Oliver Zuccaro - One Does Not Have An Escape Plan
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Jo Marshall
Oct 19, 2023, 4:05:13 PM10/19/23
to UFOP: StarBase 118: USS Gorkon
((Sanctuary of the Eye of Infinity, Sargasso V))
Beneath the veneer of the robes and golden masks, and attitudes of superiority stretching as far as the eye could see, one cultist among the few who felt he'd had too much rum on an empty stomach. The past months had been a right painstaking adventure, teaching him precisely where not to crash his precious ship—now likely in pieces—and how skilled he truly was at turning a blind eye to the universe's nonsense around him.
Fiddling with his own stashed communicator—cleverly disguised and hidden among his person when he tasted his first encounter with the cult—Ollie had managed to get a call out to the far side of the Sanctuary. He wagered that Kireth had likely found the unlucky lot of the Gorkon crew. Following like lambs, though preferably not to the slaughter, but to the blessed chambers of rituals and rites where costumes were adorned and masks were worn and cultists began their indoctrination.
Step one was all about fancy attire. Step two? Well, Ollie wasn't keen on pondering too deeply. Whispered tales of the Scourge, that frightful looking masked woman, doing the rounds on the planet had reached his ears from the whisperings and musing of his fellow entrapped on the godforsaken rock.
It wasn't the first time, nor the last, that Ollie worried he would end up in some kind of pot.
Beneath the veneer of the robes and golden masks, and attitudes of superiority stretching as far as the eye could see, one cultist among the few who felt he'd had too much rum on an empty stomach. The past months had been a right painstaking adventure, teaching him precisely where not to crash his precious ship—now likely in pieces—and how skilled he truly was at turning a blind eye to the universe's nonsense around him.
Fiddling with his own stashed communicator—cleverly disguised and hidden among his person when he tasted his first encounter with the cult—Ollie had managed to get a call out to the far side of the Sanctuary. He wagered that Kireth had likely found the unlucky lot of the Gorkon crew. Following like lambs, though preferably not to the slaughter, but to the blessed chambers of rituals and rites where costumes were adorned and masks were worn and cultists began their indoctrination.
Step one was all about fancy attire. Step two? Well, Ollie wasn't keen on pondering too deeply. Whispered tales of the Scourge, that frightful looking masked woman, doing the rounds on the planet had reached his ears from the whisperings and musing of his fellow entrapped on the godforsaken rock.
It wasn't the first time, nor the last, that Ollie worried he would end up in some kind of pot.
This was redemption for the Chien-Shiung Wu. It had to be. He wasn't this unlucky.
Checking his surroundings once more, just in case he'd been followed into the room that had ample space for about two people and a pine cone if they tried hard enough, Ollie breathed a short sigh of relief. He removed the golden facade, wiping his sweat-streaked face, inadvertently combing his already unruly hair. A breeze did him the favour of returning it to its roguishly handsome state.
What he wouldn't give for Lena right then. Maybe not trapped in there with him, but maybe armed with enough explosives to take a wall or ten in one fell shot of a torpedo launcher, have the transporters rigged for an opportune beam out, and be armed with a tall bottle of the heavenly illegal stuff they used to keep under Charger's backside.
It was then a low level hum began to sound; the noise of an incoming shuttlecraft bound for the planet. Another in their macabre game of catch with the wormhole—the gift that kept on giving. That would mean the cultists would be walking outside to thank the Prophets for their delivery of more sacred relics to add to the collection.
Blowing out a sigh, Ollie slipped the golden mask back onto his features, and stepped out into the corridor. Into the throngs of cultists beginning their trudge through the Sanctuary.
Checking his surroundings once more, just in case he'd been followed into the room that had ample space for about two people and a pine cone if they tried hard enough, Ollie breathed a short sigh of relief. He removed the golden facade, wiping his sweat-streaked face, inadvertently combing his already unruly hair. A breeze did him the favour of returning it to its roguishly handsome state.
What he wouldn't give for Lena right then. Maybe not trapped in there with him, but maybe armed with enough explosives to take a wall or ten in one fell shot of a torpedo launcher, have the transporters rigged for an opportune beam out, and be armed with a tall bottle of the heavenly illegal stuff they used to keep under Charger's backside.
It was then a low level hum began to sound; the noise of an incoming shuttlecraft bound for the planet. Another in their macabre game of catch with the wormhole—the gift that kept on giving. That would mean the cultists would be walking outside to thank the Prophets for their delivery of more sacred relics to add to the collection.
Blowing out a sigh, Ollie slipped the golden mask back onto his features, and stepped out into the corridor. Into the throngs of cultists beginning their trudge through the Sanctuary.
--
Oliver Zuccaro
Pirate Captain
Swishbuckle II
G239304JM0
Oliver Zuccaro
Pirate Captain
Swishbuckle II
G239304JM0
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