Hambone
Etti IV
Mondder
An uneasy feeling slowly grew in intensity as the Century Pigeon made its way planetside, causing Hamish to shift uncomfortably in his co-pilot's seat. It wasn't the fact that his newly hired crew were completely untrustworthy, no, he was comfortable with that. It was something completely different. Nerves, perhaps? A quick self-diagnostic of his stomach region confirmed butterflies were indeed in motion, fluttering around and causing mischief. But that was just the pre-mission flutters, something he knew was natural. No, this feeling of uneasiness was a different gut feeling entirely that Hamish couldn't get a handle on. It was was a gut feeling caused by something unexplainable, and that in itself made Hamish even more uneasy.
"You alright, cap?" his pilot asked, obviously aware of Ham's shift in body language.
Hamish glanced at him, nodded, returned his gaze to the windshield and then nodded again, more to himself than the pilot. "... Dandy."
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Clouds gave way and the ground grew closer as port authority's approval of the Century Pigeon lead to a sharp descent into the city's main spaceport. Hamish unbuckled himself from the co-pilot's chair and made his way into his ship's cargo hold, datapad in hand. Displayed on the screen was a description of Hamish's objective; two crates of assorted military-grade equipment and one crate full of medical supplies. The crates in question were already being offloaded within the spaceport, being prepped for transport to a small base in the suburbs.
Hamish rubbed the back of his neck and smacked his lips, his desperation for money leading him to consider a new plan. Why take three crates when you could take ten? Heck, why stop there? According to the goods census, the transport going to the base would only be half full.
Something crazy was brewing within Ham's mind and if he pulled it off, it would be quite fruitful indeed. A smirk crawled onto his lips as his plan formed.
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"Alrighty, you all know the plan so let's cut to it," Ham announced to his crew, slapping the cargo ramp button in the process.
It lowered painfully slowly, forcing the crew of five to stand in awkward silence for a few moments before being allowed to descend into the spaceport. First stop: Transport.
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"You're not allowed to be in he-"
The voice was cut short by a zap, followed by the indistinguishable sound of a person being electrocuted. The remainder of the transport staff quickly followed suit, before being stripped of their uniforms and stuffed into a nearby storage locker. Hamish's crew was now, for all intents and purposes, the transport staff. They entered the transport shuttle, assumed positions and set off.
"Here's hoping none of you boneheads screw this up," came Hamish's encouraging voice as the transport stopped just short of the military base's warehouse gate.
Hamish, in the driver's seat, was waiting to be approached, either by comms or by person. He assumed they'd be allowed in to offload the cargo. Of course, this was a base run by a PMC. Things probably wouldn't be that simple. Thankfully, his crew were prepared, as was he.