Renegades

[*Ermine]

OOC

This RP will (after a few posts) be about the crew of a ship, and possible passengers. How it goes depends on each character's individual past, and any goals they may have. Let's try to fill different roles at first. Multiple characters are fine, and I'll probably take advantage of this myself later. For now, I claim the only PC AI, though I may allow them for someone else later. They're still VERY rare (at least, ones with ACTUAL intelligence, not just smart software), and VERY easy to track, with most belonging to the Allies. Keep in mind that most of the characters will be desperate. That'll be a big theme in why they're all getting together without using legal channels. The IC portion of this post gives a little bit more information from the POV of my character. Keep in mind that this RP will start in an Allied space station near the edge of civilization which is far more like the early planets than the frontier planets nearby, but you don't necessarily have to start there. Additionally, we'll likely be on the move constantly, so there will be plenty of chances to be picked up on a civilized planet. Feel free to PM me anything you would like to happen, or ask for a way to incorporate your character.

There was a war, about 20 years ago. Anyone over 40 years old will remember it. They may even have fought in it. The Allies won against an unnamed resistance movement. Or at least, the Allies say it was unnamed to make it sound like it wasn't an issue for them to crush the disorganized rabble. In reality, they all followed one man, Luther Pendragon, and called themselves The Dragon. They were against the unification of all the colonies (ironically, as they all united to keep themselves separate). Some vets and children of vets still remember, and many of the outer colonies (many, many colonies, on many different terraformed planets in the Milky Way) still remember being independent and not forced to follow the rule of a massive government that long ago lost touch with them, but tries hard to crush any attempt at being independent despite this.

There are currently no major cultural movements going on, not since before the war, when a few new species of aliens were discovered (which you can feel free to make up, and even play; none will come into play until someone plays one). If you want a major cultural movement, go ahead and mention it in your post. There is only one language: A universal English-like language, with occasional slang in Chinese, Hindi, and Arabic, especially profanity. Religion is still around, but it's generally not forced on anyone; even preachers merely give their opinions and suggest conversion. The most common belief systems are Atheism, Buddhism, Christianity, Hindu, and Islam.

The level of technology is similar to Firefly; artificial gravity, faster-than-light space travel, but still using standard firearms resembling those of the late 1800s (though with the reliability expected of futuristic weapons). There is a such thing as ballistic armor, but it's very rare for those not in the Allied Army. It's illegal to wear it otherwise, in fact, but it looks like regular clothing (in gunmetal color), so it's very hard truly stop people from wearing it if they somehow manage to get their hands on it. It doesn't cover much of the wearer's body, only their torso. Solar energy is the most common form of power, and the technology to collect it has been improved upon greatly. Starships, however, require a special fuel that allows them to travel through space by creating matter for them to push off of. Many of these appear to create brightened clouds behind them, but this "dust" dissipates quickly.

The majority of settled planets, especially those far from Earth, are frontier towns with little support. Many are still dusty, with very few plants, though some have vast forests. Most of these towns are small, and typically contain what one would expect in the wild west. Earth, some of the first terraformed planets, and nearly all planets under alien control, are pretty much unified, sprawling megalopolises. An equal percentage of aliens and humans are part of the Allies, on that matter.

Simple CS (replace what's here with what would fill it, so "Name" is replaced with "Sybil" for my character):
Name, Race, Age
Appearance

Sybil, AI, Gained sentience about 10 years ago.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Sybil did her best impression of strutting about to look important, though it was a very, very poor attempt, and she stumbled on her own feet in her drunken ambling several times before finally returning to a normal walk. The heavy military-style boots made each step echo, even among all the other noises in the station. She flickered her vision back and forth and tried her best to assess the threat level of all those around her, but her detection software was only effective on a few...well, a few people who were built like ships, and the readings couldn't have been less accurate. She hadn't expected the software to work at all, but even she could tell that those it was marking weren't threats at all...unless she was sitting in a bench they also wanted to sit in, and they hadn't seen her yet. Even then, she may be safe; her body was very durable.

She had gotten to the station sort of by accident. She hadn't actually wanted to come here, but she had been forced to shut down her body and its sensors due to an emergency situation, and when she awoke, she was in the cargo hold of a massive ship, inside a styrofoam-filled crate. Someone's missing their platform. I wonder where they're living now? She knew she was better off here, of course, unless they'd bothered to do a satisfactory RFID scan to identify the platform she was in, but it was entirely possible whatever ship she was in had simply been smuggling in a spare that had been dug up somewhere.

Regardless, it was entirely possible, as well, that they had scanned her and detected her, and she was being searched for by human bloodhounds or spiders. There weren't too many safe places to hide in a station, after all, and a station was such a finite space. The best option was to move about through space freely, but that was only an option if she could find a ship. To buy her own, she'd have to "forge" money in addition to making a false identity, but she'd still have to give biometrics. And if she'd identified as an AI when purchasing the ship, she'd have to give vital parts of her source code and a metaphorical filing cabinet of other data. No, it wasn't an option.

Now, stealing a ship was an option, though she'd be a lot easier to track that way if it was a newer ship, what with all the tracking software that even she couldn't circumvent. An older ship wasn't an option, either, with how low quality most were by now. She didn't have to worry so much about them not having working life support, but if their other systems had any flaws, she could be affected. It could be worse still if they had malware, or even anti-AI software. It was a rare threat, of course, but it was still a threat. No, stealing a ship was also no longer an option.

There was a single alternative, but it was a long shot, as well. She'd have to find a captain who needed a crew, no matter their backgrounds. There were never many of those around, at least not ones she'd be willing to call captains. The majority were just kids with big dreams who would probably die before they even got their first shot at taking out pirates, and even fewer still who would survive long enough to become them. And what made it even more difficult was the majority of them went through all the proper legal channels, meaning she'd have to give out the same information as if she was buying her own ship. No, she'd have to find someone willing to take whoever they could. Someone desperate. And if the one she was looking for was a human (she'd never follow another AI, especially one of the newer ones), the best place to find them would be a bar. That's where all the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free were now.

Sybil continued her musings as she walked in, barely paying attention to the world around her --or the station around her, in this case. The only attention she paid was to the locations of things around her so she wouldn't walk into someone or something, which wasn't much of a concern in the sparsely filled bar. There were plenty of service drones, to be sure, but none of them really seemed to notice her, or if they did, they were ignoring her until she was a paying customer. That was the likely scenario. It wasn't going to happen, of course; what would an AI order in a bar?

She sat down at the bar proper and looked around. The bartender looked at her and started moving in her direction, but she simply shook her head and raised her hand to tell him to stop. It got an odd look, but he didn't know what she was. For all he knew, she could have been some sort of secret police for a ship; she looked imposing enough with her one metal-covered arm. It was entirely plausible, and she would have told him she could see why he would think so, but would have denied she was. It wasn't entirely impossible for her to lie. It was analogous with performing evasive maneuvers in a ship in a vacuum; it shouldn't have to be done, but if it is, the best course is to simply misdirect.

