided he’d send a false signal to the missiles, to confuse or hopefully shut down their navigational systems, with any luck they’d drop to the ground or veer off-course and hit something, or each other.

((If the missiles do auto-destruct))
Sighing his relief John watches the twin flashes from the now detonated missiles fade from the rear-view screen. ‘Well at least that worked.’ he thought as he again began manipulating the comms equipment to broadcast powerful wide-frequency static to mask the Roc’s signature and hopefully it’s pulse beacon, it wouldn’t help with LOS gunning or if the asrev had image-lock capable missiles but it was something.

((OOC: John says asrev as one word, typical of somebody familiar with the designation. It may occur to some of the crew that asrev was never Browncoat slang but I’ll leave that to your own discretion.
LOS stands for Line Of Sight, in case any of you were interested.
The powerful wide-frequency static idea is based off the core book's description of Jammer Warheads from page 102.
John will spend two plot points on each of the Technical Engineering rolls he takes, that means this post he’ll be spending four plot points. Thanks to his Technophile major asset each of the activities he spend two plot points on benefits as if four plot points had been spent on it, like the major version of Born Behind The Wheel.
Technophile also increases his intelligence to d12+d2 for all Technical Engineering rolls when using or working with technical equipment.
Alacrity, you still need to update John’s character sheet to the 2012-08-01 version. Cheers!

EDIT: Type "Do a barrel roll" into Google!))

Two missiles flew towards Rocinante, their systems locked on the pulse beacon of the ship. For Tess. this was no longer a simulation - it was a trip down memory lane. missiles are fast and accurate, but they can't turn quickly or adjust course on the fly. the key to avoiding the missiles was to make sudden and rapid changes in her flight. She was doing a lot of what gator was just showing but her hands flew across the controls and compensated for the changes so the replays and engines kept on flying.

John moved to the co-pilot station without asking permission and began to type into the computer system. "“It’s black market, probably damaged from the war. Push it and something might break.” he said out loud as he quickly typed. He called them engine room from the comm, “Asrev’s got missile lock, disable the pulse beacon.”

he typed into the system the algorithm that he used during the war when he was going into a battle zone. missiles would often fly and friendly fire was a big risk for a medical Evac crew. John learned how to disable missiles quickly. But the auto destruct wasn't working.

(Assuming something about "of course, first thing they change!")

He changed the tactic and tapped into the nav -comm to boost his signal and then used a sweeping multi-frequency burst that should confuse the guidance system. Tess and Wyatt could see everything he was doing on her screen but she was too focused on the flying to make a comment. The captain was putting his faith in them at this moment.

Willow and Trish ran from the kitchen and went to opposite shuttles to begin the pre-flight warm ups so the shuttles could fly at a moment's notice. It was what they drilled and the drills helped but fear held each lady's heart.

In the engine room , Wolf hear Tess on the comm, “Hope you boys is ready down in engineerin’. Things might’n be gittin’ a little dicey.”

Dicey, what the Wuh duh ma huh ta duh fung-kwong duh wai-shung doh did she mean by dicey? he thought but then the ship started to turn and bank. Not like before with gator, but controlled and calm, even at the high speed. No fear of relays blowing in this lady's hands.

Ash came running into the engine room. Wolf knew it was bad whatever was going on.

“You tell me what you need.” Asher asked.

“I have no idea what I need, what the guay is going on?”

“Asrev’s got missile lock, disable the pulse beacon.” John Ryan's voice came over the comm as if he had heard the question.

Asher was confused at first but the realized that Wolf had not been on the ship long and had very little ship experience before hand. No wonder he was confused

(assuming Asher will say something about Kora put a shunt in on the Pulse beacon. it is on the far port control panel)
Just as the Tess was running out of tricks and the missiles were getting dangerously close, their engines sputtered and they started to lose altitude. The klaxxons stopped as the two tin-birds fell downwards towards the fields.

On the ground, two robot culivators were heading back to the farm, the hoppers full to the brim with dreamdrowse plants picked at the height of their cycle. The two robots had just completed harvesting the fields when all of the sudden, two missile fell from the sky and zoned in on them. Both exploded with a huge cacophony of impact and explosive might that completed destroyed the robots, and about 6 million credits worth of dreamdrowse, based on current street value.

(assuming some cheering in the cockpit)

John smiled as the missiles fell to the ground and exploded without harming the ship. But a look between him and Tess confirmed they were both thinking the same thing. They won't make the same mistake twice"

Sure enough the display lit up that two more missiles were being fired by the ASREV. They would most likely be heatseekers, and locked on to the engines. The danger was not over yet.

The code hadn’t worked. The two missiles were still following them. Then it hit John, the war was long over. It would be the first thing any self-respecting black market arms dealer would do, deactivate the auto-destruct on the missiles they sold.

