Alice was beginning to have trouble following current events. Suddenly Arnaldo was a pull of the trigger away from ending the fight, or at least cutting the head off of the snake, and had been pinned to the ground for what really amounted to half a minute. A flamboyant man in blue Alice had never seen before stepped between Ketin and the man leading the ship’s attackers. Either this or something else had caused Ketin to walk away, and she couldn’t see her brother or the Eoclu woman from the way she was facing.
The man had offered them a deal before Arnaldo’s brief capture, and one which seemed almost too true. Peace sounded possible, but that was the key word: possible. How it was the man expected them to trust him after all that had happened was beyond her. Innocents had been harmed, countless lives placed in danger. Alice just couldn’t bring herself to believe it.
She was just about to voice this fact when the firing of shotgun made her dodge behind another table. The blast wasn’t aimed at her, but at this rate she wasn’t taking any unnecessary chances. She could hear the security officers entering the cafeteria, beginning to handle things, but that didn’t make her move out from cover. As far as she was concerned, anything could happen in the next few minutes and she needed to be ready.
Wick watched what events he could after arriving close to Nirix. He didn’t approach her, nor would he after what had just happened. He didn’t know Ketin very well (Who could after only knowing someone for a few hours?), but he could tell just from her reaction that this was not normal.
Wish I knew what to say. Alice has always been better at talking to people than Me, He thought. He wished he could get to her as well, to carry her out of danger. Not that he thought she was unprepared to defend herself, in fact they had faced things almost as bad as this together, but as her older brother he couldn’t help but worry.
“I’m uh. . . I know I don’t know either of you too well, but you should go to Ketin. If there’s anyone he might need, it’s probably you,” He said. Hoping those were the right words to say, he stepped away from Nirix and moved towards his sister. Security officers of the Perrygold were faster to action than most ship personnel seemed to be on the vessel. They flooded into the lounge area, going about their business. Wick was sure they could handle the situation should anything else occur. Right now what mattered was his baby sister, His only family.
He sat down next to her behind the table, leaning against it as much as he could without it falling over.
“Hey. You alright?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Alice said in return, not looking up at him. She was fiddling with devices in her palms he didn’t recognize. “What about you? How are your bruises?”
Wick shrugged, which tugged at the open wound on his shoulder. “I’ve been better.”
Alice looked up at him, glancing over his entire person. Her expression grew more and more concerned until the wound on his shoulder brought words from her. “Damn, Wick, how deep is that cut?”
“It’s not too serious,” Wick tried his best to downplay the wound despite the pain, meanwhile searching her over for injuries. “Looks like you had your fair share of it too.” He said, motioning to the bruise on her side.
Alice gave a chuckle. “Doing what you have to, like you used to say.”
Wick nodded in agreement. “Right. I’m proud of you for trying, Alice. Now let’s just hope the officials can take care of the rest.”
“I hope they can. I’m out of inventions, so I’d just have to start throwing things hoping they hit somebody.”
The man had offered them a deal before Arnaldo’s brief capture, and one which seemed almost too true. Peace sounded possible, but that was the key word: possible. How it was the man expected them to trust him after all that had happened was beyond her. Innocents had been harmed, countless lives placed in danger. Alice just couldn’t bring herself to believe it.
She was just about to voice this fact when the firing of shotgun made her dodge behind another table. The blast wasn’t aimed at her, but at this rate she wasn’t taking any unnecessary chances. She could hear the security officers entering the cafeteria, beginning to handle things, but that didn’t make her move out from cover. As far as she was concerned, anything could happen in the next few minutes and she needed to be ready.
Wick watched what events he could after arriving close to Nirix. He didn’t approach her, nor would he after what had just happened. He didn’t know Ketin very well (Who could after only knowing someone for a few hours?), but he could tell just from her reaction that this was not normal.
Wish I knew what to say. Alice has always been better at talking to people than Me, He thought. He wished he could get to her as well, to carry her out of danger. Not that he thought she was unprepared to defend herself, in fact they had faced things almost as bad as this together, but as her older brother he couldn’t help but worry.
“I’m uh. . . I know I don’t know either of you too well, but you should go to Ketin. If there’s anyone he might need, it’s probably you,” He said. Hoping those were the right words to say, he stepped away from Nirix and moved towards his sister. Security officers of the Perrygold were faster to action than most ship personnel seemed to be on the vessel. They flooded into the lounge area, going about their business. Wick was sure they could handle the situation should anything else occur. Right now what mattered was his baby sister, His only family.
He sat down next to her behind the table, leaning against it as much as he could without it falling over.
“Hey. You alright?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Alice said in return, not looking up at him. She was fiddling with devices in her palms he didn’t recognize. “What about you? How are your bruises?”
Wick shrugged, which tugged at the open wound on his shoulder. “I’ve been better.”
Alice looked up at him, glancing over his entire person. Her expression grew more and more concerned until the wound on his shoulder brought words from her. “Damn, Wick, how deep is that cut?”
“It’s not too serious,” Wick tried his best to downplay the wound despite the pain, meanwhile searching her over for injuries. “Looks like you had your fair share of it too.” He said, motioning to the bruise on her side.
Alice gave a chuckle. “Doing what you have to, like you used to say.”
Wick nodded in agreement. “Right. I’m proud of you for trying, Alice. Now let’s just hope the officials can take care of the rest.”
“I hope they can. I’m out of inventions, so I’d just have to start throwing things hoping they hit somebody.”
Rin was bored.
It's been several hours and he'd done absolutely nothing.
Kind of.
The first hour was spent touring the ship, snack in hand, keeping relatively silent. He'd pointedly avoided going toward the engines and essential parts of the ship, for fear of finding that the ship was... well... as incompetant as that wash-out robot was.
The second hour he gave in to temptation and went to check on the ship's systems.
It was as hideous as he'd feared.
Wires were everywhere, all over the walls, dangling from the ceiling- he'd touched one, and to his relief it wasn't heated to an alarming degree. In fact, it was quite cool to the touch. Then he'd taken another step inside and seen hazvardly placed conductive strips and his confidence in the shiny ship had deteriorated all over again. Tubes and energy lines and-
Random parts, put together, he'd thought, taking another (warier) step in. It's good, but... He'd winced, carefully brushing a dangling wire away. It looks like a disposal unit up in here...
The next two and a half hours was a blur of cautious observation, mental notes of systems that could be improved, and horrid fascination at how everything seemed to be working even as it seemed to be spontaneously falling apart in tangles and random junkware.
He'd finally opted to leave, mind racing from what he'd found, and resolutely set the experience aside for more reflection later.
His hands twitched. He again inwardly mourned the loss of his tools, and the general idea of needing something to work on.
He paused. Maybe he could practice?
It was a good idea. After that... unique mental challenge, it'd be a nice break for him- just to instinctively flow through the movements, not needing to necessarily think through everything- just react.
Nodding, he made his way towards the cargo bay. He remembered there being plenty of space for warming up and practicing some fighting techniques.
Unfortunately, he'd fogotten about one small thing.
He forgot about the cat.
It's been several hours and he'd done absolutely nothing.
Kind of.
The first hour was spent touring the ship, snack in hand, keeping relatively silent. He'd pointedly avoided going toward the engines and essential parts of the ship, for fear of finding that the ship was... well... as incompetant as that wash-out robot was.
The second hour he gave in to temptation and went to check on the ship's systems.
It was as hideous as he'd feared.
Wires were everywhere, all over the walls, dangling from the ceiling- he'd touched one, and to his relief it wasn't heated to an alarming degree. In fact, it was quite cool to the touch. Then he'd taken another step inside and seen hazvardly placed conductive strips and his confidence in the shiny ship had deteriorated all over again. Tubes and energy lines and-
Random parts, put together, he'd thought, taking another (warier) step in. It's good, but... He'd winced, carefully brushing a dangling wire away. It looks like a disposal unit up in here...
The next two and a half hours was a blur of cautious observation, mental notes of systems that could be improved, and horrid fascination at how everything seemed to be working even as it seemed to be spontaneously falling apart in tangles and random junkware.
He'd finally opted to leave, mind racing from what he'd found, and resolutely set the experience aside for more reflection later.
His hands twitched. He again inwardly mourned the loss of his tools, and the general idea of needing something to work on.
He paused. Maybe he could practice?
It was a good idea. After that... unique mental challenge, it'd be a nice break for him- just to instinctively flow through the movements, not needing to necessarily think through everything- just react.
Nodding, he made his way towards the cargo bay. He remembered there being plenty of space for warming up and practicing some fighting techniques.
Unfortunately, he'd fogotten about one small thing.
He forgot about the cat.
The Koolest Boat U Know
Everything had been going fine, otherwise. Armston had settled into the pilots’ cabin and had been using the dejected WASHBOT 9000 as a footrest. The rest had generally left Rin to his own, with Sands and Tsuan taking to a game of holo-cards in the mess and Ty off doing…whatever Ty did when he wasn’t around.
Like all starships in motion, the Koolest Boat had a relaxing atmosphere about it. The lax state of the ‘crew’ only added to that. The whole thing was shaping up to be a smooth, easy ride.
And then, that changed with unpleasant suddenness.
The Nyran had barely made it down the hall when, from behind him, a sudden CRRACK! and a POP! shook the walls. It was a sound reminiscent of a combustion gunshot – though obviously nobody was shooting an old-fashioned gun in the engine room. Obviously, something bad had happened. Seconds later, the lights flickered, then dimmed into darkness. The emergency lights, low and red-toned, clicked on after a few seconds of claustrophobic pitch-black.
From somewhere toward the front of the ship, the muffled and barely discernible cry of ”@#$%!!” could be heard – Dallen, most likely.
The crew jumped into action, not that anyone would know it. Ty made his way to the ‘bridge’, while Sands and Tsuan immediately leaped from their seats and went sprinting toward the engine room, arriving while Rin was still in the hall.
”Aw, ya’ broke somethin’ didn’t ya!” Tsuan groaned in mock frustration, giving the Nyran a wide grin, and a little shove on the shoulder to assert that it was not a legitimate accusation.
In the engine room, it may not have been readily apparent what the damage was, if one did not have experience with that particular build. Luckily, they weren’t entirely in the dark – and it took only seconds for Sands to identify the problem. The big man groaned, leaning over an embedded console from which sprouted many cables and wires. ”Dammit! We popped a screw!” He said, disdainfully. ”And I bet we don’t have a spare, do we?”
They did not.
The ’screw’ was the layman’s term for a particularly vital part to the operation of many smaller starships. In usual modern-engineering fashion, nobody was exactly sure what it did or how it worked, but they knew they needed it, and what would happen if they didn’t get one. It was approximately the size of a football, made of some kind of high-resistance glass, and intended as some kind of heat-transference fuse. Regardless of what it was actually called, it got its’ name from the twisted shape, which resembled a big, blown-glass screw.
This one had ’popped’ – which meant that it had literally popped – and little bits of glass had gone flying about at an unpleasantly high velocity. What remained of the ‘screw’ was a sad, melted thing that would take some brute-force to pry out.
And though they looked, and looked – it became clear within a quarter of an hour that, for whatever reason, they did not have a screw to spare.
”Dammit! Why! Why the absolute @#$% would they not keep a spare screw on this thing!” Sands was lamenting, having given up the digging through the disastrous engine room and sat dejectedly down upon a box of dubious purpose. Tsuan looked very concerned too – his expressive countenance did not bear solemnity well – the strange good looks were apparently only highlighted when he was grinning or smiling. This dour expression did not suit him.
”The screw regulates the auxiliary systems and cooling.” Sands explained after a moment, more calm now. He didn’t like these flares in temper he’d been having over the past few days – it wasn’t like him. ” We’ll be able to limp along for a little bit, and the life support won’t go down for a few weeks – but we won’t be going anywhere fast unless we can magically make one of the buggers appear.”
”Might also get kinda’ cold. We’ll want to seal off most of the ship just in case, to conserve power.” Tsuan added, as the two of them stood to make their way back to the bridge and report the bad news.
Ten minutes later, the five of them were seated in the pilots’ cabin, watching the console expectantly for any signs of assistance. The cat was probably stuck in the cargo bay, unless Rin had taken the time to go fetch him first. Though if he was still there, it wouldn’t be a deadly situation. Just uncomfortable.
The Koolest Boat U Know shot along on inertial force, still using what it had left of motion – but that wasn’t much. The whole group did not seem too concerned though – apparently this was something more akin to a flat-tire than a serious problem. Did this happen often?
A distress call that Ty had recorded emanated from the ship as it meandered through space. ”This is a distress call to all vessels within range, from The K-B-U-N, Galactic Designation Alpha Alpha Plural-Bravo Five. We are in desperate need of a screw. We will offer compensation in exchange for one. This message repeats.”
Admittedly, it was not very nice of Dal, Sands and Tsuan to not tell Ty why they were giggling until after the beacon had been sent out. But then, one had to wonder if there still might be a decent sense of humor in him, even if he feigned ignorance to it. At least the mood was light.
As it happened, the first vessel within range to pick up the signal was – unbeknownst to them, - was a big, scary ship called The White Death. There was also a small emergency receiver in a gym bag aboard that ship making some kind of unpleasant noise to indicate it was picking up a distress call…
Everything had been going fine, otherwise. Armston had settled into the pilots’ cabin and had been using the dejected WASHBOT 9000 as a footrest. The rest had generally left Rin to his own, with Sands and Tsuan taking to a game of holo-cards in the mess and Ty off doing…whatever Ty did when he wasn’t around.
Like all starships in motion, the Koolest Boat had a relaxing atmosphere about it. The lax state of the ‘crew’ only added to that. The whole thing was shaping up to be a smooth, easy ride.
And then, that changed with unpleasant suddenness.
The Nyran had barely made it down the hall when, from behind him, a sudden CRRACK! and a POP! shook the walls. It was a sound reminiscent of a combustion gunshot – though obviously nobody was shooting an old-fashioned gun in the engine room. Obviously, something bad had happened. Seconds later, the lights flickered, then dimmed into darkness. The emergency lights, low and red-toned, clicked on after a few seconds of claustrophobic pitch-black.
From somewhere toward the front of the ship, the muffled and barely discernible cry of ”@#$%!!” could be heard – Dallen, most likely.
The crew jumped into action, not that anyone would know it. Ty made his way to the ‘bridge’, while Sands and Tsuan immediately leaped from their seats and went sprinting toward the engine room, arriving while Rin was still in the hall.
”Aw, ya’ broke somethin’ didn’t ya!” Tsuan groaned in mock frustration, giving the Nyran a wide grin, and a little shove on the shoulder to assert that it was not a legitimate accusation.
In the engine room, it may not have been readily apparent what the damage was, if one did not have experience with that particular build. Luckily, they weren’t entirely in the dark – and it took only seconds for Sands to identify the problem. The big man groaned, leaning over an embedded console from which sprouted many cables and wires. ”Dammit! We popped a screw!” He said, disdainfully. ”And I bet we don’t have a spare, do we?”
They did not.
The ’screw’ was the layman’s term for a particularly vital part to the operation of many smaller starships. In usual modern-engineering fashion, nobody was exactly sure what it did or how it worked, but they knew they needed it, and what would happen if they didn’t get one. It was approximately the size of a football, made of some kind of high-resistance glass, and intended as some kind of heat-transference fuse. Regardless of what it was actually called, it got its’ name from the twisted shape, which resembled a big, blown-glass screw.
This one had ’popped’ – which meant that it had literally popped – and little bits of glass had gone flying about at an unpleasantly high velocity. What remained of the ‘screw’ was a sad, melted thing that would take some brute-force to pry out.
And though they looked, and looked – it became clear within a quarter of an hour that, for whatever reason, they did not have a screw to spare.
”Dammit! Why! Why the absolute @#$% would they not keep a spare screw on this thing!” Sands was lamenting, having given up the digging through the disastrous engine room and sat dejectedly down upon a box of dubious purpose. Tsuan looked very concerned too – his expressive countenance did not bear solemnity well – the strange good looks were apparently only highlighted when he was grinning or smiling. This dour expression did not suit him.
”The screw regulates the auxiliary systems and cooling.” Sands explained after a moment, more calm now. He didn’t like these flares in temper he’d been having over the past few days – it wasn’t like him. ” We’ll be able to limp along for a little bit, and the life support won’t go down for a few weeks – but we won’t be going anywhere fast unless we can magically make one of the buggers appear.”
”Might also get kinda’ cold. We’ll want to seal off most of the ship just in case, to conserve power.” Tsuan added, as the two of them stood to make their way back to the bridge and report the bad news.
Ten minutes later, the five of them were seated in the pilots’ cabin, watching the console expectantly for any signs of assistance. The cat was probably stuck in the cargo bay, unless Rin had taken the time to go fetch him first. Though if he was still there, it wouldn’t be a deadly situation. Just uncomfortable.
The Koolest Boat U Know shot along on inertial force, still using what it had left of motion – but that wasn’t much. The whole group did not seem too concerned though – apparently this was something more akin to a flat-tire than a serious problem. Did this happen often?
