SS Iscariot - Episode 1: New Beginnings

Started by Lomari, February 22, 2019, 07:54:44 am

Desmond Holt

April 06, 2019, 01:48:31 pm #40 Last Edit: April 06, 2019, 01:50:27 pm by Desmond Holt
As the bar activity continued around him Desmond took another sip of his beer. A rather intimidating man headed up to the karaoke stage and started singing a rendition of a song that Desmond would not have expected a man like that to sing. The guy wasn't bad though, and Desmond joined in the applause when the performance finally ended.

Mr Intimidating left the stage, and Des took another sip of his pint. It felt like the attitude of the room shifted a little, and he glanced around in time to see Tricky disappear into the kitchen. Also at that moment, a pretty young woman who had been unabashedly watching Desmond since he came in finally headed over to him. She was small and lithe, her maroon hair ended with her bangs cut sharply just above her eyebrows. She smiled up at him.

"Hi-lo. X. Job to meet you, pleasant summons for a work, bank us gurl money!"

Desmond blinked, and then grinned. This was far from the first time a woman in a bar had gotten tongue tied around him. "Hey there... X?" He said, trying to decipher what she had said. "Pleased to meet you. What's this about work?" Then, as something sparked in the back of his mind he fished the little invitation out of his pocket again. "I don't suppose this was your doing?" He said, indicating the card with a nod and a slightly raised eyebrow.
"The best surfer out there is the one having the most fun."

Pele Kesher

April 07, 2019, 02:54:36 pm #41 Last Edit: April 07, 2019, 02:58:02 pm by Pele Kesher

Pele clinked glasses with Marty and brought her drink to her lips in a motion that could easily be mistaken as her taking a generous swig. It was all smoke and mirrors; her well-practiced body language masked the fact that very little of the liquid was actually ending in her mouth. While her target threw back the drinks with wild abandon, she continued to take stealthy, controlled sips. Not that she necessarily needed to; the fact that she'd picked a mixed drink and he was going through a bottle of bourboun already tipped the scale in her favor, as did the fact that Marty didn't seem to hold his liquor very well judging by how rapidly his lips were becoming loose.

She listened to his rambling with feigned interest. Wheeled vehicles, mud tracks, it was all very pedestrian to Pele, but Shiri loved it, and so the woman playing the part beamed in unison with Marty. The story she would be feeding him was rapidly taking shape in her head: Shiri arrives at SS Iscariot with her boyfriend -- dashing, douchey, probably dressed in a leather jacket -- looking forward to the adventure they're about to embark on together, only to find evidence of cheating on his PDA. The two get into a fight, boyfriend takes off in a huff, and here poor Shiri is, abandoned and next to penniless, waiting for her Prince Charming to come help her get back on her feet and possibly be rewarded with that sweet rebound sex...

She could picture it now, him giving her the good old spiel about how her boyfriend must have been CRAZY to cheat on someone like her, what a hún dàn, yadda yadda yadda.

"...They was muppets but they don't let too many former pros like me on these informal tracks. I told them who I really was they'd likely have told me to jog on."

Oh, gos-se. So he had something of a reputation. Maybe a reputation a pilot fangirl like Shiri should know about? Then again it was a big verse, and Shiri had never been to Dyton. Besides, she had other things on her mind right now.

"You know, I thought you looked familiar, but I just figured it was my mind playing tricks on me, what with the..."

She chuckled nervously and shook her head, dropping her gaze and rubbing her forehead.

"I'm sorry. It's been a crazy couple of days for me. I really don't want to ruin your party mood with my baggage..."

She let her hand fall and looked up, meeting his gaze for a moment before looking away quickly, pretending to be embarrassed by her sudden slip of vulnerability. As she turned her gaze away from him, she spotted the creep from the karaoke approaching their table. She braced herself for his drunken advantages; hell, maybe Marty would get up and play the hero. That could work in her advantage, butter him up a little more.

To her dismay, the man simply apologized to her and then addressed Marty. No, she thought with alarm. Don't you dare. It wasn't like Marty was her only shot at getting off the station; sooner or later another mark would walk in, and she was confident she could hook him. But she'd gone through all this effort with Marty, and the man getting between her and her prey felt like a personal affront.