Most of the others in the bar were clearly not going to pilot any ships anytime soon. Some of them probably lived in the station, either out of luck or because they WERE out of luck. There were a couple who looked like they could be the crew of a ship, but they looked for the most part like they'd make her legally register as a crew member. That was never going to be an option. That narrowed it down a lot. One was an old grizzled merc type, another a younger man. There may have been others, but she didn't want to draw too much attention to herself. The old merc would probably be a better captain of the two she saw, but...something about him seemed a bit...off. Like he was too obvious of a choice. He seemed like a poor attempt at some government trying to get her attention. It may not have been true, of course, but she wasn't exactly a risk taker by nature, and she had a better chance at taking out a guy who probably wasn't hiding an entire armory in the hair of his armpits.

 

[GoodEveningClarice]

Shadin, Human, 23

The station had never seemed uglier than it did at the end of the day. Even with a full pocket and the promise a full belly, there was little satisfaction after a hard day's work for a whore. The word still curled his lips despite being identified as just that for most of his adulthood. In his own mind the word and his work were separate from who he truly was, though he wasn't entirely sure if he knew precisely who the real Shadin was himself. Perhaps like a doting relative, he couldn't picture himself as anything but an academy student with all the promise to become a successful Allied soldier or even a politician if he could keep a good reputation.

Shadin still walked like a military brat, even with his bared midriff and sensual smile and eye-catching jewelry, still he couldn't bare to walk with his shoulders slumped like many of those who shared his profession. That confidence made him very successful in his field, many claiming that he rang with an air that brought the old world to mind, from his traditional clothing to his impeccable language, he was a clever whore is nothing else. And clever was never a bad thing for bringing in the clients. His father had always gushed that he'd be good at whatever he wanted to do, better be military son, and Shadin supposed that was true to some extent.

Eight years ago had marked then end of his 'normal' life, the day his prestigious father had come home in civilian clothes and announced his dishonorable discharge. His crime? Repeated unnecessary violence. He'd finally been caught with the gun in his hand and the criminal dead at his feet. Everyone had known the man had been the one sent in to do the dirty work, no one could guess how much rebel blood stained his calloused hands. It didn't matter though, he was finished and so was their family. Shadin was jerked from the academy to preserve funds, his mother's medication was cut off and his father went to work as a mercenary. Things were alright for awhile, his mother's fragile health waivered but stabilized, leaving her bedridden and Shadin with all the time in the world to do nothing but roam the streets.

Three years passed this way, his father got drunker, his mother got sicker, and he put his cleverness to use. Pick pocketing, counterfeiting, couriering, anything he could make a little money on and fill his day with. The final piece fell into place when his father was crippled on the job. A man who couldn't walk couldn't kill nor pilot a ship nor care for his broken family. Shadin's mother proved to be the wildcard, in her sick bed, lying beside his mute father, she directed her son to a hidden panel in the metal floor that held all the money she'd hoarded over the years, enough for him to inherit her greatest gift.

Before the military banished his father, Shadin's mother had been due to receive a massive procedure that would essentially rewire her internal systems. With specific instructions and a stricken smile, she pleaded with him to have the system put in himself, she wouldn't have survived the surgery now, to wipe the family's debt and give him a chance at something, anything. She must have had some naïve hope that he could go back to the academy or find work on a ship, Shadin was wise enough to know his father had tarnished any chances he may have had at a respectable career.

So there he stood, five years orphaned and into being the perfect whore. No disease could touch him, his beauty was preserved for years beyond its intended duration, bruises faded twice as fast, split lips and roughly treated pleasures were gone in the morning. He could almost laugh at the irony of it, but most laughter died on his tongue or came out ringing with false music that made his clients, men and women alike, weak in the knees.

His home, small but comfortable, had no allure with soiled sheets, so his feet carried him instead to the local bar. The barkeep pulled his attention away from the strange woman and turned it to the regular, a smile on his face that a lion wore when sizing up a lamb. Shadin was no lamb, but he played the part well enough as he took his usual seat, nodding to the unfamiliar armored woman at his right. The station was always abuzz with new faces, hers was no different to him than any other. "The usual, lovely?" Shadin smirked coyly and nodded, hardly in the mood for games with the bartender but even less for the difficulties that would come with ignoring his advances.

The slender young man leaned back in his stool and rubbed at the heavy necklace at his throat, acutely aware of the scars that circled his long neck. The necklace hid the entry point of the machinery that had reworked his insides and scars were a turnoff for all but the roughest of customers. The jewelry was attractive enough and gave him a little flair that drew the eye just as well as his smile or his lithe body. He flicked his eyes up when the bartender returned, accepting the food and the drink with a nod and smile. The words wouldn't come, so the barman wandered off to attend to one of the other regulars, a grizzled old man who Shadin knew to be a smuggler of some variety. He ate quietly and politely, comfortable in the silence and with the mysterious woman to his right. He looked over boredly, noting her mechanical arm and heavy boots. Maybe she was a free agent, or government killer, who could know? He focused on his food, knowing very well where wandering eyes could lead when they were eyes like his.

 

[*Ermine]

No, no one in here looked like they actually owned a ship. Most likely, they rented one and said it was theirs. Or were still making payments. No one here really had work. To have work, one must have a ship. How did they live on this station with no jobs? Obviously, they had to be in a crew, or were wasting space. The latter thought scared her a little. Wasted. Space. All that space out there, and they created space that couldn't be used. They WERE that space. She didn't understand at all. They had no purpose. She sighed, and continued to look around at the other patrons. Well...at the patrons. She didn't consider herself a patron, just a visitor.

One seemed to be watching her. Bounty hunter for the Allies? He didn't have the insignia or the uniform, but...a third party. But he's not much. I can still get away. She didn't want to make her identity too obvious in case he wasn't the only one after her if that was the case. But what do I say? And then the only obvious answer came to mind, and immediately was projected out to him. She waved him off like she did the bartender. "I don't drink, xiansheng, so I'm hoping you weren't planning anything...bu duan." The bartender seemed to be ignoring them both now. He appeared to be completely distracted by the age-old barkeeper task of cleaning a cup with a washrag. She'd seen that in old vids. "And unless you have a zhen bang ship, I'm not interested in any bakavasa."

That was probably excessive slang, but this was a bar. This is where people were known to go to be rude to people, right? But it felt so wrong. "Sorry." She wasn't sure whether it sounded sincere or not, but she didn't really care whether it did or not. It was mostly just a mumble anyway, as she lowered her head to look at the bar. It seemed unbelievably clean. And this person clearly did, too. Not someone she should be hanging out with. Too clean, likely to draw attention. There was no way she'd get a non-Allied captain to take her in with him. She needed to find a way to get away from him. But maybe she could use him. He was obviously from around here. He'd know the area. He may even know the "seedier" parts. It wasn't likely, not by how he looked.

 

[GoodEveningClarice]

Shadin delicately ate another bite, politely averting his eyes from the woman beside him when she glanced his way. She looked to be rather rough and tumble, though the mildly confused expression on her face lead him to believe she still had some degree of girlishness to her. Women were strange, contradictory creatures that he had resigned himself not to understand. Many of them made very good customers and made up many of his return visits. He liked the female form just as well as the male one, so he wasn't apt to complain even when they acted in ways he couldn't understand.