A distress call that Ty had recorded emanated from the ship as it meandered through space. ”This is a distress call to all vessels within range, from The K-B-U-N, Galactic Designation Alpha Alpha Plural-Bravo Five. We are in desperate need of a screw. We will offer compensation in exchange for one. This message repeats.”
Admittedly, it was not very nice of Dal, Sands and Tsuan to not tell Ty why they were giggling until after the beacon had been sent out. But then, one had to wonder if there still might be a decent sense of humor in him, even if he feigned ignorance to it. At least the mood was light.
As it happened, the first vessel within range to pick up the signal was – unbeknownst to them, - was a big, scary ship called The White Death. There was also a small emergency receiver in a gym bag aboard that ship making some kind of unpleasant noise to indicate it was picking up a distress call…
SPECTRE unit designation BN-33, or Barney, as he was called by nobody, registered a reading on his aural receptors at a decibel and tone considered "annoying" by organics. Due to SPECTRE rack Beta Nanny's deviant programming, BN-33 left to investigate. He located the source, being an unknown duffel bag lodged between two crates of liquor, and secured it.
At the same time, Kovacs' notification panel alerted him to an unknown signal source in system. Checking his fuel levels - they were at 76% - he disengaged his fuel scoop, aiming on course for the signal. When Barney called in the new cargo, he had already dropped from supercruise. It was an average sized vessel, he supposed. Only about seventy metres long, it vaguely reminded him of the Firefly class transports from the early 26th Century.
"Attention, all hands," Kovacs keyed the comms. "We have encountered a vessel in distress. I say this, because I'm about to call them. I figured you'd like to be clued in on why we stopped. Mr. Jackson, there is a big fucking gun in the armory that I've locked to your biometrics. Consider it a gift. Kovacs, out."
The XM-665 was essentially a man portable plasma minigun. It weighed all of thirty-two pounds, and the power packs that allowed for indefinite firing were an additional fifty. Meant for heavy infantry in powered assault armor, Kovacs thought that it fit Jet perfectly.
As long as he got over his hatred of guns, that is. You can never have enough Dakka.
Switching to tightbeam, he piggybacked the distress signal back to the unnamed ship. Correction, the Koolest Boat U Know... Oj vey. "Crew of the Koolest Boat U Know, this is the White Death, answering your distress call. Please respond within five minutes to verify that you're still alive, over."
Meanwhile, back in the hold, BN-33 bleeped in his binary language, offering the duffel bag he had stuffed with potatoes to Jet. He then motioned for the man to follow him to the armory.
At the same time, Kovacs' notification panel alerted him to an unknown signal source in system. Checking his fuel levels - they were at 76% - he disengaged his fuel scoop, aiming on course for the signal. When Barney called in the new cargo, he had already dropped from supercruise. It was an average sized vessel, he supposed. Only about seventy metres long, it vaguely reminded him of the Firefly class transports from the early 26th Century.
"Attention, all hands," Kovacs keyed the comms. "We have encountered a vessel in distress. I say this, because I'm about to call them. I figured you'd like to be clued in on why we stopped. Mr. Jackson, there is a big fucking gun in the armory that I've locked to your biometrics. Consider it a gift. Kovacs, out."
The XM-665 was essentially a man portable plasma minigun. It weighed all of thirty-two pounds, and the power packs that allowed for indefinite firing were an additional fifty. Meant for heavy infantry in powered assault armor, Kovacs thought that it fit Jet perfectly.
As long as he got over his hatred of guns, that is. You can never have enough Dakka.
Switching to tightbeam, he piggybacked the distress signal back to the unnamed ship. Correction, the Koolest Boat U Know... Oj vey. "Crew of the Koolest Boat U Know, this is the White Death, answering your distress call. Please respond within five minutes to verify that you're still alive, over."
Meanwhile, back in the hold, BN-33 bleeped in his binary language, offering the duffel bag he had stuffed with potatoes to Jet. He then motioned for the man to follow him to the armory.
For Laurent, he brought something things upon the ship without the others knowing, some of the boxs where part of his plan for them all once that got to Ova's capital planet. However some of the boxs also had random junk, thanks to either madness or just the tinkerer he is wanting something to do since he isn't very welcome around anyway.
The cat was sleeping on the engine deck once the stooges(except Rin) did something horribly wrong with the engine causing the alarms to blare. The cat woke up and made his way to the control panel and hoped on the boxs to have access to it. He was able to turn off the alarms in the cargo bay as he assesses the problem. As he looks at the panel, his ears twitch occasionally as tail dangles from the box he sat on.
There was a reason why they had a wasbot for dammit so things like this won't happen. However there was a reason why Cathorine gave a ship like this to them for a reason. It was not only cheap, but if you knew what you were doing, it was easy to maintain...if you know how to jury rig as well as have the know how on more ancient machinery. She gave them this ship knowing full well that one who can maintain it, was Laurent! In an effort so that they stop stigmatizing the crazy hoot and incorporate him into the group.
From the control panel, he was able to see the problem and indeed they don't have the glass to do the heat transference but hell they just came out of the ship own by the literal master of cold herself. However they do have something else. The cat went down to one of the boxs and began to shuffle some things around till he popped up something from the box, descent size cyclinder with some glowing white stuff inside that was surrounded by reinforced glass as bit of frosty air came out of it. It was an Icy core, a core usually found in Cathorine's ships for auxiliary power, super cooled close to absolute zero inside the reinforced glass.
He drops the core down onto the cargo bay floor with a loud clank yet no damage to it. He hopes down, pulls out a little red trolley that kids would play with from the good old days, reactivated an mouse droid that belonged to Cathorines crew, strapped it to the trolley and then placed the core on the trolley with a wrench, duck tape, and a few bits of scrap metal.
With his ride pimp out and ready to go, he went back up to the control panel and realized he had no way in unsealing the doors, but since he knew is way around this kinda stuff he could do unseal it anyway. After purposely plucking a few wires, the doors would open and no doubt give the stooges a fright and so he knew he had to work fast.
With that, he put on an old hard hat on his head got on trolley and sat and yelled "Mush!" As the mouse droid with its small wheels sped off pulling trolley with cat and junk with him towards the engine room. Hell maybe Rin would be able to see a mouse droid rush passed him pulling a small red trolley with a cat wearing a hard hat and with a glowing white core in the back heading towards the engine room as quick as they can.
The cat was sleeping on the engine deck once the stooges(except Rin) did something horribly wrong with the engine causing the alarms to blare. The cat woke up and made his way to the control panel and hoped on the boxs to have access to it. He was able to turn off the alarms in the cargo bay as he assesses the problem. As he looks at the panel, his ears twitch occasionally as tail dangles from the box he sat on.
There was a reason why they had a wasbot for dammit so things like this won't happen. However there was a reason why Cathorine gave a ship like this to them for a reason. It was not only cheap, but if you knew what you were doing, it was easy to maintain...if you know how to jury rig as well as have the know how on more ancient machinery. She gave them this ship knowing full well that one who can maintain it, was Laurent! In an effort so that they stop stigmatizing the crazy hoot and incorporate him into the group.
From the control panel, he was able to see the problem and indeed they don't have the glass to do the heat transference but hell they just came out of the ship own by the literal master of cold herself. However they do have something else. The cat went down to one of the boxs and began to shuffle some things around till he popped up something from the box, descent size cyclinder with some glowing white stuff inside that was surrounded by reinforced glass as bit of frosty air came out of it. It was an Icy core, a core usually found in Cathorine's ships for auxiliary power, super cooled close to absolute zero inside the reinforced glass.
He drops the core down onto the cargo bay floor with a loud clank yet no damage to it. He hopes down, pulls out a little red trolley that kids would play with from the good old days, reactivated an mouse droid that belonged to Cathorines crew, strapped it to the trolley and then placed the core on the trolley with a wrench, duck tape, and a few bits of scrap metal.
With his ride pimp out and ready to go, he went back up to the control panel and realized he had no way in unsealing the doors, but since he knew is way around this kinda stuff he could do unseal it anyway. After purposely plucking a few wires, the doors would open and no doubt give the stooges a fright and so he knew he had to work fast.
With that, he put on an old hard hat on his head got on trolley and sat and yelled "Mush!" As the mouse droid with its small wheels sped off pulling trolley with cat and junk with him towards the engine room. Hell maybe Rin would be able to see a mouse droid rush passed him pulling a small red trolley with a cat wearing a hard hat and with a glowing white core in the back heading towards the engine room as quick as they can.
"Since when have you had a robot butler!? You made me wash the gym, even though you had robonanny 2000 over here!?" *gesturing over to BN-33*, screamed Jet as he was still in a argumentative and angered mood. Jet curiously followed the robot, eyes still furrowed, like a dog sniffing a bug, until they came to the armory. "Wait, big gun? Biometrics? Eghhhhh.....its a gift, I have to be grateful" thought Jet just before his eyes met the minigun.
Its sleek design along with its almost pulsating energy called to Jet as if he were searching for it his whole life. Like a baby bird accepting a worm from its mother, Jet gingerly pulled the gun from the rack on which its heavenly mantle was held. His eyes lit up as he looked upon the gift, forgetting his previous quarrel with his friend. "Sooo perfec...err...Thanks Kovacs, maybe I could get used to this weapon stuff. I mean everyone else uses one...You are a great friend." Jet shouted in the armory, testing Kovacs's earlier statement that he hears and sees everything on this ship.
"Now about that distressed ship, what was it again? The Koolest Boat U Know? Hahaha, nice name, I like these people already." said Jet as he approached Kovacs, resting his left hand on his should and leaning his head past Kovacs's. "Hey, I'm real sorry for being so angry and yelling earlier, thats no way I should be treating my host. Thanks for being with me through our short friendship, you've taught me to appreciate more than just me and my stuff, but others around me. Thats why I have to leave...I think I need to go with the guys we are rescuing. Our natures just don't mix. Out of respect for you and even Ellen, I will bow out when we are done giving them the screw. Again, thank you, Commander." said Jet as little tears began forming around his eyes. Reaching his hand out for a handshake, Jet took no time in pulling it back and instead give Kovacs, a big manly hug.
Its sleek design along with its almost pulsating energy called to Jet as if he were searching for it his whole life. Like a baby bird accepting a worm from its mother, Jet gingerly pulled the gun from the rack on which its heavenly mantle was held. His eyes lit up as he looked upon the gift, forgetting his previous quarrel with his friend. "Sooo perfec...err...Thanks Kovacs, maybe I could get used to this weapon stuff. I mean everyone else uses one...You are a great friend." Jet shouted in the armory, testing Kovacs's earlier statement that he hears and sees everything on this ship.
"Now about that distressed ship, what was it again? The Koolest Boat U Know? Hahaha, nice name, I like these people already." said Jet as he approached Kovacs, resting his left hand on his should and leaning his head past Kovacs's. "Hey, I'm real sorry for being so angry and yelling earlier, thats no way I should be treating my host. Thanks for being with me through our short friendship, you've taught me to appreciate more than just me and my stuff, but others around me. Thats why I have to leave...I think I need to go with the guys we are rescuing. Our natures just don't mix. Out of respect for you and even Ellen, I will bow out when we are done giving them the screw. Again, thank you, Commander." said Jet as little tears began forming around his eyes. Reaching his hand out for a handshake, Jet took no time in pulling it back and instead give Kovacs, a big manly hug.
Ellen
The spider lady soon woke from her nap after being visited by Kovacs, wiping the drool coming from her mouth. Her eyes blinked a few times as she then stretched her upper body. "Haaa I hadn't had a good nap for awhile" she states as she stretches her chitin legs as she walks out of her room and heads for the bridge. She saw Kovacs and Jet there and she slowly walked towards them, towering over them both as they talk to a ship in distressed.
She remains quiet mostly before speaking up and says "Oh? We gonna help some people?" As her sleepy eyes began to focus as she wakes up more.
The spider lady soon woke from her nap after being visited by Kovacs, wiping the drool coming from her mouth. Her eyes blinked a few times as she then stretched her upper body. "Haaa I hadn't had a good nap for awhile" she states as she stretches her chitin legs as she walks out of her room and heads for the bridge. She saw Kovacs and Jet there and she slowly walked towards them, towering over them both as they talk to a ship in distressed.
She remains quiet mostly before speaking up and says "Oh? We gonna help some people?" As her sleepy eyes began to focus as she wakes up more.
Rin was exasperated.
I knew it! A death trap waiting to happen! he inwardly wailed, his inner turmoil expressed outwardly by the sour expression and almost visible sweatdrop. He rolled his eyes at Tsuan's mock accusation, a smile fighting to make its way across his face, and he made sure to let the soldier know that he was not too seriously put out by a raised eyebrow.
He listened as Sands found and explained the problem they had at hand- popped a screw, he said- and helped out in searching for a spare part.
No luck.
At one point he thought he sensed Montagne passing him by- the almost familiar stabbing at his neck a general annoyance now- but was too busy digging around a container to pay him any mind. After a few more minutes of fruitless searching, he went back to report the bad news.
Sabds seemed understandably stressed as he outlined what it meant to have a missing screw. Auxilary and cooling systems, huh? he thought. Not too bad, but... He didn't like the thought of the ship- this ship, most especially- not being at its finest condition. Or... whatever finest was for the ship.
He went with them as they gathered in the pilot's cabin, listening to the distress call Ty had moments ago recorded and sent out. He bit his lip, holding in another chortle. Who knew Ty had such a raunchy sense of humor?
He'd choked as soon as he'd said the phrase, trying desperately to keep from laughing out loud and ruining the message. It took a valiant amount of effort, and the rest were no better.
Ah well. What's done is done. He hoped there'd be help soon...
I knew it! A death trap waiting to happen! he inwardly wailed, his inner turmoil expressed outwardly by the sour expression and almost visible sweatdrop. He rolled his eyes at Tsuan's mock accusation, a smile fighting to make its way across his face, and he made sure to let the soldier know that he was not too seriously put out by a raised eyebrow.
He listened as Sands found and explained the problem they had at hand- popped a screw, he said- and helped out in searching for a spare part.
No luck.
At one point he thought he sensed Montagne passing him by- the almost familiar stabbing at his neck a general annoyance now- but was too busy digging around a container to pay him any mind. After a few more minutes of fruitless searching, he went back to report the bad news.
Sabds seemed understandably stressed as he outlined what it meant to have a missing screw. Auxilary and cooling systems, huh? he thought. Not too bad, but... He didn't like the thought of the ship- this ship, most especially- not being at its finest condition. Or... whatever finest was for the ship.
He went with them as they gathered in the pilot's cabin, listening to the distress call Ty had moments ago recorded and sent out. He bit his lip, holding in another chortle. Who knew Ty had such a raunchy sense of humor?
He'd choked as soon as he'd said the phrase, trying desperately to keep from laughing out loud and ruining the message. It took a valiant amount of effort, and the rest were no better.
Ah well. What's done is done. He hoped there'd be help soon...
Vermillion Glare
Rya had to pause, staring intently at the mechanical protrusion that Yascra had somehow overlooked as he frowned directly at it. She didn’t follow further, as the red lights made the room sway and lunge at her, knocking the floor from beneath her feet and terrifying her.
So she remained where she was, averting her gaze from the crimson glow, and studying the odd protuberance like it was the most interesting thing she’d seen thus far. Then, with a cautious glance over at Drakis, a loud thundering came from overhead, shaking everything. Of course, this was just her mind making the knocking into something terribly frightening. She felt a cry get trapped in her throat, then covered her ears and shut her eyes, blocking it out. She still felt the world shivering and growling around her like the ship was alive and it hated her.
She pounded her fist against the floor in an attempt to silence the noise, but all it did was grow louder. She could barely hear her own thoughts -- not that she would understand them even if she could hear them.
But just as quick as it was unbearably loud...
...the world was silent again.
Utterly soundless hush and stillness, save for her rasping breath. She wobbled to her feet and stumbled after Drakis and the ghost people, stunned and disoriented. The carmine light still scared her, but not as badly as the shadows it cast now did. Not as badly as any noise seemed to.
The slightest of sounds that any other person’s mind wouldn’t even register, would make her jump. If anyone started to speak before the door was opened, she would shush them. It was almost like there was a monster prowling in the dark, one that only she could see, and it would find them if they made any noise.
All of this, of course, was merely the figment of a broken mind, a disconnect from the actuality of the world. If she could, she would wish for the better existence -- the one where everyone she’d ever known was dead, but she had a chance to go home. Instead, she had this existence, where everything could turn into a terror beyond comprehension at any moment. She could only hope that the next thing to turn wouldn’t be her friend.
Regret was no longer in her mind, nor was sorrow. It was only fear, basic instinct and child-like logic which kept her safe from dangers with no shape and no face.
Light scared the monsters away, and silence made them blind.
As the terror of the vermillion glare faded, she knew what she had to do. Her eyes shifted slowly from Drakis to the two ghost people, then back again, down to his hip where she knew he had his gun.