She wanted to snarl at the intruder. Instead, she turned to Marty and put on her cutest pout, the kind that was just prominent enough to express displeasure without twisting her pretty features. Unapologetically surly women were, after all, very unattractive.

"Aw, do you have to go?" she said, placing her hand on his arm, right on the sweet spot. His body actually felt surprisingly muscular under the jacket. Compact. It was only a passing thought in Pele's head, possibly brought on by the fact that the past weeks were the longest period she'd gone without touching a man in recent memory.

"We were just getting started."

Come on, doe eyes, don't let me down now...


There was something to be said about bartenders who knew their craft and could read a room in a glance. The bottle of beer was lifted to full lips and sipped at before being tipped towards the man behind the bar in a silent thanks.

It had been a stressful last two months. Scraping by from one back water moon or space station to the next. Short course unsanctioned racing was the Outer Rim's adaptation of the dirt track races from Earth That Was. It was without a doubt the sport of the poor rich man. The sort like Tolya, who had money from questionably legal ventures but not enough social education to actually spend it like a man with class, were always drawn to the apparent speed and power the sport provided. Tereza took another drink. Calling it a sport was a joke. She used to race Formula Core in the White Star Racing League. She had been signed by Kessler Cyber Security. But that had been then. A handful of bad choices had left her mashing the accelerator on a glorified milk truck in circles around whatever space station or dusty backwater town would put up with their presence. Or, more often than not, places that didn't have the on site security presence to run them off. Having local lawmen trying to disrupt the race was part of the show. They just couldn't stir up too much of a fuss beforehand was all.

"Ain't seen you here before." He said. "You new?"

"Enough. Just came in with that flight of salvage tugs." Tereza said, turning to rest an elbow on the bar and look the man who had worked the magic of turning the crumpled paper into liquid gold. Tired eyes flicked up and down the man before darting away to again survey the room again, lingering only for a moment on the abandoned double shot of whiskey further down the bar. She turned her head, golden tresses falling like a curtain between her and Reggie and she watched the man who it had been drawn for retreat into the stock room. "I'd apologize preemptively for the lot of them," The woman spoke again, turning back to the bartender. "Not that I speak for those sorts of hooligans." Right, because she certainly not part of the utter chaos the were planning on slinging about the station in a relatively short order.

Of course, given any other profitable options, she wouldn't be. "Don't think I caught your name." There was something about the way Tereza spoke. Even her accent couldn't quite cover up that properly educated lightly clipped Core World cadence.
Dark be the sky
Dense be the clouds
Thunders seem to fright
And storm will take the lives
The sun sets and rise
But the cut above will always FLY
-- Ravi Chan


"Reggie is what they call me." Reggie reached over and grabbed the proffered drink, sliding it over to Tereza. "Compliments of-" He went to point at Munck, but the man was already long gone. "-Well that guy that was sitting right here." With a bar towel he kept tucked into the apron at his waist, Reggie wiped at the bar, cleaning imaginary spills. "You just passin' through? Lookin' for work?" He said, trying to keep the conversation going while it was slow.

Over the system wide intercom, came an automated voice.


Reggie looked up as the voice spoke, then over at Onyx. "Think they're talking to you, Reverend." He said with a smile. "Don't forget your tab."

Martin Miller

"Blimey, all right, mate."

Things were going so well! The bloody cheek.

Couldn't Johann tell this woman was interested in him? And couldn't he tell he was most of the way to legless? Marty couldn't make sense of it. The last couple of drinks had taken hold of him, most of the parts of his brain that governed logic had clocked out for the day. She looked disappointed. Very disappointed. A strange disappointed? In his state, Miller could only chalk it up to immediate and totally justifiable infatuation. He gave Johann a look for a moment. Marty communicated his sense of being impeded romantically, then looked back over to his would be conquest. Somewhat callously, the story she'd been ramping up to was already drifting from his mind, even though he still felt a bit rude for having to dash off like this so awkwardly

"Apologies dear. Work intrudes, look me up on the cortex. We'll grab 'nother drink next time you float through."

With an exaggerated groan he pulled himself onto his feet from their booth and as he walked away with Johann gave "Shiri" something of a bow. As if she was royalty or if he'd just completed some kind of performance. Completely unaware at the amusement he'd brought his colleagues at his own expense. Marty started to wonder what on earth they'd be summoning him for in this state, but it must be work that came up quick.