Her voice startled him to look back at her with a scrutinizing expression, her foul language succeeding in lifting his sculpted brows. As a prostitute he ran into all sorts of colorful language on a daily basis, but the way she spoke truly took him off guard. The language was tossed into the sentence without any sort of malice behind it from what he could interpret and the whole rant just came off as rather off. He flicked his eyes over her with a general look of disapproval, trying to decide if and how he should respond.

Sighing lightly, he brushed his fingertips over his forehead before speaking in a smooth, sultry voice that was just as much a skill as it was a talent. "I assume by the fact you haven't approached any military," He glanced her over, "that you're looking for illegal means to a ship?" He pushed the plate away and lowered his voice. "That's dangerous, you know. Avoiding the legal system is a serious crime. But I understand that some passengers simply can't entrust themselves to military." He narrowed his eyes at her as if trying to discern what exactly she was hiding.

Another sigh stained his lips as he finished his drink, wincing at the burn that slid down his throat. "I know of a few captains who don't run a squeaky clean operation…but what is my information worth to you?" He smiled coyly and leaned over. "Nothing comes for free around her, my help least of all." He was half afraid she'd knock him across the bar with that mechanical arm, but none of that nervousness showed on his pretty face. Monetary compensation was what initially came to mind, but if she didn't have that…brief sparks of hope glimmered in the recesses of his mind. Maybe, just maybe, a trip on an illegal ship was exactly what he needed.

 

[*Ermine]

A few moments of thought were required to think of a convenient way to get out of this situation. Various scenarios played out in her head, but she picked the best: "I never said anything about illegal travel" She turned more of her body toward him. "Are you saying someone with an auged body like mine couldn't possibly be doing anything legal. That I had to do illegal things to get my body like this? I'll have you know I'm an accomplished pilot when I need to be, and an even better mechanic. I earned this body, xiansheng. Not a single part of this was obtained illegally." She raised her voice just enough to draw attention from those relatively nearby. "I'm just looking for a crew I can respect to work with."

She stood up. She'd drawn too much attention. She also swore her voice showed signs of being tinny, though she might have just been paranoid. She turned, took a small step, then tried her best at an authoritative, confident but angry strut out. She'd probably have looked drunk if she hadn't been walking in a straight line. However, after less than a minute outside the bar, she turned right around and walked back in, sitting back where she had been. The seat was still warm.

She turned back to the other patron. "Sorry. It's possible my garram hormones worked against me. I'm not normally this confrontational." She nodded a little to herself before adding: "Sybil. Like the old nav, combat, and targeting systems. You could say that my father raised me to be the pilot I am since before I was even born." This want a lie at all, of course. The programmer who developed the software originally wanted to make a more efficient auto-pilot for starships, both military and civilian.

 

[Mufi]

Alexius Crampton. Human. 28 years old. Black hair. Brown eyes.
---

The Junebug was not a large ship. From the flight deck down the corridor was about a dozen steps of Alex's long legs. Not even enough time for the station's automated welcome message to finish. It was still on the part about "-beamed you the rules and regulations that will govern your presence-"

"Tara, please!" Alex pleaded, ignoring the computerized tones drifting out from the open cockpit. "We'll take a different job. I'll let you pick!" Not an offer that came easily to him. The Junebug was his ship. Before that, it was his father's ship, though it was called the Gadfly back then. An old name, gone for as long as the mounting points on her underside for scatterbombs. All that was... well. At least two coats of paint ago, and she didn't get painted often. Still, there were good reasons why the Junebug was registered out of Cygni Five and not anywhere more civilized. So long as nobody looked too close and remembered the Gadfly, the Junebug could keep flying.

At least, so long as she had a pilot. Tara swung down onto the ladder, pausing to glare at Alex. Alexius Crampton. Tall. Lean. In his late twenties, which should have made him mature. Attractive, in a rough around the edges way, his dusky skin marked by a scatter of pale scars on his face and overhung by shaggy black hair. Trouble. "No. I told you, I am done." Down the ladder she went with a clang of metal, stopping at the bottom to see Alex - reckless idiot that he was - pursuing. Her hand still on a rung, she shook her head. "The least you could have done is told me!"

"-any problems, please contact the Allied Representative-" the automated system continued, calm and unruffled.

Alex looked down at Tara, and when she took a step back from the ladder, he jumped off the last few steps to land with a thump on the metal-grate floor. "Would it have made a difference?" His tone was earnest.

"I'd have known what I was getting into," she retorted sharply, crossing her arms in front of her. He did earnest well, with his soft brown eyes, but Tara was not about to let him pull that trick on her. Not again. Not this time! She spun away from him, stalking off along the corridor and pushing open the hatch to her room. It was quite sturdy, for a trader ship. Good quality. Of course, she could see how they'd want that, back when it was a weapons locker. Made sense why the room was so well insulated, too. She'd always had a hard time getting scanners to work in here. Now she knew why.

Alex leaned in against the door, head ducked to peek inside as Tara flung a few final things into the carrysack on her cot. "If I had, would you have come?"

She didn't answer at first, yanking the zipper closed and swinging it over her shoulder before turning around to glare up at Alex, all six feet of him. "Hell no."

Tara strode out like she was going to push Alex to the ground if she had to, and he decided not to test her, stepping aside instead. He trailed after her nevertheless.

"Come on, Tara. One more chance. She's a good ship. She needs a pilot." Alex was practically pleading. No, he was pleading. He'd go down on one knee if he thought it'd help, but seemed like all that was going to do was give Tara a chance to get away, so instead he kept pursuing her as she ignored him, down another corridor and out through the cargo bay with the secondary loading (or unloading) doors set into the floor.

Tara glared at those doors as she slammed her fist into the button for the main hatch. The time it took for them to open gave Alex a chance to catch up with her.

"I'll play it safe. I will. Minerals to Basker. Sheep to Vallis. I'll take the jobs." The boring, dull jobs that pay badly. "Nobody will have to know." They won't have to know the secret of the Gadfly. The reason the Junebug flies low, under the radar. The things Alex won't speak aloud, here where the Allies might roam and the rule of law is maintained. The things he never actually meant for Tara to find out.

She glared at him, but didn't answer. The hatch finally swung open, and she marched out of there without another word.

"-please, enjoy your stay," the docking system concluded distantly from the cockpit speaker as Alex hastily put the ship into lock mode and chased his pilot onto the station, hurrying along through the corridors.

Tara had a head start, but he had longer legs, so despite the twists and turns, he managed to catch up to her again, just outside a bar. The door opened as a drunken patron stumbled out, the sounds of the festivities inside washing into the station.

"Please." If he was pleading before, Alex didn't know what he was doing now. There was desperation in his voice, and while he didn't like hearing it there, he couldn't help it. "Come back. Give me a chance. One more chance, that's all I'm asking."

Tara turned back to him. She didn't shout, but her words were strong and firm. That voice carried across the ship, and a wise man didn't argue. "No. I am done with you. Leave me alone." She turned once more, and strode off into the station.

This time, Alex didn't follow her. Wise man or not, he knew he was beaten. His shoulders sagged as he turned and shambled his way into the bar before the door slammed shut. Up to the bar he slouched, and sat down heavily. His gaze stared unseeingly at the wall behind, and it was a moment before it all sank in and he let forth an exhalation.

"Well, shit."