She had to get it from him and end this horror. This wasn't real, and nobody dies in a dream. They just wake up. Rya was a soldier. She was. No matter what, that would always be true. Which meant that this would just be seppuku, with a crazy-Martian twist.
Rya had to pause, staring intently at the mechanical protrusion that Yascra had somehow overlooked as he frowned directly at it. She didn’t follow further, as the red lights made the room sway and lunge at her, knocking the floor from beneath her feet and terrifying her.
So she remained where she was, averting her gaze from the crimson glow, and studying the odd protuberance like it was the most interesting thing she’d seen thus far. Then, with a cautious glance over at Drakis, a loud thundering came from overhead, shaking everything. Of course, this was just her mind making the knocking into something terribly frightening. She felt a cry get trapped in her throat, then covered her ears and shut her eyes, blocking it out. She still felt the world shivering and growling around her like the ship was alive and it hated her.
She pounded her fist against the floor in an attempt to silence the noise, but all it did was grow louder. She could barely hear her own thoughts -- not that she would understand them even if she could hear them.
But just as quick as it was unbearably loud...
...the world was silent again.
Utterly soundless hush and stillness, save for her rasping breath. She wobbled to her feet and stumbled after Drakis and the ghost people, stunned and disoriented. The carmine light still scared her, but not as badly as the shadows it cast now did. Not as badly as any noise seemed to.
The slightest of sounds that any other person’s mind wouldn’t even register, would make her jump. If anyone started to speak before the door was opened, she would shush them. It was almost like there was a monster prowling in the dark, one that only she could see, and it would find them if they made any noise.
All of this, of course, was merely the figment of a broken mind, a disconnect from the actuality of the world. If she could, she would wish for the better existence -- the one where everyone she’d ever known was dead, but she had a chance to go home. Instead, she had this existence, where everything could turn into a terror beyond comprehension at any moment. She could only hope that the next thing to turn wouldn’t be her friend.
Regret was no longer in her mind, nor was sorrow. It was only fear, basic instinct and child-like logic which kept her safe from dangers with no shape and no face.
Light scared the monsters away, and silence made them blind.
As the terror of the vermillion glare faded, she knew what she had to do. Her eyes shifted slowly from Drakis to the two ghost people, then back again, down to his hip where she knew he had his gun.
She had to get it from him and end this horror. This wasn't real, and nobody dies in a dream. They just wake up. Rya was a soldier. She was. No matter what, that would always be true. Which meant that this would just be seppuku, with a crazy-Martian twist.
In her mind, she heard a soft ding.
✧ New Objective ✧
✧ New Objective ✧
The Koolest Boat U Know
Not long had passed since the five of them had settled down in the pilots’ cabin. There was about them no sense of anxiety or peril, but mere frustration – and fairly good humored frustration, at that – this was more of a nuisance than a serious issue. Worst case scenario, they would be forced to resort to a long-range transmission back to the Skadi and request aid from there..And have a stern talk with the Boss over using shoddy equipment.
Screws busted all the time – any reasonably stocked vessel would have had two or three spares, and it was the sort of thing that one could reasonably expect to have without checking for them. The things were cheap and in abundance, considering every major brand of stardrive used them. Plus, they were in a high-traffic area, even taking into account that the whole Galaxy was a high-traffic area.
While it would not be a pleasant experience having to rendezvous with another ship for aid, the risk was easily calculated. The state of the Galaxy was, in general, relatively peaceful – if only because it was terribly difficult to get away with being evil unless backed by a planetary force. There was little room for ‘raiders’ or ‘reavers’ or wandering psychopaths in a Galaxy dominated by triplanetary alliances. They certainly did exist, and in great numbers – but not great enough to pose any threat to the average vessel, and certainly not this close to the Galactic Centre. Out at the end of the spiral arms might have been a different story – but not here.
So they waited in decent spirits. It didn’t take long for something to go wrong, of course – there was the baleful chirp of an error notification on the console, and Dallen leaned in closer to check on it. One of the seals had been broken – the inner cargo bay door. The four exchanged ’oops’ looks, remembering only now that Laurent had been in there.
Oh well.
He was probably doing something stupid, but nobody was in the mood to go manually unlatching the seals one by one and going to look for him. If there had actually been a hull breach, or some other serious problem, the seal breaking would have really shaken them all – but as it was, they just shrugged it off.
And then, much to their general delight, they received a response.
”Read you, White Death.” Came the response – it was an easy, vaguely Asiatic voice. In the background, a burst of laughter could be heard. ”PPFFFWhite Death what kind of edgy-“ “Dude shut up they can hear you!” “Yeah but-“ It was followed by the sound of someone getting shoved, as Sands went about brutishly removing Tsuan from the cabin.
Unperturbed, Ty went on as if he had not heard it. ”Your response is appreciated. We’re not in too bad shape, but we’re going to need a spare screw if we want to move faster than a tugboat. We can pay for it.”
The only problem now was that it was highly unlikely that the White Death’s pilot would have any idea what a ‘screw’ was. His vessel used a vastly different method of faster-than-light travel, after all. It also begged the question of whether or not he would have one on the ship, since it wouldn’t be compatible with his rig.
But the crew of the Koolest Ship U Know didn’t know any of that.
As T’yzfir continued to communicate with the White Death, Tsuan and Sands went about unsealing the doors necessary to reach the entry port – still none the wiser to Laurent’s antics. Dallen would prove surprisingly deft in the endeavor of connecting the ships – so that by the time contact was made, Tsuan, Ty and Sands would all be waiting at the door. Ty was – as customary for this kind of situation – unarmed. Tsuan had a sidearm holstered at his hip, and Sands was casually leaning propped up on some kind of bulky rifle. The idea was widely taken for granted that; 1: Nobody in their right mind would fire a weapon inside a starship, especially a small one like this and 2: In the unlikely event of a firefight, they wouldn’t be entirely helpless.
It wasn’t so much as a precautionary measure as it was a formality – a silent acknowledgement of the sovereign rights of each party to defend themselves. Ty being unarmed was a casual show of goodwill – again, more of a formality than a serious effort.
This kind of thing was always a little bit stressful – but that didn’t mean any of them had to get stressed over it.
Not long had passed since the five of them had settled down in the pilots’ cabin. There was about them no sense of anxiety or peril, but mere frustration – and fairly good humored frustration, at that – this was more of a nuisance than a serious issue. Worst case scenario, they would be forced to resort to a long-range transmission back to the Skadi and request aid from there..And have a stern talk with the Boss over using shoddy equipment.
Screws busted all the time – any reasonably stocked vessel would have had two or three spares, and it was the sort of thing that one could reasonably expect to have without checking for them. The things were cheap and in abundance, considering every major brand of stardrive used them. Plus, they were in a high-traffic area, even taking into account that the whole Galaxy was a high-traffic area.
While it would not be a pleasant experience having to rendezvous with another ship for aid, the risk was easily calculated. The state of the Galaxy was, in general, relatively peaceful – if only because it was terribly difficult to get away with being evil unless backed by a planetary force. There was little room for ‘raiders’ or ‘reavers’ or wandering psychopaths in a Galaxy dominated by triplanetary alliances. They certainly did exist, and in great numbers – but not great enough to pose any threat to the average vessel, and certainly not this close to the Galactic Centre. Out at the end of the spiral arms might have been a different story – but not here.
So they waited in decent spirits. It didn’t take long for something to go wrong, of course – there was the baleful chirp of an error notification on the console, and Dallen leaned in closer to check on it. One of the seals had been broken – the inner cargo bay door. The four exchanged ’oops’ looks, remembering only now that Laurent had been in there.
Oh well.
He was probably doing something stupid, but nobody was in the mood to go manually unlatching the seals one by one and going to look for him. If there had actually been a hull breach, or some other serious problem, the seal breaking would have really shaken them all – but as it was, they just shrugged it off.
And then, much to their general delight, they received a response.
”Read you, White Death.” Came the response – it was an easy, vaguely Asiatic voice. In the background, a burst of laughter could be heard. ”PPFFFWhite Death what kind of edgy-“ “Dude shut up they can hear you!” “Yeah but-“ It was followed by the sound of someone getting shoved, as Sands went about brutishly removing Tsuan from the cabin.
Unperturbed, Ty went on as if he had not heard it. ”Your response is appreciated. We’re not in too bad shape, but we’re going to need a spare screw if we want to move faster than a tugboat. We can pay for it.”
The only problem now was that it was highly unlikely that the White Death’s pilot would have any idea what a ‘screw’ was. His vessel used a vastly different method of faster-than-light travel, after all. It also begged the question of whether or not he would have one on the ship, since it wouldn’t be compatible with his rig.
But the crew of the Koolest Ship U Know didn’t know any of that.
As T’yzfir continued to communicate with the White Death, Tsuan and Sands went about unsealing the doors necessary to reach the entry port – still none the wiser to Laurent’s antics. Dallen would prove surprisingly deft in the endeavor of connecting the ships – so that by the time contact was made, Tsuan, Ty and Sands would all be waiting at the door. Ty was – as customary for this kind of situation – unarmed. Tsuan had a sidearm holstered at his hip, and Sands was casually leaning propped up on some kind of bulky rifle. The idea was widely taken for granted that; 1: Nobody in their right mind would fire a weapon inside a starship, especially a small one like this and 2: In the unlikely event of a firefight, they wouldn’t be entirely helpless.
It wasn’t so much as a precautionary measure as it was a formality – a silent acknowledgement of the sovereign rights of each party to defend themselves. Ty being unarmed was a casual show of goodwill – again, more of a formality than a serious effort.
This kind of thing was always a little bit stressful – but that didn’t mean any of them had to get stressed over it.
White Death
"That won't be necessary, Koolest. And for the record, White Death is a suitable name for a two hundred metre warship outfitted with enough weaponry to make even one of your Federation's Dreadnoughts think twice," Kovacs activated the automated docking sequence, allowing his ship to extend the universal umbilical to their transfer port.
Once standing, he allowed Jet to say his piece before he was caught off guard by the hug. Tentatively, he pat the big man on the back. "Don't mention it, Jet," he used his first name. "And for the record, Barney is not a robot butler. He's a third generation Special Tactics and Reconnaissance drone, specialized for combat."
Turning to Ellen, he nodded. "They need something called an Absolute Zero Electronic Transducer slash Capacitor. Or colloquially, a screw. Keeps their power stable, or something. I just need to get my hands on the remains of their busted one, and we're set."
Kovacs grabbed his Devotion on the way out, telling Ellen to stay on the bridge and learn how to fly using the simulators at the Navigation Console. Meanwhile, he took Jet and his new best friend to the same airlock they met in. "Koolest Boat U Know, this is White Death. We are prepped and ready for docking, on your go ahead, over." The moment of truth, where the commander would meet whatever it was on the other side. This time, he had Jet to back him up, and he found that he trusted the strange man with a big gun to watch his back.
He probably should mention that said big fucking gun could chew a hole in through the hull of the other ship in ten seconds flat...
"That won't be necessary, Koolest. And for the record, White Death is a suitable name for a two hundred metre warship outfitted with enough weaponry to make even one of your Federation's Dreadnoughts think twice," Kovacs activated the automated docking sequence, allowing his ship to extend the universal umbilical to their transfer port.
Once standing, he allowed Jet to say his piece before he was caught off guard by the hug. Tentatively, he pat the big man on the back. "Don't mention it, Jet," he used his first name. "And for the record, Barney is not a robot butler. He's a third generation Special Tactics and Reconnaissance drone, specialized for combat."
Turning to Ellen, he nodded. "They need something called an Absolute Zero Electronic Transducer slash Capacitor. Or colloquially, a screw. Keeps their power stable, or something. I just need to get my hands on the remains of their busted one, and we're set."
Kovacs grabbed his Devotion on the way out, telling Ellen to stay on the bridge and learn how to fly using the simulators at the Navigation Console. Meanwhile, he took Jet and his new best friend to the same airlock they met in. "Koolest Boat U Know, this is White Death. We are prepped and ready for docking, on your go ahead, over." The moment of truth, where the commander would meet whatever it was on the other side. This time, he had Jet to back him up, and he found that he trusted the strange man with a big gun to watch his back.
He probably should mention that said big fucking gun could chew a hole in through the hull of the other ship in ten seconds flat...
Stella
Caru remained quiet for the duration as the group made their way towards the good Doctor. Even though mostly bubbly and happy, however the events that are happening outside in the over world as well as happening within the Stella are taking its toll on the friendly Lord. Caru, slowed himself as he felt this turning feeling in his chest, falling behind from the group. At first pain of sadness and despair, came from when Arena was slain in cold blood. He doesn’t know about, but ends up collapsing to the ground as the rest went ahead, hunched over in pain as tears began to roll down his face, yet he had no idea.
Another ripple went through his body was the occurrence that happened on the ship, it was very much a familiar feeling, and however the feeling was more discomfort than pain. In his gut though he had the feeling of helplessness as that little event between the mysterious stranger and Aylen happen, yet unknown to him. “I’m I sick?” he asks himself as he looks up to see no one. Once more as he was flung into the void he was alone. No doubt by the time the group arrived to the dungeon like door, they would have notice there missing member.
Oddly enough as he got back on his feet and wiped away the tears away from his face, he heard a voice in his head. It was that of a stranger’s voice, but the tone of how it spoke was malicious and obvious not up to no good. “Hmmm, what an interesting development, no doubt my Lordship would love to hear about another one of her kind showing” it said drawing its words out. Caru looked around frantically seeing where these voices are coming from. “Hm odd…I am unable to possess you…too good for damn yourself…maybe I’ll need Vandell to do this one instead of influencing that damn fox boy” it spoke to itself as a black humanoid mass appeared on the other end of the hall. Like others of its kind, it flickered like a black flame and stared at the friendly lord with its glowing red eyes. This dark acolyte, appearing on the Stella within Not space is a bit odd, but like in darkness as well as in not space there is nothing, just black emptiness. Plus these beings also traverse the similar realm of the Void which would make their transition into the Notspace a seamless one. The slight problem is that these “Dark Spirits” cannot become in tune with Notspace and so are much weaker in NotSpace than in the regular space…besides Nocturnus since of his direct exposure to it which would have killed any other Dark Spirit. Since in a much weaker state, they aren’t as aggressive, plus as an unknown ally towards Aylen why would they be?
The being spoke once more and said “I can’t wait till you see the state of this verse…soon it will fall upon our Lord’s control and you nor anyone can stop her” Caru looks at the being with dumbfounded and asks “Who is your master then?” The being chuckled “Lord Ova” Caru’s eyes went wide as he rushed towards the being and says “Lord Ova! She’s the Lord of the Undead, but you are not living nor dead!” the red eyes merely stared at Caru and answered “And Lord of Darkness…you have been away for a long time, Caru Llywellyn…let me pick you up to speed in what you missed…as ordered by Lord Ova herself who detected as soon as you came out of the Void” As he snatches the little device from the Lord and squeezes it, he then presents it to Caru as if to shake is large talon hand. Even though his gut instinct was yelling at him not to take it back, but he knew he can resist whatever the being was going to throw at him. As his hand made contact with his little device that the Dark Spirit holds, it all came flooding into him all the info that he missed ever since he was tossed into the void. It was so much info, but Caru was able to take this overload of information. After a few moments, he collapsed onto his knees in the middle of the hall as streams of tears came rolling down his face getting all of this new info and hearing the realities of what is happening now. As for the Dark Spirit, he was nowhere to be seen
Caru remained quiet for the duration as the group made their way towards the good Doctor. Even though mostly bubbly and happy, however the events that are happening outside in the over world as well as happening within the Stella are taking its toll on the friendly Lord. Caru, slowed himself as he felt this turning feeling in his chest, falling behind from the group. At first pain of sadness and despair, came from when Arena was slain in cold blood. He doesn’t know about, but ends up collapsing to the ground as the rest went ahead, hunched over in pain as tears began to roll down his face, yet he had no idea.
Another ripple went through his body was the occurrence that happened on the ship, it was very much a familiar feeling, and however the feeling was more discomfort than pain. In his gut though he had the feeling of helplessness as that little event between the mysterious stranger and Aylen happen, yet unknown to him. “I’m I sick?” he asks himself as he looks up to see no one. Once more as he was flung into the void he was alone. No doubt by the time the group arrived to the dungeon like door, they would have notice there missing member.
Oddly enough as he got back on his feet and wiped away the tears away from his face, he heard a voice in his head. It was that of a stranger’s voice, but the tone of how it spoke was malicious and obvious not up to no good. “Hmmm, what an interesting development, no doubt my Lordship would love to hear about another one of her kind showing” it said drawing its words out. Caru looked around frantically seeing where these voices are coming from. “Hm odd…I am unable to possess you…too good for damn yourself…maybe I’ll need Vandell to do this one instead of influencing that damn fox boy” it spoke to itself as a black humanoid mass appeared on the other end of the hall. Like others of its kind, it flickered like a black flame and stared at the friendly lord with its glowing red eyes. This dark acolyte, appearing on the Stella within Not space is a bit odd, but like in darkness as well as in not space there is nothing, just black emptiness. Plus these beings also traverse the similar realm of the Void which would make their transition into the Notspace a seamless one. The slight problem is that these “Dark Spirits” cannot become in tune with Notspace and so are much weaker in NotSpace than in the regular space…besides Nocturnus since of his direct exposure to it which would have killed any other Dark Spirit. Since in a much weaker state, they aren’t as aggressive, plus as an unknown ally towards Aylen why would they be?
