The Buccaneers Bay

[jammi]

John, who'd just thrown a mug of something alcoholic at Ambrose (he'd trained that bloody monkey to pickpocket people!) was slinking off to the shadows. He happened to look around in time to catch sight of one of the newer Prospects dart out the door. Probably sensible. He was doing a good job though - he'd assisted in the fight against a Colonial Carrier he and Anderson had been stuck into. A picture of that fight's explosive conclusion was pinned up behind the bar.

Suddenly the lights flickered, followed by the groan of tortured metal. There was a distant rattling bang, followed by the lights dying, and the room being pitched into darkness. There was a hush of worried muttering as the Buccaneers present attempted to figure out what was going on. Then there was the wail of a klaxon, a brother to the hellish red emergency lights now wheeling around. Bulkheads slammed down all over the ship to maintain air in case of a hull-breach. The murmurings were now raising in pitch, shouting breaking out throughout the throng.

John waded into the group. "Shut the hell up! This is going to be sorted out in a minute - get back to your drinks you dogs!" The noise of angry Buccaneers was immediately cut off, and replaced by crackling tension as people sat back in their tables. The klaxons continued to blare their prophecies of imminent doom, and the emergency lights continued to bath the living in a hellish hue.

John vaulted over the bartop to where Charles was fidgeting nervously. "What's this King? Just a drill, right? Right?" John ignored him and grabbed the inter-ship radio that had been kept behind the bar even before the Buccaneers had repossessed the place. Dialling the bridge he waited tensely.

"What the hell is going on?" He yelled at the Buccaneer who was sitting on the command chair in the Captain's absence. The lad was stuttering - he never expected this to happen on his watch.

"Engine failure, King. We haven't been maintaining her like we should have been. One of the plasma turbines blew, and took a chunk of hull panel with it. Engineering deck's been decompressed. Don't think we lost anyone though." King took the news in, then sat in silence for a moment.

"Can you repair it?" He snapped, unsettled at the prospect of various pieces of machinery across the Leviathan spontaneously exploding due to lack of care.

"Yeah, but we haven't got the materials. If you raiders can bring them back, we can have her patched up to spaceworthy standards within three days. Then we'd have to pull in at Invergordon." That wasn't so bad. The Leviathan hadn't been irreparably compromised.

"Keep the doors down around the engine compartments. Open a route to the hanger - we're heading out to get you what you need." It looked like the Buccaneers had a job ahead of them.

---

News article library, feedback and content requests.