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MSNPC Seth Ralston - Showtime


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((Promenade, two decks above the main brig - StarBase 118))

::Seth Ralston was having what he liked to think of as a 'working lunch'

Except in his line of work, the working part was far less clear. For all intents and purposes he was a well to do trader enjoying a delicious and exotic meal on the promenade of StarBase 118. He had picked a sampler platter from the Al-Leyan restaurant on the corner and was in the middle of savoring every little bite like a gourmand.

The food was good, but he wasn't really there for the food. The sampler platter simply drew out his eating, allowing him to spend more time sitting in this prime location and observing the traffic of the area without raising suspicion. He was just some guy enjoying alien cuisine. Not an immoral, merciless bounty hunter with his mind set on murder.

Except in his mind it wasn't murder. Murder was personal, a crime of passion. This was a simple killing. There was a difference. This was dispassionate - a simple fact of life. Someone knew too much, they needed to be eliminated. He didn't really care who it was beyond the precautions he would have to take in order to get the job done.

Starfleet had nicely trussed his subject up and stuck him in a jail cell. That was a minor setback - getting past Starfleet security was a pain. But on the other hand it reduced his all too slippery subject into a sitting duck. The biggest trouble would be to get in, get the job done and get out before Starfleet started shooting. Ralston knew the rules full well. Shoot a drifter and nobody cares. Shoot a Starfleet officer and you'll be hunted to the ends of the Galaxy. It was presumptuous and unfair, but true. Contracts on Starfleet officers always fetched a pretty penny in return for being some of the most dangerous to pull off. The killing part was easy - the not getting part caught was hard when it came to Starfleet. Ralston tended to avoid those contracts - too messy, too much preparation. So he didn't really want Starfleet on his tail because of an accident on his part.

He had spent the better part of the afternoon observing and memorizing Starfleet's patrol patterns. Locating the security cameras, mapping the station, planning his route. He had a pretty good idea of how to pull it off. He needed a distraction, a small power failure, a way to mess with the backup systems and a little bit of luck. Fortunately he had most everything taken care of. The first thing he had done upon reaching the station was to find a way to get near the power grin and place a small black computer box into the workings. It was a gamble - such devices would be found with routine checks - but he was betting the rest of his plan would come together before the nightly maintenance went though. He would rig the distraction while he shopped, and access to the backup systems. If he moved fast it would be in, out, done. He could escape through the ventilation system and be back on the promenade before they could declare his subject dead, and off the station by the end of the night.

Finishing his meal he headed to commercial sector, two floors below. Spending some time browsing, he came upon the 'Menagerie' - an exotic pet shop. He indulged in looking at all the animals, touching the cages and talking to every creature there. And on each cage he left a tiny black patch by the lock. Enough that when he sent out a pulse, every patch would amplify his signal and demagnetize every lock simultaneously. Then he headed out and back up two floors where he skirted the Starfleet patrols and gained access to a Jeffries tube. Time to move quick.

He knelt down, working the magical part of his plan. Explosives were all too quickly picked up by security scans - normal explosives at least. Which was why he was allowed in to the little secret that Grek wasn't supposed to share. He took out a small container of grey powder - Calcium Trisulfanese, a fertilizer for terraforming projects and opened the container. Then a flask where he poured a generous libation of the sparkling golden liquor over the top. Mixing until it formed into a ball the consistency of modeling clay, Ralston smiled. He held in his hand a thoroughly innocuous looking ball. Safe to carry, safe to break and press into molds. Safe until it was hit with phased or charged energy, when the whole mass destabilized and exploded with impressive force. It was perfect for a job like this.

Packing his things up, he hustled to the backup junction. It was dark, humming with just enough power to make sure the system was at the ready in case it needed to be used. Press a little of the clay here, and a big chunk there... it would stick happily in place until Starfleet powered up the backups. And then... boom.

It was a thing of beauty.

He backed out of the area, heading at a junction for the ventilation system, making his way towards the Main brig from above. He could feel the electric crackle of the force fields and security systems from over a dozen meters away, and he took the time to silently creep forward and locate the players in this little drama.

Starfleet, Starfleet, Starfleet. The freighter captain was leaving, and there was the hybrid. Beaten up. Good. That would slow him down.

Seth Ralston indulged in a grin as he pulled his devices from his coat. One magnetic pulse emitter, that was the first thing he turned on. Then the computer hack, signaled to start as the device interfaced with the power junction. It would take 67 seconds for the device to cause a lapse in the power and Ralston used those 67 seconds to swap in the modifications that turned his perfectly legal Rigellian phase pistol into a deadly long range weapon.

There was a crackle of the forcefields and the lights flickered.

Showtime.::

~*~
tbc...
~*~

MSNPC Seth Ralston
Bounty Hunter hired by Unsavory Sorts
Simmed by: Sal Taybrim

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