Bloody hell they don't expect me to drive right now, do they?

A terrifying thought flashed through his mind. Marty's stomach immediately knotted up. Back in the Alliance Navy they had injections they'd give men who got drunk on duty. Some figured out they could use it as a way to get kicked off active duty by showing up drunk enough times, and that turned out to be the incentive necessary for the purple bellies to figure out inject-able sobriety. Having been forced to endure an injection as part of his training and a method of deterrence, he never wanted to experience that again. The adjustment your body goes through feels like you hit a brick wall at full speed.

Somewhat sheepishly he gave voice to his worry:

"I didn't know there was gonna be a bloody job today, I uhh..."

Abandoning embarrassment he just laughed and confessed something very obvious.

"I am properly sozzled at this particular moment."


"Hey there... X?" The God Man greeted, absolutely intuiting her name correctly. "Pleased to meet you. What's this about work?" he asked, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the card. "I don't suppose this was your doing?" X grinned broadly and nodded rapidly, her hands lifting to settle on her cheeks in some attempt to still her head. She felt a little like a wobbly-headed Geisha doll. Trying to shake herself out of it, her back straightened and X cleared her throat, ready to tell him they were indeed ready to go to work and that yes, she'd been the one to put the card in his pocket, and if he'd just follow her to the back room then they could begin their business. Her lips parted and she stared up at him very seriously (or as seriously as she could manage).

"I love you."

Dark eyes widened and her entire body stiffened before she turned sharply on her heel and began marching toward the back room. "THIS WAY, PLEASE AND THANK YOU!"she told him loudly, her voice clipped, shrill, and full of mortified embarrassment. The girl walked past the newcomer at the bar, sparing her a quick glance and once-over before she slipped behind Rev and reached out to pat him on the top of the head like a good boy. Still, her motions were quick and robotic as she attempted to immediately gloss over what she'd just said to the catalog model.

Glancing back to make sure he was following her, she paused at the door and eyed the security duo guarding it. With a lavish, X gestured toward the guards and bowed a little, eyeing Des and hoping he'd get the massive hint and present his card so the lug heads would get out of their way and let them in. She tried smiling at him easily, but it came out as a pained grimace.

Rev. Onyx Clark

Rev. Onyx heard the call to service and he went into action immediately. However, there was one last pressing matter that was on the medic's mind. The tab. Since it wasn't that much, Onyx immediately went into his pack and pulled out the tab amount, and some left over for a tip. Instead of paying the 4.50, the Medic paid 6. Without leaving as much as instructions like "keep the change," the Reverend simple left everything for Reggie. Moving quickly, the message simply replayed and the Reverend had to shout clearly in order to get through the crowd.

"Coming through!"

If there was one thing Reverend Onyx was grateful for was the fact that everyone quickly got out of his way, until he found himself in section 1. Quickly making his what to the emergency, those who could see his eyes knew that the calm Chaplain was nowhere to be found. What they saw was a combat medic who had a patient, and no one in the Verse would get in his way. When he finally got close to the emergency, he looked to the nearest person he saw.

"Where's the patient?"


"Reggie is what they call me."

Tereza nodded to the man who now had a name. "Nice to meet you Reggie. I'm Tereza."

"Compliments of-" He went to point at Munck, but the man was already long gone. "-Well that guy that was sitting right here." With a bar towel he kept tucked into the apron at his waist, Reggie wiped at the bar, cleaning imaginary spills. "You just passin' through? Lookin' for work?"

"If you know the fellow, pass him my thanks later." The drink was lifted in a toast towards the door the unnamed man had exited through before being sipped at lightly. It wasn't quite a day that required knocking back hard drinked just yet. "Little of both." Tereza responded to Reggie's question. "I'm a mind to find good work behind the stick of something bigger than a glorified toaster oven. But as for passing though, that's to be seen. Don't think I'll much want to keep following the crowd i've been. On the same foot, don't much think I'll be of a mind to wash dishes to pay my way here neither." She shot him a tired, if genuine smile.

