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Mission: MSS Bay

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(( Its from this: http://aurorastation.org/forums/viewtopic.php?f=66&t=1992 ))

TL;DR: Quaddy has found a ship that has been damaged, easily able to be captured and re-purposed. ~50 people withen the confines of its hull, no atmosphere, no gravity, no power. Going to need to assualt ship.




Capture/Eliminate the crew of the Mercenary Space Ship Bay.

Make sure the ship stays intact

Capture some crew, for interrogation. No slavery.


No power.

No gravity.

No air.

4 drones available(2x combat, 1x engineer, 1x medical), all piloted by Quaddy.


Pilots seat: Quaddy (Pilot, ship owner, benefactor of mission)

Co-pilots seat:Kovner- Marksman, recon, survelliance. Co-pilot

Seat-1:Omen: Close quarters, Black Market Dealer, Construction.

Seat-2:Shadow: Network Infiltrator, espionage operative, Systems expert, Synthetic and mechanic technician, programmer.

Seat-3:Furious Frank: Melee specialist, mediocre mechanic, explosives expert, great distractor.

Seat-4:Daxton: Dual wields cC20r submachine guns (compact variant), equipped with assorted demolition/breaching gear.

Seat-5:Mulder: Pointman, flamethrower/combat shotgun, knows basic airlock hacking.

Seat-6:ShyGuy-62: Armor, Area Denial, EVA

NOTES:I have space and air for 7 more people, aside from me. Bring your own arms. I can provide fire support from my ship, which consists of a rail cannon, 2 cannons, 2 MGs. I would rather not damage the hull too much.

Automaticly generated from mission database.

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A message arrives at Quaddy's console. Sender: Raptor.


It's been quite awhile since I've been in the game, count this old dog in. I'll bring some heavier arms, think explosives and the like. Hopefully some of the young guns that tag along don't bring peashooters, thinking this will be an easy OP. They never are.
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A message arrives at Quaddy's console. Sender: Shadow.


Ah, so there are still people there. Very well. She will be bringing her kits. She has her own EVA set. Her choice of weapons are a Silence sniper, deployable turrets, and dual energy swords. She has remote-controlled Nanite deposits that can be programmed to tear down or repair walls. Get her in range of the ship's network, and she can hack her way in. She estimates...half hour tops before we have wireless access (and perhaps control) to whatever remains of their functioning systems. She has two personal drones - one combat and medic, other engineering and infiltration.
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A message arrives at Quaddy's console. Sender: Omen.


If you need help with this job. He can help, he's been looking into getting some pocket money. He's sitting on a stockpile of plasma with no buyers. So Omen will have to get his hands dirty.

He's got a few PDA's with telecrystal mods that he... borrowed from lesser operatives. Who knows, they might help in a pinch. Give him a heads up if you want.

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Quaddy grins at the replies he gets, and then types something into his computer, the low hum of thrusters picking up to a steady buzz.

Message to all who replied.

"The co-ords attached are a station that I am docked at, Docking bay 2.11, my ship is there. Board with your equipment, then we are to hit the ship after 2 hours of transit. Time is money.

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Shadow walked down the alleyway, glancing at her surroundings every now and again. She peered through her sunglasses, noting different aspects the scanners would pick up. Attached to her right arm was a strange elliptical device, running from her wrist to her elbow. It was not a bionic limb, and was clearly not part of her arm. Curled around her left shoulder was another device, but this one thin, with many little segments. Strapped to her back was a knapsack, a metallic box of sort. It did not take much to guess that the pack contained the rest of her gear.

She twitched her ears and glanced around. In one fluid leap she jumped up the nearby wall. Before hitting it, the device on her arm and shoulder deployed, transforming into two small drones, an assisting her in scaling the wall. She climbed up the roof, then silently slipped around the other side, quietly landing on a wall and perching herself in clear view of the docking bay.

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Omen strolled down the street, his large stocky appearance peaked above the heads of the crowds, some of which glanced nervously at the dark Tajaran's prosthetic arms which were riddled with alien inscriptions. He adjusted the positioning of a large gym bag before glancing down at his map, he'd rarely travel this side of town due to the abundance of humans and the lack of a solid drink to sate his thirst. The Tajaran's optics made quiet whirring sounds as they adjusted their focus, on the docking bay ahead. With a devilish grin glinting in the sunlight, he made his way towards the rendezvous.

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A dark blue IPC quietly boarded the hangar bay. It was dressed in black cargo pants, and a, long sleeved shirt, with a tactical rigging vest worn just over its torso, however, did not appear to be visibly armed. The only kind of gear it seemed to be carrying was a number of flares, datadrives, power cells, and some cables and wiring throughout the lightly armored vest, in addition to a dark leather messenger back slung over its shoulder.

The machine quietly wandered throughout the bay for a moment, moving from one side to another, wondering if it had come to the right place, its boots thudding quietly against the hangar floor as it walked.

