Christofer nodded in return to Kallenger's comment. To be honest, he would, very likely, rather know how to make food than how to operate some complicated high level technology. The other could be useful too, but he happened to value food and survival over information and the likes. Well, up until it came to poisonous food and such, but he was rather well off on that area - probably.
The question that followed had his head swaying from side to side as he put on a thoughtful expression, shrugged one shoulder, then the other, and looked around the room.
"Mmmm.... I... guess you could call it that, in the way that it was temporary. We did work in a nation that was not ours, but our intentions weren't on taking the area over. At least... Mine were not..." Who knows what the higher-ups had planned, he didn't. "It's- Yeah... That's about it." Best leave it at that.
Canid had managed to humor Royanna in some way, by commenting on cracking codes. He really was not the expert when it came to those himself, preferred to try and describe how things looked like while others did the figuring out. He wouldn't know much on what was going on, the monitors and all, much too confusing, but he'd try and follow them, somehow, even if most the things just flew right by.
So much so that he was actually much more focused on the piece of wire than the screen, though pulling it out and tugging ant it just like that may not have been the best choice. So... He may have made things a little awkward, but while the screen was still producing letters and symbols from every corner it could, the canid reached up to tap at Royanna's cheek with his palm to get her attention, or at least to inform her that he was there, before then taking a hold of the wire and trying to pull it out from her mouth. It was not healthy for her teeth and probably did not taste all that good or provide a substitute for food, meaning that it had to go.
Afterwards he'd be rather confident on taking a seat on the one in the control room that Royanna herself had been sitting on earlier. It was a bit more comfortable than the lone stool he himself had had, and hopefully kept warmth to itself a little longer. He was cold... Even with that fur. Must have been the lack of eating as well as the shower and all that. If he was able, he'd be curling on it, all the while keeping his attention on the screen and woman the best he could, leaning onto the fabric.
"I don't know how plausible that is... I mean, wouldn't he be angrier if there had been some tests ran and everything?" Being an unwilling test subject usually had negative effects coming with it, or so he thought, not having all that much experience on any of it. Certainly not as much as Roy had if she said that had it been Imperial, tests were definite. "He's a little more temperamental, likely would have been angry, and... If it was my fault by any means he'd not have let me go like that. The Dim I know does not like me." He was trying to reason with it. Somehow things just Had to be his fault, no way there'd have been something else. It... just did not seem likely to him that Dim would not have been trying to murder him because he'd feel pity for their similar situation, that seemed obscure...
Still, the words on injecting things and doing things... There was never any talk of things like that for as long as he could remember. And he did remember his life kinda well, up until the disaster and everything blanking out after that, lost, unreachable.
"It sounds weird... I don't think things like that were even really possible at where I'm from. But..." Couldn't just outright absolutely deny it all either. Being able to be his own self again, look-wise at least, that had him silent, pondering. It really depended on what all was going on with it, how it would be done... How long it'd take and if it was even possible. Would Dim be angry at him again if they were to meet again, or would he be friendly? And what about others? Were there others? Would it cost..? Way too many questions, canid settled for a simple "Okay..." While holding around that dried up furry tail of his, substituting it for a pillow.
Not closing his eyes yet, rather, perking his head up at the tapping to see what it was about, eyes keenly on the tracker. Silent for the time Roy took to explain her thoughts and views on it before commenting.
"If he wanted me dead, I can assure you I'd already be full of stabbing wounds." A couple years knowing the albino for nothing. Without a weapon on him he'd have been dead as was. He wasn't even there to stop such from happening, so that was a possibility. Where was he even..? Were they still alive? Or was Dmitri working on his own, matured with that? ..... No, another set of thoughts told him again that he'd have been Dead himself if that had ever happened. "He's just, uhhh, not the friendliest person around that I know."
But again, just a theory, she said.
And making him decide after that? She'd find him looking back for a silent while, just blinking occasionally in the silence, looking back before eventually replying.
"I think it should probably be left for when we've seen how things in Ardella go, right? You said you weren't too sure yet, so... Perhaps we should leave it as is until we know, and when we are free you can try reverting it?" Unless it had to be done Now. He wasn't the best at making decisions, but he was at least Trying real hard at the moment. If it had to be immediate like that though, it'd likely be crashing the confidence he had in that moment.
The question that followed had his head swaying from side to side as he put on a thoughtful expression, shrugged one shoulder, then the other, and looked around the room.
"Mmmm.... I... guess you could call it that, in the way that it was temporary. We did work in a nation that was not ours, but our intentions weren't on taking the area over. At least... Mine were not..." Who knows what the higher-ups had planned, he didn't. "It's- Yeah... That's about it." Best leave it at that.
Canid had managed to humor Royanna in some way, by commenting on cracking codes. He really was not the expert when it came to those himself, preferred to try and describe how things looked like while others did the figuring out. He wouldn't know much on what was going on, the monitors and all, much too confusing, but he'd try and follow them, somehow, even if most the things just flew right by.
So much so that he was actually much more focused on the piece of wire than the screen, though pulling it out and tugging ant it just like that may not have been the best choice. So... He may have made things a little awkward, but while the screen was still producing letters and symbols from every corner it could, the canid reached up to tap at Royanna's cheek with his palm to get her attention, or at least to inform her that he was there, before then taking a hold of the wire and trying to pull it out from her mouth. It was not healthy for her teeth and probably did not taste all that good or provide a substitute for food, meaning that it had to go.
Afterwards he'd be rather confident on taking a seat on the one in the control room that Royanna herself had been sitting on earlier. It was a bit more comfortable than the lone stool he himself had had, and hopefully kept warmth to itself a little longer. He was cold... Even with that fur. Must have been the lack of eating as well as the shower and all that. If he was able, he'd be curling on it, all the while keeping his attention on the screen and woman the best he could, leaning onto the fabric.
"I don't know how plausible that is... I mean, wouldn't he be angrier if there had been some tests ran and everything?" Being an unwilling test subject usually had negative effects coming with it, or so he thought, not having all that much experience on any of it. Certainly not as much as Roy had if she said that had it been Imperial, tests were definite. "He's a little more temperamental, likely would have been angry, and... If it was my fault by any means he'd not have let me go like that. The Dim I know does not like me." He was trying to reason with it. Somehow things just Had to be his fault, no way there'd have been something else. It... just did not seem likely to him that Dim would not have been trying to murder him because he'd feel pity for their similar situation, that seemed obscure...
Still, the words on injecting things and doing things... There was never any talk of things like that for as long as he could remember. And he did remember his life kinda well, up until the disaster and everything blanking out after that, lost, unreachable.
"It sounds weird... I don't think things like that were even really possible at where I'm from. But..." Couldn't just outright absolutely deny it all either. Being able to be his own self again, look-wise at least, that had him silent, pondering. It really depended on what all was going on with it, how it would be done... How long it'd take and if it was even possible. Would Dim be angry at him again if they were to meet again, or would he be friendly? And what about others? Were there others? Would it cost..? Way too many questions, canid settled for a simple "Okay..." While holding around that dried up furry tail of his, substituting it for a pillow.
Not closing his eyes yet, rather, perking his head up at the tapping to see what it was about, eyes keenly on the tracker. Silent for the time Roy took to explain her thoughts and views on it before commenting.
"If he wanted me dead, I can assure you I'd already be full of stabbing wounds." A couple years knowing the albino for nothing. Without a weapon on him he'd have been dead as was. He wasn't even there to stop such from happening, so that was a possibility. Where was he even..? Were they still alive? Or was Dmitri working on his own, matured with that? ..... No, another set of thoughts told him again that he'd have been Dead himself if that had ever happened. "He's just, uhhh, not the friendliest person around that I know."
But again, just a theory, she said.
And making him decide after that? She'd find him looking back for a silent while, just blinking occasionally in the silence, looking back before eventually replying.
"I think it should probably be left for when we've seen how things in Ardella go, right? You said you weren't too sure yet, so... Perhaps we should leave it as is until we know, and when we are free you can try reverting it?" Unless it had to be done Now. He wasn't the best at making decisions, but he was at least Trying real hard at the moment. If it had to be immediate like that though, it'd likely be crashing the confidence he had in that moment.
Asya did not have time to properly connect what the computer had said to Kovacs's words before the shipped jumped. Standing rigidly for the duration of the jump, Asya's becomes slightly paler and her otherwise flat expression changing to one of unease. It gave away the fact that the feeling of jumping did not agree with her, something not noted in her file.
Following their return to normal space, her expression remains uneasy for several moments before returning to it's previous state. Clearing her throat as she moves to take a look at the suit, she says "I certainly appreciate the offer but I am positive Sergeant Black would have told you I would not have such a discussion quite yet. Considering the circumstances, I can't make such a decision until I have their opinions. Though I am fairly sure that both will opt for a peaceful retirement. Sergeant Black is old enough to be my father...and after her injuries Private Jin Masra will likely not be fit for service."
Falling silent as she continues looking over the suit, she takes her right hand and gently touches different parts of the suit, taking in every detail she could. Finally she speaks again "While I question how you obtained my measurements, I do appreciate the suit. I've never seen some of these materials before." Turning the suit around to look at the back, she makes a soft click with her tongue while examining the neck area. She sighs "Now I know where you found my measurements though. My military file doesn't mention that I have a neural interface. The file hasn't been updated since I joined the SIS. Despite all the other advantages it has, it makes suits like this a hassle. But going by this, I assume you have a foundry unit on board?"
Finally finished looking at the suit, Asya takes the seat that had been offered to her. She didn't bother asking where they where, one look out the canopy told her that they had left Niven space and that was the important fact for her.
Following their return to normal space, her expression remains uneasy for several moments before returning to it's previous state. Clearing her throat as she moves to take a look at the suit, she says "I certainly appreciate the offer but I am positive Sergeant Black would have told you I would not have such a discussion quite yet. Considering the circumstances, I can't make such a decision until I have their opinions. Though I am fairly sure that both will opt for a peaceful retirement. Sergeant Black is old enough to be my father...and after her injuries Private Jin Masra will likely not be fit for service."
Falling silent as she continues looking over the suit, she takes her right hand and gently touches different parts of the suit, taking in every detail she could. Finally she speaks again "While I question how you obtained my measurements, I do appreciate the suit. I've never seen some of these materials before." Turning the suit around to look at the back, she makes a soft click with her tongue while examining the neck area. She sighs "Now I know where you found my measurements though. My military file doesn't mention that I have a neural interface. The file hasn't been updated since I joined the SIS. Despite all the other advantages it has, it makes suits like this a hassle. But going by this, I assume you have a foundry unit on board?"
Finally finished looking at the suit, Asya takes the seat that had been offered to her. She didn't bother asking where they where, one look out the canopy told her that they had left Niven space and that was the important fact for her.
Kovacs smirked, nodding. "Aye, we do, and that would be a simple fix," the commander tapped the base of his skull. "Command Neural Lace. Standard issue for all officers in the Federal Navy, with a simple IFF and cyber network module for all military personnel. If you'd like, I could look into providing an upgrade after your physical evaluation," he suggested.
While he would prefer to update Zuraw's firmware to properly connect to Federal systems, it would be illegal to do so without permission. And he wanted to get a good look at the, for lack of a better word, alien technology. Plus, he hated when something was incorrect, despite it not being his fault.
"Concerning your team, I understand your concerns. Sergeant Black will be granted retirement and routed to my own accounts. As for Private Masra, I expect full recovery. I do not know the extent of your people's medical capabilities, but mine are considered 'Miraculous' by professional doctors," Kovacs didn't need to worry about sounding like he was bragging; everything he said was either honest or factual.
"Oh, and I recommend ginger for your jump sickness. I will keep the inertial dampeners to a higher setting from now on, but let me know if the problem persists."
While he would prefer to update Zuraw's firmware to properly connect to Federal systems, it would be illegal to do so without permission. And he wanted to get a good look at the, for lack of a better word, alien technology. Plus, he hated when something was incorrect, despite it not being his fault.
"Concerning your team, I understand your concerns. Sergeant Black will be granted retirement and routed to my own accounts. As for Private Masra, I expect full recovery. I do not know the extent of your people's medical capabilities, but mine are considered 'Miraculous' by professional doctors," Kovacs didn't need to worry about sounding like he was bragging; everything he said was either honest or factual.
"Oh, and I recommend ginger for your jump sickness. I will keep the inertial dampeners to a higher setting from now on, but let me know if the problem persists."
Talis quite enjoyed the flow of conversation. She played into it, completely still and observant yet somehow she held the air as if she had quietly orchestrated all of this to happen. Had she? Just who was this woman? She had given no name and she seemed nowhere near inclined to give it out. She was a mystery, for sure. A dangerously beautiful mystery…
“The detective is a very good man. He would never drug or poison you” She responded to the colorful trio of dog like creatures, hopping onto the table in which her newest pal sat. Carefully, she snatched the half empty glass from his hands and drank deeply.
It was mushroom whiskey; Talis had picked him more of a vodka kind of man.
“I, however, most likely would and am still mulling it over,” She muttered and placed the glass down with a rather dramatic 'clink'. In her triumph, she smirked - just a small pouting of the lips combined with the cool detachment within her eyes and the slight tilt of her head. Talis had hoped to gain a fairly entertaining reaction from them but regardless of what they did, the smirk would stay.
She wasn’t exactly subtle and yet…
There was definitely a knife in someone’s back somewhere…
“Anyway, I say with the addition of Broody-“ She jabbed her thumb at the prospective young man in the middle of the bar “And the Wonder siblings, that our team is set wouldn’t you Detective?” Talis dragged the title out teasingly, idly tracing the rim of the empty glass with her finger.