“Jing chai؟”

Changing tactic he tapped into the nav-comm to boost. It was a trick he’d used on browncoat missiles. Medi ships were meant to have been “off limits”, but that hadn’t stopped jone yeehuen dahn from taking the odd pot shot. Apparently, near the start of the war, communiques between Alliance and Browncoat Commands had outlined that neither side should execute of torcher prisoners, target civilian populations, or open fire on medi ships. Of cause neither side upheld the bargain, each accusing the other of breaking it first, but medi ships on both sides remained generally respected as something not to shoot at. There were, however, exceptions, and it’s from the exceptions that John learnt the few tricks he knows on how to not be killed my missiles. As he typed it occurred to him to let the guys in the engine room know what was going on, so he radioed to them. He’d been a long time out of the saddle, but he could be a captain again, a captain with his own crew and his own ship. Not that the thought of commanding a crew filled him with pleasure, he was comfortable in control, but uncomfortable in command. He didn’t like telling others what to do.

Just as the pilot was appearing to run out of tricks, just as the captain was looking worried, just as he was beginning to silently prey to a god that he didn’t accept existed, the missiles dropped away. They’d been dangerously close, a few more seconds and they’d all have been dead, but they’d survived. John smiled and fell back into the chair behind him. His heart was pounding, beating as hard and fast as it ever had. His heart beating a tattoo on the inside of his chest, his brain flooding his adrenaline filled body with endorphins. This was ectasy. This was living. Living on the edge. Not just existing. This was standing on the precipice with a knife pressed against you back, and then walking away alive. Nothing could beat that feeling. He’d almost forgotten how good it felt. He looked across at the pilot, the fantastic pretty pilot whose flying had saved them. She looked back. He look said ##placeholder##, his look said Here we go again! as two new missiles popped up on screen.

Breaking his gaze from her he sat back up straight in the chair, he found himself wondering about her for a brief second. He knew nothing about her, she knew nothing about him, but together they’d save this ship and all the people on it. On the screen the second pair of missiles were closing, newer missiles by what he could make out of them. The code trick wouldn’t work, and they appeared to be heat-seekers this time. He knew what to do, occasionally his medi ship had run out of counter measures and he’d been forced to pull this potentially dangerous maneuver before. First he over-rode the safety, he didn’t need to ships old computer getting in the way of this particular stunt, then he entered a short command. He’d vent a small amount of fuel from each of the reaction engines’ secondary fuel lines; the blobs of super high-temperature plasma should distract the missiles, their own IR signatures being far greater than the ships own. If all went well plasma blobs would either detonate missiles or burn out the nose-mounted IR sensors leaving them blinded. It should, after that, be child’s play to out maneuver them. Just before he entered the command John muttered something to the cockpit, who had been alerted to something potentially dangerous by all the monitors flashing red indicating that he’d disabled the safeties regarding venting live-fuel.

“Sorry if this goes wrong.”

John then sends the command.

((Assuming everything works and the ship doesn’t blow up due to catastrophic engine failure or the missiles not being distracted))
The latest missiles dispatched John changes back to playing with the comms equipment, this time attempting to listen in to the conversations being had on the pursuing ship. Being able to know who is following them and what they are talking about would be worthwhile. He also calls over Captain Sung to speak to him.

“Chuan zung, I’ll try to open comms with them. Sound authoritative and when the channels order them to stand down and return to base or we’ll have to return fire.”

Assuming the captain understands John then attempts to open communications with the ASREV, but audio channels only, no need for them to see who the captain is.

((Jing chai = Brilliant
؟ = Backwards ?, meant to indicate sarcasm
Jone yee huen dahn = Browncoat barstards
Chuan zung = Captain))

Wolf had no sooner replied ,“I have no idea what I need, what the guay is going on?”, when the strangers voice came across the comm.

“Asrev’s got missile lock, disable the pulse beacon.”
Asher was confused at first but the realized that Wolf had not been on the ship long and had very little ship experience before hand. No wonder he was confused.

“Pulse beacon?” Asher looked to Wolf who’s eyebrow were furrowed. Then he remember that Kora had told him , “You love it, protect it.” She’d shown him how she’d put backups and shunts in all the major circuits.

Pointing to the port control panel Ash said ,”There, it’s in there.” The kid rushed to the panel and yanked out the door. Kora had coded the circuits so she’d know at glance were trouble might lie. The young man stared at the maze of wires, each seeming to have it’s own color wrap. Kora always seemed to hum a tune as she worked the wiring; Ash now realized it was her code.

Closing his eyes tried to remember those days working with that dark hair beauty who ran a no nonsense engine room. He could see her, but couldn’t hear her.

Opening his eyes he mutter, “Gorrum, I guess it’s just Blue for Beacon”. He reached into the box and grabbed the blue wrapped shunt and jerked it out.

Standing there holding the wire he looked at Wolf and said, “I sure hope it wasn’t Purple for Pulse!”