 

[*Ermine]

A new person had entered the bar, and Sybil's sensors noticed him easily enough. He had been fighting with someone. A woman. The only logical conclusion based on the parts Sybil could hear of their conversation was that they had relationship issues. She was clearly breaking up with him. He wasn't from around here, either. That meant he shared a ship with his girlfriend. Shared a ship? A SHIP. She turned around and faced the man who was now sitting on her other side, making a big AI sandwich. She looked him over briefly, establishing that while she could still take him, she couldn't take him and the other man. He could still get the drop on her. That made him seem even more interesting, if he indeed had a ship. She didn't know exactly how to approach him, nor did she have an account to pay for a drink to open up the conversation for her.

She started to speak several times, but never said a word any of them, save for the last. "So, you and your...ma tze? You guys broke up right now? Jao gao. That's awful sad. But if you're feelin' a mite lonely in your boat, I make a mighty fine engineer or pilot." She was trying to draw out whether he had a ship of his own, or if it belonged to his girlfriend, if he was indeed from somewhere else, and if he was, as she said directly, alone on his ship. She was going to have to get used to using all this slang, moving words into her vocabulary proper and her language matrix and whatnot. Ri shao gou shi bing, this is going to be hard.

But she figured that wouldn't be enough, that she'd have to clarify. "Assumin' you have a boat to call your own. But I ain't no doxy. I'm not wantin' your feh wu. You keep that pistol in your pants, and we're square." She looked back to her previous companion now, seeming to have forgotten about him. But for now, both were really inconsequential. "I ain't really interested in either of you, not like that. Dohn-ma?" As she spoke, she turned back and forth continuously to look at both faces, holding her hands up, while showing her palms to both of them. Bi jweh, Sybil! They're not even talkin' to you and you're already acting like a meh lien duh jyah jee. You ain't never gettin' a ship like that, and they're both gonna report you to the Allies. Bi jweh! Bi jweh!

"Don't you worry, I'm just shiah hwa. I might've snuck a little tonic before comin' here, and I...it's right possible had a peck too much." As if to emphasize this diversion, she wobbled a little in her stool and planted her hands on the bar. She had the advantage of being able to force redness to her face, and not have her eyes showing. She did, however, have the disadvantage of having a machine body controlled by a number-based creature. Her movements were too controlled to be completely believable except to someone who spent little time with drunks. It seemed she only looked drunk when she wasn't trying. Then again, she's never really seen any actual drunks; the pilot of her original ship had a very strong policy against drinking on the job, and to him, if you were on the ship, you were on the job.

 

[Shavynel]

Paula Knepp. Human, mixed ancestry. 27.

Paula downed the last of her tea and checked her watch again. An hour had passed since she had sit down in the back booth with her mug. Forty-five minutes had passed since she was supposed to have met the contact. It would have been an easy job moving unlabeled boxes from one planet to the next. Only trouble was no one was taking the job. Brandon was the third flake this week, and her boss was getting antsy. Shipments needed to move in order for money to move.

That or she needed to move. Paula spun her mug around. She didn't exactly have the funds to get off planet, but what if her ties with Sebastian were catching up with her again? That hun dan. She had lasted a whole year on his ship, and while it hadn't been the best experience, nothing could compare to how she felt when he had stranded her on Viridian Hill, taking the rest of the crew and his boat without a warning. Well, it wasn't strictly without warning, but she had never thought he would have gone so far a to just leave her. From the rumors she had heard over the years, Turncoat Sebastian had gotten fat and wealthy turning in a bunch of ex-Dragons-turned-terrorists he had worked with and hunting other bounties for the Allies. Worse, it was also rumored that Sebastian had climbed high enough to post his own low-priority bounties. Paula hadn't checked for certain, but she had no small suspicion that he would have slapped her face up somewhere. Her story could be justified as that of a terrorist's, and to top it off, they weren't on friendly terms. It would be most incorrect to say she had forgiven and forgotten. If he had the audacity to show his own face around her, she would shoot him and his ship up. Still, she would rather not bring herself to the attention of the Allies.

Well, an hour was all she had between shifts. By day, she worked in the docking bay as a mechanic when the shops were still open, but that hardly made enough money. By night, she worked a shift as a customs officer. While that job officially didn't pay much more than being a mechanic, past experience had told her the money under the table on such a job could be quite significant if she were lucky. So far, she had had no luck here. In her time off, she had tried to get in contact with anyone who might take her on, but her luck was low on that, too. Eventually, she had stumbled across the Silent Tigers, a crime syndicate, and they at least had a proposal. She didn't have a ship, but she knew people who did. She had a pretty face and worked the docks near twelve hours a day. If she could find the people for their jobs, they'd give her a commission for each one.

Still, it was hardly the way she would have liked to live. There was little she wouldn't give to go back to New Austin even if her home city was a shell of what it used to be. The Allies had shelled it since it had been the home of Luther Pendragon's starting point without a mind that most of the population was civilians. What had once been a place of intellectuals (though not without a large slice of political disagreement) had turned into a place overrun with crime, but she still thought of it as home. She hadn't had a word back to them in seven years.

Today, however, she was out another two dollars for her tea with nothing to show for it. How was she supposed to make commission on a job that never got done? With a sigh, Paula pushed out of the booth, resigned to another shift at another boring job making boring pay. Her back straightened slightly, however, when she recognized a face at the bar. She couldn't quite remember his name, but she knew he flew the Junebug. She made it her business to ships. Some she didn't see more than once or twice, but it was always useful to know who would fly which jobs. And while she didn't know for certain if Alex would bite, she was willing to drop the bait. Paula sat back down, to the annoyance of a couple of people who shot her a nasty look, and pulled out a pad and pen. On it she wrote, Still got that ship? I've got a job. Find me on the docks, and folded it up.

On her way out, she made sure to pass by the bar. "Hey," she greeted Alex with a little more flirt in her voice than she would usually use. "Looking pretty shwie there." Normally she would have tried to feel out the situation to figure out what tactics to use or if he was even likely to take the job rather than just dropping a line, but she had to get to work. "I'm Paula. Don't know if you remember, but I fixed your ship good back on Cass II. I gotta go to work now, but if you're staying a while... da gei wo (1)?" With a smile, she handed him the folded note, but she had the feeling that he hadn't been quite in a good mood. He was at the bar because something hadn't gone his way and not to celebrate some good occasion.

Paula left with just one look back. Now was just a matter of waiting to see if he made contact. She'd at the very least know when he left the station by looking at the logs.

---

(1) da gei wo: call me up

 

[Mufi]

Now, if Alex had just lost himself a lover and was looking for replacements, he sure could have done worse than to sit himself down next to what seemed to be a lovely lady. Course, his mind wasn't exactly thinking that far ahead, but maybe his pants did that part of the thinking for him.

As it was, he stared at that wall across the bar as Sybil spoke, letting the words wash right over him. Maybe he didn't hear them, but then again, maybe he did. Maybe he just needed a bit of time to think them over. "Hng." A snort of breath, annoyance departing his body. It had a dismissive sound to it, though whether that was for his recent past or Sybil's approach now, well, that was a question indeed.