“The detective is a very good man. He would never drug or poison you” She responded to the colorful trio of dog like creatures, hopping onto the table in which her newest pal sat. Carefully, she snatched the half empty glass from his hands and drank deeply.
It was mushroom whiskey; Talis had picked him more of a vodka kind of man.
“I, however, most likely would and am still mulling it over,” She muttered and placed the glass down with a rather dramatic 'clink'. In her triumph, she smirked - just a small pouting of the lips combined with the cool detachment within her eyes and the slight tilt of her head. Talis had hoped to gain a fairly entertaining reaction from them but regardless of what they did, the smirk would stay.
She wasn’t exactly subtle and yet…
There was definitely a knife in someone’s back somewhere…
“Anyway, I say with the addition of Broody-“ She jabbed her thumb at the prospective young man in the middle of the bar “And the Wonder siblings, that our team is set wouldn’t you Detective?” Talis dragged the title out teasingly, idly tracing the rim of the empty glass with her finger.
Having sat down with her brother and everyone else, Alice took a look around at the group this contest had gathered. They hadn't even left yet and already their adventure was getting interesting with this crowd.
"So I'm afraid I just found out about this contest. Sorry to ask this, but could someone fill me in to exactly what it is my brother and I will be piloting you towards?" She asked. Though she included herself, it was highly doubtful that she would be piloting the ship at any point. Wick had more experience in that regard, which was evident to her after she had crashed a simulated ship one too many times.
Wick didn't say anything yet. He looked around at everyone, trying his best to memorize faces. This normally came easy, but with recent events his mind was constantly drifting elsewhere. He was having a moment where plenty of better ideas as to how something could've been done came as though he'd had them.
I could've asked her out for that drink. We never did get to have it, what with the whole ship getting attacked thing. Damn it, I wish I had thought of that earlier. Wick thought. He wondered if Nirix's thoughts were just as stuck on this as his were.
"So I'm afraid I just found out about this contest. Sorry to ask this, but could someone fill me in to exactly what it is my brother and I will be piloting you towards?" She asked. Though she included herself, it was highly doubtful that she would be piloting the ship at any point. Wick had more experience in that regard, which was evident to her after she had crashed a simulated ship one too many times.
Wick didn't say anything yet. He looked around at everyone, trying his best to memorize faces. This normally came easy, but with recent events his mind was constantly drifting elsewhere. He was having a moment where plenty of better ideas as to how something could've been done came as though he'd had them.
I could've asked her out for that drink. We never did get to have it, what with the whole ship getting attacked thing. Damn it, I wish I had thought of that earlier. Wick thought. He wondered if Nirix's thoughts were just as stuck on this as his were.
The Ark of Chyll
The brat stole my drink! Would you believe it? Just plucked it out of my hands like it belonged to her and hammered it down in one enthusiastic swig. A cute move, and it told me everything I needed to know. Not that there had been a doubt in my mind that she was an instigator as much as she was a thief - but it told me more, too. She was a playful type. Plucky. Stole for the fun of it and covered it up with only the thinnest veneer of feigned innocence.
I liked her.
And I knew she was going to be a pain in my neck for a very long time.
Between her and the pillbug Jacobo there was more than enough party to go around - they were active, and real forward. Social butterbugs. They always came in handy in large groups like this one - and boy, was it ever a large group.
I realized with some chagrin that I was treating most of these people like outward enemies - or at very least, people I was going to have to manipulate to get the job done. I’d always hated that habit, but it comes with the job and the decades. Sure, this sort of contest would be certain to attract all kinds of unruly, insidious types - but that didn’t mean I had to jump the gun, now did it?
The Commodores were an interesting pair. Thought they might have been a couple at first, but the family resemblance was obvious once you got a good look. Siblings, then. The girl seemed the more talkative of the two, while the guy seemed real distracted by something. I’d recognize that far-off look anywhere - it was a gal on his mind.
I thought it was strange that they knew so little about the contest, especially since they were the ones with the boat - but it made me realize that I probably knew more about this contest than any of them. I’d been looking into it for weeks.
The pale kid in the dark clothes didn’t look like he wanted to be where he was - he hadn’t said a word yet, so I guessed I’d have to change that.
The lizard was...being a lizard. Clearly the strong, silent type. Didn’t seem like that would be changing anytime soon, so I didn't pester him.
The doggos were out of their depth, that much was obvious. They hadn’t come here for the contest - the way they’d hastened to dry off suggested merely getting out of the rain - a noble pursuit regardless. I figured it couldn’t hurt to have them along - if I was going to make it to the top of this contest and see what was going on behind the curtains, I was going to need all the help I could get.
The old detective let his hand hover for a long moment in the position it had been in when the glass was removed from his possession, as if it were still there, and merely invisible. He looked up at the woman with a dry, deadpan expression, the white cigarette hanging loosely, comfortably from his lips.
It was a curious thing in that it did not smell of nicotine nor tobacco - nor any of the other thousands of herbs and chemicals smoked in such a fashion around the Way. It wasn’t even made of paper - in fact, it seemed to be made of chalk. He was not smoking the cigarette, for there was no smoke - only the faintest puff of fine white dust from the end when he happened to move it about.
At last he gave a tiny smirk. ”My treat.” He said dryly, but not without humor. Then, not skipping a beat, he casually intercepted the bartender’s attempt to deliver one of the dark, sweet smelling beverages to one of the canids. The bartender accepted this with the same resigned perplexity he had adopted over the minutes since these characters had all begun to show up. He slid the other two over to the recipients, then went about making another one as a replacement.
Swirling the liquid slightly, the detective made eye contact with the one of them who had questioned his intents with suspicion, pointedly taking a sip. That in itself would surely act as proof of the integrity of the beverages. It was also the single smoothest transition between having a drink casually stolen and equally casually replacing it without skipping a beat. For good measure, he added ”The gal’s right. I’m an Imperial Officer. I uphold the law, not break it.” And there might have been the slightest hint of warning tension there, but it was gone in a heartbeat.
”No kidding.” He said, addressing Jacobo, and unable to suppress a single, amused huff as the insectoid skittered across the bar only to bop one of the canids in the nose with his tablet. ”We’ve got enough species in here to start a new United Systems, heh. Now I’m warning you all, I won’t tolerate any race-wars.” He added the last bit with a clearly joking tone, taking on a very false chiding vibe for a moment before returning to his usual tone, raising his voice slightly to address the as of yet silent one among them.
”Hey, kid - yeah, you in the black. Y’comin’ over or what? Something’s telin’ me you ain’t here for the hooch.” If the young man hesitated, the detective would give a few reassuring motions beckoning him nearer. ”What’s y’name, kid?”
He realized belatedly that he was more or less at the dead center of this conglomeration of beings. Well, it was still better than standing atop a car and addressing an angry mob, so he didn’t mind.
Once everyone seemed to be there, Clégg surveyed them casually, peering from under his hat and over the glass of dark alcohol.
”Well, I can’t imagine there are any more.” He said, with an introspective nod. ”So let’s get this all straightened out. You wanna’ know more about the contest? I’ll tell ‘ya everything I know.” he seemed to address the canids in particular with the last part.
He was in no rush, shifting comfortably in his seat, nursing the alcohol and the curious, chalk-like “cigarette”. ”Here’s the deal. The contest is being held by a megacorporation called BrainPal Industries, based out of a mobile interstellar colony ship called the Stella Viventium.” Some may have heard of that mysterious ship - that flying golden ity that drifted aimlessly through the stars, hardly ever visiting the same system twice. But given the size of the Galaxy, it was still a rare encounter and not commonly spoken of.
The name itself would mean nothing to anyone present - some dead language, doubtless.
”Most of you’ve probably heard of them. Sort of a household name. They mostly deal with communications and computing tech, but I’m pretty sure there’s not a single enterprise they haven’t stuck their fingers in at least once. An old company, too - and I should mention, a legitimate one. They’re generally no more shady than any other mega-corp in the Way.” He didn’t want to give off the impression that they were dealing with outright villains right off the bat. ”So, a few weeks ago, they announced this little contest we’re all about to go traipsing off on. A scavenger hunt - we won’t know what we’re hunting for until it officially starts tonight at midnight - and for a reward they’re making all sorts of lofty promises. Money, fame, sex, dreams-come-true, all that jazz. It’s a pretty simple setup - join a team, board a boat, find the dingus and bring it home before anyone else.”
He sipped again, gesturing to the insectoid. ”That thing Jacobo was signing earlier is what makes sure the prize gets split evenly among the winning team, so make sure to sign it if you haven’t already. And don’t worry - I read all the fine-print three times over. It’s a registration, not a contract.”
He decided not to mention the real reason he was getting involved. It was obvious why a detective would be interested in such a prospect. The allure was as tempting to him as anyone, but there was also the matter of simple corporate espionage. It was something interesting, too good to be true and just a little bit shady - so of course a detective would be sent to check it out.
What he didn’t tell them, was about BioDyne - the subsidiary corporation that had abruptly sprung up from the depths of time seemingly out of nowhere. Nobody that didn’t have access to extensive historical records would have no reason to pay any mind, or even notice it in the first place. It had been literally thousands of years since the name BioDyne had appeared anywhere. It would not be remembered except by the Imperial bookkeepers and the respective snoops. But Detective Clégg knew about it, and it was more than enough to raise suspicious about the behind-the-scenes antics of the ever-gargantuan BrainPal Industries...
”The contest is estimated to go on for several weeks or longer, so-” He glanced to the ones who owned the ship they would be living within for that duration still grinning - ”I hope you’ve got decent accommodations for us, heh.”
Qetan Scout Ship
Wireless verbal communication tended to be awkward. It was in the nature of the medium that orderly, efficient exchange of information might become muddled or confused.
The counter-response to Wyr and Vaxur’s identification and return-query would not be so militaristic as the initial encounter may have suggested - but all the more telling for it. Apparently, others had tuned into the same frequency, and they were sharing the band with the attacker’s boarding party. The husky female voice made to speak, but was cut off by a cool, even-toned male’s.
”Ship’s secure, Dal. Tsuan’s hurt bad. Dock-up and get him to medbay. We got company?” So, it seemed, whoever these attackers were, they had won…
THe woman - who had apparently forgotten for a short moment to actualy reply to the newcomers - made to say ”Got it, coming in - yeah they’re-”
And again, she was cut off. this time, by a series of sounds, first. It was the sound of someone fumbling awkwardly - perhaps desperately - with a microphone, simultaneous with the sound of someone getting poked in the eye as said microphone was snatched clumsily from their face. The voice that spoke was slightly too loud, terribly slurred as if hopelessly drunk - and the first real sign as to the allegiance of the attackers.
”Izzat - aqua-quaddick-land anil-alien!!” he stuttered hopelessly, but with a desperate, drunken excitement that bordered on giddiness. ”Zax-Vack-Vackserr hi hello~! We goddum guys he’zokay~! A’lilpassathoughb’thnkfffgh~”
The voice descended into incoherent muttering and at last faded all together. A brief moment of silence followed, as the ship came gliding to a halt beside the wounded vessel and began docking. When the husky woman’s voice returned, it was slightly distracted - she was, after all, slightly new to such sensitive maneuvers as attaching to a crippled ship, and needed to focus on the endeavor. Apparently the ven-toned one was busy.
”Yeah sorry guys we’re a ‘lil hectic over here. This a rescue mission. @#$%heads got’im but looks like we got’im back. We’d bringin ‘im in your direction when they snagged’im.”
So then, that settled it - it was confirmed - the attackers were friendlies, and they had apparently just rescued Rin from mysterious captors...Though doubtless the design of the ship would be distinct to anyone who had previous experience with Qetans…
”I’ll open up dock-2, hook to me and com join th’party. Aux-dock’s busted on this wreck.”
In the assault, the auxiliary dock on the Qetan scout ship had been damaged past the point of safe use - so the newcomers would need to attach themselves to the Koolest, which had attached itself to the scout - and the final product would be three different ships clinging awkwardly to each other in some kind of three-way insectoid mating ritual.
They would find nobody there to greet them when they opened the connector to step onto the Koolest - but it would not take long to hear the sounds of activity that would guide them to the crew - most notably, the sound of the husky-voiced woman barking shocked obscenities at the apparently abhorrent condition of her comrade...
Ty was all business. Having gently pried his mask and microphone back away from the now heavily drugged Tsuan, he made his way back toward the Koolest while his friend and comrade stumbled along beside him, slung over his shoulders like a ragdoll.
Sands took a moment to make sure both the “animals”were lain out in at least semi-comfortable positions on the floor before proceeding over to Jet, and binding the dazed Qetan woman’s arms behind her back with riot-police style zip tie cuffs. A brief pat-down to assure that all potential weapons were out of her reach, and Jet was instructed to set her on the floor, leaning up against the wall. THen he beckoned for Jet to follow, approaching the Qetan male, glowering at him with thinly veiled disdain and motioning with one hand the silent version of ”give it here”. If he decided to fight, it would he himself versus one big guy with a big gun and another big guy that made “big” into understatement of the century. Taking no chances, the two of them would gang up on the Qetan if they had to, similarly binding his wrists and sitting him down against one wall.
As it seemed that the Nyran too was on the verge of collapse, he would be encouraged to take a seat as well - and in the end, it looked as if the entire place had been gassed. Sands did not recall seeing either the Qetan woman or the Nyran being hit with the cryo-stun rounds, but that was no surprise, being that the design was maximum penetration with minimal damage - a target wouldn’t even bleed being struck with one, and the projectile itself would melt within seconds. But they were potent, slowing the metabolic processes down to something approaching stasis or “cold-sleep” until the effects wore off.