The being spoke once more and said “I can’t wait till you see the state of this verse…soon it will fall upon our Lord’s control and you nor anyone can stop her” Caru looks at the being with dumbfounded and asks “Who is your master then?” The being chuckled “Lord Ova” Caru’s eyes went wide as he rushed towards the being and says “Lord Ova! She’s the Lord of the Undead, but you are not living nor dead!” the red eyes merely stared at Caru and answered “And Lord of Darkness…you have been away for a long time, Caru Llywellyn…let me pick you up to speed in what you missed…as ordered by Lord Ova herself who detected as soon as you came out of the Void” As he snatches the little device from the Lord and squeezes it, he then presents it to Caru as if to shake is large talon hand. Even though his gut instinct was yelling at him not to take it back, but he knew he can resist whatever the being was going to throw at him. As his hand made contact with his little device that the Dark Spirit holds, it all came flooding into him all the info that he missed ever since he was tossed into the void. It was so much info, but Caru was able to take this overload of information. After a few moments, he collapsed onto his knees in the middle of the hall as streams of tears came rolling down his face getting all of this new info and hearing the realities of what is happening now. As for the Dark Spirit, he was nowhere to be seen
The clatter of security boots began to cloud Arnaldo's thoughts as he tried thinking through the situation. "What a $%&@-show this had been..." thought Arnaldo as he limped ahead, towards his room. He had decided against following Ketin, realizing he probably needed some space, so time to think, not a gun crazy old-nut who put too much faith in a person he had just met. "Again, this is what I get for putting myself out there...".
Before he reached the hallway that led to his room, and subsequently everyone else's, he halted by security. Since the electricity was cut prior, they had no idea who was shooting who, all they saw were multiple dead men, and a man holding a large caliber hand gun. They turned him around, taking possession of his gun and beginning to hand-cuff him. Arnaldo showed no resistance, he was tired of running, making friends, being betrayed, and running again. It was the end of the line for him.
"You've got the wrong guy, sir" "Yea he tried to help...I think" "So did the others!" "Its him and his lackies", said bystanders as the crowd began to murmur, the last remark being a reference to Cesare.
After calming the crowd down, the officials began to question the portion of people who weren't carried away to intensive care. Releasing Arnaldo and giving his weapon back, they sat him down, the chief of security probing him for info on the incident. They first asked questions about maybe a cause to the whole things, then asked how many he had hurt, how many the others had hurt, and how many Cesare and his men hurt.
"If I tell you what you want, will you leave me alone?...Oh and this was all in self defense" said Arnaldo in a exasperated tone. "Oh and while you are checking up on the angel looking man, make sure to tell him that the old-space coot will buy him a burger if he is ok, what he did took some balls..."
Before he reached the hallway that led to his room, and subsequently everyone else's, he halted by security. Since the electricity was cut prior, they had no idea who was shooting who, all they saw were multiple dead men, and a man holding a large caliber hand gun. They turned him around, taking possession of his gun and beginning to hand-cuff him. Arnaldo showed no resistance, he was tired of running, making friends, being betrayed, and running again. It was the end of the line for him.
"You've got the wrong guy, sir" "Yea he tried to help...I think" "So did the others!" "Its him and his lackies", said bystanders as the crowd began to murmur, the last remark being a reference to Cesare.
After calming the crowd down, the officials began to question the portion of people who weren't carried away to intensive care. Releasing Arnaldo and giving his weapon back, they sat him down, the chief of security probing him for info on the incident. They first asked questions about maybe a cause to the whole things, then asked how many he had hurt, how many the others had hurt, and how many Cesare and his men hurt.
"If I tell you what you want, will you leave me alone?...Oh and this was all in self defense" said Arnaldo in a exasperated tone. "Oh and while you are checking up on the angel looking man, make sure to tell him that the old-space coot will buy him a burger if he is ok, what he did took some balls..."
Packing the massive weapon inside of his, what seemed like, limitless duffel bag, with all of his other belongings, Jet was hesitant with using his newly gifted weapon. There was a difference between fighting someone in a one on one bout, with the victor being chosen on skill, and using a machine of pure annihilation. Martial arts improves ones being, it gives them a sense of oneness with them and their movements, a fluidity of mind and body, something a weapon could never assure a person of. Jet took this to heart when it came to deciding many things within his life, and it is the reason he is still alive. So when presented something that could decimate an entire herd of Kylonian bison, he felt a detachedness from it. His desire and greed over took his initial thought process, initiating the insatiable love for it he had at first sight.
Thinking back to it, Jet began to wonder if his own mental state had begun to deteriorate, if all of these jumps, fights, and gambles had done anything to change the Jet that had left his father those many years ago. His mind started to daydream waiting for the ships to interlock, and visions of his father started to fly around inside his head. He repeatedly asked this vision of his father he had hallucinated up, if he had really changed, and if it was a good idea to force himself onto this new ship, if they even accepted him. "Son, the reason I even let you leave me and your home was to make experiences just like these! To make new friends, to leave old ones, and to search for all that is out there! You haven't changed in a bad sense, you've grown, a couple of days ago you were punching Kovacs in the stomach and grumbling about cleaning, now you stand behind him, ready for whatever is going to be on the other side of that door. Keep going, and never doubt yourself, even for a second." said Father as Jet started to pull back into reality. He now looked intently at the door, with a sense of curiosity, caution, and a rekindled feeling of adventure.
The door began to slide open with a satisfying hiss, the different temperatures of each ship and the newly supplied oxygen to the umbilical making a slight fog, only adding to Jets feeling of curiosity and adventure. His mind raced with all of the life forms that could be on the other side. They sounded human enough over the comms, but Jet never trusted voices over appearance. The only time he chose sound over sight was when he wanted the other party to not notice his presence. He started to walk forward towards the door, duffel slung over his shoulder. "Hello?"
Thinking back to it, Jet began to wonder if his own mental state had begun to deteriorate, if all of these jumps, fights, and gambles had done anything to change the Jet that had left his father those many years ago. His mind started to daydream waiting for the ships to interlock, and visions of his father started to fly around inside his head. He repeatedly asked this vision of his father he had hallucinated up, if he had really changed, and if it was a good idea to force himself onto this new ship, if they even accepted him. "Son, the reason I even let you leave me and your home was to make experiences just like these! To make new friends, to leave old ones, and to search for all that is out there! You haven't changed in a bad sense, you've grown, a couple of days ago you were punching Kovacs in the stomach and grumbling about cleaning, now you stand behind him, ready for whatever is going to be on the other side of that door. Keep going, and never doubt yourself, even for a second." said Father as Jet started to pull back into reality. He now looked intently at the door, with a sense of curiosity, caution, and a rekindled feeling of adventure.
The door began to slide open with a satisfying hiss, the different temperatures of each ship and the newly supplied oxygen to the umbilical making a slight fog, only adding to Jets feeling of curiosity and adventure. His mind raced with all of the life forms that could be on the other side. They sounded human enough over the comms, but Jet never trusted voices over appearance. The only time he chose sound over sight was when he wanted the other party to not notice his presence. He started to walk forward towards the door, duffel slung over his shoulder. "Hello?"
Christofer still wouldn't be getting fully on board with her. He was stubborn. And curious. Not a healthy combination in some cases, but he was just more than eager to know things. He had been waiting for quite a while for a chance to get to where they were going. It would have answered so much. He really wanted to know...
And in his mind, really, Royanna should have been more than capable of holding herself together. He saw her as being balanced when it came to things like this, able to keep calm but there was also a human aspect there, hidden or not.
But supposedly she could crumble and put those thoughts to ruin. He wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. Answers or humanity? Both, but did he really have to choose just one? Regardless of how it ended, he'd like to see Royanna as being worth the trouble. Surely the federation whatever would too. She just needed time... ...... Surely that was it...
But if she was going to give up, then she might as well give up on all of it. It was a choice not too much unlike his. To stay or get rid of it all, All of it. And she was clearly struggling with that decision at the moment.
Hard times...
He was starting to notice things now that the atmosphere was calmer and he had started to feel better. It was becoming more apparent that Kallenger had trouble acting and responding in any way at all when it came to a couple of things. He could admit that he had accidentally gone too far himself, the finger hadn't needed to touch, but it seemed like it did anyway. That was on him. But when things went further, with the whole hugging and leaning situation, that's where things became more apparent again. He could have moved her arms for her, as if to say 'this is what you should do' or just 'could do', but no, he wouldn't be doing that. People had their ways and they were different. It was best that she learn it on her own, it'd mean more that way.
And this meant lot already.
Some pressure on his back and that shift to get a more comfortable position for himself was indeed needed, but he appreciated that she found it in her to trust him this much. This was ok. And the silence was ok too, gave him some time to relax and empty his mind. He wanted to know many things, everything, but now just simply did not seem to be the time for that.
So instead, he'd have to be fine with other things. Perhaps drop the curiosity in change for some offered shared body heat and closed eyes. That should help, both of them. He felt so useless for all of this. He couldn't solve anything and only made Royanna feel uncomfortable while he kept asking things. The silent moment would help a little in apology. He was no field medic by any means, not a medic at all. But a supporter, that he was, and he'd just have to rely on it easing, patching up and healing their current relationship, as well as the atmosphere that hat gotten more pressuring and was slowly lifting as it was.
He did dare breaking it by asking for the shower though, and... It was a... Success? Or was it denied? He really couldn't tell. Letting go of the woman and sitting straight, as straight as he could, while looking back at Royanna had him be uncertain of the answer he received. Of course he needed to ask, othervice she would have been angry. Especially if he just up and left without saying anything and would then need to explain himself. It was just so clear that things could have gone many ways. Certainly so.
"Let's. ...not use the bucket... Ok...?" Started kinda sharply, softening up as he went on. Partly he was glad that for having hid the bucket. Royanna sure did not mean any harm, she barely knew how these kinds of things worked, but it would have been rather embarrassing to... .... Just.... Wash oneself with the aid of a bucket... If there was no shortage or, or... Any and all of that stuff... Bare skin was still a bit of an awkward thing, and he wasn't quite sure if Kallenger registered much of it, considering that she probably saw a dog and fur, where as Christofer felt bare and nude. He was going to feel unsafe in the shower too, after the dirt and blood would be washed away, making it even clearer to his senses that there was nothing covering him. And he'd rather not have someone staring at him while he was at it. Maybe he should talk about it..? Just a little straighter? Now that the situation wasn't as on its toes as it had been.
"I am not a kid. It is... Kinda degrading if you think that I should be washing myself with a bucket and a sponge rather than a shower if there is a chance for it..." He was avoiding eye contact for the time being, as if the subject would have made them a little distant from each other. It certainly was a new and alienating one whenever he thought of it. It was hard to grasp. "I am not a pet." Would be better if he had never had to even speak those words out loud, but he partly felt as if it was necessary to say them as he got up from the cot and started heading towards the door with his own two legs and feet. It was something she needed to understand, and this was a way of saying it straight, not too harshly or bluntly, just something that she'd understand easily, he hoped. Best to get out of there now, let them both be alone for a while.
"Ok... I'll try to manage with my fingers then, try to get through my fur, somehow..." Stopping to reply to the other matter just before he'd leave the room. Head was tipped so that his eyes were on the roof, testing how well he was doing, but it would also mask away a sigh as he lowered his head again and left.
As for the singing? Yeah, he did not really feel for it at the moment. Probably for the best that she had called no on it and that he wouldn't sing. It was good he had his speaking voice back and didn't need to constantly whisper when wording something out.
If it had helped the situation and she would have requested it he'd probably have done it though. Because what were times without sacrifices? Would have degraded him a bit but...
He'd make his way to the other room smooth and silent then, not taking support of the wall until he had gotten across the hall and to the point where his bare feet could feel the carpet having changed. Would also be nice to make sure that Royanna wasn't watching, so he took the extra step on closing the door behind himself, not closing it fully, but enough so that it'd block anyone from seeing into the room. He was alone now and for the first time he really felt like he needed the private time.
Making his way a little further, noting that there were indeed some clothes on the bed without putting any more thoughts on them, he'd start taking off his clothes. He wanted to get to that shower pronto, putting too many thoughts into everything was only going to unnecessarily slow him down. Just having come to the realization that he was half naked as was gave him a reason to shiver. Enough for him to hold his arms crossed in front of himself while he brushed over himself to feel a little warmer, curling some too to feel safer. He did not like it, but there had been no chances to talk it over. And judging by the strange feeling on his shoulder, there might be an acceptable reason behind all of it. But that was all side trailing now.
In a hurry, yet moving slowly, canid still had the time for the habit of folding his clothes neatly, in this case pretty much only his pants, but they were still left nicely rather than thrown all around.
Once finally reaching the shower, Christofer wished that there had been options to change the lighting, all of this was too bright for him, so bright that he covered his eyes the moment he slid the door out of his way and took the first steps in, leaving behind himself some dirty footsteps as the floor was still a little wet after the last time it had been used. At least they'd keep him awake, supposedly. Other hand gave him support as he took some more careful steps, didn't want to slip, and when he first reached the shower itself, his first move after having turned it on to a soft flow, was to sit down under it and let himself breath.
Sure differed from the last time. Did he even remember how a shower felt like? Or was this that much different? He couldn't even tell anymore. The sound it made was strange, and the enhanced feeling after he closed his eyes, having crossed his arms over knees... It was all so strange... Conflicting...
Sure enough, even with his eyes closed he'd feel bare and insecure, cold even. Arms tightened their hold over and around his knees, head pressed down further, making him smaller and smaller while tail curled around himself... All before he let out a yelp at the strange feeling of water dripping down his face, following the sharp sting of having it hit the back of his head, where the bleeding - other than the shoulder - had originated. It had him jump. He didn't like the pain, nor did he want water in his eyes. He had yet to locate a towel, so to avoid such scenario of losing his eyes, he'd lean forward and tilt his head so that the water that had gotten on it would not reach or run over his eyes.
Releasing his knees, he'd brush off the water, send it on another path down and finally opened his eyes. The sight of grey water, streaming and flowing with some red swirls on it... He'd just look at them for a while, not really thinking much. Not much to muse over. He had seen enough blood to not really care about it, and the amount of dirt he'd shed like this was more than enough to pass the point of being puzzling.
Slowly, he'd finally start rubbing the dirt off himself instead of letting the water do all the work. He felt heavy, and having it be fur instead of skin was so strange. How should he do this? Rubbing with his palms? Scratch with his fingers? He wasn't sure, so after increasing the pressure slightly he'd try both, scrubbing off the worst and then taking his fingers through it all. All the while avoiding the injured spots of course, he wasn't ready for them just yet. The canid tried to take care of his tail first, having it be like an example on how to work with things. Then came the shoulders, torso... He'd not stand up, staying comfortably on the floor instead and covering himself with that tail whenever he saw the need to do so.
Lessening the water pressure again once he found enough strength to finally stand up, Christofer was extremely careful when it came to washing his face and the back of his head. Never having even thought of how strange the ears felt, the rest of the scalp wasn't too bad - whenever it wasn't stinging to the point where his face was wrinkling and with fangs showing he fought back the whimpers.
At some point, he'd feel something detaching itself from the back of his neck, being strange enough to give him a reason to open his eyes and look down to the floor to see what it had been. He had fought against the matted fur for a while now, so it being yet another chunk of it would not have been that strange. Though upon spotting some small object instead, he couldn't help but to blink a couple of times before placing his foot down before it to prevent it from slipping into the drain. Picking it up and observing it, he'd not recognize what it was.
What should he do with it?
.......
Well, for now, finishing the shower was his priority. He'd not want to stay naked for long, so without much debating, the canid brought the small object to the side, near the door, from where he'd later pick it up once he'd start cleaning the floor.
And in his mind, really, Royanna should have been more than capable of holding herself together. He saw her as being balanced when it came to things like this, able to keep calm but there was also a human aspect there, hidden or not.
But supposedly she could crumble and put those thoughts to ruin. He wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. Answers or humanity? Both, but did he really have to choose just one? Regardless of how it ended, he'd like to see Royanna as being worth the trouble. Surely the federation whatever would too. She just needed time... ...... Surely that was it...
But if she was going to give up, then she might as well give up on all of it. It was a choice not too much unlike his. To stay or get rid of it all, All of it. And she was clearly struggling with that decision at the moment.
Hard times...
