Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-25389303-20161009134004/@comment-25389303-20161025194515

(Several hours later) 

Tragoedia reported back that there was nobody else on the ship - enemies or friendlies alike - but apart from that the flight had been uneventful since the battle on the bridge. After restoring the autopilot and plotting their destination and flight path, Blanc went to the hanger to make sure the Bullhead was in working order. Thankfully it was, and it only took her several minutes to refuel and prepare it for takeoff whenever required. Afterwards she ordered Tragoedia to shut down and recharge, checked to make sure Nobel was doing well after his impromptu surgery, before returning the the command deck.

Everytime she returned, however, she would see the same thing. The ship's radar would suddenly pick up an object on its scanners, before quickly returning to nothing. Not only was it confusing, but it was also somewhat concerning. But after the fourth time it happened over the course of several hours, she gave up on trying to find the source.

It was therefore a surprise when she heard three loud banging sounds suddenly ring out above her head - so loud that it must have echoed throughout the whole ship in an instant. Blanc almost fell out of her seat when she heard it, and in an instant she grabbed her rifle and marched out into the hallway in search of Nobel and hopefully the source of the noise.



Barely fifty metres above them, Captain Caan drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair as he read the constantly-updating reports flashing up on the large holoscreen in front of him, typed in large, bold letters so that he could read them through the eyepieces of his thick golden helmet.

"Miss Shields, please update me on the status of our boarding crew," he asked politely to the young lady standing off to his right, his voice sounding cold and metalic but not unkind.

"The boarding crews are ready and awaiting your command, captain," she responded with a nod.

'''"Excellent. I shall lead the men myself, then. Commander, you have the bridge until I return." '''The captain rose from his seat, the hissing of gases filling the air as numerous pipes detatched from the mobile life support system on his belt. He began walking in the direction of the elevator to his left, but stopped halfway. Turning, he confronted a tall young man with silvery close-cropped hair and a large iron jaw standing at his side.

'''"Mr Stormhound, will you not join me on this mission?" '''he asked politely again, hands held behind his back with the type of confidence that only one who commands a flying battleship can muster. The ex-student of Beacon Academy glanced at the elevator momentarily, before nodding.

"Excellent! Very good! Now then, we had better hurry - those terrorists will no doubt be aware of our presence now."