Surveying the scene and satisfied, Sands decided to stand guard over the area until Ty returned - not saying a word.
”Black @#$%ing Space Tzu’ what the @#$% did yo’ stupid ass do!” Dallen cried in fury and horror. It was the first the newcomers would actually see of RIn’s apparent rescuers - the stocky, black-skinned, blue-haired woman racing over to the airlock to help hold up a fantastically doped-up Malaysian with a horrifically mutilated hand, and the sinewy, elegant oriental fellow along with them. The woman looked as if she couldn’t decide whether to hug the wounded man or beat the ever-loving daylights out of him.
The elegant one - bald but for a black ponytail, handed the wounded one to the woman and let her take him back into the ship - with the former muttering incoherently about ’Something something aquatic-land-alien something”’ and the latter cursing the former’s reckless stupidity with colorful language.
Promptly extending a hand - uncertain as to if they understood the gesture, but not showing such - the one remaining made with simple introductions. ”Leny T’yzfir. That’s Dallen Armston and E’tzu Tsuan. Fellerton Sands and Jet Jackson or on board. You must be Wyr and Vaxur? Good to finally meet you.” He turned and made his way back onto the Qetan ship, talking as they went and ignoring all the scars of battle that had been left within the vessel itself. They had obviously torn with ferocity though the ship in their haste and determination to complete the mission.
”We were on our way to find you when our ship was breached.” he began, ”We’d been looking after Rin for several days after picking him up from Laurent.” His respectably professional tone faltered as he spat the name - a name that Wyr and Vaxur would likely remember well. ”Tsuan convinced them to take him along with Rin, somehow. Not sure what happened after that - most of us are pretty much in the dark here. Tsuan’s the only one who really knows anything and he’s in no condition to talk. Not sure how he got his hand blown off. He’s very…dedicated.”
When they arrived at the lab, there was little else to be said - the situation would speak for itself more than any words Ty could put to it.
”He was like this when we got here.’” Sands said, gesturing toward the comatose Rin on the table. Then he gestured to the Nyran in the black robes, who was either very groggy or entirely unconscious, unless he had somehow recovered. ”That guy over there, and Tsuan both said not to kill the bad guys, so we didn’t Otherwise we’d have killed the @#$% out of them.”
”Anything you can do to fill us in on all this would be...most appreciated.” Ty added, looking back and forth between Wyr and Vaxur - then giving a little smile that was somewhere between chagrined and downright admissive. ”All we really knew going into it was that they took our friend. Everything else is guesswork.”
The brat stole my drink! Would you believe it? Just plucked it out of my hands like it belonged to her and hammered it down in one enthusiastic swig. A cute move, and it told me everything I needed to know. Not that there had been a doubt in my mind that she was an instigator as much as she was a thief - but it told me more, too. She was a playful type. Plucky. Stole for the fun of it and covered it up with only the thinnest veneer of feigned innocence.
I liked her.
And I knew she was going to be a pain in my neck for a very long time.
Between her and the pillbug Jacobo there was more than enough party to go around - they were active, and real forward. Social butterbugs. They always came in handy in large groups like this one - and boy, was it ever a large group.
I realized with some chagrin that I was treating most of these people like outward enemies - or at very least, people I was going to have to manipulate to get the job done. I’d always hated that habit, but it comes with the job and the decades. Sure, this sort of contest would be certain to attract all kinds of unruly, insidious types - but that didn’t mean I had to jump the gun, now did it?
The Commodores were an interesting pair. Thought they might have been a couple at first, but the family resemblance was obvious once you got a good look. Siblings, then. The girl seemed the more talkative of the two, while the guy seemed real distracted by something. I’d recognize that far-off look anywhere - it was a gal on his mind.
I thought it was strange that they knew so little about the contest, especially since they were the ones with the boat - but it made me realize that I probably knew more about this contest than any of them. I’d been looking into it for weeks.
The pale kid in the dark clothes didn’t look like he wanted to be where he was - he hadn’t said a word yet, so I guessed I’d have to change that.
The lizard was...being a lizard. Clearly the strong, silent type. Didn’t seem like that would be changing anytime soon, so I didn't pester him.
The doggos were out of their depth, that much was obvious. They hadn’t come here for the contest - the way they’d hastened to dry off suggested merely getting out of the rain - a noble pursuit regardless. I figured it couldn’t hurt to have them along - if I was going to make it to the top of this contest and see what was going on behind the curtains, I was going to need all the help I could get.
The old detective let his hand hover for a long moment in the position it had been in when the glass was removed from his possession, as if it were still there, and merely invisible. He looked up at the woman with a dry, deadpan expression, the white cigarette hanging loosely, comfortably from his lips.
It was a curious thing in that it did not smell of nicotine nor tobacco - nor any of the other thousands of herbs and chemicals smoked in such a fashion around the Way. It wasn’t even made of paper - in fact, it seemed to be made of chalk. He was not smoking the cigarette, for there was no smoke - only the faintest puff of fine white dust from the end when he happened to move it about.
At last he gave a tiny smirk. ”My treat.” He said dryly, but not without humor. Then, not skipping a beat, he casually intercepted the bartender’s attempt to deliver one of the dark, sweet smelling beverages to one of the canids. The bartender accepted this with the same resigned perplexity he had adopted over the minutes since these characters had all begun to show up. He slid the other two over to the recipients, then went about making another one as a replacement.
Swirling the liquid slightly, the detective made eye contact with the one of them who had questioned his intents with suspicion, pointedly taking a sip. That in itself would surely act as proof of the integrity of the beverages. It was also the single smoothest transition between having a drink casually stolen and equally casually replacing it without skipping a beat. For good measure, he added ”The gal’s right. I’m an Imperial Officer. I uphold the law, not break it.” And there might have been the slightest hint of warning tension there, but it was gone in a heartbeat.
”No kidding.” He said, addressing Jacobo, and unable to suppress a single, amused huff as the insectoid skittered across the bar only to bop one of the canids in the nose with his tablet. ”We’ve got enough species in here to start a new United Systems, heh. Now I’m warning you all, I won’t tolerate any race-wars.” He added the last bit with a clearly joking tone, taking on a very false chiding vibe for a moment before returning to his usual tone, raising his voice slightly to address the as of yet silent one among them.
”Hey, kid - yeah, you in the black. Y’comin’ over or what? Something’s telin’ me you ain’t here for the hooch.” If the young man hesitated, the detective would give a few reassuring motions beckoning him nearer. ”What’s y’name, kid?”
He realized belatedly that he was more or less at the dead center of this conglomeration of beings. Well, it was still better than standing atop a car and addressing an angry mob, so he didn’t mind.
Once everyone seemed to be there, Clégg surveyed them casually, peering from under his hat and over the glass of dark alcohol.
”Well, I can’t imagine there are any more.” He said, with an introspective nod. ”So let’s get this all straightened out. You wanna’ know more about the contest? I’ll tell ‘ya everything I know.” he seemed to address the canids in particular with the last part.
He was in no rush, shifting comfortably in his seat, nursing the alcohol and the curious, chalk-like “cigarette”. ”Here’s the deal. The contest is being held by a megacorporation called BrainPal Industries, based out of a mobile interstellar colony ship called the Stella Viventium.” Some may have heard of that mysterious ship - that flying golden ity that drifted aimlessly through the stars, hardly ever visiting the same system twice. But given the size of the Galaxy, it was still a rare encounter and not commonly spoken of.
The name itself would mean nothing to anyone present - some dead language, doubtless.
”Most of you’ve probably heard of them. Sort of a household name. They mostly deal with communications and computing tech, but I’m pretty sure there’s not a single enterprise they haven’t stuck their fingers in at least once. An old company, too - and I should mention, a legitimate one. They’re generally no more shady than any other mega-corp in the Way.” He didn’t want to give off the impression that they were dealing with outright villains right off the bat. ”So, a few weeks ago, they announced this little contest we’re all about to go traipsing off on. A scavenger hunt - we won’t know what we’re hunting for until it officially starts tonight at midnight - and for a reward they’re making all sorts of lofty promises. Money, fame, sex, dreams-come-true, all that jazz. It’s a pretty simple setup - join a team, board a boat, find the dingus and bring it home before anyone else.”
He sipped again, gesturing to the insectoid. ”That thing Jacobo was signing earlier is what makes sure the prize gets split evenly among the winning team, so make sure to sign it if you haven’t already. And don’t worry - I read all the fine-print three times over. It’s a registration, not a contract.”
He decided not to mention the real reason he was getting involved. It was obvious why a detective would be interested in such a prospect. The allure was as tempting to him as anyone, but there was also the matter of simple corporate espionage. It was something interesting, too good to be true and just a little bit shady - so of course a detective would be sent to check it out.
What he didn’t tell them, was about BioDyne - the subsidiary corporation that had abruptly sprung up from the depths of time seemingly out of nowhere. Nobody that didn’t have access to extensive historical records would have no reason to pay any mind, or even notice it in the first place. It had been literally thousands of years since the name BioDyne had appeared anywhere. It would not be remembered except by the Imperial bookkeepers and the respective snoops. But Detective Clégg knew about it, and it was more than enough to raise suspicious about the behind-the-scenes antics of the ever-gargantuan BrainPal Industries...
”The contest is estimated to go on for several weeks or longer, so-” He glanced to the ones who owned the ship they would be living within for that duration still grinning - ”I hope you’ve got decent accommodations for us, heh.”
Qetan Scout Ship
Wireless verbal communication tended to be awkward. It was in the nature of the medium that orderly, efficient exchange of information might become muddled or confused.
The counter-response to Wyr and Vaxur’s identification and return-query would not be so militaristic as the initial encounter may have suggested - but all the more telling for it. Apparently, others had tuned into the same frequency, and they were sharing the band with the attacker’s boarding party. The husky female voice made to speak, but was cut off by a cool, even-toned male’s.
”Ship’s secure, Dal. Tsuan’s hurt bad. Dock-up and get him to medbay. We got company?” So, it seemed, whoever these attackers were, they had won…
THe woman - who had apparently forgotten for a short moment to actualy reply to the newcomers - made to say ”Got it, coming in - yeah they’re-”
And again, she was cut off. this time, by a series of sounds, first. It was the sound of someone fumbling awkwardly - perhaps desperately - with a microphone, simultaneous with the sound of someone getting poked in the eye as said microphone was snatched clumsily from their face. The voice that spoke was slightly too loud, terribly slurred as if hopelessly drunk - and the first real sign as to the allegiance of the attackers.
”Izzat - aqua-quaddick-land anil-alien!!” he stuttered hopelessly, but with a desperate, drunken excitement that bordered on giddiness. ”Zax-Vack-Vackserr hi hello~! We goddum guys he’zokay~! A’lilpassathoughb’thnkfffgh~”
The voice descended into incoherent muttering and at last faded all together. A brief moment of silence followed, as the ship came gliding to a halt beside the wounded vessel and began docking. When the husky woman’s voice returned, it was slightly distracted - she was, after all, slightly new to such sensitive maneuvers as attaching to a crippled ship, and needed to focus on the endeavor. Apparently the ven-toned one was busy.
”Yeah sorry guys we’re a ‘lil hectic over here. This a rescue mission. @#$%heads got’im but looks like we got’im back. We’d bringin ‘im in your direction when they snagged’im.”
So then, that settled it - it was confirmed - the attackers were friendlies, and they had apparently just rescued Rin from mysterious captors...Though doubtless the design of the ship would be distinct to anyone who had previous experience with Qetans…
”I’ll open up dock-2, hook to me and com join th’party. Aux-dock’s busted on this wreck.”
In the assault, the auxiliary dock on the Qetan scout ship had been damaged past the point of safe use - so the newcomers would need to attach themselves to the Koolest, which had attached itself to the scout - and the final product would be three different ships clinging awkwardly to each other in some kind of three-way insectoid mating ritual.
They would find nobody there to greet them when they opened the connector to step onto the Koolest - but it would not take long to hear the sounds of activity that would guide them to the crew - most notably, the sound of the husky-voiced woman barking shocked obscenities at the apparently abhorrent condition of her comrade...
Ty was all business. Having gently pried his mask and microphone back away from the now heavily drugged Tsuan, he made his way back toward the Koolest while his friend and comrade stumbled along beside him, slung over his shoulders like a ragdoll.
Sands took a moment to make sure both the “animals”were lain out in at least semi-comfortable positions on the floor before proceeding over to Jet, and binding the dazed Qetan woman’s arms behind her back with riot-police style zip tie cuffs. A brief pat-down to assure that all potential weapons were out of her reach, and Jet was instructed to set her on the floor, leaning up against the wall. THen he beckoned for Jet to follow, approaching the Qetan male, glowering at him with thinly veiled disdain and motioning with one hand the silent version of ”give it here”. If he decided to fight, it would he himself versus one big guy with a big gun and another big guy that made “big” into understatement of the century. Taking no chances, the two of them would gang up on the Qetan if they had to, similarly binding his wrists and sitting him down against one wall.
As it seemed that the Nyran too was on the verge of collapse, he would be encouraged to take a seat as well - and in the end, it looked as if the entire place had been gassed. Sands did not recall seeing either the Qetan woman or the Nyran being hit with the cryo-stun rounds, but that was no surprise, being that the design was maximum penetration with minimal damage - a target wouldn’t even bleed being struck with one, and the projectile itself would melt within seconds. But they were potent, slowing the metabolic processes down to something approaching stasis or “cold-sleep” until the effects wore off.