What had begun as a simple audition was turning out to be a full-fledged run for their lives, and where most people would likely be breaking a sweat, losing their cool, or otherwise be paralized; Wyatt Sung was growing colder and colder; becoming one with the Black. Summer used to say that whenever she saw him enter this mood. One with the Black: just as unforgiving. Tess was performing very well, and the gentleman technician also seemed to have a few tricks up his sleeve. Even the venacular he used registered with Wyatt as being Alliance-influenced, but that was niether here nor there. John was fighting for his life the same as everyone else on this boat. And when the two missiles fell to the dirt, Wyatt made his decision. When two more heat-seekers popped up and John started to make the moves to disable these two, Wyatt had seen enough—and apparently someone else had too as the controls John had commandeered went impotent.

"Good show, people," Wyatt grimly acknowledged. "But I'm through playin' with this ben dan (idiot).

"John, see if you can't punch into the pilot's comm," Wyatt shifted his hat so that the brim rode low over his eyes. "Tess, keep on doin' what you're doin', only take us back toward that party Gator flew us over some time back. They got a nice heat signature as I remember."

Glancing at the console John had been working on Wyatt snatched up the mic for the onboard intercom system. "Someone find that Gator fella' an' make sure he ain't up to misbehavin'. Wolf...I need that system back online. Be a good fellow an' see to it, won'tcha?"

Back to Tess, "That angel ain't flyin' like a pro. Take him low, fast, an' straight to the fires o' hell. Hopefully he'll play right on our heels and when those missiles hit the flames he'll be too close behind t' pull out an' we'll be addin' one more pig t' the pit.

"John, once those systems are operatin' I want t' know everything there is t' know 'bout that property, who owns these here fields, an' what paper he wipes with."

Folding his arms across his chest, Wyatt's cold tone and expression didn't change as he added, "Welcome to Rocinante you two. You each get one share o' the haul, room, board, an' all this here entertainment as icing on the cake."

“Asrev’s got missile lock, disable the pulse beacon.”

With Ryan telling him this over the intercom and Asher in person what Rocinante faced, Wolf sprung into action. Moving quickly to the engine core he gave it as much power as possible to try to increase the ship’s speed. He knew it would not be enough to outrun any missiles per say but it would make turning and climbing faster. It would also buy him a little more time to disconnect the Pulse Beacon. Then before he could stop Ash, the Gunfighter was at a control panel pulling out a blue colored power cord.

“Ash Stop!” Wolf yelled as he made his way to the same panel.

A look inside told Wolf all he needed to know. As he started to replace the power cord to the co-pilots seat he at the same time tried to also find by eye the power line to the Pulse Beacon. (Using any added die to fix, find, disconnect)

“Wolf...I need that system back online. Be a good fellow an' see to it, won'tcha?"

I’m working on it, I’m working on it Wolf thought to himself having no time to respond to Wyatt. All the mechanic could do was his best and hope his best was enough............

With the would-be pilot dealt with, Willow felt a small glow of satisfaction at how well the two strangers and her crew acted to protect Rocinante. Perhaps one of the two would have the flying skills they needed, but for now, there was a kitchen awash in broth...and more flying would mean the mess would be spread farther. Willow shared her glorious smile with the two strangers as thanks, then made her way back to the galley, and tucking the sari's voluminous pleats and folds up out of the way, set to cleaning up.

Usha would have been aghast, but Willow had spent more time with the servants who'd raised her than her famous mother and busy father. It had seemed silly to sit and watch as her friends worked, so she'd joined in. Now, she made short work of the spilled soup, though the stock pot had a dent that would have to be hammered out.

Suddenly, the klaxon rang out, and Willow stopped, her eyes flying to Trish, who'd just entered, a freshly cleaned Bessie in hand.

“I highly suggest ya’ll hold onto sumthing. This might’n be an Angel of Death,” Tess slammed her hand into the shipwide comm, “Hope you boys is ready down in engineerin’. Things might’n be gittin’ a little dicey.”
Willow dropped the beleagured stock pot into the sink, likely earning it another dent, and scrambled to the port shuttle, knowing without looking that Trish was headed in the opposite direction. They'd drilled for this, at both the Captain's and her insistence; him because he was cautious and a pessimist, and she because she knew drills were the best way to overcome the fear that washed over her and robbed her of rationale thought. She was headed to the shuttle, but her mind was cowering in a closet during a thunderstorm.

She reached the shuttle and fell into the pilot's chair, staring blankly at the controls before she spotted the clipboard hanging beside the console. Panic receded a bit as she held onto the clipboard, something solid and comforting, and ran her eyes down the list she knew by heart. It steadied her, and she was able to move through the pre-flight preparations with a semblance of calm.

Something out the viewport caught Willow's eye, smoke in the distance. Surrounded on all sides by flowers, the smoke was a black stain in the air. She toggled the comm to the bridge.

"Captain-san," she pleased herself with the steadiness of her voice," It could be nothing, but there's smoke off the port side. Seems odd, all the way out here. Might have something to do with our, ah, predicament. "

Tess didn’t look over as John slide into the co-pilot’s chair. Her eyes were flicking back and forth between the window before her and the control screens.

“It’s black market, probably damaged from the war. Push it and something might break.” John said, nearly murmuring to himself. He clicked the comm. on, “Asrev’s got missile lock, disable the pulse beacon.”