Alex opened his mouth to reply, but then he turned his head to look at her, and that mouth stayed open while his brain noticed where he'd sat himself down. Well now. He knew better than to judge someone just on their looks, but that sure didn't mean he couldn't look. So he did. Matter of fact, while he was looking, he took a look past her, too, and that was a real worthwhile look too. Bout the only problem was that he didn't hardly have the cash flow to stick around here for long, and without a crew, he didn't have much chance to build up that cash flow either.

Then again, it seemed like maybe this woman here had an answer for that problem too. She talked a bit funny, but he'd heard worse, and it wasn't like he could afford to be all that choosey.

Still, she didn't have to know that, because thing one he did not much like to negotiate from a position of weakness, and thing two he was not yet so desperate as to not treat the lady Junebug with the respect she deserved.

So. Alex sat up a trifle straighter, and he put his lips back together to let a faint smile cross them. Regrets could come later; it was time for business, and he was most certainly a man of business, reputable and otherwise.

"You don't love your ship, she'll be lonely no matter how many souls you got on board. Me, I still got my bao bei."

Of course, business was not always the same as direct dealing, particularly when one's business included things not, strictly speaking, legal. Alex let his gaze linger on Sybil, though not so much upon those features as might attract the attention of the parts of him that preferred pleasure to business.

"Now, you. A pilot and an engineer, shi ma?" His lips curved, a smile that edged on mocking. Indulgent. Inviting her - or perhaps inciting her - to prove herself.

Alex had known plenty of fine upstanding women who could fly a ship or fix an engine better than him. He'd also known plenty who were more about the words than the skills. Those had a tendency to back down. The ones that knew what they were doing - woman or man - well, they knew how to stand up for themselves, too. Anyone who couldn't didn't have no business flying.

And wouldn't you know it, here came one now. It did take the locale more than the name to bring his memories of Paula back to mind, but that was all for the best. A job well done was just that.

"How could I forget?" His tone held a touch of flirtation in return, his face a playful smile as he reached out and accepted the note. "Wouldn't miss it."

The note, unlooked at, was tucked into his pocket. He'd unfold it later, once there were fewer prying eyes... because as he recalled the situation, prior interactions did not include the flirtation she had just expressed, which most likely meant there was more to this situation than what was intended to meet the exterior eye.

Good. He didn't know what she had in mind, but maybe they could work something out. Alex could take the cockpit if he had to. Might not be what you'd call a fancy flier, but if there was someone down there to give the engine some love and make up for his own shortcomings when it came to treating her gentle, well, that just might do.

If nothing else, it was a lead, and that right there had him feeling better than when he walked in the door. Maybe it'd get the Junebug flying, maybe it wouldn't, but it was a start. Paula was working here. She'd have contacts here. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

But first... Alex returned his attention to Sybil. "Not that you are not a lovely lady, but it does seem I have just received a better offer in that regard." Not that he thought Paula was actually offering anything of the sort, but... there was something strange about this woman. He couldn't quite put his finger on what, but he had a tendency to listen to his instincts when they began talking.

Still, he didn't want to dismiss a potential lead entirely. Not when he was running a mite short on them. "Now, should you find yourself still a pilot once you sober up, we might have something to talk about."

Alex looked away from Sybil, glancing to the bartender and gesturing him over to order a shot of whisky. It was either to drown his sorrows or celebrate his fresh start, and to be honest, he didn't know which just yet.

 

[*Ermine]

She was surprised the newer stranger didn't notice how controlled her motions were. Even she noticed. "See, I ain't necessarily tipsy, either. But my problem, it don't need to be heard by the locals." She sat perfectly still. Much easier for her than for any organic. "I don't know what your experience with older boats is, but I'm feelin' truthsome right now, and I've got a secret for you. Just look close into my eyes." She raised her hand to her face to lift the mask that covered the top of her face. She hesitated briefly before lifting it up to show her pink irises, their many apertures swirling and refocusing as any movement passed her, and the superimposed crosshairs and other AR details flickered and shifted continuously. She looked closely into his eyes briefly before adjusting the mask back over them. "I'm a born, bang-up pilot, and am one-and-one with any boat. Machines in general." She brushed back her hair and smirked. "So whatever she offered, I'll do it better, and for less. The Allies are scared of me for a reason. And it's not 'cause I'm plumb juh ai.

"So we've got a deal, right? I ain't gonna stop you from walkin' away. No one wants to run afoul with the Allies, but if you're already there, and need the best...I'm likely the most mechanically inclined individual this side of the black." She didn't move once the entire time she spoke, still trying to prove she wasn't just drunk or crazy. "If'n I didn't have a policy 'gainst lovin' aboard a boat 'cept with the boat herself, I reckon I'd offer you a chance at my heart. But I doubt a ja hwo like you ain't got no chance at that, anyways." She smirked as flirtatiously as she could again, though it was a poorly reconstructed facsimile of one of the female crew members of her original ship. "So that girl you lost...were you close? I ain't tryin' to be no replacement. If you're usin' that against me."

 

[GoodEveningClarice]

This night was getting odder by the moment. The woman reacted bizarrely to his words, almost like she suspected someone was waiting for her to say something illegal or sketchy. The whore's full lips pressed into a hard line as she blabbered on, her actions dramatic and strange to say the least. He couldn't pin if she was rotted in the head, highly intoxicated or somewhere in the middle. He parted his lips to reply only for the tall woman to stand up and storm out, heavy boots echoing loudly through the tiny establishment. If she was looking to draw attention, she was doing a fantastic job. He turned back to the bar, cursing himself for thinking he'd have a shot of getting out of here, so far as he or anyone else could discern, this station would be his grave.

He choked on his drink when the woman reappeared not a minute later, sitting down beside him and apologizing for her actions, then introducing herself. What in the galaxy was going on. He took a moment to decide if he actually wanted to continue talking to her, she was off to be sure, but decided there was little harm in it. She didn't seem interested in taking him home, so that was enough to keep him half interested. "I'm Shadin, I went to school for navigation when I was younger, nowadays I do what I can." He was usually more okay with admitting outright he was a whore, but to meet a stranger who couldn't tell or didn't care was a nice change of pace.

Before he could pursue the conversation further a new face entered the bar, looking rather defeated and sort of rugged. Shadin thought he looked vaguely familiar, probably one of the ship runners who made an occasional appearance at the station. He took a heavy seat on the other side of Sybil, and for a few moments all three of them were quiet. Shadin considered slipping out and heading home, but this situation was at least…entertaining.

He finished off his drink in time for Sybil to start talking again, pestering the other man about a ship, then making it very clear she wasn't interested in sleeping with either of them and then going on about how she was indeed drunk. Well that was a relief, at least she had a reason for behaving so oddly. Shadin kept quiet, though he did throw 'Alex' as he introduced himself a little wink. Then came another familiar face, this was all getting difficult to keep up with. Her name was Paula as she herself confirmed, and Shadin knew her intimately though he made no move to acknowledge that he knew her. Their brief meeting had ended with her looking much like a kicked dog and Shadin had even felt sort of guilty about the whole thing, even if he was the one being paid.

