Onyx Soldier hauls himself into the interceptor cockpit, and the hatch seals behind him with a hard metallic clack. The cabin snaps to cold red light. Outside, the freighter burns and sheds panels into the dark.
The controls lock. A routing screen blooms on the console, already plotting a return path to Azkaban Detention Facility. The cockpit is no rescue craft now, it is a flying cage.
Whisper
Course confirmed. You are on my schedule now.
The Dockhand slams into the rear bulkhead, staring at the dead controls, then at Onyx Soldier with raw panic. He sees the trap a beat too late.
The Dockhand
That was her route, not ours. She led us here.
A maintenance panel clicks open by itself. Inside, a concealed transponder blinks the same signal as the interceptor lock. Vesper's hand appears in the doorway from the maintenance spine, calm and empty, proving she never chased the drive. She was waiting for the pickup.
Vesper
The drive was never the prize. You were the delivery.
✓ Quest Accepted
Regain control of the interceptor
“Do the control look like I can use them”
NO, AND WORSE (Unlikely, rolled 90)
Onyx Soldier slams his palm against the console, but the interface remains unresponsive, its circuitry fused into a hard-wired loop that rejects every manual override. The ship's navigation system pulses with a rhythmic, mocking light, indicating that the flight path is not just locked, but physically hard-coded into the interceptor's flight computer.
Onyx Soldier
The controls are dead to me, and the ship is already accelerating toward the detention facility.
“I use my energy imbuement powers to cause a malfunction causing the seat to eject once on in sea I'll use my communication device to call for evacuation”
SUCCESS (Good Strength, rolled +1)
Onyx Soldier floods the ejection assembly with a sharp burst of imbuement. The pilot seat jerks, locks, then snaps free with a violent clack as the cockpit alarms choke on a fresh fault code.
The canopy pops. Wind tears across the cramped cockpit as the interceptor drops into a harder, less obedient line, its auto-flight fighting the sudden loss of load.
Onyx Soldier
Extract us now.
He keys the communication device at once. The line crackles, then holds, broadcasting a tight, urgent call for evacuation into the interference.
The Dockhand
I hear you. The track is unstable, but I can get a window. Hold the craft long enough for me to sync.
Vesper
Good, the seat is out. If this machine keeps on Azkaban's course, we all disappear with it.
The cockpit shudders again, and the blinded console throws a new routing warning across the glass, demanding a decision before the interceptor clears the next corridor.
“I'll use my reasoning to figure out what to do”
SUCCESS (Fair Reasoning, rolled +2)
Onyx Soldier leans in under the whipping canopy wind, eyes skimming the console instead of the glass. The fault map resolves, and one route stands out: a deadman navigation lock tied to the interceptor’s autopilot spine.
Onyx Soldier
Deadman lock. That is the anchor.
He reaches past the static, traces the override path, and the screen yields a maintenance string hidden under the routing warnings. The system is not sealed from the outside, it is waiting for a manual authorization pulse.
The Dockhand
If you can spoof the pulse, I can break the track. Give me the signal when you have it.
Vesper snaps her gaze to the code, shoulders tightening as she sees the same thing. The interceptor is not trapped, it is obedient, and obedience can be interrupted.
Vesper
There. That sequence feeds the autopilot. Kill that, and the craft stops asking permission from Azkaban.
Onyx Soldier isolates the command, commits it to memory, and the console spits up the exact cut point for the flight path. A blinking cursor waits on the last line, demanding input before the next corridor and its launch window close over them.