He was starting to notice things now that the atmosphere was calmer and he had started to feel better. It was becoming more apparent that Kallenger had trouble acting and responding in any way at all when it came to a couple of things. He could admit that he had accidentally gone too far himself, the finger hadn't needed to touch, but it seemed like it did anyway. That was on him. But when things went further, with the whole hugging and leaning situation, that's where things became more apparent again. He could have moved her arms for her, as if to say 'this is what you should do' or just 'could do', but no, he wouldn't be doing that. People had their ways and they were different. It was best that she learn it on her own, it'd mean more that way.
And this meant lot already.
Some pressure on his back and that shift to get a more comfortable position for himself was indeed needed, but he appreciated that she found it in her to trust him this much. This was ok. And the silence was ok too, gave him some time to relax and empty his mind. He wanted to know many things, everything, but now just simply did not seem to be the time for that.
So instead, he'd have to be fine with other things. Perhaps drop the curiosity in change for some offered shared body heat and closed eyes. That should help, both of them. He felt so useless for all of this. He couldn't solve anything and only made Royanna feel uncomfortable while he kept asking things. The silent moment would help a little in apology. He was no field medic by any means, not a medic at all. But a supporter, that he was, and he'd just have to rely on it easing, patching up and healing their current relationship, as well as the atmosphere that hat gotten more pressuring and was slowly lifting as it was.
He did dare breaking it by asking for the shower though, and... It was a... Success? Or was it denied? He really couldn't tell. Letting go of the woman and sitting straight, as straight as he could, while looking back at Royanna had him be uncertain of the answer he received. Of course he needed to ask, othervice she would have been angry. Especially if he just up and left without saying anything and would then need to explain himself. It was just so clear that things could have gone many ways. Certainly so.
"Let's. ...not use the bucket... Ok...?" Started kinda sharply, softening up as he went on. Partly he was glad that for having hid the bucket. Royanna sure did not mean any harm, she barely knew how these kinds of things worked, but it would have been rather embarrassing to... .... Just.... Wash oneself with the aid of a bucket... If there was no shortage or, or... Any and all of that stuff... Bare skin was still a bit of an awkward thing, and he wasn't quite sure if Kallenger registered much of it, considering that she probably saw a dog and fur, where as Christofer felt bare and nude. He was going to feel unsafe in the shower too, after the dirt and blood would be washed away, making it even clearer to his senses that there was nothing covering him. And he'd rather not have someone staring at him while he was at it. Maybe he should talk about it..? Just a little straighter? Now that the situation wasn't as on its toes as it had been.
"I am not a kid. It is... Kinda degrading if you think that I should be washing myself with a bucket and a sponge rather than a shower if there is a chance for it..." He was avoiding eye contact for the time being, as if the subject would have made them a little distant from each other. It certainly was a new and alienating one whenever he thought of it. It was hard to grasp. "I am not a pet." Would be better if he had never had to even speak those words out loud, but he partly felt as if it was necessary to say them as he got up from the cot and started heading towards the door with his own two legs and feet. It was something she needed to understand, and this was a way of saying it straight, not too harshly or bluntly, just something that she'd understand easily, he hoped. Best to get out of there now, let them both be alone for a while.
"Ok... I'll try to manage with my fingers then, try to get through my fur, somehow..." Stopping to reply to the other matter just before he'd leave the room. Head was tipped so that his eyes were on the roof, testing how well he was doing, but it would also mask away a sigh as he lowered his head again and left.
As for the singing? Yeah, he did not really feel for it at the moment. Probably for the best that she had called no on it and that he wouldn't sing. It was good he had his speaking voice back and didn't need to constantly whisper when wording something out.
If it had helped the situation and she would have requested it he'd probably have done it though. Because what were times without sacrifices? Would have degraded him a bit but...
He'd make his way to the other room smooth and silent then, not taking support of the wall until he had gotten across the hall and to the point where his bare feet could feel the carpet having changed. Would also be nice to make sure that Royanna wasn't watching, so he took the extra step on closing the door behind himself, not closing it fully, but enough so that it'd block anyone from seeing into the room. He was alone now and for the first time he really felt like he needed the private time.
Making his way a little further, noting that there were indeed some clothes on the bed without putting any more thoughts on them, he'd start taking off his clothes. He wanted to get to that shower pronto, putting too many thoughts into everything was only going to unnecessarily slow him down. Just having come to the realization that he was half naked as was gave him a reason to shiver. Enough for him to hold his arms crossed in front of himself while he brushed over himself to feel a little warmer, curling some too to feel safer. He did not like it, but there had been no chances to talk it over. And judging by the strange feeling on his shoulder, there might be an acceptable reason behind all of it. But that was all side trailing now.
In a hurry, yet moving slowly, canid still had the time for the habit of folding his clothes neatly, in this case pretty much only his pants, but they were still left nicely rather than thrown all around.
Once finally reaching the shower, Christofer wished that there had been options to change the lighting, all of this was too bright for him, so bright that he covered his eyes the moment he slid the door out of his way and took the first steps in, leaving behind himself some dirty footsteps as the floor was still a little wet after the last time it had been used. At least they'd keep him awake, supposedly. Other hand gave him support as he took some more careful steps, didn't want to slip, and when he first reached the shower itself, his first move after having turned it on to a soft flow, was to sit down under it and let himself breath.
Sure differed from the last time. Did he even remember how a shower felt like? Or was this that much different? He couldn't even tell anymore. The sound it made was strange, and the enhanced feeling after he closed his eyes, having crossed his arms over knees... It was all so strange... Conflicting...
Sure enough, even with his eyes closed he'd feel bare and insecure, cold even. Arms tightened their hold over and around his knees, head pressed down further, making him smaller and smaller while tail curled around himself... All before he let out a yelp at the strange feeling of water dripping down his face, following the sharp sting of having it hit the back of his head, where the bleeding - other than the shoulder - had originated. It had him jump. He didn't like the pain, nor did he want water in his eyes. He had yet to locate a towel, so to avoid such scenario of losing his eyes, he'd lean forward and tilt his head so that the water that had gotten on it would not reach or run over his eyes.
Releasing his knees, he'd brush off the water, send it on another path down and finally opened his eyes. The sight of grey water, streaming and flowing with some red swirls on it... He'd just look at them for a while, not really thinking much. Not much to muse over. He had seen enough blood to not really care about it, and the amount of dirt he'd shed like this was more than enough to pass the point of being puzzling.
Slowly, he'd finally start rubbing the dirt off himself instead of letting the water do all the work. He felt heavy, and having it be fur instead of skin was so strange. How should he do this? Rubbing with his palms? Scratch with his fingers? He wasn't sure, so after increasing the pressure slightly he'd try both, scrubbing off the worst and then taking his fingers through it all. All the while avoiding the injured spots of course, he wasn't ready for them just yet. The canid tried to take care of his tail first, having it be like an example on how to work with things. Then came the shoulders, torso... He'd not stand up, staying comfortably on the floor instead and covering himself with that tail whenever he saw the need to do so.
Lessening the water pressure again once he found enough strength to finally stand up, Christofer was extremely careful when it came to washing his face and the back of his head. Never having even thought of how strange the ears felt, the rest of the scalp wasn't too bad - whenever it wasn't stinging to the point where his face was wrinkling and with fangs showing he fought back the whimpers.
At some point, he'd feel something detaching itself from the back of his neck, being strange enough to give him a reason to open his eyes and look down to the floor to see what it had been. He had fought against the matted fur for a while now, so it being yet another chunk of it would not have been that strange. Though upon spotting some small object instead, he couldn't help but to blink a couple of times before placing his foot down before it to prevent it from slipping into the drain. Picking it up and observing it, he'd not recognize what it was.
What should he do with it?
.......
Well, for now, finishing the shower was his priority. He'd not want to stay naked for long, so without much debating, the canid brought the small object to the side, near the door, from where he'd later pick it up once he'd start cleaning the floor.
The Diplomat
Royanna flared immediately – not unlike a hedgehog who had suddenly realized an immediate threat.
”N-not everything I do is some attempt to patronize you!” She snapped, perhaps a little too loudly. A blustering tone. ”I-…” But she stopped herself. Why bother trying to explain? To try and put into words that she was only trying to help – that she didn’t think of him as a pet or a child – why bother? Maybe it was best to let him figure that out on his own.
Fine.
She said nothing else, just gritting her teeth and staring at the wall beside the door as though there were something very unpleasant, but interesting there. He made his way out of the medical bay, across the hall to the carpeted suite – and closed the door.
Fine.
At least he wasn’t crawling around, she thought bitterly – followed by a flurry of inner monologue as she tried to justify her own actions. But it was pointless – she still felt like an idiot.
Fine.
Deciding that her present course of action was solving nothing, Roy stood and began to rummage around the medical bay again, digging through drawers and cabinets, looking for the pesky scissors. When at last she found them by standing on her toes and peering into the very top shelf of a cabinet in the far corner, there was a wave of relief, as if some long-overdue task had finally been completed. Without waiting another moment, she moved to the mirror behind the medical bay sink and went about trimming her hair – carefully, so as to not get the black hairs anywhere but in the sink.
She relished the task more than she usually would have. It was always a relief to get the irritating hair out of her eyes, yes – but this time it had the bonus effect of simply being something to occupy her mind – something to focus on, where she could think not about the myriad problems baring down on her, but only about this one task.
Then, it was over.
She ran fingers through the newly cropped ‘doo, satisfied with how it looked and, much more importantly, how it felt. No more poking her in the eyes or flopping about in her field of vision. One less thing to worry about.
A deep breath. Then Roy took the scissors, twirling them on one finger, across the hall – and stopped herself before simply barging in. She blinked. She knocked. No answer. Of course not – the bathroom was still closed off from the suite, and she could just barely hear that the shower was still going – of course he wouldn’t hear the knocking. So, with a dejected shrug, she opened the door a crack, sliding it to the side just enough to poke a head and one arm in. ”Found the scissors!” She called, then tossed them across the suite. They went soaring through the air, landing softly on the carpet just in front of the bathroom door. It was unlikely that he’d have not made out what she said, but it was impossible for him to miss them once he was finished.
Closing the door again immediately, she was then faced with the dilemma of having nothing left to think about that might distract her from her problems. So, after a few moments of just standing in the hallway like an idiot, Royanna huffed and padded down the hall, down the stairs, to the pilots’ cabin. On the screen, Iril’s message was still displayed. She flopped into the pilots’ chair, closed out the message, and then stared out the front window for a while, trying to convince herself to actually think about how to solve the problems at hand – but the nagging self-loathing for having been treating Christofer like a kid kept returning to prod her in the back of the eyes.
Stupid.
Everything she did was stupid.
Surely there had to be some line between caring for someone, and caring too much. Some line between being helpful and overbearing. It was embarrassing to think about it.
And at last when she had gone over all the doubts and self-loathing and useless, meandering, unproductive thoughts a thousand times, it occurred to Roy to see where they were. She glanced to the starmap after flicking the screen to make it appear. Just under one day out from Ardella, closing in on the Mariipotza System. Another Imperial system, of course – all the systems within five days’ travel were held by the Empire – but anywhere was better than Ardella.
Ardella.
Thinking about the word forced her to face the real questions again. She leaned back in the chair, and stared out the window again at space as it flew nondescriptly by.
Why had they originally been on their way to Ardella? Another fact that she did not like to recognize – that she had been going back because she had failed her mission more miserably than any of her predecessors. She had been sent back at the order of some Dimensional Lunatic who was bent on protecting the Devil Eye. She had been going back to the capitol city to face her court marshal.
Or, if not a court marshal, some other form of punishment. Surely more than a slap on the wrist.
But she had been making the best of it, back then. She had told Christofer that she would take him to see Doctor Ritters. Told him that Doctor Ritters might know what had happened to him.
Because something had happened to him – and she could not allow herself to forget that.
It was so easy to fall into the trap of thinking that he had always been the way he was now. It seemed like years since they had met, though it had hardly been days. So much had happened in that short time-frame. So much had changed. But she could not allow herself to forget one of her primary objectives.
It had been part of what was keeping her sane, back then – convincing herself that it was part of her new, personal mission to find out what happened to Christofer that made him turn into a dog. Back then, she could tell herself that she was still a part of the Empire, that she was still a valuable asset to her people – that she was still useful and important to them. Back then, it had been a simple matter of going back to the city, facing some consequences…and then, likely, being issued a new team and being sent back out to continue her mission.
But so much had changed since then. She had changed – though she would barely admit it, even to herself. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to go back to hunting the Devil Eye. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to Ardella. What if everything did turn out fine, though? What then?
Everything would not turn out fine, she reminded herself.
Because things had changed since then. She had become a murderer – she had killed multiple Imperial soldiers – and for what? The paranoid delusion that they had been coming to kill her, or Christofer? Agent 47 did say that Christofer was a ‘distraction’ – but was that proof enough that they had been planning to kill him? Or maybe take him into some sick experiments? Why was she even thinking about those possibilities! Since when had she so little faith in her beloved Empire to believe that they might treat her and her own that way?
But the nagging doubt was there, and doubt gave to fear – fear that reassured her over and over what the consequences of returning to Ardella would be.
Mind conditioning. Interrogation. Execution?
She had no way of knowing. It all depended on how they saw her.
Maybe if she turned herself in, they would go easy on her? Just give her job back and let things go on as if none of it had ever happened? Or maybe they would just cut their losses anyway? Strap her down, dig through her brain to find out if she had given away Imperial secrets, then kill her – or lock her away for life in an Imperial microprison?
What did she have left, now? Maybe everything – maybe nothing. It wasn’t as if she could just call and ask what they would do. She had to make a choice.
What did she have, now? Only two things, she knew of – a stolen Imperial starship, and Christofer.
Two paths stretched before her now, and neither was pleasant. On the one hand, she could live the life of a fugitive – living out of the Diplomat, taking jobs for food, or…whatever people did to survive without a government supporting them. The prospect terrified her. She didn’t know where to begin. It made her feel alone and small, and vulnerable – and she hated it.
On the other hand, she could return to Ardella. Put herself before the Empire, and face the consequences of her failure, and her crimes. Maybe, maybe she might still get the chance to take Christofer to see Ritters. And maybe he would be able to give the kid some useful information. Maybe they wouldn’t put her in a permanent cell. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe they wouldn’t do terrible, horrible, ungodly torture on her? Maybe.
But the thought of what they might do to her – and, indeed, to Christofer – if she went back…it was horrifying. It chilled her to the bone. She knew all too well what the Empire did to its’ enemies when it had them in its’ clutches – horrible, inhumane things. The question now was – was she an enemy for them to tear to shreds in their secret labs?
But what did she have now? The question was recurrent. She had the ship, and she had Christofer…But for how long?
She risked losing the ship just by flying it, the stolen vessel. She risked losing Christofer – every time she spoke, it felt. Everything she did seemed to be wrong. She might lose him if they became fugitives – he might leave, might decide she was no longer of any use to him, and she wouldn’t blame him for it. Or if they went back to Ardella, she might lose him to the Empire – either because she was facing a life sentence, or because he was being taken in for experiments – or both.
The decision was abrupt. Surprisingly abrupt. Like the click of a gun.
If he wanted to go back – knowing the risks – she would take him back. She would explain exactly what the possibilities were that they might face returning to Ardella – and if he wanted to accept that risk? Fine. She would accept it too. For him.
Let them do what they want to me, she thought with bitter resentment to nobody in particular. In her head, she sounded to herself strong and confident. She forced the image of being strapped to a chair and having her eyes burned out with retinal lasers out of her mind, and refused to imagine what it would feel like to be torn apart by people she thought she trusted. If he wanted to go back, they would go back. If he wanted to accept the risks that he would face, so be it. The risks to her were irrelevant. They did not matter. Like herself.
But that didn’t stop her hands from shaking where she gripped the arms of the pilots’ seat, and it didn’t stop her from biting her bottom lip until it began to bleed.
The Koolest Boat U Know
Eeeeasy, Joe. He don’t mean nothin’ by it.” A female voice came over the line - rusty in tone with an urban vernacular. The Asiatic male was heard next. ”Yes, please excuse my friend, we have no intents of getting into a fight with a vessel ten times our size.” Then, speaking away from the microphone, he could be heard addressing the pilot. ”Take care of the randé, I’ll go to the locks.” Lots of obscure terminology, though the meaning was easy enough to discern. Merely an example of the vast variety within the Galaxy… Though it also would assure an onlooker that they might have had more experience than they initially appeared.
The process of connecting the vessels went remarkably smooth, considering the relative inexperience of the Koolest Boat’s pilot – it would prove difficult to assume she was anything less than perfectly adept. She was glad for that – though she would have preferred that the auto-docking functions were operational. Being stuck over here when the rest of her crew was in the entry port was not fun…But she resisted the temptation to get up and go with anyway. After all, in the unlikely event that something went sour, she would need to be here to make a quick escape.
The entry port door opened with a hiss, and a light fog was formed as the difference in air temperature between the two spaces evened out. The Koolest Boat was, apparently, slightly cool inside. The interior of that small ship was immediately a stark contrast to that of the white death, even though there was not much to see in the entry port alone, as it was essentially a small, empty room. The overall color scheme was light, with whites and icy-blues tinting brushed steel surfaces. Everything was sleek, elegant, and new – though, admittedly, it did not give off the same sensation of sturdiness that a craft such as the White Death might. That was not to say the Koolest Boat was flimsy – just modern’.