Surveying the scene and satisfied, Sands decided to stand guard over the area until Ty returned - not saying a word.
”Black @#$%ing Space Tzu’ what the @#$% did yo’ stupid ass do!” Dallen cried in fury and horror. It was the first the newcomers would actually see of RIn’s apparent rescuers - the stocky, black-skinned, blue-haired woman racing over to the airlock to help hold up a fantastically doped-up Malaysian with a horrifically mutilated hand, and the sinewy, elegant oriental fellow along with them. The woman looked as if she couldn’t decide whether to hug the wounded man or beat the ever-loving daylights out of him.
The elegant one - bald but for a black ponytail, handed the wounded one to the woman and let her take him back into the ship - with the former muttering incoherently about ’Something something aquatic-land-alien something”’ and the latter cursing the former’s reckless stupidity with colorful language.
Promptly extending a hand - uncertain as to if they understood the gesture, but not showing such - the one remaining made with simple introductions. ”Leny T’yzfir. That’s Dallen Armston and E’tzu Tsuan. Fellerton Sands and Jet Jackson or on board. You must be Wyr and Vaxur? Good to finally meet you.” He turned and made his way back onto the Qetan ship, talking as they went and ignoring all the scars of battle that had been left within the vessel itself. They had obviously torn with ferocity though the ship in their haste and determination to complete the mission.
”We were on our way to find you when our ship was breached.” he began, ”We’d been looking after Rin for several days after picking him up from Laurent.” His respectably professional tone faltered as he spat the name - a name that Wyr and Vaxur would likely remember well. ”Tsuan convinced them to take him along with Rin, somehow. Not sure what happened after that - most of us are pretty much in the dark here. Tsuan’s the only one who really knows anything and he’s in no condition to talk. Not sure how he got his hand blown off. He’s very…dedicated.”
When they arrived at the lab, there was little else to be said - the situation would speak for itself more than any words Ty could put to it.
”He was like this when we got here.’” Sands said, gesturing toward the comatose Rin on the table. Then he gestured to the Nyran in the black robes, who was either very groggy or entirely unconscious, unless he had somehow recovered. ”That guy over there, and Tsuan both said not to kill the bad guys, so we didn’t Otherwise we’d have killed the @#$% out of them.”
”Anything you can do to fill us in on all this would be...most appreciated.” Ty added, looking back and forth between Wyr and Vaxur - then giving a little smile that was somewhere between chagrined and downright admissive. ”All we really knew going into it was that they took our friend. Everything else is guesswork.”
Daremo looked up- and straight at Justice. Strong intuition. So his info was still reliable.
He shifted, about to get up... and paused. He was still quite young- too young, some would say, for his line of work- and already he'd built a solid foundation for his reputation as a broker with pretty well-known cases, but... he still had the nagging thought, deep in his subconcious, that he didn't have enough facts to go by, that he was going to ruin everything he'd worked hard for with one single misslip.
What if he was wrong?
What if he wouldn't be able to gather enough information on everyone here?
What if people find out before-
There were too many questions, and he'd taken too long to answer. He needed to at least give an air of confidence... or indifference. At Justice's reassuring waves he relented, pulling up a seat without preamble next to the Silverstones and... Investigator Clegg. He slipped the Strength, Star, and Justice cards into his deck holder.
And now a name. "Shiro," he replied, without a tremble or heartbeat out of line. He set his chin on folded jacket sleeves as the Investigator started to debrief their oddball team.
BrainPal Industries. He knew that everything the Investigator ahd said about them was true- but of course, their offer was really quite vague. A tad suspicious, perhaps, though with such a large company- anyway, that was why he was here, and, of course, most certainly why the Investigator was here.
Information. Except the Investigator has a more noble, legitamate, job interest in the offer. The newly dubbed 'Shiro' wanted the information for future freelance work. Building on a good future, you know?
To be the greatest information broker in the galaxy...
A guy can try, can't he?
And, if the reward turned out to be true... well... knowledge was a very tempting prospect. Specifically, about people.
Which is why he'd signed up beforehand.
He tilted his head up at the Silver-siblings. Did they have enough room? He should set aside a section in their profile for their ship. If all else fails, he could just ask to sleep on the floor...
He shifted, about to get up... and paused. He was still quite young- too young, some would say, for his line of work- and already he'd built a solid foundation for his reputation as a broker with pretty well-known cases, but... he still had the nagging thought, deep in his subconcious, that he didn't have enough facts to go by, that he was going to ruin everything he'd worked hard for with one single misslip.
What if he was wrong?
What if he wouldn't be able to gather enough information on everyone here?
What if people find out before-
There were too many questions, and he'd taken too long to answer. He needed to at least give an air of confidence... or indifference. At Justice's reassuring waves he relented, pulling up a seat without preamble next to the Silverstones and... Investigator Clegg. He slipped the Strength, Star, and Justice cards into his deck holder.
And now a name. "Shiro," he replied, without a tremble or heartbeat out of line. He set his chin on folded jacket sleeves as the Investigator started to debrief their oddball team.
BrainPal Industries. He knew that everything the Investigator ahd said about them was true- but of course, their offer was really quite vague. A tad suspicious, perhaps, though with such a large company- anyway, that was why he was here, and, of course, most certainly why the Investigator was here.
Information. Except the Investigator has a more noble, legitamate, job interest in the offer. The newly dubbed 'Shiro' wanted the information for future freelance work. Building on a good future, you know?
To be the greatest information broker in the galaxy...
A guy can try, can't he?
And, if the reward turned out to be true... well... knowledge was a very tempting prospect. Specifically, about people.
Which is why he'd signed up beforehand.
He tilted his head up at the Silver-siblings. Did they have enough room? He should set aside a section in their profile for their ship. If all else fails, he could just ask to sleep on the floor...
*Snap*. And like that it was over. Finding their wounded leader, Jet felt relieved...until he saw the condition his hand was in. As if instantly jerkyified, Tsuans hand looked more like a flank steak than an appendage. Weeping Jet look at it in horror. Oh how could someone destroy such a magnificent fist! How could someone burn the deadshots hand! Jet vowed to destroy the man who had done this to his friend.
Crying righteous tears and repeatedly denying the idea that Tsuan may have burnt it himself, Jet walked with the others, back onto the Koolest, and grabbed a can of walelee fruit juice. Shotgunning the can, Jet stopped crying, and laid on his back. It had been a quick but tiring day and he was about done with fighting for about a week.
Crying righteous tears and repeatedly denying the idea that Tsuan may have burnt it himself, Jet walked with the others, back onto the Koolest, and grabbed a can of walelee fruit juice. Shotgunning the can, Jet stopped crying, and laid on his back. It had been a quick but tiring day and he was about done with fighting for about a week.
The moments leading up to connecting the EGS-2 to the Koolest were spent thinking over the previous comm contact with their new potential allies.
”Izzat - aqua-quaddick-land anil-alien!! Zax-Vack-Vackserr hi hello~! We goddum guys he’zokay~! A’lilpassathoughb’thnkfffgh~”
Interesting.
Wyr glanced speculatively to the side. Vaxur caught her eye, his own green eyes wide... then flushed a deep blue.
She snorted, not bothering to hide her tiny smirk. He turned even bluer than before. "Somebody has been talking about you," she said, eyes fluttering inconspiciously.
He scowled. Oh, what an interesting shade of blue. "Shut up."
She tilted her head. "Why ever would I do that? I was not lying."
"You're teasing me!" Ah, there it was. His hands were up in the air, making wild gestures while momentarily mumbling something unintelligible. "Of course he'd talk about me! We're frienrivals! We're close," he stressed, almost whiny, and she took pity.
"Indeed," she said, completely agreeable.
"Yeah, an-"
"Very, very close," she continued, turning to look at him with nought an emotion. He narrowed his eyes. She stared back.
... He finally huffed, turning back to the sublight controls. She checked over the rest of their systems, smiling.
"I can see the look on your face! Commander!"
Vaxur resisted the urge to grab his rifle from his back as they neared the location of all the swears. Damn, sounded like a $#&% show.
As soon as he saw them, he blinked. He could sense Commander Wyr pause, then smoothly carry on walking towards the... humans. Right, another universe... He shook his head, following after her and managing to be back beside her when they both stopped in front of the Koolest crew.
Vaxur immediately locked unto a dark-skinned man's injury and just barely held in a wince. That was some nasty frost-based wound. He would have offered to help treat it, but the Commander had already retracted one of her arm swords and formed three long, soft fingers to wrap around Ty's hand and shake it up, down, before extending it back to its weaponized state. He looked back once, after introductions were done- perhaps, afterwards, he could help with his hand...
He looked around as Leng T'yzfer led them through the ship. He narrowed his eyes at the various symbols. He'd only seen those in one planet, and Koyash was well known for not having a very acute interest in spaceships.
Then why...? His eyes furrowed, fingers twitching. There was something he wasn't remembering...
"We are grateful for the lengths you would go for someone you have only known for a mere few days," Wyr said, snapping him out of his musing.
And just in time.
They stepped into the lab, and stopped- no, Commander Wyr did, she knew him all too well- because he was rushing to Rin's side and clutching his limp hand like a lifeline.
There was no sound. There was no up, down,- no blue, no grey, only purple- there was absolutely nothing, he was absolutely nothing but there was- there was-
Commander Wyr brushed his shoulder and he gasped, not realized that he'd been holding his breath. She held out a flexible finger under Rin's nose, sighed, then tapped the back of his helmet. "Anything, medic?"
"... Steady heartbeat," he said, as if the room was as quiet as his own heart felt. "A little slow, which is understandable." He carefully lifted an eyelid halfway before closing it with a gentle finger. "Not dilated. He's just in a very deep sleep."
He felt more than heard her hum in acknowledgement.
And then a noise, from out towards the front of the ship.
"... I need a freakin... thing..."
Rai didn't appreciate this.
They just wanted the spinning to stop. They rarely got sick- they could only remember two or four times they caught illness in their whole life- but when they did, it always felt like they were dying.
They needed a thing.
The rational side of themself was trying to say what they needed, but it kept slipping away from the tongue and the mind when they tried to say it aloud.
... Whatever.
"I need... enething. Energing. Emerphmn." They barely acknowledged the Qetan girl across from them, who looked a little better, and was looking weirdly at their slurring figure. Reqti, who was right next to her, was also looking at them quite intently.
"Haven't slept... good in three. Uh... need," they tried again. A dark blur- and oh, okay, whipping up their head like that made everything triple.
"Damn, don't look so good," the dark blob said, and hey, wasn't that Rin's culture/med person? "Pupil's dilated. It's like... he? She?" A distant answer, almost growled. "Okay okay, they, sorry man- anyway, like they're drugged. That or just really, really exhausted."
Another answer, this time female in tone. "Familiars? Uh, kinda. Skimmed over it, really. I- mm. Alright. So just tired." Several whirs, and a few soft leaves and stiff stems were pushed into their hands. "Eat that, okay?" The figure moved off, next to another dark figure with bright cyan eyes.
They blinked, then did as they were told- they plopped the herbs into their mouth, and bit down. A surge of sweetness followed a satisfying crunch of the stems, the chewy leaves a complementary buttery flavor. They couldn't help the surprised, happy sound they made, mind a little clearer and sight improving at a steady rate.
They looked up and saw the Aksen- Vaxur looking pleased, and the Wylaseen- Commander Wyr.
They were so much taller in person.
Commander Wyr went to sit in front of them, back to Rin's captors, while Vaxur went out of the ship's front. "There are some questions I need answered," she said.
They sighed, swallowing. "I'll tell you what I know," they replied.
And they did.
They explained the reason behind the cult, about the legend of the Queen who ruled for a day, how there was a race between races to retrieve her body and unlock her mind.
There was silence for what seemed like an age.
"... And did they?" she asked. Rai shrugged, biting their lip. She looked over to the other wall, where Rin's captors were. Reqti tensed, then let go of the tension in his shoulders; another shrug. A glance at Tahil only rewarded her with an exasperated eyeroll. "He hasn't exactly woken up yet for me to know," she said, scrunching up her nose in distaste.
Commander Wyr sighed, turning back to them and staring at the the wall. Rai felt sorry for her.
Rai didn't appreciate this.
Vaxur stepped inside the Koolest, straining to hear anything that would help in- ah, there. It was either quiet enough for him to hear where Dallen Armston and E'tzu Tsuan was- he assumed the medical brig- that, or the stream of curses Dallen was spitting was still on going and a great means to track.
Either of those would have led him to where he needed to go- or pure luck, he wasn't picky- and as soon as he saw the two he would smile, scratching the back of his neck. "Mind if I help?" he would ask, tone gentler then he usually used. "I'm trained for this kind of stuff, if it makes you feel better..."
”Izzat - aqua-quaddick-land anil-alien!! Zax-Vack-Vackserr hi hello~! We goddum guys he’zokay~! A’lilpassathoughb’thnkfffgh~”
Interesting.
Wyr glanced speculatively to the side. Vaxur caught her eye, his own green eyes wide... then flushed a deep blue.
She snorted, not bothering to hide her tiny smirk. He turned even bluer than before. "Somebody has been talking about you," she said, eyes fluttering inconspiciously.
He scowled. Oh, what an interesting shade of blue. "Shut up."
She tilted her head. "Why ever would I do that? I was not lying."