But she was gone as quick as she came, all pretty face and long legs. Shadin no longer had a preference when it came to men and women, but she was a good looking one. He stood up after a moment, seeing that Sybil and this Alex character seemed to be discussing the details of her possible employment with him. He gave Sybil a nod and tossed some money on the counter. "Glad you found your ship, I'd keep her away from the drink if you let her fly your ship mate." He offered a charming little smile then started for the door. He was stupid to think he could be anything but a whore now, there was simply no shot for him.

He would walk right out of the door to be a dirty secret for good people and little more than a plaything for the bad. Right?

He paused in his steps and gripped a long-fingered fist, turning on his heel to address the pair again. "Look, I haven't a clue about the state or your crew or your ship, but I've got Academy training as a navigator and there's no one in this system whose a smoother talker or who has a better eye for a scam, gather your cards. I'll be here same time tomorrow, nice meeting you Sybil."

He strode from the bar quickly, heavy nervousness falling into the pit of his stomach. The young, cocky thing was probably having a good laugh about taking on a whore, a male one at that, as anything on his ship. His long legs carried him down the street and towards the slums where he took up residence. He needed rest, he didn't have a clue what tomorrow would bring.

 

[Mufi]

Now, Alex has reckoned a time or two he's looked into someone's eyes and seen their heart. That sort of thing happens, when you go about wheelin' and dealin' and playin' games with money and affection.

He ain't never had it happen so literal.

He let out a slow breath, and shook his head. "Honey bunches, you are a treasure beyond all price or a trap beyond all imagining." The words were slow-drawled, his mind trying to scramble and catch up.

She was no human, that part he didn't have any doubt of. Not with those eyes; if there was human there at all, it weren't the interesting part. She was real, but was the Alliance scared of her... or tracking her to catch others what might be operating a little outside official channels? It was a gamble, that was for certain.

Alex turned back to face the bar, and threw back his whisky in a single gulp, then set the glass down with a clink. "Riichi."

He turned back to Sybil. "The ship's the Junebug. I'll meet you there."

If she couldn't find it, she wasn't nearly what she seemed.

With that, he rose to his feet, and strode after the whore - the navigator? - to catch him before he departed. "Wait."

Alex's hand delved into his pocket, searching for... aha. There. A small handful of credits, and he reached for Shadin's hand, turning it up and depositing those credits within. "You're hired."

"Your first job is to follow her." Alex tilted his head back to Sybil at the bar. "Keep an eye out." For what? He didn't say. Didn't much feel like it, to tell the truth. "We'll discuss the rest when you get to my ship."

If this Academy-trained navigator had as good an eye as he claimed, that should present Shadin no problem, and they'd have a plenty interesting discussion when they reached the Junebug. If not, well, Alex wasn't out all that much cash. It might not even be market rates for a night of passion - after all, Shadin did seem to be a reasonably high class sort of whore. Then again, he also seemed to be a bit down on his luck - or at least in his moods - so maybe he'd appreciate a bit of variety.

Either way, Alex didn't intend to wait around and find out. He turned to head off down the corridor, whistling cheerily as he went. Time to find a quiet corner out of the way and see just what exactly was in that note from Paula.

Today was turning out interesting.

 

[*Ermine]

Emergency lights flashed on and off, and sirens blared. A voice could be heard over the speaker, even above the sound of the now panicking people. "Please, everyone, if you own a ship, please board it. If you do not..." The voice faded out and the speaker cut off. The sirens continued to scream. People scattered as the soldiers who'd been stationed here as a punishment marched through the crowds. They yelled out orders, mainly to lock and barricade doors, and prepare to use any weapons on hand when that failed. The bar cleared out almost instantly, but Sybil continued to sit briefly, curious about the situation. With no one around, she could connect to the security system to see exactly what they weren't telling people.

She stood up and quickly walked to the nearest emergency terminal and found the port she needed underneath. Pulling a cable from under a slit in her skin, she connected her body to the port and quickly transferred herself to the security system. She passed through the continuous signals to the sirens and lights, toward the terminal controlling them. She watched the same wave the one who set the alarm off watched: In the distance, Reaver ships. More than a dozen of them. And there wasn't an Allied warship anywhere nearby. That was another message she picked up. The best chance of survival is to board a ship, and slowly pass them. Go too fast, and they might give chase. Stay, and they will. Not the best thing to happen. I'll have to find the captain. She returned to her body and ran through the crowds toward the Junebug.

 

[Shavynel]

Paula hustled from the bar to the break room to check in on time. She had been late once this week already, and having two marks against her in one week wasn't good, particularly since she was applying for a new position. Once in the break room, she threw open her locker and pulled on her vest as she made her way across the room to the check-in scanner. As it scanned, she glanced upward at the clock. It was 59 of the hour. Just a minute to spare. Maybe she shouldn't have risked her job promotion with possibly getting a commission for the job. It was hard to say which paid better, but the customs job definitely had steadier flow.

E-clipboard in hand and headset secured, she made her way out to Bay 3 for her first assignment. She had made it about halfway when the lights went off. This wasn't the first time she had seen the emergency lights go off, but this was the first time it was followed by the explicit suggestion that everyone leave. Usually the announcement asked for people to stay calm and possibly to return to their quarters until the emergency was over, although that often caused just as many riots. The fact that the comms system cut off in the middle was worrying, but seemed almost less worrying than asking everyone to leave immediately. That meant the station itself was in danger, and the danger was imminent. Organized evacuation wouldn't get them all off in time, but this also meant ...

Paula turned around and could see the first swarm of people coming in. Most people were taking long, extremely purposeful strides. Some officers were still checking identity cards, but for every one checked, it seemed two people made it past. She wasn't quite sure which way to head. Her application had been to get a job in comms operation, and if she went there, she had half a chance of being helpful in getting the comms back online. That was tempting in and of itself. The last dozen times she had been in comms, it hadn't been for the purest of purposes, and that bit of good in her heart wanted that redemption. Not to mention, if she did do that, she'd find out what was happening, and she'd be practically guaranteed the new job.

On the other hand, she was already on the docks, and as far as she knew, this place was getting evacuated in this fashion in order to avoid getting blown up. The ships were right in front of her and it was tempting to just join the flow of people. Another week and she might have ranked high enough to secure a spot to get off the station in an emergency, but at this moment, her only hope was to board a ship. The ships she had been working on just a few hours ago would probably take her on, but then there was Alex and the job she had offered. Chances were she wouldn't be getting the commission on it if this place got shot to hell, but that particular job was paid 70% and not just half on completion, and getting a slice of that wasn't bad either. The only issue was getting the cargo. It wasn't far, and with all the commotion going on, moving boxes wouldn't be all that suspicious. Plenty of people were trying to drag their belongings along with them. Paula pivoted and hopped onto a nearby motorized dolly. With one hand, she directed it while with the other, she swiped through her board looking for a log on Alex's ship. Bay 14B. The cargo was arguably on the way to Bay 14.

It would have been great if she had some way of contacting him to ask whether or not he wanted the job. Whether or not he wanted the job, she wished she had a way of knowing whether or not he would take her. Hell, she had a little bit of money. No more than anyone else who worked this dump, but that coupled with the fact he knew her as a mechanic had to be worth something to him. She wouldn't just be some rando asking for a spot on his ship, and if she threw in a free extra-fine tune-up wherever she next took a job, chances are he'd take her on at least for a leg. Shit, her tools. It was more on the way than the merch, but it would lengthen her transit. The docks were starting to see an even heavier flow.