She started twisting and turning the ship in an effort to shake off the missiles. If she was lucky, one of the two would veer faster than the other and collide with one another. In any case, she was trying to give John enough time to work whatever magic he happened to be doing. It might have been odd, putting trust in a complete stranger in a situation like this. She learned long ago that when your gorram lives were on the line, there was no room for doubt in one another, and no time for bickering. Just trust that you’d either live to see another day as a team, or go up in flames as individuals.

Rocinante twisted in a barrel roll as the missiles soared closer to her tail. Tess’s hands settled her out again before making a swift turn to the left, losing altitude rapidly and swerving the ship back and forth. The missiles were relentless, and trailed even closer. Her eyes hardened in determination. When it seemed like her audition was going to be her last flight, the missiles dropped off the radar.

She blew a long sigh and righted Rocinante.

“Cuttin’ it a bit close, weren’t ya?” She turned to grin at the young man sitting in the co-pilot’s chair, hands moving to remove her goggles when a cold shiver ran down the base of her neck. The alarm went off again; target lock on Rocinante.

"Good show, people," Wyatt grimly acknowledged. "But I'm through playin' with this ben dan .”

“Ain’t outta these woods yet,” she agreed, “’Suppose’n we can’t fool these boys with that trick again, seeing as how we’re fresh out of pulse beacons.” Tess threw Rocinante into airleon roll, and she twisted gracefully in midair.


"John, see if you can't punch into the pilot's comm," Wyatt shifted his hat so that the brim rode low over his eyes. "Tess, keep on doin' what you're doin', only take us back toward that party Gator flew us over some time back. They got a nice heat signature as I remember."

“You got it, Capt’n,” she replied.

Glancing at the console John had been working on Wyatt snatched up the mic for the onboard intercom system. "Someone find that Gator fella' an' make sure he ain't up to misbehavin'. Wolf...I need that system back online. Be a good fellow an' see to it, won'tcha?"

Back to Tess, "That angel ain't flyin' like a pro. Take him low, fast, an' straight to the fires o' hell. Hopefully he'll play right on our heels and when those missiles hit the flames he'll be too close behind t' pull out an' we'll be addin' one more pig t' the pit.

"John, once those systems are operatin' I want t' know everything there is t' know 'bout that property, who owns these here fields, an' what paper he wipes with."

Folding his arms across his chest, Wyatt's cold tone and expression didn't change as he added, "Welcome to Rocinante you two. You each get one share o' the haul, room, board, an' all this here entertainment as icing on the cake."

Tess grinned as she continued to duck and dodge, “Sounds shiny, Capt’n. Always did like a little bit of engagin’ entertainment with my grub. Let’s see about gittin’ through this before I shake your hand and start movin’ into that room.

She clicked on the comm to engineering, “Alright boys, it’s lookin’ like we’re gittin’ to try that Immelmann after all. I’m following her up with split-s, so make sure to watch our hydraulics and stabilizers so we ain’t going up in a purty show of fire and shinies.”

Wyatt’s voice seemed to ooze from the comm. “Wolf...I need that system back online. Be a good fellow an' see to it, won'tcha?"

Asher’s heart sank as he realized he’d pulled the wrong shunt.

“Wolf.. get the beacon off….. there’s a set of jumpers in the tool box to fix what I pulled.” The kid ran to the box and in short order returned with the clamp-ons.

“Here .. this’ll bring the line back up... Kora believed in being ready… she’d showed me a lot work’n on the gear..guess I need some more time with wiring. “

Wyatt Sung was a very observant man, and he had an intuition about things that had served him well during the war. When Gator was buzzing over the valley, he had noticed that the sensors picked up a large house, many people, a large area that was very hot and another that was very cool. This was interesting to note because the locals he had talked to said this farmland was empty of people and was cultivated by robots.

Except farmers don't use robots unless they got money. Corn and Sunflowers ain't exactly cash crops around here, they just grow real high
Then the Angel shows up, hot to blow them out of the sky without a hello or get away from my property. Wyatt knew these weren't professional but they weren't afraid of killing. Everything in Wyatt's gut told him they'd somehow pissed off some local big shot with money, means and not much sense.

"Good show, people," Wyatt grimly acknowledged. "But I'm through playin' with this ben dan.John, see if you can't punch into the pilot's comm," Wyatt shifted his hat so that the brim rode low over his eyes. "Tess, keep on doin' what you're doin', only take us back toward that party Gator flew us over some time back. They got a nice heat signature as I remember."

"Captain-san," Willow called over the comm." It could be nothing, but there's smoke off the port side. Seems odd, all the way out here. Might have something to do with our, ah, predicament. "

Wyatt had seen the smoke too. It agreed silently with the theory he had formed, ""That angel ain't flyin' like a pro. Take him low, fast, an' straight to the fires o' hell. Hopefully he'll play right on our heels and when those missiles hit the flames he'll be too close behind t' pull out an' we'll be addin' one more pig t' the pit.