"You're teasing me!" Ah, there it was. His hands were up in the air, making wild gestures while momentarily mumbling something unintelligible. "Of course he'd talk about me! We're frienrivals! We're close," he stressed, almost whiny, and she took pity.
"Indeed," she said, completely agreeable.
"Yeah, an-"
"Very, very close," she continued, turning to look at him with nought an emotion. He narrowed his eyes. She stared back.
... He finally huffed, turning back to the sublight controls. She checked over the rest of their systems, smiling.
"I can see the look on your face! Commander!"
Vaxur resisted the urge to grab his rifle from his back as they neared the location of all the swears. Damn, sounded like a $#&% show.
As soon as he saw them, he blinked. He could sense Commander Wyr pause, then smoothly carry on walking towards the... humans. Right, another universe... He shook his head, following after her and managing to be back beside her when they both stopped in front of the Koolest crew.
Vaxur immediately locked unto a dark-skinned man's injury and just barely held in a wince. That was some nasty frost-based wound. He would have offered to help treat it, but the Commander had already retracted one of her arm swords and formed three long, soft fingers to wrap around Ty's hand and shake it up, down, before extending it back to its weaponized state. He looked back once, after introductions were done- perhaps, afterwards, he could help with his hand...
He looked around as Leng T'yzfer led them through the ship. He narrowed his eyes at the various symbols. He'd only seen those in one planet, and Koyash was well known for not having a very acute interest in spaceships.
Then why...? His eyes furrowed, fingers twitching. There was something he wasn't remembering...
"We are grateful for the lengths you would go for someone you have only known for a mere few days," Wyr said, snapping him out of his musing.
And just in time.
They stepped into the lab, and stopped- no, Commander Wyr did, she knew him all too well- because he was rushing to Rin's side and clutching his limp hand like a lifeline.
There was no sound. There was no up, down,- no blue, no grey, only purple- there was absolutely nothing, he was absolutely nothing but there was- there was-
Commander Wyr brushed his shoulder and he gasped, not realized that he'd been holding his breath. She held out a flexible finger under Rin's nose, sighed, then tapped the back of his helmet. "Anything, medic?"
"... Steady heartbeat," he said, as if the room was as quiet as his own heart felt. "A little slow, which is understandable." He carefully lifted an eyelid halfway before closing it with a gentle finger. "Not dilated. He's just in a very deep sleep."
He felt more than heard her hum in acknowledgement.
And then a noise, from out towards the front of the ship.
"... I need a freakin... thing..."
Rai didn't appreciate this.
They just wanted the spinning to stop. They rarely got sick- they could only remember two or four times they caught illness in their whole life- but when they did, it always felt like they were dying.
They needed a thing.
The rational side of themself was trying to say what they needed, but it kept slipping away from the tongue and the mind when they tried to say it aloud.
... Whatever.
"I need... enething. Energing. Emerphmn." They barely acknowledged the Qetan girl across from them, who looked a little better, and was looking weirdly at their slurring figure. Reqti, who was right next to her, was also looking at them quite intently.
"Haven't slept... good in three. Uh... need," they tried again. A dark blur- and oh, okay, whipping up their head like that made everything triple.
"Damn, don't look so good," the dark blob said, and hey, wasn't that Rin's culture/med person? "Pupil's dilated. It's like... he? She?" A distant answer, almost growled. "Okay okay, they, sorry man- anyway, like they're drugged. That or just really, really exhausted."
Another answer, this time female in tone. "Familiars? Uh, kinda. Skimmed over it, really. I- mm. Alright. So just tired." Several whirs, and a few soft leaves and stiff stems were pushed into their hands. "Eat that, okay?" The figure moved off, next to another dark figure with bright cyan eyes.
They blinked, then did as they were told- they plopped the herbs into their mouth, and bit down. A surge of sweetness followed a satisfying crunch of the stems, the chewy leaves a complementary buttery flavor. They couldn't help the surprised, happy sound they made, mind a little clearer and sight improving at a steady rate.
They looked up and saw the Aksen- Vaxur looking pleased, and the Wylaseen- Commander Wyr.
They were so much taller in person.
Commander Wyr went to sit in front of them, back to Rin's captors, while Vaxur went out of the ship's front. "There are some questions I need answered," she said.
They sighed, swallowing. "I'll tell you what I know," they replied.
And they did.
They explained the reason behind the cult, about the legend of the Queen who ruled for a day, how there was a race between races to retrieve her body and unlock her mind.
There was silence for what seemed like an age.
"... And did they?" she asked. Rai shrugged, biting their lip. She looked over to the other wall, where Rin's captors were. Reqti tensed, then let go of the tension in his shoulders; another shrug. A glance at Tahil only rewarded her with an exasperated eyeroll. "He hasn't exactly woken up yet for me to know," she said, scrunching up her nose in distaste.
Commander Wyr sighed, turning back to them and staring at the the wall. Rai felt sorry for her.
Rai didn't appreciate this.
Vaxur stepped inside the Koolest, straining to hear anything that would help in- ah, there. It was either quiet enough for him to hear where Dallen Armston and E'tzu Tsuan was- he assumed the medical brig- that, or the stream of curses Dallen was spitting was still on going and a great means to track.
Either of those would have led him to where he needed to go- or pure luck, he wasn't picky- and as soon as he saw the two he would smile, scratching the back of his neck. "Mind if I help?" he would ask, tone gentler then he usually used. "I'm trained for this kind of stuff, if it makes you feel better..."
Shashi had turned his gaze away from the canids, not eager to drive away fellow bar-goers or teammates. As it happened, he recollected a conversation with another traveler years ago. 'Its ok to look a humanoid in the eye if you're speaking. Common etiquette. But its not ok to stare at one without a conversation; or unless you're hoping to get their attention for something.' There were little details in that the lizard didn't quite understand, so even years later he felt somewhat uncomfortable whenever another living being sent a glance his way, but distanced himself from instinct to better mingle with the humans and aliens around him.
He wondered if the dog-folk thought of eye-contact the same way he did, or if Jacobo shared such concerns. If they did, they were a lot better at acclimating than he was. At least Shashi would have some practice on the trip.
Despite his reservations he did stare at Talis as she took the detective's drink, as well as when Clegg recovered and beckoned yet another patron over. Much was happening at once but those two seemed to be in control; the reptoid considered that if any of this group were to lead, it was most likely one of them. He tasted his drink again, wondering whether or not to down it.
He wondered if the dog-folk thought of eye-contact the same way he did, or if Jacobo shared such concerns. If they did, they were a lot better at acclimating than he was. At least Shashi would have some practice on the trip.
Despite his reservations he did stare at Talis as she took the detective's drink, as well as when Clegg recovered and beckoned yet another patron over. Much was happening at once but those two seemed to be in control; the reptoid considered that if any of this group were to lead, it was most likely one of them. He tasted his drink again, wondering whether or not to down it.
Looking over at Kovacs, Asya shakes her head "First, I am used to it. I've dealt with jump sickness since I was little. Secondly, It is Sergeant Black's decision. I am merely stating what I think he will do after serving with him for almost a decade. He always talked about building a silly tiki bar on some tropical planet somewhere. This is his chance to go and do that."
Leaning back in her seat Asya goes silent as she stares out of the canopy for a moment, gathering her thoughts, before continuing on "Private Masra...Jin. I know she lost a lot of blood. Enough to possibly cause brain damage...but I don't know that it did. She could still be the same, or she could not. In either case she's a noncombatant, that sweet voice over the radio giving information. Honestly I am not worried about her decision, only that she comes out okay. She will follow whatever choice Sergeant Black chooses."
Sitting back up, she reaches beneath her hair with her right hand to where her own interface was located. While hidden by her hair, the sound of clicking could still be heard as Asya says with an informative, and slightly excited tone "I'm not sure how much you were told about Niven tech aside from the fact it just works so I'll just let you listen and learn. After all, it's not like I'm bound by the State to keep it secret anymore. Important fact...all modern Niven technology is derivded from what we call a 'Argus' device. It's a device that combines different technologies and creates a working hybrid system...most of the time. It's not really predictable. My rifle is a good example. Technically it is a railgun, but it can act as a beam weapon if I change some settings. Sadly it is a test model and using it like I did earlier wrecks the rails. Now...Niven neural interfaces..."
Asya stops and sharply sucks in a deep breath before slowly releasing it. Bringing her right hand out from under her hair, she holds up a small cylindrical object for Kovacs to see "...are partially replaceable, removable and easily upgraded. Just hurts a little to remove it. Mine is less then six months old and is the latest model. All I need to update or upgrade it is to plug directly into a system and let it calibrate. So no need for any cutting unless it's an actual lace problem. Any questions?" As she waited, she kept looking between Kovacs and her interface with a somewhat eager look. It seemed that despite her otherwise stern and professional demeanor, Asya was at least somewhat passionate about technology.
Leaning back in her seat Asya goes silent as she stares out of the canopy for a moment, gathering her thoughts, before continuing on "Private Masra...Jin. I know she lost a lot of blood. Enough to possibly cause brain damage...but I don't know that it did. She could still be the same, or she could not. In either case she's a noncombatant, that sweet voice over the radio giving information. Honestly I am not worried about her decision, only that she comes out okay. She will follow whatever choice Sergeant Black chooses."
Sitting back up, she reaches beneath her hair with her right hand to where her own interface was located. While hidden by her hair, the sound of clicking could still be heard as Asya says with an informative, and slightly excited tone "I'm not sure how much you were told about Niven tech aside from the fact it just works so I'll just let you listen and learn. After all, it's not like I'm bound by the State to keep it secret anymore. Important fact...all modern Niven technology is derivded from what we call a 'Argus' device. It's a device that combines different technologies and creates a working hybrid system...most of the time. It's not really predictable. My rifle is a good example. Technically it is a railgun, but it can act as a beam weapon if I change some settings. Sadly it is a test model and using it like I did earlier wrecks the rails. Now...Niven neural interfaces..."
Asya stops and sharply sucks in a deep breath before slowly releasing it. Bringing her right hand out from under her hair, she holds up a small cylindrical object for Kovacs to see "...are partially replaceable, removable and easily upgraded. Just hurts a little to remove it. Mine is less then six months old and is the latest model. All I need to update or upgrade it is to plug directly into a system and let it calibrate. So no need for any cutting unless it's an actual lace problem. Any questions?" As she waited, she kept looking between Kovacs and her interface with a somewhat eager look. It seemed that despite her otherwise stern and professional demeanor, Asya was at least somewhat passionate about technology.
The Neko was glad to be gone from the fun killers on the Koolest boat. He liked it when it was just him and Rin since he liked the Nyran's nievate and he so easy to mess with. However he couldn't do anything with Tsun and his gang of misfits. He couldn't do anything fun and they always gave him hostility. As the tank and a few of his things where transferred, he heard there attempts to "guilt trip" him into saving Rin. For Laurent, Rin became there problem once they took him away from him. However there nagging as the tank was being transported, Laurent was tempted to turn its turret towards them and let them eat a high explosive shell, that would have not only blown a hole into ship but kill almost everyone on impact. Instead he did not, once on the other side, he just curses them into the abyss of the Galaxy Wide.
Once into the dock on the El Doroado, Laurent hopped out of the tank and walked over to the communicator that gave a direct line to the bridge and he states to Atticus "I'm in, let's get out of her, robo man" soon the ship began to boost its powerful engines that are meant to haul than speed and soon jumped out of the same space of the Koolest. Leaving them to there fate...
Once into the dock on the El Doroado, Laurent hopped out of the tank and walked over to the communicator that gave a direct line to the bridge and he states to Atticus "I'm in, let's get out of her, robo man" soon the ship began to boost its powerful engines that are meant to haul than speed and soon jumped out of the same space of the Koolest. Leaving them to there fate...
The Diplomat
Once again, The Way would be reminded in an instant that one of the toughest people in existence could be starkly and certainly made to shut up by the simple application of contact to the face. Once again, she would have taken a solid punch much more naturally.
But there was no punch. Instead, the gentle sensation of a palm on the side of her face that instantly made her freeze up, eyes going wide and even breath holding for an instant. It was as if she had just realized some kind of temperamental stinging insect had landed on her face and she was at it’s mercy.
Indeed, the closest thing that Agent Kallenger had ever showed to ‘fear’ was brought on by that simple, insignificant gesture. It only got worse for her when he then proceeded to pluck the sprig of wire from between her lips. There was no resistance at all - but her face immediately flushed a humiliating red and she blinked almost uncomprehendingly, looking at him sidelong as if he had just casually put a gun to her head.
Except that she would not have reacted that way at all if it had been a gun. That had happened before. Twice, actually.
This most certainly had not.
And there was nothing to say about it, either. She wasn’t angry - that was brazenly clear. All she could do was blink, look as if she was about to say something, then try to get back to he topic at hand while pretending nothing had happened at all.
But her face didn’t cool down. It stayed beet-red, and she seemed to blink a little more than usual.
It wasn’t even the contact alone, this time - it was the promptness, the decisiveness of what he did. For the first time since she had achieved the lofty Special Agent title that made her supreme commander of almost any Imperial units she came across - somebody else had decided what was best for her, and then just fixed it. No questions asked.
If any of her soldiers had been concerned that she was doing something like that, it was highly unlikely they would even mention it, let alone…
It was like going up to a five-star general in their own office, and smacking their hand for picking at their fingernails.
She should have been outraged - but that was half the reason for the persistence of the flus - the fact that she wasn’t. She wasn’t even struck with the desire to feign the anger and cover for herself. She just let him do it.