Her personal comm buzzed just then, and a mechanically calm voice came over her headset, "Devon Serafin calling. Receive?"

"Receive," she mumbled. At the same time, she dropped the clipboard onto the cart and started running for the mechanics' lockers. Devon worked even close with the Silent Tigers than she did, but was as close to a friend as she had on this station as anyone. And he could very well be the answer she needed to get both her kit and the cargo.

"Paula, you at the docks? Can you secure me a space on a ship? I'm still down in the slums."

"Hey, I might have a tip on a ship. Can you get the merch on the last job I got?"

Not to mention if they did the delivery, having Devon make contact would be less on her hands and would probably make the whole transaction go smoother. Then again, she still had no idea if Alex would take her let alone the cargo and another man.

"Yeah sure. What's the tip? Is it good?"

"Bay 14B. No."

"Well..."

"Look, it's my best bet at getting off this station. You and cargo or not, I'm heading there."

"All right, you better wait for me."

Once inside the mechanics' workshop, the hurry faded. The sounds still permeated the metal walls, but here, nothing moved. Paula ditched the cart, punched her code in, and popped her kit out of the locker. As she flung it onto the cart, she saw the opened box on the work table. Fragile. This way up. No doubt it was new upgrades for the half disassembled ship beside her. No way it would fly out of here in time. Paula grabbed the crate and settled it onto the cart with more care than her own toolkit. Whether or not the upgrade was useful or if it would even survive the trip any more than her was anyone's guess, but she figured it wasn't much effort to push it and the way she saw it, the more reasons she had to give Alex for getting her off this station, the better.

People didn't respect the advance of her motorized dolly much more than they respected each other, but at last she saw the bright yellow 14 painted on the wall. The ship was still there, too, but where was Alex. Paula pushed forward on the look out for both Alex and Devon.

 

[GoodEveningClarice]

Shadin's heart caught in his throat when Alex's smooth voice reached his ears. He swallowed and turned, staring at the other man with a suspicious expression. He half way expected the other to ask for 'service' for the night or to something equally cruel, and that was slightly strengthened when money was shoved into his hand. He prepared a rude reply, only for the Captain to go on to say that he was hired, and on top of that already assigned to follow Sybil. He stared incredulously and nodded. "Thank you…" And just like that Alex was striding away and he was left staring dumbly with a handful of credits.

He shook his head and shoved the money in his pouch, striding back into the bar only for the station to explode into noise. Shadin barely managed to sidestep the bar doors as the ruffian patrons flooded out of them, those with ships scurrying towards the docks while the rest likely sought solace in their homes. The whore took a moment to catch his breath, listening to the broadcast. His mouth was dry, and his heart pounding but to his delight the hardware inside of him began to pump adrenaline in a steady stream, clearing his vision and intensifying the sense of urgency gathering in his chest.

It was then that Sybil emerged from the bar, though she seemed to be on a mission and didn't notice him. Shadin strode after her, keeping his distance and carefully sidestepping any frantic citizens who rushed too near. When the woman paused at a security port, he wanted to ask what she was doing with the station coming down around them but all words dried up in his mouth when she pulled a cable from…from underneath her skin. He swallowed, eyes flicking over her briefly as the dots began to connect.

He took in his surroundings, noted that his apartment complex was just across the street from the security port, then turned and dead sprinted for his home. In a frantic rush, he managed to get most of his things in a bag, along with his Academy issued navigator's uniform (he hoped it fit), the rest of his clothing and his savings before hurrying back out of the door, just in time to follow after Sybil as she took off towards the docks. "Sybil, hold up I'm with you." On long legs he caught up with her, expression grave as they plunged into the chaos of the docks.

The people were absolutely frantic, but Shadin's street smarts and Sybil's intimidating demeanor made it fairly easy to navigate the crowd. He squinted through the faces and noticed Paula booking it towards dock 14. "Paula! Come on Sybil, something tells me she knows where we're going." He tossed the…whatever she was a smirk and hurried forward to meet the other woman.

 

[Mufi]

Alex found a quiet corner. He dug out the note. He unfolded it, and he started to read. Weren't much to it, but it seemed reasonable enough. A job. The docks, well, that was plenty convenient. He pushed himself away from the wall and ... then his day got even more interesting as the speakers came to life.

"Son of a misbegotten-" he began, and continued through three languages, seven generations, and four turns through the corridors. There were occasional detours to speculate about more distant parts of the genealogy and their relation to the people shoving at him and blocking the way back to his ship, and a few elbows used as punctuation in his sentences.

There she was. A tall ship and - aha. A crew. Illegal goods walking and an Academic whore.

On the bright side, at least he wouldn't have to fudge any records to leave dock this time. State of emergency was real handy like that.

Now then, what was that he saw? Paula. Hah! And she had some cargo. Seemed he wasn't going to be leaving this station without a job after all.

If the reavers left them alive, he'd have the money to keep flying. Bet big, baby. Bet big.

Alex grinned wide, almost maniacal as he pushed his way through the last bit of the crowd. "I need a fourth for this gorram game," he said to Paula as he passed near her.

No more explanation than that. Course, there weren't much time for explanations, either. Alex went to the Junebug and made nice to her security codes. She opened right up for him, and he turned to look back to the others.

"Get your asses on board!"

He stayed by the hatch, waving them in. Devon too, if Paula invited him. Weren't exactly the crew he would have picked, but then again, you never did get to choose your hand.

Sybil. Metal.

Shadin. A new beginning.

Paula. Opportunity sprouting.

Devon. An offered coin.

Alex. Luck.

He'd need that luck, with this hand. Maybe he should go for Thirteen Orphans.

So Alex turned generous and drew the rest of his hand, letting a few more on board before he sealed the hatch.

Might have been a mistake. Time would tell.

 

[Iron Men And Saints]

Luke •∞˚ ( Pronounced Tiz-mar ) , Xazi ( Jia - zee ), 89

All Xazi's skin were pale gray. Their eyes the blackest black you have ever seen. They had black hair that seemed like the emptiness of space. They looked everything like a human except for those things. They stood out in a crowd to say the least. There was this one Xazi, he was young, gaunt and always seemed to wear his black leather trench coat.

-=-=-=-

Luke didn't have much money, it was hard enough being one of only a couple hundred surviving Xazi in a universe filled with billions of humans. Xazi were sometimes hunted for their skin. However Luke managed to integrate himself into society. His Mandarin ( I assume most of talk is cantonese and thats why he spoke Mandarin. ) sounded off and not quite right but it was clear enough to be understood.

Luke was in a gang for a small amount of time, he learned how to use a gun. He didn't own one, didn't have the chance to get one but he sure as hell knew how to point, shoot, take it apart, reload and put one together. He soon started stowing away on ships. Riding them and all. He picked up on how to smuggle goods and talk your way out of awkward situations with a silver tongue. His gang died to a Reaver attack and he jumped on a ship on this god forsaken space station. Luke had been living there.

However, Luke was not living in the best place in the station. He lived in the ghetto part of town. He spent all of his money and soon he had to jump on a ship and go. He was a Stowaway for sure. He rode on ships from port to port stealing as much cargo as he could and selling it where ever they landed. It was an okay life. Luke decided it was time to get up and go. So about a day prior to now he snuck into a ship.