They would be met with three figures. All three were dressed as soldiers in arctic-themed off-duty fatigues – with loose white pants, grey combat boots, and icy-blue T shirts. The man in the center was thin, of above average height, with dark skin and elegant, oriental features. He was bald, save for a single braid at the back of his head which hung unobtrusively behind him. Of the three, he was the only one who stood like a soldier – though the look in his narrow, strikingly seafoam eyes seemed to suggest that it was not always so simple a distinction between ‘soldier’ and ‘civilian’. He was unarmed.
The man to his left was of similar complexion, with the same dark skin and black hair – but not quite as ‘pretty’. His hair was in a fairly unkempt crew-cut that had gotten too long, but refused to go anywhere but up. He was leaning against one wall, looking casually disinterested with the whole situation. There was some type of sidearm at his hip, though his arms were unthreateningly crossed.
The man on the other side stood some two heads taller than either of them, and was built with wide shoulders and arms like small trees. However, it was immediately apparent that while he was clearly in peak shape – as were the others, though smaller – he was not so much a bodybuilder as he was simply naturally big. Strength was immediately apparent, but it was un-honed, natural strength – and hardly approaching the sort of fitness that someone wearing tight red shorts might achieve. His hair was shaved close, and of a sandy blonde color. He was, with a similarly casual attitude, leaning on the butt of a hefty, high-tech rifle of some kind. It may have had a partially concealed underbarrel mount, or multiple functions – but one way or another, it was a formidable weapon. Again, similarly to the man on the other side of the little room, he did not seem particularly threatened, or on-edge. Perhaps more interested than the man with the sidearm, but not hostile.
They were there, it seemed, simply as a statement that they would not be taken advantage of…Not that they assumed anyone would want to.
However, upon seeing the two men coming from the White Death, they did all seem to become slightly more alert. One man in a full suit of high-tech battle armor, and one man who was built like an elephant on steroids. The big guy was hefting a duffel bag that looked as if it might way a few standard tonnes. But while fractionally more alert, none of them seemed anything but casually diplomatic.
”Good evening, gentlemen.” The man in the center said, with an easy, charming smile. ”Again, you have our gratitude for stopping to assist. Admittedly this is something of an embarrassing situation for us.” He couldn’t help giving a questioning glance to the big guy with the duffel bag, but he said nothing on the matter. ”You’re quite certain you don’t want any kind of compensation? I know the value of them is insignificant, but I’m hesitant to take something without some kind of payment.”
The Stella Viventium
͜͟ ͟ ͢͝F̰̖͎̻̄̆͂͠e̱̘̺͍͖̞̳̹̎ͤͫͦ͡͡ä̵̦̦̳͇͉̐͗r̝̣͓̿͑ͯ̌̉̈ ̧̛i͝҉s̕ ̢t͟͜͠he̛͜ ͜͢m̖̺̖̩̈́̓ͦ̍͆ͯͩͩ͂ͅi̡̹͉̝̞̻͎̣͑̓̇ͅn̵͓͙̹̣̠ͮ͆d̨̬̯̪̳̏͂-͆́̓ͦ͐͛̇҉̰̫̙̥̻̤͍̻k͔̝̆͛͆͑̉͢͟͜ï̆ͨ͒̂͏̶̯̫̼̦̗l̶̖̗̥̙͈̩ͯ̔͗̇̿͟ḽ̮̇̍̎ͤe͈̳̫͙̦͔͇̲ͮ̎ͯͣ̒̆͛ȑ̞̥͉͉͕̠ͧ̿̆́ͫ̚͝.̴̵͡
͟͠ ̨͞ ̴͟ ̷́F̷̷͎̬̯̮͙̘̋̔͛͑̆ͪ̍̚e̵̖̥͙̖̗͚̞̥ͯͯͪͦ̌̽̚a̛̝͈̻̹ͩ̈̆̿̍̕r̰̘͍̥̻̰͙ͤͪ͟ i͘̕ś̵ ̨̕͟t̵̶ḩe̸͝ ͢͟l҉̴i̸̴͟t̡͜t͘l̕͡ȩ-D̫̯̗̼̾͒ͨ̕͡Ë̶ͣ̓҉͎̖́A̶̴̘̣̖̽͆͋ͫ͟Ṫ̷̪̤͙̮̠̤̳̍͋͢H̶̹̝̪͚́ͨ͊͑ͤͥ̚tha̡ţ́ b͢͝ri̶͢ng̶̨͠s t̰͚̗̣͍̳͔̅̾o̗̰̺̰̱̟͗̐͗̂́t̝͚̣͎̭͚͙̬̟ͣͧ̌̈́̃̄a̴̖̙͌̽̎̊ͯ̈́́͡l̥̪̣͍̠̗̠͛́̌ͤ̕͞ ̰̣̹̺̥͓̘̦ͣ͂̈͗ͣ͆ͭ́̀̚o͈̮͎̲͎͇ͯͦ́b̓̿͒̓ͫ͗҉̞͓̮̪̟̰̗lͣ̂҉̷̩͈͍̬į̛͔͍͎̘͕͋́ͣͩͫ̍͐ͨt̷̖̼͈ͧ̋̃ͅe̛̮̼̺̺̓͗͗ͮ̿ͣ̚ͅr̜̺̒̾̓ǎ̷̜͍͇͓̪̮̳ͭ̇ͬ̚t̵͍̭̠͚͖͎̙ͪͤ͂͐̕͢i̠̓͋̐̒o̱͓͉̬͔͙̲̳͒͆ͧͫ̽̽ͩͣ͜͜ͅn͇̬͒ͨ͛ͩ͢.̨͇͓͇̄̀ ̴͚͕̝͔̘͗̈͌̏̈́ͦ̏͒.
But weren’t there monsters in the dark?
Deep within this dismal lair, standing before a great portal that would surely open up into some even more abyssal hole? Surely creatures of the night lurked within these ancient shadows. Surely beasts from other worlds, from the shadows of terror and the fiery depths must wait around every corner, behind every door?
Then why was it that the men were so oblivious to their existence?
Was living amongst demons and nightmares so commonplace to them? Had they mastered some ancient art to become immune to the abominations?
Or could the truth be so much more terrible than that?
Indeed, no monsters lurked within the decrepit halls of the Stella Viventium Public Transit Authority. If they had, it would have been so much better. So much easier.
For monsters that crept among shadow and leaped from black pits could be fled from. They could be defeated, sent back to the pits and cowering in their lairs. Monsters that lurked could be slain, monsters that existed could be seen.
But the monsters lurking within the Stella Viventium were not entities in the halls – they were figments of the mind. And that was so much worse.
Where was there to run when the monster dwelt within?
The voice had returned, but only to ‘udder’ a single, cryptic phrase. Some patchwork wisdom from ancient books, implanted into the mind without words, but with them – without sound, without vision, but real and tangible in the mind of the Martian.
A͜͝ǹ̵͝d ̷i̛͘͞n ́͝͡t̀͟ho̷̡͡s̀͜e̢ d̨à͝y͘͜͡s̕͜ ͡śh͝҉̛a͟ļ͟l̴ ̛͘me͘͟͞n̢ ̧̀ş͢͝e͝e̷͘͢ḱ̴̴ d̶̳͇̲̰̞̟͒̈́̋ͬ̔̿ͬẽ̛̛̟̺̘͔̞̯̰̋̏͐͊̎̆̇̿͜ͅa̷̪͆͋ͮ͋̽͘͝t̳̝̟̪̱̻͇̘̗ͪ̈́́ͩ̉ͫ͂͟ẖ͇̪̦̏ͬ̑͒
̤̣̟̰̂ͩ͒͛͆͆̊,̕ a͝҉n̡͞d̨͞ ̡s̀͘҉ḩ͝al̷̵̕l҉͢ ̶n̷o̵͞t̀̕ ́҉̶f̷i̴͡n͟d̶̢ ̡̨̀i҉̶͡t̢̀;
à̡n͏d̴͟ ҉̧͏s̷h̡à͜l̨͝l̵ ́͢͡de҉s̷͝i͠r̸͘e̷͝ ̢t̸̢̧o͏ ̡͘̕d͏í̢e͜,
̨a̧̛n̢d̀͞ ͏̵d͢e͏͘a͜t͢͢h̷͠ ̷͢s҉̸͠h͜a͠l͏̛l ̢f҉̴̀l̀͝é̕e̛͘ ́͢͞f͠r̵̡o͠m̧̛ t͞͞͏h͡҉em̷.҉͘ ̢̛
Her arms would feel heavy, but no demon would possess her. A seed of doubt would be planted at the back of her mind, but no hysteria would be forced upon her. Only words – words that she could choose to ignore, but never un-see.
”…The heck is takin’ him so long?” Drakis Volo said after an inordinately long time. They had been waiting there for ten, perhaps fifteen minutes. ”And, uh…” He swung his head about, looking around at the dismal, shadowy surroundings. ”Where’d your buddy go, Yas?”
This took Gaelan Yascra by surprise – he was about to reply with something regarding the long wait – but was clearly taken off-guard. He had not realized that Caru was gone – and, stopping himself from answering too quickly, he snapped ”He’s not my friend~”
Then he looked around similarly to Volo, and added ”I…I dunno’ though. Did we lose ‘im?” And, after still another short moment, he officially cycled through all the possible reactions to this particular turn of events – a cold rage descending over him as hands balled into fists and he spun on a heel, booking it down the hall. ”Oh, oh that son of a @#$% is up to something, isn’t he! Oh I knew it!”
Drakis, moved as though to halt him, but decided against it. The fact that Rya Valheimer was persistently shushing them every time they spoke was more than enough to make him stop and focus on her instead, with a persistently growing expression of concern on his lips.
”Hey, kid.” He whispered, once Yascra was gone down the hall. ”You don’t haveta’ be so scared, y’know? Everything’s gonna’ be fine.” He had a way of sounding comforting without sounding patronizing, which was difficult to come by. Reaching out – albeit, slowly – he put a hand on her shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and let it rest there. Though it was impossible to see his eyes, one might have gotten the impression that he was making eye contact, despite the goggles.
Of course, this gesture would make it much easier for the Martian girl to grab his holstered nine-millimeter…
Meanwhile, Yascra had retraced their path and rounded a corner to find Caru on his knees, and sobbing. Most of the anger drained out of him at that moment, but he was not going to allow himself anything approaching sympathy…Right?
Maybe not.
Maybe, in this moment, he might finally realize what kindness could do? This “Dimensional Lord” had been so nice to him. Perhaps it was time to return the favor? To swallow his dignity and allow some kindness into his heart?
He spent a long moment just standing in the shadowy hallway, staring at him with blank disdain.
Then, at last, he spoke;
”The @#$% is wrong with you?” He spat.
Close enough.
Royanna flared immediately – not unlike a hedgehog who had suddenly realized an immediate threat.
”N-not everything I do is some attempt to patronize you!” She snapped, perhaps a little too loudly. A blustering tone. ”I-…” But she stopped herself. Why bother trying to explain? To try and put into words that she was only trying to help – that she didn’t think of him as a pet or a child – why bother? Maybe it was best to let him figure that out on his own.
Fine.
She said nothing else, just gritting her teeth and staring at the wall beside the door as though there were something very unpleasant, but interesting there. He made his way out of the medical bay, across the hall to the carpeted suite – and closed the door.
Fine.
At least he wasn’t crawling around, she thought bitterly – followed by a flurry of inner monologue as she tried to justify her own actions. But it was pointless – she still felt like an idiot.
Fine.
Deciding that her present course of action was solving nothing, Roy stood and began to rummage around the medical bay again, digging through drawers and cabinets, looking for the pesky scissors. When at last she found them by standing on her toes and peering into the very top shelf of a cabinet in the far corner, there was a wave of relief, as if some long-overdue task had finally been completed. Without waiting another moment, she moved to the mirror behind the medical bay sink and went about trimming her hair – carefully, so as to not get the black hairs anywhere but in the sink.
She relished the task more than she usually would have. It was always a relief to get the irritating hair out of her eyes, yes – but this time it had the bonus effect of simply being something to occupy her mind – something to focus on, where she could think not about the myriad problems baring down on her, but only about this one task.
Then, it was over.
She ran fingers through the newly cropped ‘doo, satisfied with how it looked and, much more importantly, how it felt. No more poking her in the eyes or flopping about in her field of vision. One less thing to worry about.
A deep breath. Then Roy took the scissors, twirling them on one finger, across the hall – and stopped herself before simply barging in. She blinked. She knocked. No answer. Of course not – the bathroom was still closed off from the suite, and she could just barely hear that the shower was still going – of course he wouldn’t hear the knocking. So, with a dejected shrug, she opened the door a crack, sliding it to the side just enough to poke a head and one arm in. ”Found the scissors!” She called, then tossed them across the suite. They went soaring through the air, landing softly on the carpet just in front of the bathroom door. It was unlikely that he’d have not made out what she said, but it was impossible for him to miss them once he was finished.
Closing the door again immediately, she was then faced with the dilemma of having nothing left to think about that might distract her from her problems. So, after a few moments of just standing in the hallway like an idiot, Royanna huffed and padded down the hall, down the stairs, to the pilots’ cabin. On the screen, Iril’s message was still displayed. She flopped into the pilots’ chair, closed out the message, and then stared out the front window for a while, trying to convince herself to actually think about how to solve the problems at hand – but the nagging self-loathing for having been treating Christofer like a kid kept returning to prod her in the back of the eyes.
Stupid.
Everything she did was stupid.
Surely there had to be some line between caring for someone, and caring too much. Some line between being helpful and overbearing. It was embarrassing to think about it.
And at last when she had gone over all the doubts and self-loathing and useless, meandering, unproductive thoughts a thousand times, it occurred to Roy to see where they were. She glanced to the starmap after flicking the screen to make it appear. Just under one day out from Ardella, closing in on the Mariipotza System. Another Imperial system, of course – all the systems within five days’ travel were held by the Empire – but anywhere was better than Ardella.
Ardella.
Thinking about the word forced her to face the real questions again. She leaned back in the chair, and stared out the window again at space as it flew nondescriptly by.
Why had they originally been on their way to Ardella? Another fact that she did not like to recognize – that she had been going back because she had failed her mission more miserably than any of her predecessors. She had been sent back at the order of some Dimensional Lunatic who was bent on protecting the Devil Eye. She had been going back to the capitol city to face her court marshal.
Or, if not a court marshal, some other form of punishment. Surely more than a slap on the wrist.
But she had been making the best of it, back then. She had told Christofer that she would take him to see Doctor Ritters. Told him that Doctor Ritters might know what had happened to him.
Because something had happened to him – and she could not allow herself to forget that.
It was so easy to fall into the trap of thinking that he had always been the way he was now. It seemed like years since they had met, though it had hardly been days. So much had happened in that short time-frame. So much had changed. But she could not allow herself to forget one of her primary objectives.
It had been part of what was keeping her sane, back then – convincing herself that it was part of her new, personal mission to find out what happened to Christofer that made him turn into a dog. Back then, she could tell herself that she was still a part of the Empire, that she was still a valuable asset to her people – that she was still useful and important to them. Back then, it had been a simple matter of going back to the city, facing some consequences…and then, likely, being issued a new team and being sent back out to continue her mission.
But so much had changed since then. She had changed – though she would barely admit it, even to herself. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to go back to hunting the Devil Eye. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to Ardella. What if everything did turn out fine, though? What then?
Everything would not turn out fine, she reminded herself.
Because things had changed since then. She had become a murderer – she had killed multiple Imperial soldiers – and for what? The paranoid delusion that they had been coming to kill her, or Christofer? Agent 47 did say that Christofer was a ‘distraction’ – but was that proof enough that they had been planning to kill him? Or maybe take him into some sick experiments? Why was she even thinking about those possibilities! Since when had she so little faith in her beloved Empire to believe that they might treat her and her own that way?
But the nagging doubt was there, and doubt gave to fear – fear that reassured her over and over what the consequences of returning to Ardella would be.
Mind conditioning. Interrogation. Execution?
She had no way of knowing. It all depended on how they saw her.
Maybe if she turned herself in, they would go easy on her? Just give her job back and let things go on as if none of it had ever happened? Or maybe they would just cut their losses anyway? Strap her down, dig through her brain to find out if she had given away Imperial secrets, then kill her – or lock her away for life in an Imperial microprison?
What did she have left, now? Maybe everything – maybe nothing. It wasn’t as if she could just call and ask what they would do. She had to make a choice.
What did she have, now? Only two things, she knew of – a stolen Imperial starship, and Christofer.
Two paths stretched before her now, and neither was pleasant. On the one hand, she could live the life of a fugitive – living out of the Diplomat, taking jobs for food, or…whatever people did to survive without a government supporting them. The prospect terrified her. She didn’t know where to begin. It made her feel alone and small, and vulnerable – and she hated it.