It was ridiculous. People rarely looked Royanna S. Kallenger in the eye. Only the very few Imperials of higher rank than herself would ever dare tell her what to do, would suggest what might be best for her.
And yet this insolent kid had just said ”you stop that” and she just...did. -iIt did not compute - and this was clearly evident on her face. Even as she discussed the theories on Christofer’s recent past, the possibilities for the future - all the while she was red as a beet and still clearly trying to process something that was so foreign to her that she was simply stuck. Even as she addressed Christofer’s decision. It did not come out in her voice, but her face made up for that.
”Good choice.” she said, having looked at him only for a moment before turning her attention back to the screen, and manipulating the controls. ”The only way they’ll be able to detect tampering is if we break it, so we don’t have to worry about repercussions for waiting a few days. I’ll hold onto it then, unless-” At that moment, having unplugged the chip from the adapted port, she proceeded to fumble it and drop it on the desk in a fantastically uncharacteristic moment of apparent clumsiness, picking it back up hastily. Luckily the thing was more than sturdy enough to be perfectly undamaged. ”U-unless you’d rather hold onto it.” Then, awkwardly, she put it in her pocket anyway, regardless of whether he wanted it back or not, and apparently did not realize why this was awkward.
”In the meantime we should be at Tora Station in-” She held up her wrist and looked at it, only to once again remember that her comm was long-since broken and lost on Ardella. Lips pressed tightly together and eyes absolutely not meeting Christofer’s at any point, she stood - too quickly - and with hands in pants pockets and arms stiffly close at her sides, padded back into the control room to look too-closely at the monitor which displayed the journey’s remaining time. ”An hour.” she concluded, then spent another long moment staring at the screen, upon which there was nothing worth staring at.
At length she concluded ”I’ll go get the thing.” Having apparently forgotten the word for ’boots’, and just left.
In his solitude within the small information centre and adjoining control chamber, the canid would be left to ponder the fact that in no way could that bizarre act have been misconstrued as anger. He knew Roy well enough by now to recognize that when she was angry, it was blatantly obvious and she made sure everyone knew it. And if it was discomfort, that still wasn’t the right word, but closer. Discomfort usually came with resentment and there was clearly none of that either. She hadn’t even come off as wanting to be alone - but rather wanting something to do.
Padding back down the hall, up the ‘grand staircase’ and back to the Ambassador's Suite, Roy went about picking up her boots from where he had neatly left them before showering, and obsessively cleaning them for some ten minutes. They were not dress boots - looking more like work boots than anything, and made of some kind of synthetic leather and similar ballistic fibers as her coat. They had been filthy, caked with mud, soot, a little blood, oil, and Space-knew-what-else - but by the time she was done with them, they were polished and gleaming like new.
Next was the coat - which she found herself holding up in front of a mirror and frowning at with some despair. It was in rough shape, but the worst part was that it too was horrifically filthy, and would not be so easily cleaned as were the boots. With a growing sense of dread in her gut, she came to the unhappy realization that she had absolutely no idea how to fix this.
Not the faintest idea.
Was there a machine for this? Well, yes, that should have been obvious. But where would she possibly procure access to one of these strange, doubtless complicated contraptions? There was probably one of the Diplomat somewhere, but she had no idea what it would look like.
She certainly couldn’t wear it like this. Maybe just...put it in water? No, that was stupid. Soapy water? Less stupid, but still stupid. Not that she was under any illusions that it would be a simple matter. Surely the process of cleaning clothing must be fairly complex. She didn’t feel particularly stupid for not knowing how...And yet, she did.
Roy pored over this problem for a rather long while. ong enough in fact that it was almost guaranteed that Christofer would get wind of her befuddling dilemma, either by walking in on her while she was staring intently at it, or possibly seeing her as she was peering studiously and uncertainty around the kitchen, suspecting that the necessary machine might be there.
And when he did inevitably catch her with that slight deer-in-headlights look, it would not take long to realize that she had no knowledge of the term “dry cleaning”, nor of the fact that it was the only way the coat was ever going to be made presentable again. If somehow it came to her attention that Christofer did know something about this alien subject, she would find herself helpless to be anything but impressed by his familiarity with so alien a subject. Code-breaking and information-gathering were simple. But this…?
The Koolest Qetan Scout Ship U Know
"We are grateful for the lengths you would go for someone you have only known for a mere few days,"
Ty shrugged. ”We’ve learned to make friends very fast.” He said. ”There’s too many ’ulterior motives’ in the galaxy. There have to be some people who do good things just for the sake of it.”
He watched as the tall blue guy - Vaxur - rushed in desperation to Rin’s side. It had not occurred to him that the Nyran would be anything but alive, yet once it was confirmed that he was still breathing, there was a noticeable weight lifted from the man’s shoulders.
Sands, meanwhile, had made a connection, asking Rai ”Hey, which one’s yours?” and gesturing to the unconscious “animals”. With either a word or vague gesture, it became known that Rai’s was the bird - so he went over and began hastening the “thawing” process with some device from beneath the seemingly limitless poncho. He was still within hearing range and was able to get the whole story when Rai hashed it out. Ty meanwhile stood next to the vaguely plant-like one - Wyr - with his arms crossed, listening intently to the story.
It wasn’t the strangest he’d heard - but it didn’t make him feel any better to know it all. He looked with hard eyes at the Qetan woman. ”You’d better hope it didn’t work.” He said lowly, voice cold.
The bird had begun to stir, and Sands had stepped away to give it some space, uncertain as to how it would react. He came over to join the others, adding ”And if it did work, you’d better have a plan for reversing it.”
There was still something on Ty’s mind, though - he wanted to mention it, but hesitated. After long moments, he began tentatively ”If...there’s any chance of Rin waking up with a Qetan’s consciousness, we might want to restrain him beforehand. Just in case.”
The stream of vitriol was more of a muttering and grumbling now, but the Koolest was small enough and the grumbling loud enough that it would lead the Aksen right to them. There was a different undertone to it now - still furious, but also concerned. Up the ramp, through the common area and to the left, and he was in the small, but fully functional medical bay. The wounded man was laid out on the bed in drug-induced unconsciousness. The woman was frantically rifling through cabinets and drawers, not even quite sure what she was looking for, all the while muttering about how horrendously stupid and idiotic he was, mixed in with copious expletives.
She whirled on the newcomer the second she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, snapping a biting ”What.” at the exact moment that he was asking to help. Realizing this as she said it, the wild-eyed expression drained away as relief poured over her. ”Yes. @#$% yes. Please. I’m not trained for this @#$%. At all. I don’t even- I can't-... @#$% just tell me what to do.” And she would proceed to make a much better assistant than medic.
Once again, The Way would be reminded in an instant that one of the toughest people in existence could be starkly and certainly made to shut up by the simple application of contact to the face. Once again, she would have taken a solid punch much more naturally.
But there was no punch. Instead, the gentle sensation of a palm on the side of her face that instantly made her freeze up, eyes going wide and even breath holding for an instant. It was as if she had just realized some kind of temperamental stinging insect had landed on her face and she was at it’s mercy.
Indeed, the closest thing that Agent Kallenger had ever showed to ‘fear’ was brought on by that simple, insignificant gesture. It only got worse for her when he then proceeded to pluck the sprig of wire from between her lips. There was no resistance at all - but her face immediately flushed a humiliating red and she blinked almost uncomprehendingly, looking at him sidelong as if he had just casually put a gun to her head.
Except that she would not have reacted that way at all if it had been a gun. That had happened before. Twice, actually.
This most certainly had not.
And there was nothing to say about it, either. She wasn’t angry - that was brazenly clear. All she could do was blink, look as if she was about to say something, then try to get back to he topic at hand while pretending nothing had happened at all.
But her face didn’t cool down. It stayed beet-red, and she seemed to blink a little more than usual.
It wasn’t even the contact alone, this time - it was the promptness, the decisiveness of what he did. For the first time since she had achieved the lofty Special Agent title that made her supreme commander of almost any Imperial units she came across - somebody else had decided what was best for her, and then just fixed it. No questions asked.
If any of her soldiers had been concerned that she was doing something like that, it was highly unlikely they would even mention it, let alone…
It was like going up to a five-star general in their own office, and smacking their hand for picking at their fingernails.
She should have been outraged - but that was half the reason for the persistence of the flus - the fact that she wasn’t. She wasn’t even struck with the desire to feign the anger and cover for herself. She just let him do it.
It was ridiculous. People rarely looked Royanna S. Kallenger in the eye. Only the very few Imperials of higher rank than herself would ever dare tell her what to do, would suggest what might be best for her.
And yet this insolent kid had just said ”you stop that” and she just...did. -iIt did not compute - and this was clearly evident on her face. Even as she discussed the theories on Christofer’s recent past, the possibilities for the future - all the while she was red as a beet and still clearly trying to process something that was so foreign to her that she was simply stuck. Even as she addressed Christofer’s decision. It did not come out in her voice, but her face made up for that.
”Good choice.” she said, having looked at him only for a moment before turning her attention back to the screen, and manipulating the controls. ”The only way they’ll be able to detect tampering is if we break it, so we don’t have to worry about repercussions for waiting a few days. I’ll hold onto it then, unless-” At that moment, having unplugged the chip from the adapted port, she proceeded to fumble it and drop it on the desk in a fantastically uncharacteristic moment of apparent clumsiness, picking it back up hastily. Luckily the thing was more than sturdy enough to be perfectly undamaged. ”U-unless you’d rather hold onto it.” Then, awkwardly, she put it in her pocket anyway, regardless of whether he wanted it back or not, and apparently did not realize why this was awkward.
”In the meantime we should be at Tora Station in-” She held up her wrist and looked at it, only to once again remember that her comm was long-since broken and lost on Ardella. Lips pressed tightly together and eyes absolutely not meeting Christofer’s at any point, she stood - too quickly - and with hands in pants pockets and arms stiffly close at her sides, padded back into the control room to look too-closely at the monitor which displayed the journey’s remaining time. ”An hour.” she concluded, then spent another long moment staring at the screen, upon which there was nothing worth staring at.
At length she concluded ”I’ll go get the thing.” Having apparently forgotten the word for ’boots’, and just left.
In his solitude within the small information centre and adjoining control chamber, the canid would be left to ponder the fact that in no way could that bizarre act have been misconstrued as anger. He knew Roy well enough by now to recognize that when she was angry, it was blatantly obvious and she made sure everyone knew it. And if it was discomfort, that still wasn’t the right word, but closer. Discomfort usually came with resentment and there was clearly none of that either. She hadn’t even come off as wanting to be alone - but rather wanting something to do.
Padding back down the hall, up the ‘grand staircase’ and back to the Ambassador's Suite, Roy went about picking up her boots from where he had neatly left them before showering, and obsessively cleaning them for some ten minutes. They were not dress boots - looking more like work boots than anything, and made of some kind of synthetic leather and similar ballistic fibers as her coat. They had been filthy, caked with mud, soot, a little blood, oil, and Space-knew-what-else - but by the time she was done with them, they were polished and gleaming like new.
Next was the coat - which she found herself holding up in front of a mirror and frowning at with some despair. It was in rough shape, but the worst part was that it too was horrifically filthy, and would not be so easily cleaned as were the boots. With a growing sense of dread in her gut, she came to the unhappy realization that she had absolutely no idea how to fix this.
Not the faintest idea.
Was there a machine for this? Well, yes, that should have been obvious. But where would she possibly procure access to one of these strange, doubtless complicated contraptions? There was probably one of the Diplomat somewhere, but she had no idea what it would look like.
She certainly couldn’t wear it like this. Maybe just...put it in water? No, that was stupid. Soapy water? Less stupid, but still stupid. Not that she was under any illusions that it would be a simple matter. Surely the process of cleaning clothing must be fairly complex. She didn’t feel particularly stupid for not knowing how...And yet, she did.
Roy pored over this problem for a rather long while. ong enough in fact that it was almost guaranteed that Christofer would get wind of her befuddling dilemma, either by walking in on her while she was staring intently at it, or possibly seeing her as she was peering studiously and uncertainty around the kitchen, suspecting that the necessary machine might be there.
And when he did inevitably catch her with that slight deer-in-headlights look, it would not take long to realize that she had no knowledge of the term “dry cleaning”, nor of the fact that it was the only way the coat was ever going to be made presentable again. If somehow it came to her attention that Christofer did know something about this alien subject, she would find herself helpless to be anything but impressed by his familiarity with so alien a subject. Code-breaking and information-gathering were simple. But this…?
The Koolest Qetan Scout Ship U Know
"We are grateful for the lengths you would go for someone you have only known for a mere few days,"
Ty shrugged. ”We’ve learned to make friends very fast.” He said. ”There’s too many ’ulterior motives’ in the galaxy. There have to be some people who do good things just for the sake of it.”
He watched as the tall blue guy - Vaxur - rushed in desperation to Rin’s side. It had not occurred to him that the Nyran would be anything but alive, yet once it was confirmed that he was still breathing, there was a noticeable weight lifted from the man’s shoulders.
Sands, meanwhile, had made a connection, asking Rai ”Hey, which one’s yours?” and gesturing to the unconscious “animals”. With either a word or vague gesture, it became known that Rai’s was the bird - so he went over and began hastening the “thawing” process with some device from beneath the seemingly limitless poncho. He was still within hearing range and was able to get the whole story when Rai hashed it out. Ty meanwhile stood next to the vaguely plant-like one - Wyr - with his arms crossed, listening intently to the story.