John finished hacking into the comm and put it on main speaker.

"You got them?"

"Umm Negative sir. "

"Well something just gorram blew up!"

"Umm Yeah, that was ... the missiles just lost power and dropped Sir. but we got them running now!"

"You idiots! You got a gorram interceptor that I paid good money for. I want them dead! Dead! they ruined my party, my guest have all left and took my whores with them! Dead! Dead ...."
Suddenly the power shut down on the co-pilot console. John hit a few buttons, swore and without a moment of hesitation, rolled under the console to start fiddling with the wiring.

Wyatt snatched up the mic for the onboard intercom system. "Wolf...I need that system back online. Be a good fellow an' see to it, won'tcha?"

In the engine room, Asher realized that he made a mistake. he was so anxious to help and be useful that he did exactly what he should do. “Wolf.. get the beacon off….. there’s a set of jumpers in the tool box to fix what I pulled.” The kid ran to the box and in short order returned with the clamp-ons. Wolf had already disconnected the beacon by pulling the wires out in the right sequence.

“Here .. this’ll bring the line back up... Kora believed in being ready… she’d showed me a lot work’n on the gear..guess I need some more time with wiring. “ Asher said.

Wolf looked up, "Go to it then. You need to reset the circuit as soon as you are done. Back panel, flip the switch with the orange showing. It a safety precaution, so it don't fry you inside out." The mechanic worked as fast as he could to move power into the engines and the flight controls for the new pilot. He could not do two things at once and he knew that Asher needed to fix the mistake in save face in his own mind.

In the cockpit, Tess was flying hard and fast but never lost her cool. She pulled a quick bank maneuver and then pulled back the controls to switch around the ship in midflight. The missile corrected course but turned a wide turn as they reacquired the target. The ASREV was way too close behind, stupid pilot didn't know enough to stay away.

“Ain’t outta these woods yet,” she agreed, “’Suppose’n we can’t fool these boys with that trick again, seeing as how we’re fresh out of pulse beacons.” Tess said.

"John, once those systems are operatin' I want t' know everything there is t' know 'bout that property, who owns these here fields, an' what paper he wipes with." Wyatt asked calmly. Folding his arms across his chest, Wyatt's cold tone and expression didn't change as he added, "Welcome to Rocinante you two. You each get one share o' the haul, room, board, an' all this here entertainment as icing on the cake."

Tess grinned as she continued to duck and dodge, “Sounds shiny, Capt’n. Always did like a little bit of engagin’ entertainment with my grub. Let’s see about gittin’ through this before I shake your hand and start movin’ into that room.

Asher finished putting the wiring back into place and rigged the jumper cables. He ran over the circuit box and opened it up. Sure enough, there was the orange next to the circuit breakers, except there were four. He called out to Wolf but the big man was engrossed in his own work so Asher reached up and flipped them all.

Tess voice suddenly rang out on the comm to engineering, “Alright boys, it’s lookin’ like we’re gittin’ to try that Immelmann after all. I’m following her up with split-s, so make sure to watch our hydraulics and stabilizers so we ain’t going up in a purty show of fire and shinies.”

No sooner than Tess had called out to the engine room, her power levels spiked up and her flight control became that much more responsive. Next to her, the co-pilot station lit up again. John leapt up from the floor and immediately tapped into the cortex.

Rocinante lifted up as if going into a climb and them twisted around in midair to fly back over the ASREV as the missiles corrected course again. Within the cockpit of the Rocinante, the open channel still was there.

"The gorram pilot won't stay still!"

"Look out!"

The ASREV exploded into a fireball in the wake of Rocinante as one of the missiles found it a more acceptable target. The other stayed on its original target. Tess leveled out and headed towards the valley. She pushed the engine into the red even with the boost of power - the last missile closing in.

John called out as he got information, (Yardiff Bey, landowner, long rap sheet, mostly drugs, spends a lot on toys & women, on the fed's watch list but obviously not big enough fish to bother with. )

The missile was close enough to reach out and touch as Tess brought the ship over the valley. She cut the burn on the main engines and then did the impossible. She pulled back and rose into a climb, then shut off all power to force Rocinante to fall as gravity reclaimed its hold. Then she pulled the power back on and reversed the ship's position to soar over the last missile as it lost its heat signature.

And pick up another.

Yardiff watched the display of wild avionics and then realized what was happening. As the missile flew directly at his open pit bbq that he was so proud of, he screamed out to the heaven, "But this was supposed to be my day!!!"

*BOOOMM!!!!!*
The missile exploded with a fiery display that tore up the ground and lit up the sky. The shockwave destroyed all the glass of the house moving out and then the second wave destroyed the house completely. Rocinante flew away from the explosion unscathed and once again with a pilot that would love her well.

Watching the light on the radar pulse and then disappear was extremely satisfying, Wyatt decided from where he stood peering at the screen over his new pilot's shoulder. The captain was unable to get a good view with the naked eye on the destruction that criminal boss had rained down on himself by hiring a stupid pilot, but the cramped feeling in his gut lifted a little at the thought.