"How about yourself, Reggie? Come here often?" The smile turned wry for a moment before hiding briefly behind the lip of her beer. The whiskey would wait till she had a chance to see if Reggie could procure some sort of foodstuffs that wasn't all reconstituted protein and questionable noodles. And if she could afford it.
Dark be the sky
Dense be the clouds
Thunders seem to fright
And storm will take the lives
The sun sets and rise
But the cut above will always FLY
-- Ravi Chan



Reggie seemed glad for Tereza's attention. He gave her a big, bashful smile and said, "Aw, well yeah. Here every day, twice on Sunday." He laughed at his own joke, though its humor was debatable. He wiped at imaginary spills and tried to think of what to say next, avoiding eye contact like a twelve year old boy. "Don't s'pose a pretty lady like you would be hungry? Ain't much but we got some noodles in the back. They're fresh as yesterday and I think there's some tofu still in there. On me."



The message repeated itself, though gave no further directions for anyone who might head it. Bystanders sympathized with the urgency of the Minister Medic, though few seemed to have any ideas as to where the actual emergency was. There was a faint smell of burnt toast on the air, however, and echoing through the halls was a distant


reminiscent of gunfire but different to any with familiarity in actual munitions.


Maxell Graves

Leaves are falling all around
It's time I was on my way
Thanks to you I'm much obliged
For such a pleasant stay
But now it's time for me to go
The autumn moon lights my way
For now I smell the rain
And with it pain
And it's headed my way
Ah, sometimes I grow so tired
But I know I've got one thing I got to do
Ramble on
And now's the time, the time is now
To sing my song
I'm goin' 'round the world, I got to find my girl
On my way
I've been this way ten years to the day
Ramble on
Gotta find the queen of all my dreams

- "Ramble On", Led Zeppelin

Maxell Graves, Major (retired) of the Union of Allied Planets Marine Corps - the armed forces branch which traced its proud legacy back to the USMC founded on Earth-That-Was in the year 1775 and officially merged with China's PLAMC to form the United People's Marine Corps during the talks between Londinium and Sihnon which established the earliest framework for the future UAP, the Anglo-Sino Alliance - leaned back in a leather bound office chair with heavy hands laced behind his shaved head, letting his record spin. The former security officer for the Allure and one time Captain of the Journey Into Mystery, affectionately and inappropriately referred to by its crew as "JIM", faced away from his quaint antique store aboard the SS Iscariot and peered out the lofty view port for which he rented this particular unit. Grave Discoveries proved to be a rather fickle source of income, but Maxell considered worse ways to spend one's retirement existed. He had his collection, and a view, and Journey docked in a restoration bay.

Most importantly, Elena Marseille took up residence nearby as Madame of a remote Companion hall, The Lady Magdalene, a Guild-sponsored endeavor established when the Allure's co-sponsorship with the House fell apart. The stars rotated past the view port slowly as the station made its stabilizing rotation, impressing upon Maxell a metaphor not lost upon him. "Hrrrrnnnm..." Maxell groaned in frustration at his own inability to act. Still, the uncertainty of the fallout of any attempt to assuage the gnawing longing he felt in his guts kept his jaw clenched and his teeth grit. The hard-boiled veteran just started to consider this excursion a grave mistake before his thoughts derailed at the sound of an alarm ringing throughout the halls and interrupting his song.


Maxell turned toward his desk, a restored mahogany relic upon which an ancient chain-operated lamp with a green, stained glass shade sat, and looked out into the promenade and watched several people who probably bore less interest in helping and more of a morbid curiosity to witness whatever transpired make their way this way in that in response to the vague instructions. Graves waved a dismissive paw toward the threshold of his shop. "Best let the Reverend deal with it." Maxell spun back toward the view port to further torture himself in his thoughts before a sound he thought he knew all too well filled the halls.


Not knowing who fired what, but aiming to make good on a promise he made to protect Elena and her girls, Maxell stepped pointedly toward a framed tapestry of a lady, a lion, and a unicorn gathered before a pavilion on a field of red and typed a code into the numeric keypad on the wall. The framed work shifted to the left, revealing a hidden armory of carbine rifles, pistols, explosives, and a seemingly out of place crossbow. Maxell snatched the modified Smith & Wesson M&P15 VTAC II from its rack, loaded a magazine, grabbed a couple extras, and rushed out into the expansive corridor looking like a well-dressed madman in search of a kill.