It wasn’t the strangest he’d heard - but it didn’t make him feel any better to know it all. He looked with hard eyes at the Qetan woman. ”You’d better hope it didn’t work.” He said lowly, voice cold.
The bird had begun to stir, and Sands had stepped away to give it some space, uncertain as to how it would react. He came over to join the others, adding ”And if it did work, you’d better have a plan for reversing it.”
There was still something on Ty’s mind, though - he wanted to mention it, but hesitated. After long moments, he began tentatively ”If...there’s any chance of Rin waking up with a Qetan’s consciousness, we might want to restrain him beforehand. Just in case.”
The stream of vitriol was more of a muttering and grumbling now, but the Koolest was small enough and the grumbling loud enough that it would lead the Aksen right to them. There was a different undertone to it now - still furious, but also concerned. Up the ramp, through the common area and to the left, and he was in the small, but fully functional medical bay. The wounded man was laid out on the bed in drug-induced unconsciousness. The woman was frantically rifling through cabinets and drawers, not even quite sure what she was looking for, all the while muttering about how horrendously stupid and idiotic he was, mixed in with copious expletives.
She whirled on the newcomer the second she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, snapping a biting ”What.” at the exact moment that he was asking to help. Realizing this as she said it, the wild-eyed expression drained away as relief poured over her. ”Yes. @#$% yes. Please. I’m not trained for this @#$%. At all. I don’t even- I can't-... @#$% just tell me what to do.” And she would proceed to make a much better assistant than medic.
A standard issue neural interface that was based on alien tech? Interesting and potentially dangerous. The possibilities were very exciting to explore. "Federal laces are entirely of our own design, and at least partially organic to allow for better assimilation. The interface is hardwired into the head, leaving the skulljack to be the only replaceable part," Kovacs brought up a hologram.
"Due to the organic nature of the neural lace, the software is always up to date, as the nervous and immune systems treat it as part of the body. The skulljack sports firmware that allows the user to interface with their armor, and broadcast an IFF to Federal systems. Also standard for Federal Navy."
Kovacs eyed the foreign technology
with interest, "May I see that?" He outstretched his hand, palm up and open.
"Due to the organic nature of the neural lace, the software is always up to date, as the nervous and immune systems treat it as part of the body. The skulljack sports firmware that allows the user to interface with their armor, and broadcast an IFF to Federal systems. Also standard for Federal Navy."
Kovacs eyed the foreign technology
with interest, "May I see that?" He outstretched his hand, palm up and open.
Taking a moment to look between her interface and the hologram, she notes the similarities and differences between the two "I can see where the designers went separate ways technology and design wise, but for the most part everything is roughly in the same....performance and task wise." As soon as she saw Kovacs hand, she pulls her own back and begins to replace her interface "Unfortunately at this time I cannot allow you to personally examine mine. It has foundry blueprint data for all current and last generation Niven infantry arms, armor and for the interface itself...."
She pauses as she finishes reinserting her interface, once more drawing a sharp breathe and releasing it "...I'm sure you can understand. Of course, that means I can just make you a blank unit to examine. Secondly, I am going to have to decline your offer for a upgraded lace. My own is not so easily replaced."
Sitting back once more, Asya stares Kovacs "I've had it since I was eleven. The State decided it better to experiment the early lacing on orphan children then trained soldiers. Mine is number thirteen. It's also why the whole interface is replaceable and not just the jack. That way those like me can still get upgrades without risky surgery." clearing her throat she makes a slight hand wave "Next topic? What would you like to know about? Armor or weapons? SIS teams did field testing for the majority of new equipment. It's fun until you accidentally knock down a wall by leaning on it because you forget the suit you are testing weighs half a ton. Then you get to explain to the General why you knocked down one of his walls. Or where did the back half of his firing range went after testing my spike rifles beam mode. They added a power limiter after that one."
She pauses as she finishes reinserting her interface, once more drawing a sharp breathe and releasing it "...I'm sure you can understand. Of course, that means I can just make you a blank unit to examine. Secondly, I am going to have to decline your offer for a upgraded lace. My own is not so easily replaced."
Sitting back once more, Asya stares Kovacs "I've had it since I was eleven. The State decided it better to experiment the early lacing on orphan children then trained soldiers. Mine is number thirteen. It's also why the whole interface is replaceable and not just the jack. That way those like me can still get upgrades without risky surgery." clearing her throat she makes a slight hand wave "Next topic? What would you like to know about? Armor or weapons? SIS teams did field testing for the majority of new equipment. It's fun until you accidentally knock down a wall by leaning on it because you forget the suit you are testing weighs half a ton. Then you get to explain to the General why you knocked down one of his walls. Or where did the back half of his firing range went after testing my spike rifles beam mode. They added a power limiter after that one."
Kovacs withdrew his hand, smiling slightly behind his opaque visor. "Your loyalty is commendable. I only need it in order to fabricate a proper serial bus for complete linkage. The software can be installed easily enough," he tapped another series of holographic keys. A universal OSD popped out of Asya's console for her taking.
"It is unfortunate that we cannot replace your lace, but understandable. All we really need is a compilation of software patches, and a compatible skulljack for ease of synchronization," Kovacs was a bit disappointed, but he could wait. "Whenever you're ready, let me know."
With a clunk, the fuel scoop retracted and the commander pulled the warship away from the star. "There's an ice giant in system, one hundred twenty-four lightseconds out. We'll drop in the rings, send out some prospector limpets to look for lo-temps, and teach you how to fly a Condor. How's that sound?" Kovacs sipped at the emergency induction port of his helmet, taking in some much needed hydration from this recent burst of chatter.
"It is unfortunate that we cannot replace your lace, but understandable. All we really need is a compilation of software patches, and a compatible skulljack for ease of synchronization," Kovacs was a bit disappointed, but he could wait. "Whenever you're ready, let me know."
With a clunk, the fuel scoop retracted and the commander pulled the warship away from the star. "There's an ice giant in system, one hundred twenty-four lightseconds out. We'll drop in the rings, send out some prospector limpets to look for lo-temps, and teach you how to fly a Condor. How's that sound?" Kovacs sipped at the emergency induction port of his helmet, taking in some much needed hydration from this recent burst of chatter.
Christofer was rather proud of himself. Well, in a way, kinda sorta. He had managed to do at least something good, even if getting a piece of wire out of someone's mouth to try and prevent issues with their teeth didn't really seem like a big achievement. But eh, it was something.
And by no means was this a mean gesture from him. Kallenger's strong reaction towards it all had his head tilting towards the side a little as he looked at her, not too long 'till he came to notice the flustering and red hues. Nah, he wasn't going to hold a gun to her head, but he would smile in a friendly manner, wag his tail lightly too to message of friendship and care instead of humiliation and the need to embarrass the other or to make them submit or something. He was as nice as can be. One had to think if he'd give the same expression and behave similarly if he did hold a gun to someone's head. But that was for another day, maybe.
He wasn't intimidated this time, nor being - intentionally - intimidating himself. But who knows, maybe there was some mental controlling skills there
Maybe.
Canid had settled to the seat then, observing things from there as he tried keeping himself warm. Nodding occasionally to her words and agreements, things were going rather well as is. The dropping of the chip had him flinching and jumping, ears perking up and then immediately pressing against his head. He could read some parts of her as Roy still put the chip in her pocket even if she asked. Unless the dropping had been necessary and like a thing to mock him? Like... That if it was given to him he'd break it... Drop it, lose it. That had been the way he had discovered it afterall.
Head lowered a little, ears stayed back, no eye contact.
"N-No... It's ok... You keep it..." Tail gave one nervous pat to the chair.
Things were a little awkward now.
Sure they were not looking directly at each other, but Christofer's eyes and head followed the movement of Royanna from one room to the other, not putting much thoughts behind it, he just watched, unthinking.
The announcement of an hour was given a nod too, she saw it or not.
After this, Roy left to go 'get something'. Not much time for him to reply, he wasn't going to shout after her. Or, well, he was, but it turned into a quiet whisper of "Okay...." on the way.
Supposedly he had no other choice but to stay in the control room and get comfy in that chair. If Royanna was just out 'getting a thing' she'd be back in no time. She knew what she was fetching from the wording, not seeing it as a necessity to speak of a name.
He could rest assured that she'd be back shortly and he had nothing to worry. An hour to get some rest was not bad, he'd be all ready and good to go then. He'd just have to keep his mind off all the food, it was making him hungry just thinking about it all. So having Roy come back and his ears and mind being occupied by listening to her walk around or with the soothing thought of just having her be around... That would be nice.
Surely no-one else, like, a stranger or such was to come and walk past the door that was not Kallenger. No such possibility.
But it took a while, minutes passed, he was not too sure on how much time had passed but in the silence it felt long. Much longer than it should have. Head lifted to look at the timer, which he hopefully would understand and be able to see how much time had actually passed. Not worrying over things at first, the canid lowered his head again, trying to not think too much on it and just hoped he'd hear familiar steps returning soon...
But they didn't.
There were no signs of Roy coming back, and it had already taken a while. Much too long it should for someone to just 'go get the thing'. They were out in the middle of... no-where afterall, so she Had to still be on The Diplomat, and going through the ship was not going to take That long. Right?
Needless to say, he couldn't really keep his rational thoughts for long, trying to make sense over tings, just hoping and assuming until he became too nervous to just sit still.
Roy had said that the controls ran on an autopilot, so he should not worry about them. A quick unsure look was given to the panels and all that lay around him and behind his back as he made his way to the door. He knew nothing about this stuff, so, autopilot or not, he wasn't going to touch things.
Hopefully he didn't need to.
Following the scent of the woman - some help from his new form - it wouldn't take too long for the canid to catch up on her, seeing the woman death-staring at her old clothes, or something. Standing at the door for a moment, the description given to him was not too far off.
Eventually he'd dare to step in, asking Roy "What are you doing..?" as it did not seem fully obvious to him. "... Do you want to fix it? Like, with a needle and some thread?" Pointing at the holes and rips in the fabric. He'd not want to touch the coat just in case it made Roy angry if he did, but he was not going to point out the dirtiness for that would be just rude.
And by no means was this a mean gesture from him. Kallenger's strong reaction towards it all had his head tilting towards the side a little as he looked at her, not too long 'till he came to notice the flustering and red hues. Nah, he wasn't going to hold a gun to her head, but he would smile in a friendly manner, wag his tail lightly too to message of friendship and care instead of humiliation and the need to embarrass the other or to make them submit or something. He was as nice as can be. One had to think if he'd give the same expression and behave similarly if he did hold a gun to someone's head. But that was for another day, maybe.
He wasn't intimidated this time, nor being - intentionally - intimidating himself. But who knows, maybe there was some mental controlling skills there
Maybe.
Canid had settled to the seat then, observing things from there as he tried keeping himself warm. Nodding occasionally to her words and agreements, things were going rather well as is. The dropping of the chip had him flinching and jumping, ears perking up and then immediately pressing against his head. He could read some parts of her as Roy still put the chip in her pocket even if she asked. Unless the dropping had been necessary and like a thing to mock him? Like... That if it was given to him he'd break it... Drop it, lose it. That had been the way he had discovered it afterall.
Head lowered a little, ears stayed back, no eye contact.
"N-No... It's ok... You keep it..." Tail gave one nervous pat to the chair.
Things were a little awkward now.
Sure they were not looking directly at each other, but Christofer's eyes and head followed the movement of Royanna from one room to the other, not putting much thoughts behind it, he just watched, unthinking.
The announcement of an hour was given a nod too, she saw it or not.
After this, Roy left to go 'get something'. Not much time for him to reply, he wasn't going to shout after her. Or, well, he was, but it turned into a quiet whisper of "Okay...." on the way.
Supposedly he had no other choice but to stay in the control room and get comfy in that chair. If Royanna was just out 'getting a thing' she'd be back in no time. She knew what she was fetching from the wording, not seeing it as a necessity to speak of a name.
He could rest assured that she'd be back shortly and he had nothing to worry. An hour to get some rest was not bad, he'd be all ready and good to go then. He'd just have to keep his mind off all the food, it was making him hungry just thinking about it all. So having Roy come back and his ears and mind being occupied by listening to her walk around or with the soothing thought of just having her be around... That would be nice.
Surely no-one else, like, a stranger or such was to come and walk past the door that was not Kallenger. No such possibility.
But it took a while, minutes passed, he was not too sure on how much time had passed but in the silence it felt long. Much longer than it should have. Head lifted to look at the timer, which he hopefully would understand and be able to see how much time had actually passed. Not worrying over things at first, the canid lowered his head again, trying to not think too much on it and just hoped he'd hear familiar steps returning soon...
But they didn't.
There were no signs of Roy coming back, and it had already taken a while. Much too long it should for someone to just 'go get the thing'. They were out in the middle of... no-where afterall, so she Had to still be on The Diplomat, and going through the ship was not going to take That long. Right?
Needless to say, he couldn't really keep his rational thoughts for long, trying to make sense over tings, just hoping and assuming until he became too nervous to just sit still.
Roy had said that the controls ran on an autopilot, so he should not worry about them. A quick unsure look was given to the panels and all that lay around him and behind his back as he made his way to the door. He knew nothing about this stuff, so, autopilot or not, he wasn't going to touch things.
Hopefully he didn't need to.
Following the scent of the woman - some help from his new form - it wouldn't take too long for the canid to catch up on her, seeing the woman death-staring at her old clothes, or something. Standing at the door for a moment, the description given to him was not too far off.