On the other hand, she could return to Ardella. Put herself before the Empire, and face the consequences of her failure, and her crimes. Maybe, maybe she might still get the chance to take Christofer to see Ritters. And maybe he would be able to give the kid some useful information. Maybe they wouldn’t put her in a permanent cell. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe they wouldn’t do terrible, horrible, ungodly torture on her? Maybe.
But the thought of what they might do to her – and, indeed, to Christofer – if she went back…it was horrifying. It chilled her to the bone. She knew all too well what the Empire did to its’ enemies when it had them in its’ clutches – horrible, inhumane things. The question now was – was she an enemy for them to tear to shreds in their secret labs?
But what did she have now? The question was recurrent. She had the ship, and she had Christofer…But for how long?
She risked losing the ship just by flying it, the stolen vessel. She risked losing Christofer – every time she spoke, it felt. Everything she did seemed to be wrong. She might lose him if they became fugitives – he might leave, might decide she was no longer of any use to him, and she wouldn’t blame him for it. Or if they went back to Ardella, she might lose him to the Empire – either because she was facing a life sentence, or because he was being taken in for experiments – or both.
The decision was abrupt. Surprisingly abrupt. Like the click of a gun.
If he wanted to go back – knowing the risks – she would take him back. She would explain exactly what the possibilities were that they might face returning to Ardella – and if he wanted to accept that risk? Fine. She would accept it too. For him.
Let them do what they want to me, she thought with bitter resentment to nobody in particular. In her head, she sounded to herself strong and confident. She forced the image of being strapped to a chair and having her eyes burned out with retinal lasers out of her mind, and refused to imagine what it would feel like to be torn apart by people she thought she trusted. If he wanted to go back, they would go back. If he wanted to accept the risks that he would face, so be it. The risks to her were irrelevant. They did not matter. Like herself.
But that didn’t stop her hands from shaking where she gripped the arms of the pilots’ seat, and it didn’t stop her from biting her bottom lip until it began to bleed.
The Koolest Boat U Know
Eeeeasy, Joe. He don’t mean nothin’ by it.” A female voice came over the line - rusty in tone with an urban vernacular. The Asiatic male was heard next. ”Yes, please excuse my friend, we have no intents of getting into a fight with a vessel ten times our size.” Then, speaking away from the microphone, he could be heard addressing the pilot. ”Take care of the randé, I’ll go to the locks.” Lots of obscure terminology, though the meaning was easy enough to discern. Merely an example of the vast variety within the Galaxy… Though it also would assure an onlooker that they might have had more experience than they initially appeared.
The process of connecting the vessels went remarkably smooth, considering the relative inexperience of the Koolest Boat’s pilot – it would prove difficult to assume she was anything less than perfectly adept. She was glad for that – though she would have preferred that the auto-docking functions were operational. Being stuck over here when the rest of her crew was in the entry port was not fun…But she resisted the temptation to get up and go with anyway. After all, in the unlikely event that something went sour, she would need to be here to make a quick escape.
The entry port door opened with a hiss, and a light fog was formed as the difference in air temperature between the two spaces evened out. The Koolest Boat was, apparently, slightly cool inside. The interior of that small ship was immediately a stark contrast to that of the white death, even though there was not much to see in the entry port alone, as it was essentially a small, empty room. The overall color scheme was light, with whites and icy-blues tinting brushed steel surfaces. Everything was sleek, elegant, and new – though, admittedly, it did not give off the same sensation of sturdiness that a craft such as the White Death might. That was not to say the Koolest Boat was flimsy – just modern’.
They would be met with three figures. All three were dressed as soldiers in arctic-themed off-duty fatigues – with loose white pants, grey combat boots, and icy-blue T shirts. The man in the center was thin, of above average height, with dark skin and elegant, oriental features. He was bald, save for a single braid at the back of his head which hung unobtrusively behind him. Of the three, he was the only one who stood like a soldier – though the look in his narrow, strikingly seafoam eyes seemed to suggest that it was not always so simple a distinction between ‘soldier’ and ‘civilian’. He was unarmed.
The man to his left was of similar complexion, with the same dark skin and black hair – but not quite as ‘pretty’. His hair was in a fairly unkempt crew-cut that had gotten too long, but refused to go anywhere but up. He was leaning against one wall, looking casually disinterested with the whole situation. There was some type of sidearm at his hip, though his arms were unthreateningly crossed.
The man on the other side stood some two heads taller than either of them, and was built with wide shoulders and arms like small trees. However, it was immediately apparent that while he was clearly in peak shape – as were the others, though smaller – he was not so much a bodybuilder as he was simply naturally big. Strength was immediately apparent, but it was un-honed, natural strength – and hardly approaching the sort of fitness that someone wearing tight red shorts might achieve. His hair was shaved close, and of a sandy blonde color. He was, with a similarly casual attitude, leaning on the butt of a hefty, high-tech rifle of some kind. It may have had a partially concealed underbarrel mount, or multiple functions – but one way or another, it was a formidable weapon. Again, similarly to the man on the other side of the little room, he did not seem particularly threatened, or on-edge. Perhaps more interested than the man with the sidearm, but not hostile.
They were there, it seemed, simply as a statement that they would not be taken advantage of…Not that they assumed anyone would want to.
However, upon seeing the two men coming from the White Death, they did all seem to become slightly more alert. One man in a full suit of high-tech battle armor, and one man who was built like an elephant on steroids. The big guy was hefting a duffel bag that looked as if it might way a few standard tonnes. But while fractionally more alert, none of them seemed anything but casually diplomatic.
”Good evening, gentlemen.” The man in the center said, with an easy, charming smile. ”Again, you have our gratitude for stopping to assist. Admittedly this is something of an embarrassing situation for us.” He couldn’t help giving a questioning glance to the big guy with the duffel bag, but he said nothing on the matter. ”You’re quite certain you don’t want any kind of compensation? I know the value of them is insignificant, but I’m hesitant to take something without some kind of payment.”
The Stella Viventium
͜͟ ͟ ͢͝F̰̖͎̻̄̆͂͠e̱̘̺͍͖̞̳̹̎ͤͫͦ͡͡ä̵̦̦̳͇͉̐͗r̝̣͓̿͑ͯ̌̉̈ ̧̛i͝҉s̕ ̢t͟͜͠he̛͜ ͜͢m̖̺̖̩̈́̓ͦ̍͆ͯͩͩ͂ͅi̡̹͉̝̞̻͎̣͑̓̇ͅn̵͓͙̹̣̠ͮ͆d̨̬̯̪̳̏͂-͆́̓ͦ͐͛̇҉̰̫̙̥̻̤͍̻k͔̝̆͛͆͑̉͢͟͜ï̆ͨ͒̂͏̶̯̫̼̦̗l̶̖̗̥̙͈̩ͯ̔͗̇̿͟ḽ̮̇̍̎ͤe͈̳̫͙̦͔͇̲ͮ̎ͯͣ̒̆͛ȑ̞̥͉͉͕̠ͧ̿̆́ͫ̚͝.̴̵͡
͟͠ ̨͞ ̴͟ ̷́F̷̷͎̬̯̮͙̘̋̔͛͑̆ͪ̍̚e̵̖̥͙̖̗͚̞̥ͯͯͪͦ̌̽̚a̛̝͈̻̹ͩ̈̆̿̍̕r̰̘͍̥̻̰͙ͤͪ͟ i͘̕ś̵ ̨̕͟t̵̶ḩe̸͝ ͢͟l҉̴i̸̴͟t̡͜t͘l̕͡ȩ-D̫̯̗̼̾͒ͨ̕͡Ë̶ͣ̓҉͎̖́A̶̴̘̣̖̽͆͋ͫ͟Ṫ̷̪̤͙̮̠̤̳̍͋͢H̶̹̝̪͚́ͨ͊͑ͤͥ̚tha̡ţ́ b͢͝ri̶͢ng̶̨͠s t̰͚̗̣͍̳͔̅̾o̗̰̺̰̱̟͗̐͗̂́t̝͚̣͎̭͚͙̬̟ͣͧ̌̈́̃̄a̴̖̙͌̽̎̊ͯ̈́́͡l̥̪̣͍̠̗̠͛́̌ͤ̕͞ ̰̣̹̺̥͓̘̦ͣ͂̈͗ͣ͆ͭ́̀̚o͈̮͎̲͎͇ͯͦ́b̓̿͒̓ͫ͗҉̞͓̮̪̟̰̗lͣ̂҉̷̩͈͍̬į̛͔͍͎̘͕͋́ͣͩͫ̍͐ͨt̷̖̼͈ͧ̋̃ͅe̛̮̼̺̺̓͗͗ͮ̿ͣ̚ͅr̜̺̒̾̓ǎ̷̜͍͇͓̪̮̳ͭ̇ͬ̚t̵͍̭̠͚͖͎̙ͪͤ͂͐̕͢i̠̓͋̐̒o̱͓͉̬͔͙̲̳͒͆ͧͫ̽̽ͩͣ͜͜ͅn͇̬͒ͨ͛ͩ͢.̨͇͓͇̄̀ ̴͚͕̝͔̘͗̈͌̏̈́ͦ̏͒.
But weren’t there monsters in the dark?
Deep within this dismal lair, standing before a great portal that would surely open up into some even more abyssal hole? Surely creatures of the night lurked within these ancient shadows. Surely beasts from other worlds, from the shadows of terror and the fiery depths must wait around every corner, behind every door?
Then why was it that the men were so oblivious to their existence?
Was living amongst demons and nightmares so commonplace to them? Had they mastered some ancient art to become immune to the abominations?
Or could the truth be so much more terrible than that?
Indeed, no monsters lurked within the decrepit halls of the Stella Viventium Public Transit Authority. If they had, it would have been so much better. So much easier.
For monsters that crept among shadow and leaped from black pits could be fled from. They could be defeated, sent back to the pits and cowering in their lairs. Monsters that lurked could be slain, monsters that existed could be seen.
But the monsters lurking within the Stella Viventium were not entities in the halls – they were figments of the mind. And that was so much worse.
Where was there to run when the monster dwelt within?
The voice had returned, but only to ‘udder’ a single, cryptic phrase. Some patchwork wisdom from ancient books, implanted into the mind without words, but with them – without sound, without vision, but real and tangible in the mind of the Martian.
A͜͝ǹ̵͝d ̷i̛͘͞n ́͝͡t̀͟ho̷̡͡s̀͜e̢ d̨à͝y͘͜͡s̕͜ ͡śh͝҉̛a͟ļ͟l̴ ̛͘me͘͟͞n̢ ̧̀ş͢͝e͝e̷͘͢ḱ̴̴ d̶̳͇̲̰̞̟͒̈́̋ͬ̔̿ͬẽ̛̛̟̺̘͔̞̯̰̋̏͐͊̎̆̇̿͜ͅa̷̪͆͋ͮ͋̽͘͝t̳̝̟̪̱̻͇̘̗ͪ̈́́ͩ̉ͫ͂͟ẖ͇̪̦̏ͬ̑͒
̤̣̟̰̂ͩ͒͛͆͆̊,̕ a͝҉n̡͞d̨͞ ̡s̀͘҉ḩ͝al̷̵̕l҉͢ ̶n̷o̵͞t̀̕ ́҉̶f̷i̴͡n͟d̶̢ ̡̨̀i҉̶͡t̢̀;
à̡n͏d̴͟ ҉̧͏s̷h̡à͜l̨͝l̵ ́͢͡de҉s̷͝i͠r̸͘e̷͝ ̢t̸̢̧o͏ ̡͘̕d͏í̢e͜,
̨a̧̛n̢d̀͞ ͏̵d͢e͏͘a͜t͢͢h̷͠ ̷͢s҉̸͠h͜a͠l͏̛l ̢f҉̴̀l̀͝é̕e̛͘ ́͢͞f͠r̵̡o͠m̧̛ t͞͞͏h͡҉em̷.҉͘ ̢̛
Her arms would feel heavy, but no demon would possess her. A seed of doubt would be planted at the back of her mind, but no hysteria would be forced upon her. Only words – words that she could choose to ignore, but never un-see.
”…The heck is takin’ him so long?” Drakis Volo said after an inordinately long time. They had been waiting there for ten, perhaps fifteen minutes. ”And, uh…” He swung his head about, looking around at the dismal, shadowy surroundings. ”Where’d your buddy go, Yas?”
This took Gaelan Yascra by surprise – he was about to reply with something regarding the long wait – but was clearly taken off-guard. He had not realized that Caru was gone – and, stopping himself from answering too quickly, he snapped ”He’s not my friend~”
Then he looked around similarly to Volo, and added ”I…I dunno’ though. Did we lose ‘im?” And, after still another short moment, he officially cycled through all the possible reactions to this particular turn of events – a cold rage descending over him as hands balled into fists and he spun on a heel, booking it down the hall. ”Oh, oh that son of a @#$% is up to something, isn’t he! Oh I knew it!”
Drakis, moved as though to halt him, but decided against it. The fact that Rya Valheimer was persistently shushing them every time they spoke was more than enough to make him stop and focus on her instead, with a persistently growing expression of concern on his lips.
”Hey, kid.” He whispered, once Yascra was gone down the hall. ”You don’t haveta’ be so scared, y’know? Everything’s gonna’ be fine.” He had a way of sounding comforting without sounding patronizing, which was difficult to come by. Reaching out – albeit, slowly – he put a hand on her shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and let it rest there. Though it was impossible to see his eyes, one might have gotten the impression that he was making eye contact, despite the goggles.
Of course, this gesture would make it much easier for the Martian girl to grab his holstered nine-millimeter…
Meanwhile, Yascra had retraced their path and rounded a corner to find Caru on his knees, and sobbing. Most of the anger drained out of him at that moment, but he was not going to allow himself anything approaching sympathy…Right?
Maybe not.
Maybe, in this moment, he might finally realize what kindness could do? This “Dimensional Lord” had been so nice to him. Perhaps it was time to return the favor? To swallow his dignity and allow some kindness into his heart?
He spent a long moment just standing in the shadowy hallway, staring at him with blank disdain.
Then, at last, he spoke;
”The @#$% is wrong with you?” He spat.
Close enough.
The airlock hissed as it cycled decontamination spray through the air, bringing a shroud of mist over the du inside. After twenty seconds, the inner doors slid open, spilling harmless fog into the corridor. Kovacs adjusted his grip in anticipation; he was meeting a new crew with new people, be they friend or foe. And he wanted to be prepared. Despite the mysterious duffel that somehow appeared on his ship without his knowledge, BN-33 had managed to stuff one hundred pounds of russet potatoes inside, and Jet fit the XM665 on top of that. Clearly, it had reality warping capabilities, which Kovacs did not have.
Not that he wanted to... *sniffle*
The commander strode forward, Devotion slung across his back in a sign of peace. Even if the three individuals before him were hostile, he was more than confident in his abilities. It was Jet that he was concerned for. Only two of the men were armed; one sidearm and one heavy rifle. The third, however, actually was the professional his appearance suggested and he was unarmed, marking him as the most dangerous of the three.
Thankfully, Kovacs needn't have worried about hostilities, for now, as the bald man welcomed him aboard. "Only thing I request is complete and detailed schematics of the screw, as well as the remains of the one you need replaced. That, and about an hour to synthesize that and a spare. With improvements." Centuries of hydrogen harvesting had led to technological innovations on Zero Point Modules, which supercooled hydrogen to a solid state for mass storage by lowering its temperature to below ten Kelvin.
"And I would appreciate it if you were to not posture with me. Should I perceive a threat to myself or my comrade, I will react accordingly and with extreme prejudice," despite the lack of intelligence Kovacs had on the crew of the Koolest Boat U Know, it would be like shooting a still target from fifty metres with one hand tied.
Piecemeal, really.
His respect for the bald man shot up drastically as he failed to react outside of a raised eyebrow, as his buddies tensed up considerably at his surety. Kovacs would like to not massacre an entire vessel, if he could avoid it. Especially since he would restrain himself to martial arts, because the ship looked like his Devotion would tear through it like a speeding train through wet tissue paper.
Not that he wanted to... *sniffle*
The commander strode forward, Devotion slung across his back in a sign of peace. Even if the three individuals before him were hostile, he was more than confident in his abilities. It was Jet that he was concerned for. Only two of the men were armed; one sidearm and one heavy rifle. The third, however, actually was the professional his appearance suggested and he was unarmed, marking him as the most dangerous of the three.
Thankfully, Kovacs needn't have worried about hostilities, for now, as the bald man welcomed him aboard. "Only thing I request is complete and detailed schematics of the screw, as well as the remains of the one you need replaced. That, and about an hour to synthesize that and a spare. With improvements." Centuries of hydrogen harvesting had led to technological innovations on Zero Point Modules, which supercooled hydrogen to a solid state for mass storage by lowering its temperature to below ten Kelvin.