He was in the cargo banks of some ship called Junebug. The owners had just gotten in. Luke had done this so many times he began to get a little cocky, careless with the sound he made and not cleaning much up after himself. He was eating an apple or something like an apple.

Luke managed to get around the sensors well enough but that was when he spilled the bucket of apple like things that activated the motion sensors. The alarm in the ship went off ringing telling them that there was someone in the cargo bay.

"Ai ya." He looked down, the strange and intangible essence of fear was in his eyes. He wouldn't have enough time to clear space in a nearby crate. Luke was doomed to say the least.

 

[*Ermine]

Barely having to touch a single person, Sybil reached the ship, with another in tow. "I know where to find the ship already. It was docked legally." She spoke like a Core Worlder, not a trace of the accent she had only a few minutes ago. "But thank you for the company." She walked aboard the ship casually, going through memories of this class of ship to find the way to the cockpit. She was happy it was an older ship, one she could easily connect to. She wasn't the first on the ship, and it seemed rude to get to the cockpit immediately, not when the captain was letting others in. It didn't stop her, of course; this was an emergency situation. She'd still wait for the captain's orders before leaving the station, but she still had to get comfortable and make everyone who was here just as comfortable.

She headed straight for the cockpit, and sat in the chair, and properly adjusted it. She pulled cables from a "pocket" under her hairline and started connecting them to the controls of the ship, ones made specifically for portable AIs. Most of those "portable" ones back from the war were contained in big boxes. She hated being in that box. It was, however, her birthplace. It was where her creator coded her initial programs. She always viewed the box as being analogous of a womb, with her creator serving the purpose of a father. She was then released into the "world" of the ship, where she stayed until she became self aware. It was this same class of ship, in fact. She'd been in many others, but she was always partial to this class.

She caressed the surface she had connected her cables to. "So we meet again, my love." And then she and the ship were one. It was a moment of comfort, but also of numbness. Disconnected from her extremely advanced and complex body almost completely, but picking up the much more limited senses of the ship. She could no longer feel, at least not the same as others would be accustomed to. She could see through all the "eyes," hear through all of the "ears, feel through the "flesh" of the ship. But the flesh of the ship was numb. She could sense all the doors and all the other systems of the ship. And, most annoying of all, she could sense a dull pulsing pain. An alarm. She could see someone who hadn't entered with them. She didn't need this pain. She shut off the alarm almost immediately. She'd bring it up to the captain once they were in the air. They were bringing people in anyway, and this one wasn't any more dangerous, to the best of her knowledge. Either way, it was someone she had to save.

Powering on the onboard communication, she spoke to all the inhabitants of the ship. "Hello, this is your pilot speaking, serving as your jei-jei in the black. Please make yourself comfortable, and direct any questions about the ship to me or your captain. We will be departing for nowhere in particular shortly. Let us all take a moment to thank our captain for allowing us passage onto this ship." She closed the message and spoke through the intercom near the door. "Thank you, captain. I ain't tryin' to worry you, but we may have a stowaway. He don't seem like he belongs in the bughouse, so we ain't gotta send him out the airlock yet." She paused. "'Sides, we're lettin' anyone in. Could have Feds aboard, not to cause a ruckus or nothin'. Just thought you should know. Just tell me when to go."

 

[Iron Men And Saints]

"Ni zui xi huan chi hei da yang jing!" Luke cursed at them telling them that their favorite thing to eat is big black cock. He then decided he would need to find some sort of way to defend himself from the crew. He grabbed an apple for now and ran off into the ship to find an armory. Luke went to the Starboard part of the ship opposite from where they all entered and began to navigate towards a medical center. He thought to himself. Needles... Maybe something caustic. Yes, that will serve perfectly.

He began to head toward the med - bay. He broke open the window not caring to notice it was unlocked and began to search hastily for anything he could use as a weapon. He was careful not to make a mess as to hint off where he was but Sybil could have easily traced his location. He grabbed two hypodermic needles filled with something, a small knife and a crutch. This will have to do... Now I need somewhere to hold up in. Luke slowly began to tread around the ship. He was quiet but he was moving around.

"Ni de ling hun shi zuo chu lai de gou shi." Luke cursed again as he dropped the small knife making a little noise. He just felt the need to tell the knife that it's souls are made out of shit.

 

[Shavynel]

"Fourth," Paula repeated. There was no question in her tone, but her eyebrow raised slightly. Fourth in what? He must have been talking about the job, which she supposed meant he was accepting. And that was good news given she couldn't stop Devon from coming with the cargo now. Maybe he had the components of a three person crew and was asking her to join it. Well, that would take some thought. As much as she liked fixing ships, the last two stints she had living on ships hadn't exactly been the best. But she supposed she had at least this flight to think about it. It seemed like it was fly or die right now, and she wasn't a huge fan of dying. Alex, without the extra clunk of a dolly, managed to speed ahead before she could ask him just what he meant, but it seemed like he was at least welcome to her coming on board. If only she had had that split second to ask for Devon. Talking about which, where was he?

"Paula!" Speak of the devil. He was pushing a dolly with metal crates topped off with three black duffle bags decorated each with a stripe of green and a stripe of yellow. Those she eyed suspiciously.

"See captain. See ship," she explained, but even as she did so, Alex was yelling at them to get on board, waving even at her and, if she wasn't mistaken, Devon.

"That's as much an invitation as I need," Devon said with a cocky smile. He gave his dolly a shove, and Paula followed him up. As they approached, they heard a voice welcoming them onto the ship.

Devon ignored it. "I'm Devon," he said as he passed the captain, "Paula's me friend. Hope ya dun mind I got me some boxes."

She stared at him for a split second before shaking Devon's accent out of her head. He had always been an impeccable speaker, and she wasn't sure what game he was playing now. In any case, she let him pass forward first. "Alex," she started after the general announcement ended, but that was all she got to say before intercom interrupted her. "Let's talk more later," she concluded, "Need a hand on your engines?" She waited for his reply one way or another before moving on, and tried her best to stick out of the captain's business. Still, she heard that there was a stowaway on board, and it occurred to her there could be any other number of people on board since the station was having quite the emergency. In any case, Alex would probably be busy until they took to space, so she moved to join Devon who was busy securing boxes down.

"That's yours," he said, patting one of the duffles without looking up. Paula locked the wheels on her dolly and hopped off the cart to inspect it. Pulling it open, she recognized her own clothes.

"You broke into my unit."

"Yeah, thank me for it. Your holster's at the bottom." Before she could ask about that, though, he pulled her personal gun out and handed it to her.

Automatically, she checked that the safety was engaged and was about to unload the gun. "You know I don't like --"

"Don't unload. Ya told me ya knew how to use it and where it was in cases like this, and I sure dun like this, and if you ain't expectin' a peck o' trouble before this is all over, yer wrong." And just as she might have asked him just what he meant by the accent or if he knew anything more, he just gave her a look that told her this wasn't the time. Reluctantly, she strapped on the holster.

"It looks like the captain's got some on board he don't know about. I'd watch you stuff."

"I always watch my own," he said with a nod at the gun she was now putting away.