"Can't return to the scene o' the crime--or so I've been told," Wyatt hit the back of the pilot's chair with a single knuckle by way of congratulations (it nearly had been a pat on the shoulder out of reflex and ghosts fluttering around in his brainpan in the likeness of Sam Dash). "Take us back t' port, an' keep an eye on that sky. Don' want us trailin' no toilet paper stuck to our boots.

"John," Captain Sung gave him a cool nod as though he'd planned the whole escapade as part of the audition. "I'd be mighty appreciative if'n you monitored all available feeds to see if that Yardis fellow happens t' show up more alive than dead. Don't like leavin' loose ends."

That said, Wyatt pushed his hat back on his head and made his way out of the cockpit. The prevalent thought was not apparent on his scruffy face. That they'd been visited by Fate was not lost to the man. Pausing before the ladder to his bunk Wyatt considered what would come first: the good third, or the bad. After all, they'd picked up a damn fine pilot, and a tech who could apparently fly some as well. At the same time, Gator had made an indelible impression on some local big bad an' uglies, which Wyatt couldn't imagine wouldn't be visiting them some time in the future. That type didn't like nobody messing with their herd unless it was them.

Pushing the door open, Sung descended into his private quarters, brushing his fingers across the smooth face of the elephant picture after sliding the door shut behind him. His hat, he threw unceremoniously onto the chair bolted to the wall next to his bunk. His badge that he was--is--a Browncoat followed as he draped his coat over the top of it. Making his way to the toilet, he pulled the sink from the wall and leaned on it as he looked into the mirror.

"Yer getting' old, Sung," he muttered while following the lines developing at the edges of his eyes and beneath the mustaches and goatie that curtained his mouth. "Sometimes, Eden, I think I'm 'bout t' see you an' Summer again. An' I ain't sorry for it. I'm tired. Bone tired. An' today...well, today I was cheated an' won, but it's the cheat that hangs on...ya know?"

Dropping his chin to his chest, Wyatt chuckled one of his rare, dry as the leaves of Autumn chuckles. "I'm conversatin' with myself. It's been a long day, an' it ain't over yet."

Turning on the precious water, Wyatt splashed some over his face allowing the cold liquid to play something with his skin and at least give the impression that he wasn't dead inside. After, he turned off the water, dried the basin, and pushed it back into the wall. Seating himself at the small monitor embedded within the steel of the ship's hull, Sung turned on the screen and began thumbing through various menus and commands until he found what he was looking for.

For the next while, Wyatt put word out to some of those contacts he had in less than scrupulous places concerning Yardif. He tried his best to be vague, and make it sound like he'd witnessed the explosion from some far away local, but part of m didn't care whether Yardif had survived and came looking for them. So long as Wyatt got to face him down eye-to-eye when the bullet from the captain's Colt revolver broke a hole in the man's forehead. No one, living or dead, mussed with Wyatt's own. Nobody.

~ARIEL~
It was called a Dead Run among the underworld thieves and snatchers. Someone in the high mucky-muck world passed away and the kids have to travel to claim the estate and clean up the house. The media would announce it like it was news and it was good news for thieves as it meant no one was home and you could break in, take whatever you could and get out cleanly. It was usually very easy money.

Jessy Fallon was a bit surprised when Bill and Ted came to her to help with a dead run they had found on the east side, some old lady had died in her sleep and the son was all the way on Beylix so it would be days before he could make it out. It sounded good, and the brothers only called on Jessy because she was good with alarms. She bartered with them and they agreed on a 25% cut for her share.

It was a fourth floor condo, and after disabling the alarm she let the guys go in first. No telling what other nasty backup security system they might have installed. No sense in getting caught in some kind of stun field, restraining web or other nasty device.

As the guys moved through the house she started checking out the bedroom they had slipped into through the window. Whoever lived here sure had the dough, the furnishings in this room alone were enough to set her up for a year or more. Her eyes locked onto something shiny on the bedpost, it was a small silver purse hanging there, when she hear some yelling from the other rooms.

“FREEZE! FEDERAL MARSHALLS!” an authoritative voice commanded.

She ran to the door and peeked around the frame and saw Ted get pulsed by a shock rifle and Bill was grabbed by a couple of Feds. She ducked back before being spotted and ran towards the window, she slid to a stop and then ran to the bedpost and snatched the silver purse and tucked it inside her shirt as she jumped out the window.

Grabbing the mono-line she hit the up switch and let it pull her up to the roof. Climbing up she heard the rooftop access bang open and a quick glance showed a couple of Fed Drones headed her way. She ran, ran hard and fast, leaping from this roof to the next which in this area was luckily for her quite close. The Fed Drones in their armor were not agile enough for this rooftop chase and she soon lost them.