"And I would appreciate it if you were to not posture with me. Should I perceive a threat to myself or my comrade, I will react accordingly and with extreme prejudice," despite the lack of intelligence Kovacs had on the crew of the Koolest Boat U Know, it would be like shooting a still target from fifty metres with one hand tied.
Piecemeal, really.
His respect for the bald man shot up drastically as he failed to react outside of a raised eyebrow, as his buddies tensed up considerably at his surety. Kovacs would like to not massacre an entire vessel, if he could avoid it. Especially since he would restrain himself to martial arts, because the ship looked like his Devotion would tear through it like a speeding train through wet tissue paper.
"Alright, cool your jets Kovacs, you act as if we are doing a hostage trade." signed Jet as he placed his left hand on Kovacs's shoulder and strode past him, towards the man with the braid. Jet offered his hand out as a sign of peace and as a way to break the tension. "Us space travelers got to stick together, right?" said Jet, cracking a smile and squinting. "The name is Jet, Jet Jackson. And yours is?..".
Here it came, the handshake test. If he was going to ask to join this mans crew, he might as well see what he is made of, and so far, he looks tough. In comparison to his companions, the man seemed more stoic, a bit like Kovacs, but friendlier. Jet wondered what made this man different than any other soldier he had seen. His stance was that of a soldier, his body was that of a soldier, but his eyes, those were the eyes of a friend. When two animals look each other in the eye, the usual response is hostility, but the complete opposite was true for this situation, as Jet felt like giving this man a bag of chips rather than a punch to the gut.
Then Jet began to look around at the other two, and he got the same feeling, a feeling of camaraderie. Even though they were armed, they were relaxed. They trusted the man with the braid to fix this situation, and they trusted Jet and Kovacs to help them. The only source of hostility that seemed to be Kovacs, having recently said that he wouldn't hesitate to try kill everyone on the Koolest if there was any threat.
"Oh, and is it ok if I join your crew?" asked Jet, still smiling.
Here it came, the handshake test. If he was going to ask to join this mans crew, he might as well see what he is made of, and so far, he looks tough. In comparison to his companions, the man seemed more stoic, a bit like Kovacs, but friendlier. Jet wondered what made this man different than any other soldier he had seen. His stance was that of a soldier, his body was that of a soldier, but his eyes, those were the eyes of a friend. When two animals look each other in the eye, the usual response is hostility, but the complete opposite was true for this situation, as Jet felt like giving this man a bag of chips rather than a punch to the gut.
Then Jet began to look around at the other two, and he got the same feeling, a feeling of camaraderie. Even though they were armed, they were relaxed. They trusted the man with the braid to fix this situation, and they trusted Jet and Kovacs to help them. The only source of hostility that seemed to be Kovacs, having recently said that he wouldn't hesitate to try kill everyone on the Koolest if there was any threat.
"Oh, and is it ok if I join your crew?" asked Jet, still smiling.
The cat soon made it at the engine room and see's the problem almost immediately as he hops off the little cart. He looks up seeing the little hole where the screw was and then looked back at his icy core on the cart. It was a small hole and the core was a decent size and so for it to fit, he would have to enlarge the hole. The problem was that, he was cat at the moment wearing a hard hat that was too big for his head. As he thought about, he hadn't felt the changes in his fuzzy little body as he was absorbed in thought. Just before he was about roll and in fixing the problem, a large poof of smoke came out of no where as if someone throw a smoke bomb. After coughing hard and swiping away the smoke with his pa- hand now! He looked at his hand and then pressed his hands against his chest and looked down. He was back to his usual Neko self. The only the problem now was that he wasn't wearing anything and so for decency sake, he took the hard hat and placed over his privates(Don't ask how it stays there).
With gleam in his yellow eyes with his signatory grin he yelled out "YES! I'M BACK BABY!" as he then looks down at the mouse droid and pointed at it and says to it "Now my simple friend, this calls for celebration so fetch me my onion hat!" The little droid beeped enthusiastically as it scurried off towards the cargo bay and fetch what the Laurent asked. As the droid went to fetch him his hat, Laurent with so much excitement went into his pile of scrap metal and pulled out a little flash drive and went over to the ships control panel and installed the little thing. He scrolled through his files and picked the one of many songs he has and pressed play:
However as the song from ages pass played in the engine room, the cat neglected to isolate it to only the engine room and so in turn everyone in the entire ship can hear the song play. Of course if they were by a control panel they can easily mute the damn music in the sector of the ship. As the song played, Laurent began to dance like the mad man he was, moving his hips to the beats as he holds onto a blowtorch and his icy core. He continue to dance to the rhythm of the song with grace...even if one can dance to the song and with grace. Laurent twirled around the engine room, making sure his bare feet doesn't trip over the various circuity and as he got to where the screw would be(A miracle that he didn't step on the pieces on the floor) the droid came rushing in with an unusual helmet and stopped so suddenly causing the thing to fly at towards Laurent. With his erratic movement towards the song, he positioned himself so this large onion looking helmet went onto his head. It was definitely an unusual helmet and even had the point and lines on the helmet to look like a giant onion. Once it was on his head, he deepens his voice to a jolly heavy set man and said as he adjusts the blowtorch and says "We'll be out of here in jiffy! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" and once the flame was controlled he went to work on fixing there little heating problem
If someone would come into the engine room, they would only see freakishly tall man, with a cat tail wagging back and forth, merely only wearing a hard hat where it obviously doesn't belong as well as wearing a Onion helmet as he holds an active blowtorch in one hand and white glowing core in the other as he worked, as his feet tap to the beat of the music that plays.
"I am using my head!" he says in his deep voice as he works.
With gleam in his yellow eyes with his signatory grin he yelled out "YES! I'M BACK BABY!" as he then looks down at the mouse droid and pointed at it and says to it "Now my simple friend, this calls for celebration so fetch me my onion hat!" The little droid beeped enthusiastically as it scurried off towards the cargo bay and fetch what the Laurent asked. As the droid went to fetch him his hat, Laurent with so much excitement went into his pile of scrap metal and pulled out a little flash drive and went over to the ships control panel and installed the little thing. He scrolled through his files and picked the one of many songs he has and pressed play:
However as the song from ages pass played in the engine room, the cat neglected to isolate it to only the engine room and so in turn everyone in the entire ship can hear the song play. Of course if they were by a control panel they can easily mute the damn music in the sector of the ship. As the song played, Laurent began to dance like the mad man he was, moving his hips to the beats as he holds onto a blowtorch and his icy core. He continue to dance to the rhythm of the song with grace...even if one can dance to the song and with grace. Laurent twirled around the engine room, making sure his bare feet doesn't trip over the various circuity and as he got to where the screw would be(A miracle that he didn't step on the pieces on the floor) the droid came rushing in with an unusual helmet and stopped so suddenly causing the thing to fly at towards Laurent. With his erratic movement towards the song, he positioned himself so this large onion looking helmet went onto his head. It was definitely an unusual helmet and even had the point and lines on the helmet to look like a giant onion. Once it was on his head, he deepens his voice to a jolly heavy set man and said as he adjusts the blowtorch and says "We'll be out of here in jiffy! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" and once the flame was controlled he went to work on fixing there little heating problem
If someone would come into the engine room, they would only see freakishly tall man, with a cat tail wagging back and forth, merely only wearing a hard hat where it obviously doesn't belong as well as wearing a Onion helmet as he holds an active blowtorch in one hand and white glowing core in the other as he worked, as his feet tap to the beat of the music that plays.
"I am using my head!" he says in his deep voice as he works.
The Koolest Boat U Know
”Rin, please run by the engine room and bring us the busted screw?” The centerfold man said in a half-question, half-request that suggested both casual authority and easy courtesy. ”Dal, go ahead and bring the boat out of lockdown.” That way, the Nyran would not need to go manually unsealing each door on the way – now that help was at hand, there was less need to be stingy with power.
In the pilot’s cabin, Dallen and Rin were watching the encounter from one of the many shipwide cameras – sound and all. Leaning forward and flicking switches, she held down one toggle and replied ”On it.” Her voice would come through on the intercom. Then she released the toggle so as to go unheard by their guests, and gave Rin a friendly nod toward the door. ”An’ come back up here after y’give it to ‘em.” She added, looking to the Nyran before he could leave. ”I don’t those guys.”
Back in the entry port, the centerfold man continued ”We’ll have it for you in a moment. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a ship with a synthesizer…You should be aware that many of the inner systems have outlawed them as a threat to the Galactic economy.” He shrugged, amiably. ”Not our business though – only passing it along.” HE had a way of coming off entirely sincere – leaving little room for concerns that he might be up to something.
Then the big man came striding forward – but none of the three men reacted, save for the two on either side exchanging looks – wry grins. It had occurred to them at that moment that it had been rather silly to raise their guard seeing him. After all, the guy in the armor was clearly going to be more dangerous, if they were intent on causing trouble.
Not to mention the guy’s comment to the armored one. The strangeness of this duo and their dynamic had suddenly become just a little clearer.
The centerfold man did not back away – nor did he tense, or show any sign that the sudden approach was anything but welcome. He put out his own hand, grasped the big guy’s, and gave an admirably firm handshake. Obviously the kind of strength that the big guy possessed could not be present – but still there was a tension in the arm and a tautness in the gesture. A good handshake. Not ‘all-in’, but admirable. ”Leng T’yzfir.” He said, pronouncing the three syllables almost as one in some kind of choppy dialect that was virtually impossible to comprehend. The similarly stilted accent he spoke with made it clear that he was more fluent in some native language than in Standard – a rarity, in a Galaxy where Standard was almost universally taught as a first language.
”Fellerton Sands.” The blonde guy leaning on the butt of the hefty rifle said, half-smiling, raising a hand in a half-waving gesture. ”E’tzu Tsuan, the one and only~” The smaller guy on the other side added, jabbing a thumb at his chest and grinning widely.
But Jet Jackson’s next question actually managed to take all three of them off guard – T’yzfir included. He had been about to say something else, but the words caught in his throat and all he uttered was ”Join-…huh?” Accompanied by a deeply perplexed expression. It was the last thing any of them had expected – and the other two men made that obvious too.
But it was certainly a straightforward manner of putting it out there, and there was something to be said for that. T’yzfir recovered quickly. ”Well, yes, we are always looking for new connections. We’ll talk more about it in a few minutes, good?”
Not a ’no’, at least.
Curiously, Kovacs’ request not to posture and assertion of the certainty of his actions went, so it seemed, totally ignored – save for T’yzfir giving a comprehending nod, and then dropping the issue. No sense in dragging out the subject of how clearly vulnerable they were to an attack at this time – how outgunned they were, too. He might have considered it downright rude or even openly hostile – except that it was he who was in need of assistance, and that meant the armored man had a right to be on-edge if he felt the need. But he saw no need to insist upon the good intentions of his own crew. If this Kovacs’ guy really thought of them in their little yacht as a threat, then they had been doomed from the start.
Plus, it was immediately clear who would be the person to have on their side, if only for the duration of this situation. If the armored guy started to get trigger-happy, doubtless the big guy would step in to calm him down. So it was the big guy that they would be sure to have on their end of the bargain.
He was about to say something else – when an unholy noise came screeching from the shipwide intercom. All three of them winced rather violently – though the guy on the left, Tsuan, was right next to one of the speakers, and the sound sent him clutching at his ears and stumbling closer to T’yzfir – who was the only one not to go exclaiming expletives at the outburst – he was more deadpan about it, gritting his teeth and looking upward, as though silently telling some invisible god of his passive intent to strangle someone. ”Turn that thing off!” He said loudly enough to be heard, and sternly enough to sound deeply irritated.
In the pilots’ cabin, Dallen had actually been knocked out of her seat from the shock of it. Admittedly, it didn’t help that she was leaning back in a wholly unprofessional posture. With a yelp, she found herself on the floor – then scrabbling to her feet, hunching over the control panel and wildly searching for the mute button in some kind of desperate frenzy.
It seemed to take hours for her to finally find it, and the fact that, at last, the music turned off – instantly turned back on again, and then turned off for good was a clear indication of just how frantic the pilot had been searching for the control.
The silence that followed was akin to bliss.
”Sorry about that.” T’yzfir said, with a much more visible deadpan on his face. ”That was probably the cat.”
”Stupid @#$%ing animal.” Sands growled, under his breath.
”Rin, please run by the engine room and bring us the busted screw?” The centerfold man said in a half-question, half-request that suggested both casual authority and easy courtesy. ”Dal, go ahead and bring the boat out of lockdown.” That way, the Nyran would not need to go manually unsealing each door on the way – now that help was at hand, there was less need to be stingy with power.
In the pilot’s cabin, Dallen and Rin were watching the encounter from one of the many shipwide cameras – sound and all. Leaning forward and flicking switches, she held down one toggle and replied ”On it.” Her voice would come through on the intercom. Then she released the toggle so as to go unheard by their guests, and gave Rin a friendly nod toward the door. ”An’ come back up here after y’give it to ‘em.” She added, looking to the Nyran before he could leave. ”I don’t those guys.”
Back in the entry port, the centerfold man continued ”We’ll have it for you in a moment. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a ship with a synthesizer…You should be aware that many of the inner systems have outlawed them as a threat to the Galactic economy.” He shrugged, amiably. ”Not our business though – only passing it along.” HE had a way of coming off entirely sincere – leaving little room for concerns that he might be up to something.
Then the big man came striding forward – but none of the three men reacted, save for the two on either side exchanging looks – wry grins. It had occurred to them at that moment that it had been rather silly to raise their guard seeing him. After all, the guy in the armor was clearly going to be more dangerous, if they were intent on causing trouble.
Not to mention the guy’s comment to the armored one. The strangeness of this duo and their dynamic had suddenly become just a little clearer.
The centerfold man did not back away – nor did he tense, or show any sign that the sudden approach was anything but welcome. He put out his own hand, grasped the big guy’s, and gave an admirably firm handshake. Obviously the kind of strength that the big guy possessed could not be present – but still there was a tension in the arm and a tautness in the gesture. A good handshake. Not ‘all-in’, but admirable. ”Leng T’yzfir.” He said, pronouncing the three syllables almost as one in some kind of choppy dialect that was virtually impossible to comprehend. The similarly stilted accent he spoke with made it clear that he was more fluent in some native language than in Standard – a rarity, in a Galaxy where Standard was almost universally taught as a first language.
”Fellerton Sands.” The blonde guy leaning on the butt of the hefty rifle said, half-smiling, raising a hand in a half-waving gesture. ”E’tzu Tsuan, the one and only~” The smaller guy on the other side added, jabbing a thumb at his chest and grinning widely.
But Jet Jackson’s next question actually managed to take all three of them off guard – T’yzfir included. He had been about to say something else, but the words caught in his throat and all he uttered was ”Join-…huh?” Accompanied by a deeply perplexed expression. It was the last thing any of them had expected – and the other two men made that obvious too.
But it was certainly a straightforward manner of putting it out there, and there was something to be said for that. T’yzfir recovered quickly. ”Well, yes, we are always looking for new connections. We’ll talk more about it in a few minutes, good?”
Not a ’no’, at least.
Curiously, Kovacs’ request not to posture and assertion of the certainty of his actions went, so it seemed, totally ignored – save for T’yzfir giving a comprehending nod, and then dropping the issue. No sense in dragging out the subject of how clearly vulnerable they were to an attack at this time – how outgunned they were, too. He might have considered it downright rude or even openly hostile – except that it was he who was in need of assistance, and that meant the armored man had a right to be on-edge if he felt the need. But he saw no need to insist upon the good intentions of his own crew. If this Kovacs’ guy really thought of them in their little yacht as a threat, then they had been doomed from the start.
Plus, it was immediately clear who would be the person to have on their side, if only for the duration of this situation. If the armored guy started to get trigger-happy, doubtless the big guy would step in to calm him down. So it was the big guy that they would be sure to have on their end of the bargain.
He was about to say something else – when an unholy noise came screeching from the shipwide intercom. All three of them winced rather violently – though the guy on the left, Tsuan, was right next to one of the speakers, and the sound sent him clutching at his ears and stumbling closer to T’yzfir – who was the only one not to go exclaiming expletives at the outburst – he was more deadpan about it, gritting his teeth and looking upward, as though silently telling some invisible god of his passive intent to strangle someone. ”Turn that thing off!” He said loudly enough to be heard, and sternly enough to sound deeply irritated.
In the pilots’ cabin, Dallen had actually been knocked out of her seat from the shock of it. Admittedly, it didn’t help that she was leaning back in a wholly unprofessional posture. With a yelp, she found herself on the floor – then scrabbling to her feet, hunching over the control panel and wildly searching for the mute button in some kind of desperate frenzy.
It seemed to take hours for her to finally find it, and the fact that, at last, the music turned off – instantly turned back on again, and then turned off for good was a clear indication of just how frantic the pilot had been searching for the control.
The silence that followed was akin to bliss.
”Sorry about that.” T’yzfir said, with a much more visible deadpan on his face. ”That was probably the cat.”
”Stupid @#$%ing animal.” Sands growled, under his breath.
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