The bugle sounds - the charge begins, But on this battlefield no one wins
The smell of acrid smoke and horse's breath, As I plunge on into certain death

Iron Maiden, "The Trooper"


Location: Space Outside of Iscariot Station

Iscariot Station. From its current location along the station's wide orbit, it was the best place for a group of now-pirates to go to refuel and restock. No one would care what they'd done or bat an eye at the makeup of the group. There might be a few confused stares and questions when an Alliance vessel clearly crewed by...well, not the Alliance docked on what was essentially a fancy gas station for the morally questionable. Without much in the way of pomp or circumstance, the Cornwolf crept closer to the docking sectors of the station.

"Approaching vessel. Identify yourself," a stern voice called out through the comms system on the bridge. There was some clear hostility in the voice, likely some distrust of the seemingly government vehicle approaching their shady and non-government station.

"Vessel name..." a thoughtful pause. "Isa's Revenge, requesting clearance to dock. Just staying long enough to refuel and fill our water tanks."

"Isa's Revenge?" the voice asked skeptically, "Not...Cornwolf? Alliance Designation CW4876621?" it asked, the clearance still not given.

"Isa's Revenge. No Alliance affiliation," she assured him. Another pause, on both ends this time.
Finally, their berthing instructions and clearance was transmitted to both Melody's console as well as Jo's array of computers.

"Welcome to Iscariot, Revenge."

Missy Etheridge

April 19, 2019, 07:51:31 am #51 Last Edit: April 19, 2019, 09:58:07 am by Missy Etheridge
Location: Docks

Missy chewed anxiously on the inside of her cheek, trying to look like she clearly didn't belong with the rest of the... apparently "Isa's Revenge" crew now, but without looking like she was trying to look like she clearly didn't belong. It was a delicate balance. Who knew when the ship would dock again after they resupplied and got the water tanks refilled? This would be her first, best, and possibly last chance to escape.

Really, all she needed was a few minutes alone with a public comms station. There had to be one here, right? The tricky part would be slipping away from Melody's eagle eyes. Once she managed that, though, she could put out a distress call, downplay why she'd still been on the ship when the pirates attacked in the first place, turn on the waterworks about how terribly frightened she'd been through the whole ordeal and how lucky she was to have survived, and boom -- Missy would be back in civilization with a nice mug of tea, some actual fresh food that didn't taste like tin can, and absolutely zero consequences for the whole water supply debacle. Win/win.

They might even make a holovid about her journey. Kidnapped by Pirates: the Missy Etheridge Story! She wondered who would end up playing her. How much could she get for a book deal, if the vid took off?

Focus up, Melissa. Escape first, profit later. She'd built up enough tenuous trust with the new captain to keep herself from getting murdered so far, and she didn't want to lose it before she had a chance to make her move.

"So, this is Iscariot?" she asked her companions brightly, as if they'd gone on holiday to a resort planet. "It's... very scenic!"
I wear a TV screen on my head, play the happy channels
Channel happy thoughts, make the people happy

Put on a screen 'cause it's easier to just pretend
Mama says, "Always try to look your best."

Always try to look your best.


Location: Docks

After Melody had docked the ship, set up a lock on the controls and approved the temporary 'land' lock, she got up and stretched, back popping in several places. Well, so far so good. Her arms lowered. Perhaps they should consider repainting the Revenge so it wasn't so clearly 'Alliance'. Or maybe they should leave it to make sneaking into Alliance lanes easier... All great things to consider. Later. On her way down the steps, she made sure her gun was in its proper place, trying to remember if they confiscated your guns on the way in and frowning when she came up empty. Hands pushed her sleeves back up to her elbows, boots echoing against the floor as she stalked through the ship toward the cargo bay doors.