After about a half hour with no sign of pursuit, she had found a quite alley in which to pause and rest. After her breath calmed she considered her options; she couldn’t go back to her place flat, Bill and Ted would flip on her in a heartbeat, especially with Federal interrogation techniques. She cursed them silently for a moment as she wondered what she could do. She had nothing except what she had on her, little money…

Wait, she had that purse. She looked around and seeing no one about, she pulled out the little silver purse and peered inside. She dug out a wallet and some unopened envelopes; peering inside the wallet her eyes bugged and she smiled. Inside were several cards – Alliance Express Platinum and several others; these were practically useless as they would track them as soon as she used them. But, inside she found 3000 credits – WOW!

Going through the envelopes she found several letters to friends and family – Boring! But then she hit the jackpot. Inside one envelope was a ticket from the Five Star Liner Corp for a cruise aboard the Star of Sihnon luxury Liner.

Jessy started dancing with joy in the alleyway and then stopped and glanced around to see if anyone noticed; luckily no one was around at this hour. She looked again at the ticket and then frowned, the date of the cruise was almost 2 months away. Then she smiled again, well she had credits now and that would give her time to get ready. She couldn’t go onboard a 5-star cruise liner looking like she did now.

Tucking away the credits and the tickets, she stuffed the other worthless stuff inside the purse along with the credit cards and headed out into the street to mingle with the other late night crowd. A few blocks down she dumped the purse into an incinerator unit; she smiled at the telltale flash showing it was immediately reduced to ash.

She had to lay low, which she knew how to do, and she had to prep herself. She had to get an ID to match the name on the ticket, clothes appropriate for a 5-star cruise liner passenger, and a makeover as well. It would cost her but she should still have some to enjoy on the cruise.

Jessy had never been off-world, but with the Feds no doubt looking for her she had to disappear. Some other world might offer her more opportunities for someone with her skills.

Things hadn't always gone her way in life; Lady Luck seemed to turn a blind eye to her struggles but maybe things were turning around. Yes, things were definately looking up.

It wasn’t until after the first pair of seekers had dropped off, and the new pair had locked on, that Wyatt started giving orders, his voice steady but grim. "Good show, people, but I'm through playin' with this ben dan. John, see if you can't punch into the pilot's comm. Tess, keep on doin' what you're doin', only take us back toward that party Gator flew us over some time back. They got a nice heat signature as I remember."

The order felt a bit slow in coming, Wyatt had taken his time to get to it, but regardless it was something John had already started doing, even if John’s intensions had been to get the Captain to bluff them out of the situation. After all it was sensible, the first immediate threat had been handled and their pilot seemed capable of keeping a distance between the ship and the missiles. They needed to know who was shooting at them. John had just managed to hack the comms and was setting up for his next trick to lose the current set of missiles when the lights went out. The co-pilots station suddenly lost power. It was like somebody had pulled the plug on his usefulness. John desperately flicked a few switches and pushed the master-power button on his console but everything was dead. “D’Arvit!” John instantly slid under the consoles to remove the access pannel and begin tinkering. He was powerless without the console working; he was in mortal danger and had no control over anything. A chill swept his body and cold sweat started forming on the back of his neck. He needed power back. He needed to be able to do something. He needed control. It wasn’t good having control snatched away and your life handed to somebody else to look after. The wiring, which would have normally made perfect sense to him, seemed jumbled and unorganised as his mind filled, slowly, as thoughts of the cold black and nothingness. Wyatt was saying something, talking over the comms to somebody, then talking to him “John, once those systems are operatin' I want t' know everything there is t' know 'bout that property, who owns these here fields, an' what paper he wipes with” the man mumbled "Welcome to Rocinante you two. You each get one share o' the haul, room, board, an' all this here entertainment as icing on the cake.". Then power was back. John heard it first, the low electrical buzz and hum and the controls started warming up above him. He heaved himself up, pulling down on the console edge to pull himself out from under it. It was like being born again. Back in the seat the screens and lights were on, he leant forwards to search out what he could about who the ASREV could potentially belong to as the Rocinante’s nose pitched upwards and the horizon disappeared below the prow.

John recalled the pilot saying something about a manoeuvre, an Immelmann he thought. But the Rocinante was a transport, an Immelmann was something only fighter pilots did. As John searched the cortex the ship ignored the protest that only fighters should pull the stunt and climbed vertically, executing a half-twist and then flying over the perusing ASREV. The missiles corrected course and one switched target. In the cockpit the comm link with the ASREV was still open and the last words they heard of their would-be-killers was the panicked exclamation as one worked out what was happening. The rear camera picked up the fireball. The angry orange, yellow, and red flames engulfing the ASREV as one missile found its new mark. Their pilot levelled out and headed for the valley ahead the other guy had buzzed as John called out what his quick search had found about the now no-longer owner of the ASREV… a man named Yardiff Bey. Then the ground exploded. John realised as he’d been talking their pilot had pulled off some impressive flying and had lost the last missile, which had instead diverted to whatever had been producing such an excess or smoke earlier. It must have looked an impressive sight to any onlooker, but John found he hopped nobody had been there to see it. Anybody on the ground close enough to see would have been fried in the explosion, much like those piloting the ASREV must have been when it blossomed into a fireball.