Eventually he'd dare to step in, asking Roy "What are you doing..?" as it did not seem fully obvious to him. "... Do you want to fix it? Like, with a needle and some thread?" Pointing at the holes and rips in the fabric. He'd not want to touch the coat just in case it made Roy angry if he did, but he was not going to point out the dirtiness for that would be just rude.
The Diplomat
Roy jumped just a little when Christofer spoke - but it was becoming clear that this was not a reaction induced by being startled. Rather, it was the brief moment required to process an interaction that was entirely friendly and unthreatening - and to gather herself and prepare for yet another fantastically awkward, blatantly unprofessional social interaction.
And, admittedly, perhaps there was some chance that her guard was so let down, and her thoughts so scattered and flustered…
She was perhaps two centimeters taller now that she was wearing the thick-soled work boots again, and the uncharacteristically casual air brought about by her earlier barefootedness was gone. Despite this -
and her general awkwardness - there was no doubting that there was a persisting sense about her which suggsted she was at ease with the canid's presence - or, at least, something approaching 'ease'.
The other difference was that she now donned a simple, unobtrusive shoulder-holster, with a pistol tucked snugly under one arm. It appeared to be different from her usual weapon, though with only the handle peering out from the holster little more could be discerned than the fact that it bore the basic design of a semi-automatic pistol rather than her usual black revolver.
The blush was gone, at least. Though she was still uncertain as to whether or not the predicament she was facing was as challenging to others as it was to herself. She looked at him owlishly for a beat before speaking, stammering just a very little bit.
”I...was thinking of trying to find the...cleaning-machine.” she explained, just a little awkwardly - trying to cover up the fact that she was groping for the word, merely guessing at the terminology for whatever device was used in the enigmatic process of cleansing such garments. She blinked, looked back to the coat which was still held out at arm’s length, then went about folding it up loosely. ”The thing’s filthy. The damage isn’t so bad, but it smells like old blood.”
Both accounts were true. While there were multiple small cuts and one or two holes, with the hem ragged from where it had been torn to serve as a makeshift bandage, the overall physical condition of the coat was acceptable. Clearly battle-scarred, but the ballistic-weave lining and sturdy carbon-fiber lace did a good job at keeping it presentable and safe nonetheless. While it could certainly do with some solid maintenance, the most glaring problem was indeed the filth and stench of dried blood and stagnant sweat that permeated the black fabric.
”I, uh, I’m not very acquainted with the upkeep processes.” The woman admitted somewhat abashed, averting eyes momentarily. It was the long-winded, aversive way of admitting that she knew nothing about how to wash clothing. Licking her lips nervously and glancing toward the floor, she held out the folded jacket in a manner that encouraged, but did not demand of him to take it. ”If you’re familiar with the finer points, your assistance would be greatly appreciated.”
Using big words and dodging direct language apparently made it easier for the woman to ask for ’help’ from someone whom she had no intention, nor authority to order around. This whole dynamic of ‘favors’ was just as new to her as nearly everything else about Christofer.
Whether or not he took the coat from her hands, she added after a moment ”There will probably be someone on Tora Station that can fix it too. Though I’m not exactly sure how to solicit their services. There’s no rush, either.” Saying that, she either placed the folded coat onto the bed or left it in Toffi’s arms, and went about plucking a different jacket from the edge of the bed and shrugging it over her shoulders. It was a simple dinner jacket, black with very faint grey pinstripes, reaching smartly to her hips and looking almost as if it had been tailored to fit. Embroidered into the left lapel was a small Old Imperial logo, in white. ”First priority is getting food, of course. Everything else can wait.”
A moment passed during which the two could continue the discussion, before a mild, unalarming tone sounded from somewhere in the ceiling. ”That means we’re approaching our destination.” Roy said, gesturing with one finger toward the ceiling-embedded speaker that was the source of the soft sound. ”I’ll head back to the pilot’s seat to get us ready for docking.”
Roy jumped just a little when Christofer spoke - but it was becoming clear that this was not a reaction induced by being startled. Rather, it was the brief moment required to process an interaction that was entirely friendly and unthreatening - and to gather herself and prepare for yet another fantastically awkward, blatantly unprofessional social interaction.
And, admittedly, perhaps there was some chance that her guard was so let down, and her thoughts so scattered and flustered…
She was perhaps two centimeters taller now that she was wearing the thick-soled work boots again, and the uncharacteristically casual air brought about by her earlier barefootedness was gone. Despite this -
and her general awkwardness - there was no doubting that there was a persisting sense about her which suggsted she was at ease with the canid's presence - or, at least, something approaching 'ease'.
The other difference was that she now donned a simple, unobtrusive shoulder-holster, with a pistol tucked snugly under one arm. It appeared to be different from her usual weapon, though with only the handle peering out from the holster little more could be discerned than the fact that it bore the basic design of a semi-automatic pistol rather than her usual black revolver.
The blush was gone, at least. Though she was still uncertain as to whether or not the predicament she was facing was as challenging to others as it was to herself. She looked at him owlishly for a beat before speaking, stammering just a very little bit.
”I...was thinking of trying to find the...cleaning-machine.” she explained, just a little awkwardly - trying to cover up the fact that she was groping for the word, merely guessing at the terminology for whatever device was used in the enigmatic process of cleansing such garments. She blinked, looked back to the coat which was still held out at arm’s length, then went about folding it up loosely. ”The thing’s filthy. The damage isn’t so bad, but it smells like old blood.”
Both accounts were true. While there were multiple small cuts and one or two holes, with the hem ragged from where it had been torn to serve as a makeshift bandage, the overall physical condition of the coat was acceptable. Clearly battle-scarred, but the ballistic-weave lining and sturdy carbon-fiber lace did a good job at keeping it presentable and safe nonetheless. While it could certainly do with some solid maintenance, the most glaring problem was indeed the filth and stench of dried blood and stagnant sweat that permeated the black fabric.
”I, uh, I’m not very acquainted with the upkeep processes.” The woman admitted somewhat abashed, averting eyes momentarily. It was the long-winded, aversive way of admitting that she knew nothing about how to wash clothing. Licking her lips nervously and glancing toward the floor, she held out the folded jacket in a manner that encouraged, but did not demand of him to take it. ”If you’re familiar with the finer points, your assistance would be greatly appreciated.”
Using big words and dodging direct language apparently made it easier for the woman to ask for ’help’ from someone whom she had no intention, nor authority to order around. This whole dynamic of ‘favors’ was just as new to her as nearly everything else about Christofer.
Whether or not he took the coat from her hands, she added after a moment ”There will probably be someone on Tora Station that can fix it too. Though I’m not exactly sure how to solicit their services. There’s no rush, either.” Saying that, she either placed the folded coat onto the bed or left it in Toffi’s arms, and went about plucking a different jacket from the edge of the bed and shrugging it over her shoulders. It was a simple dinner jacket, black with very faint grey pinstripes, reaching smartly to her hips and looking almost as if it had been tailored to fit. Embroidered into the left lapel was a small Old Imperial logo, in white. ”First priority is getting food, of course. Everything else can wait.”
A moment passed during which the two could continue the discussion, before a mild, unalarming tone sounded from somewhere in the ceiling. ”That means we’re approaching our destination.” Roy said, gesturing with one finger toward the ceiling-embedded speaker that was the source of the soft sound. ”I’ll head back to the pilot’s seat to get us ready for docking.”
Shen twitched. A stream of twittering melodic chirps slowly started to echo from their place on the floor, soft and sweet, until it was harsh, almost sqwawking, ending with a sharp note that left the room in awful silence.
Of course, the only thing Rai could hear was curses of all kinds and complexity, increasing in volume until it resolutely stopped with a loud, empathic '£&€¥!'
"... Morning, sleeping beauty," their Nyran familiar said.
Shut up. Holy $#&%, you don't feel so good.
"Flattered. I actually feel quite better. You look like actual $#&%, though."
£&€¥ you.
"I'd rather you not."
Eeeew!
"You said it, not me!"
Shen huffed, experimentally flapping their wings. It seemed to working, mostly. They were still a bit sluggish. They could... stand? Kind of? And flap. Flapping was important. To move. Can't fly, too tired.
Hopping it was.
It was a struggle to keep upright and hop on a straight line. Who knew? Certainly not them- until they almost crashed beak-first into the wall. Luckily they only bruised a wing. Or... not. It'd heal.
After that they mde sure to take their time hopping. What was in reality about a minute of strategic hopping felt like hours of embarassment that they never wanted to speak of again after this.
They couldn't care less right then and there though as they collapsed on Rai's lap, winded from their imprompt post-nap exercise. They pushed themself up against the soothing hand that brushed back their head crest.
"... Restraining him in some way is a smart idea," their Nyran said. The faint grogginess that came with their affections made it hard to remember what they were talking about. "Probably not blatantly, though. Get something ready, I guess? Just don't strap him to a bed or chair, I dunno. We can come up with some questions to ask, too." A short pause, and a pale finger traced their feathery neck. "I should try and gather inventory on those scrolls..."
Shen closed their eyes, carefully shutting their end of the bond. A light doze wouldn't hurt.
Vaxur stared at Tsuan's limb, face tight and expression carefully monitered as he silently considered his options.
It was unlike the Vaxur from before- humming soothing tunes as he worked, lifting the injured limb and squinting at dark spidery beins chasing up his arm. He brushed over twisted blackened flesh with the gentlest of touches, poking and prodding with the utmost consideration, with an open look on his face.
Everything had seemed alright, until the moment the examination ended and he'd all of a sudden just- closed off all emotions, swept from his visage like a hospital curtain that was swept closed.
His forehead pinched- and he sighed, shoulders drooping lower than usual. "Amputation," he said, voice rough from strain. "I'll need to amputate. I can save the arm, but any thing below the wrist-" he cut himself off.
He sighed.
"Um, I'm sorry this had to happen because of... because of you guys trying to protect Rin. I know he'd be devastated to find out that he'd lost a hand trying to rescue him and make him the best robotic hand ever as soon as-" he clenched his fist, loosens the hold- "as he wakes up. He'll wake up. He will," he said, quieter, like he was afraid that if the universe heard him it would jinx them all and never let his teammate wake.
He jolted slightly, ripping himself out of his musing with an apologetic smile. "Ah, sorry. My mind's just- it's not all there, yanno? I can't believe I'm here. I thought I'd never-" he shuddered, then placed a solid hand on the bed Tsuan was laying on. "If you want, I can do the amputation now. It's okay if you wanna go- or stay. Or maybe you'd have someone else do this?" He shrugged. "Either way, it has to be done soon. Don't want his whole arm to decay."
Of course, the only thing Rai could hear was curses of all kinds and complexity, increasing in volume until it resolutely stopped with a loud, empathic '£&€¥!'
"... Morning, sleeping beauty," their Nyran familiar said.
Shut up. Holy $#&%, you don't feel so good.
"Flattered. I actually feel quite better. You look like actual $#&%, though."
£&€¥ you.
"I'd rather you not."
Eeeew!
"You said it, not me!"
Shen huffed, experimentally flapping their wings. It seemed to working, mostly. They were still a bit sluggish. They could... stand? Kind of? And flap. Flapping was important. To move. Can't fly, too tired.
Hopping it was.
It was a struggle to keep upright and hop on a straight line. Who knew? Certainly not them- until they almost crashed beak-first into the wall. Luckily they only bruised a wing. Or... not. It'd heal.
After that they mde sure to take their time hopping. What was in reality about a minute of strategic hopping felt like hours of embarassment that they never wanted to speak of again after this.
They couldn't care less right then and there though as they collapsed on Rai's lap, winded from their imprompt post-nap exercise. They pushed themself up against the soothing hand that brushed back their head crest.
"... Restraining him in some way is a smart idea," their Nyran said. The faint grogginess that came with their affections made it hard to remember what they were talking about. "Probably not blatantly, though. Get something ready, I guess? Just don't strap him to a bed or chair, I dunno. We can come up with some questions to ask, too." A short pause, and a pale finger traced their feathery neck. "I should try and gather inventory on those scrolls..."
Shen closed their eyes, carefully shutting their end of the bond. A light doze wouldn't hurt.
Vaxur stared at Tsuan's limb, face tight and expression carefully monitered as he silently considered his options.
It was unlike the Vaxur from before- humming soothing tunes as he worked, lifting the injured limb and squinting at dark spidery beins chasing up his arm. He brushed over twisted blackened flesh with the gentlest of touches, poking and prodding with the utmost consideration, with an open look on his face.
Everything had seemed alright, until the moment the examination ended and he'd all of a sudden just- closed off all emotions, swept from his visage like a hospital curtain that was swept closed.
His forehead pinched- and he sighed, shoulders drooping lower than usual. "Amputation," he said, voice rough from strain. "I'll need to amputate. I can save the arm, but any thing below the wrist-" he cut himself off.
He sighed.
"Um, I'm sorry this had to happen because of... because of you guys trying to protect Rin. I know he'd be devastated to find out that he'd lost a hand trying to rescue him and make him the best robotic hand ever as soon as-" he clenched his fist, loosens the hold- "as he wakes up. He'll wake up. He will," he said, quieter, like he was afraid that if the universe heard him it would jinx them all and never let his teammate wake.
He jolted slightly, ripping himself out of his musing with an apologetic smile. "Ah, sorry. My mind's just- it's not all there, yanno? I can't believe I'm here. I thought I'd never-" he shuddered, then placed a solid hand on the bed Tsuan was laying on. "If you want, I can do the amputation now. It's okay if you wanna go- or stay. Or maybe you'd have someone else do this?" He shrugged. "Either way, it has to be done soon. Don't want his whole arm to decay."
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