Aboard the White Tiger

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

The small spacecraft streaks silently through the darkness towards the coordinates given by Cyborg. Aboard, Nightwing and Black Lightning watch the readouts in silence, all the better to try and conceal their approach. Even the weapons remain at minimum power. The sensor grid sweeps the area, its screen constantly updating.

"Come on, you sneaky son of a bitch, I know you're out here..." Nightwing mutters under his breath, fingers moving across the controls. He and his copilot know that the second they make contact, it's going to be all or nothing.

A few more tense moments, then -

"Orion, Cyborg, this is Nightwing. We have a visual. Repeat, we have visual contact. Initiating defensive pattern Omega."

The ship banks sharply, as the sensor net begins releasing rapid infrared pulses, several thousand hertz above normal operating range. It's only a delaying tactic to prevent Brother I from locking on, but they'll need all the delays they can get.

Comments

[http://users.livejournal.com/_kip_/]

"Copy that, sir." Orion's joviality is absent as his fingers move delicately over the Braille keyboard. "Good luck."

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

Likewise. Keep this channel open.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_kip_/]

"No problem there, sir." Kip just can't get past calling Nightwing "sir", it would seem. In the background, rapid typing can be heard. He's already nosing his way into the security for the satellite.

[mrpierce2u.livejournal.com]

SO that's the bad boy that's causing all the trouble.

*BL focuses intently on the satellite. His mind is racing -- he's not worried about survival or beating it, he's been doing this long enough to know that will happen, if not now then soon. No, he's watching for danger, but he wants and needs to know who's co-opted it. He needs to know who's in control.*

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

Powering up main pulse cannons.

The ship makes another tight turn.

[mrpierce2u.livejournal.com]

*Jeff scans the ship's monitors.*

Everything's running at optimum.

Let's get it's attention.

[brotherabove.livejournal.com]

Perimiter alert. Perimeter alert. Scanning incoming, matching biosignatures...

[brotherabove.livejournal.com]

This could prove potentially...difficult. Brother Eye, access protocol: Trojan Horse.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_kip_/]

Orion's brow is deeply furrowed. "Come on, baby," he whispers to his computer as his fingers rapidly strike keys to hammer commands to the satellite's system, "get me a portal in."

[brotherabove.livejournal.com]

Systems protocol check. Passcode required for sysacess.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_kip_/]

"Yeah, I got your password," Orion smirks, submitting a routine to run through alphanumeric variations for passwords...one of the hacker tools he wrote himself.

[brotherabove.livejournal.com]

The lines of code begin to resolve in front of him, characters cycling like mad across his screen. The program is easily able to decipher the necessary amount of characters to fill in, dropping in three immediately:

_ O _ O _ O _

[mrpierce2u.livejournal.com]

'Wing, sensors say that thing's active. Ready to take a ride?

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

He glances up from the targetting scanners.

I've -been- ready.

As the ship veers in, Nightwing lets loose with an opening salvo of pulse cannon fire.

[mrpierce2u.livejournal.com]

Ah, yeah. That'll make it mad.

*BL is scanning the monitors, watching to call out the inevitable realiatory strike.*



*The serious look in his eyes belays the flip attitude. He's not missing anything.

[brotherabove.livejournal.com]

Incoming aggressors. Definsive mode: Activated.

The central "eye" of the satellite begins to gather energy, rotation thrusters firing to turn the machine in their direction.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_kip_/]

If Orion were the sort of man who curses, he'd do so now. Once he's in the system with the surprisingly - unnervingly - simple passcode, the blind computer wiz starts familiarizing himself with the systems.

The targeting system is his first priority, and as the satellite turns to acquire a new target, discerning its identity is hardly a challenge...hence the desire to swear. "Nu-uh," he mutters, fingers flailing across the keys to try to take command of the defense system, shut it down. "Not gonna shoot those guys on my watch."

[http://users.livejournal.com/_kip_/]

"Careful, guys," Kip breathes on channel, as if worried the secure communications line can be tapped. "I'm in. Now lemme see what I can find."