Wyatt spoke, walking over to the pilot’s chair. "Can't return to the scene o' the crime--or so I've been told, take us back t' port, an' keep an eye on that sky. Don' want us trailin' no toilet paper stuck to our boots.” Looking across at him Wyatt nodded, like it had been a normal flight. “John, I’d be mighty appreciative if’n you monitored all available feed to see if that Yardis fellow happens t’ shot up more alive than dead. Don’t like leavin’ loose ends.”

“Sir.” John acknowledged, now he was crew. Then Wyatt left the cockpit, leaving the two newest of his crew to ponder what they’d signed up for.

Wolf looked up, "Go to it then. You need to reset the circuit as soon as you are done. Back panel, flip the switch with the orange showing. It a safety precaution, so it don't fry you inside out." He could not do two things at once and he knew that Asher needed to fix the mistake in save face in his own mind.
Asher finished putting the wiring back into place and rigged the jumper cables. He ran over the circuit box and opened it up. Sure enough, there was the orange next to the circuit breakers, except there were four. He called out to Wolf but the big man was engrossed in his own work so Asher reached up and flipped them all.
As the kid flipped the switches he hears the pilot voice came over the com again.
“Alright boys, it’s lookin’ like we’re gittin’ to try that Immelmann after all. I’m following her up with split-s, so make sure to watch our hydraulics and stabilizers so we ain’t going up in a purty show of fire and shinies.”
Asher moved to shadow Wolf, he figured he could learn more by watching the man in action. The kid was a more than a fair mechanic, he could tear a mule apart and assemble it again in the dark, but that was easy compared to knowing what fix when things went bad; that sort of thing took time and experience. Asher had felt the meaning behind Wolf’s words and knew the man hadn’t totally lost trust in him. Ash would now prove the second chance would be well used.

The ship’s engineer moved rapidly to adjust the systems to support what the pilot had asked. The kid followed Wolf’s actions as he set and readjusted the hydraulics and stabilizers . When the ship responded with amazing agility to the pilots touch Asher smiled to himself. “That is so cool.”

Rocinante’s response was like a deep breath before a plunge. All of her levels shifted and smoothed out, and Tess brought her into the Immelmann like they were moving as one.


"The gorram pilot won't stay still!"

Here we go, shao jeh. What’s say we flip over those boys’ shoulders? Give ‘em back their gift?
That ain’t part of the plan.

It’ll work though, won’t it?
As Roc was halfway through another gyration in the climb, Tess quickly directed her nose back towards the ASREV, causing the Firefly’s belly to face the sky for a brief moment before plunging behind the offending craft. Her stomach jellied slightly as the grav units strained to keep everything in place after the maneuver. The pilot skimmed underneath the ASREV as close as she could dare, twitching up in front of its nose before rocketing on.

"Look out!"

Tess could feel Rocinante rock gently in the forward wake of the explosion.

“Devil made me do it,” she said out loud, keeping her eyes on the control panel. There was still was missile trailing. Pity. She had hoped that the maneuver would have scrapped them both off on the ASREV, but no use in crying over spilled milk. Rocinante still had the speed that was needed for the original plan, and gorramit it was going to work.

As they plummeted into the valley, Tess thought for a fraction of a second that the missile was going to oh-so-gently touch Rocinante’s tail and send them all to that place beyond this life.

It was now or never, and this girl could do it. Tess was about to ask for the impossible, and Rocinante would do it, to keep her crew safe and herself in the air. Tessa believed it.

The large bonfire was swiftly approaching. She cut the power to the main engines and Rocinante began to free fall, inertia taking her over the burning pit. The throttle protested at lack of power, but she still managed to turn her nose skyward and they began to climb again slowly. A small creeping feeling across the back of Tess’s neck told her the right moment to turn power back on. The engines roared to life, and Rocinante did a fast one-eighty, and they soared away from the scene.

The sky lit up from the massive explosion that followed. Tess heaved a mental sigh and patted the dash lovingly, but kept her eyes on the display to make sure there wasn’t anything that wanted to pick a fight.

Wyatt’s rumbly voice sounded behind her, "Can't return to the scene o' the crime--or so I've been told," Her chair rocked slightly. She was sure he had just lightly hit the back of it, and it was an oddly comforting feeling, "Take us back t' port, an' keep an eye on that sky. Don' want us trailin' no toilet paper stuck to our boots.”

“On it, Capt’n,” she responded.

"John,” Wyatt continued, “ I'd be mighty appreciative if'n you monitored all available feeds to see if that Yardis fellow happens t' show up more alive than dead. Don't like leavin' loose ends."

“Sir.”

Wyatt’s boots clicked as he walked out of the cabin. Tess turned to flip on the comm. again to call down to the engine room.

“Nice work, boys. This pretty lady’s got some right’n fancy moves. Make’s a girl feel good knowin’ there’s a couple of good men workin’ behind the scenes. Remind me to buy ya’ll a drink once we git back to port.”

She clicked the comm. off and turned briefly to look at John, grinning, “An’ one fer you too.”