It had paid a lot of money to get secure access to the network, stolen money, naturally, and finding this assignment - its first real task among the criminal elite - had seemed much easier than it had anticipated it would be. For the twenty-third time in the past hour, the possibility of this being a set-up crossed through its thoughts as it waited for more figures to appear.



Positronic interface programmer, network analyst, black hat hacker, telecommunications script editor.

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The first person Shadow spotted from her perch was Omen. She twitched her ears. First impressions from the team were always best.

"Hello," she said quietly once he approached close enough. She looked down at the other Tajara flicked her tail, brushing it against the concrete wall. "How are you?" she asked.

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Omen peered up at the Tajaran perched above him. He tilted his head examining the strange female who acted more like a bird than one of his kin. The Tajaran scratched his chin, before shaking his head, she might act like a bird but she might keep his back covered in the impending shit storm.

"Hello, he is good and you?" he replied, dropping his bag to the floor, "he assumes you arrrre also on the... tourrrrist trip yes?" He crossed his robotic arms, continuing to observe the woman.

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A message arrives at Quaddy's console. Sender: Daxton


Sorry that I'm late. I got a couple submachineguns and a lot of mags. Also got some tools and other shite I can use. Thermite, shaped charges, I even got a little helper deployable scout drone at our disposal. Tell me where you need me.
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Frank boards the hanger bay, wearing a breacher suit modified with clawed gauntlets, with a satchel on his back and a belt of tools. Noticing the two tajara, he walks over and asks "You here for the ship trip?" as he reaches into his satchel to pull out a meat slab and begins to chew on it.

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>>> Some time ago…

A message arrives at Quaddy's console. Sender: ShyGuy-62.


Umm hi! Yes. Hello.

I can do this job!

I am an expert!

PS: You have cargo space in your ship right?


>>> Now…

One of the loading doors at the end of the Docking Bay 2.11 opens and a six legged forklift droid walks through with the measured even cadence of a metronome. It is carrying a half-size unmarked metal cargo container. Behind it, almost hiding, is a small human wearing a gas-mask, a thin, cheap looking space suit, and carrying a commercial tablet computer.

The droid and the human approach the ship, not spotting the and stop some distance from the entrance. The human looks around the bay, craning its neck, as though hoping that there’s been some mistake and this is not the right ship.

But there are no other ships.

They do not notice Shadow or the other Tajaran speaking off to the side.

The human pauses for several seconds, as though weighing their options. It looks back towards the cargo doors, and then back towards the ship several times. After about thirty seconds of indecision they roll their shoulders once and signal to the droid to go up the ramp. The communication lights on the borg flicker in response and it clicks its up the ramp into the ship, the large cargo container almost scraping the ceiling of the loading dock.

The human taps the console several more times, apparently paying the droid, because after several more seconds the droid emerges from the ship again without the cargo container and walks off toward the doors, job done.

The human sighs, which is right when Frank greets the two Tajaran. The human leaps back in alarm, knocking a toolbox on a nearby tray onto the floor with an enormous clatter, scattering its contents in a wide arc across the bay’s tiled floor.

The human says “Sorry! Sorry!” in a strangled voice and starts picking up the scattered tools.


I am totally playing the 'kid who is in over their head' archetype. Feel free to play up to that. Is anyone else interested in any specific reactions? I think ShyGuy is going to be scared of Frank, because he sounds terrifying.

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((Guys. This is supposed to be you entering the ships soon

Also, do something like this

Quaddy (Pilot, ship owner, benefactor of mission, Support).


Just so its easy to find out your role, and stuff.))

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Shadow was unstartled by the racket, but she folded back an ear in dismay. She slid off the wall, landing quietly, then straightened in front of Frank and Omen. "She greets."

She glanced over at the opened Cargo bay door, casually adjusting the knapsack on her back. "And yes. She is also here for t he trip."


Shadow: Network Infiltrator, espionage operative, Systems expert, Synthetic and mechanic technician, programmer.

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Daxton follows the others quietly, their silhouette changing from a distorted view to a much clearer one thanks to a stealth distortion field generator deactivating, donning a lightly plated combat hardsuit. Two SMGs are mounted on holsters on his back, and he carries a sizable satchel, packed to the near brim with equipment. The pouches in his belt are filled to the brim. He whistles an Old English ditty, his voice distorted by the internals mask synthesizer. He has a deck of cards in his hands, he is folding and shuffling them obsessively whilst keeping pace right behind Omen. He doesn't speak, but rather attempts to listen.


Daxton: Dual wields cC20r submachine guns (compact variant), equipped with assorted demolition/breaching gear.
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Mulder, a staunch, gray haired man strides into the cargo bay, taking look of his surroundings. He's wearing most of a scorched standard issue Nanotrasen security hardsuit. The logos appear to be chiseled off. In his right hand is a oblong weapon case with a myriad of warnings stickers boldly plastered across the side. He lightly jogs towards the group and bellows in a deep, booming South African accent, "Hope ya didn't start this party without me."

Mulder: Pointman, flamethrower/combat shotgun, knows basic airlock hacking.
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