"Alright, Yes. This is Iscariot." she said to those gathered, "We're here to refuel and fill the water tanks back up. Your time is your own while you're here but be back when I call. Keep your comms open," she said, looking pointedly at Holger, Izak and Jo, the only ones she'd given the comms to. "From what I remember, there's a bar here, a Companion house, and some shopping. At least, in this sector. Guard your pockets, don't get into trouble. So..." Mel shrugged and waved her hands at the crew to tell them to 'get'. With a smile at Holger and a dubious frown in Missy's direction, she rolled her shoulders back and reached into a pouch at her belt. "Keep an eye on him, Doctor," she reminded Missy, reaching downward. With a satisfying (to her) *Click* the metal (and very Alliance official) handcuffs closed around Missy's wrist, it's partner wrapping around Holger's. "Now you won't get lost," she told the doctor with a sweeter than candy smile, the look in her eyes full of violence. She had no intention of letting a rogue agent, who'd been with the Alliance no less, wander off on her own to tattle to the Man about the crew and their current location. She was rash, but she wasn't dumb.

Holger Heyerdahl

Location: Docks

Holger lumbered off of the Revenge and into the Iscariot Space Station. This was not his first time on this particular station, Holger was quite well traveled in the years since the War, but in his current mental state, none of it appeared familiar. Well, bits and bobs perhaps, but on the whole, it seemed fresh to his eyes. Though he had wanted to fight the Doctor on every order she gave him over the past day and a half, Holger had, surprisingly, taken well to the bed rest. His mind had been cloudy and his eyelids heavy and sleep came easy to him. And so, it was a well rested brute who found himself with a familiar new place to explore.

Untethered and ready to go, he was stopped by Melody who told him things he already knew. Or at least he felt that he knew them. Getting into trouble was subjective at best. Holger felt confident that not only could he take care of himself, but that he would do the taking by himself. At last, she stopped talking (Holger really did like Melody, but she had a tendency to do a lot of talking, something that Holger found boring) and released him to do his exploring.

Or so he thought.

A click of handcuffs and Holger found himself anchored to the Doctor. "My pockets are full pockets." He said, the disappointment clear if his words were yet a little confused.

Izak Archer

April 21, 2019, 02:54:43 pm #54 Last Edit: April 27, 2019, 09:14:36 am by Izak Archer
Location: Docks
Ah, Iscariot. It was the place to go when you wanted to get away from law-abiding society. The journey was quick, and Izak was more than ready to take a shower...and shave. Even though he was no longer an officer, he still held himself to the standard of a clean shaven, somewhat dignified look. Of course that meant he would stick out like a sore thumb, but he cared little for what people thought of him.

The last couple of days were at least productive, despite the overall lack of water. He did not need much to take care of the armory, and the missile system and point defense autocannons were in good working shape. He still wanted to see about installing a cannon on the underside of the ship. Something that would give the Revenge a little more bite in tricky situations.

The armory was well stocked and every weapon was cleaned and properly stored. Some of the tools would need to be replaced, which he could easily do here after they got the water situation sorted out, but otherwise they were all set. They had everything they would need for a boarding party.

A few cutting torches might also be necessary, he thought as he strolled towards the airlock.

He stepped out into the familiar smell of...well, somewhere between a shipyard and a dry-dock. It was an amalgam of lubricants, ozone, and burnt out electrical circuitry. For some reason, he missed that smell. Event he sounds too are crews and others worked and argued away.

Melody's voice snapped Izak out of his trance. "Sound like a plan," he said. "I need to go see about some tools anyway. Do you want me to make sure the refueling and the water tanks are taken care of?"

Desmond Holt

X grinned and nodded, her hands lifting to settle on her cheeks. She was definitely young. Early twenties if Desmond had to take a guess. She straightened her back and cleared her throat to, presumably answer his question. She stared up into his eyes, and with quite the serious express spoke again.

"I love you."

Desmond blinked again, maintaining his grin, his head tilting slightly to the side. X's eyes widened and she went as stiff as a board  before turning sharply and marching off towards the back room. "THIS WAY, PLEASE AND THANK YOU!" She said, loud and embarrassed.

Desmond chuckled softly to himself. "Well, alright then." He said, and followed her, pint in hand.

He got the message from X's not so subtle look, and showed his invitation to the two guards, who promptly let him pass.
"The best surfer out there is the one having the most fun."


Location: Station Bar

"Don't s'pose a pretty lady like you would be hungry? Ain't much but we got some noodles in the back. They're fresh as yesterday and I think there's some tofu still in there. On me."

Tofu wasn't reconstituted protein, technically, at least as far as Tereza knew, but it was close enough to unsettle her stomach. "You know what hun. Raincheck. I've got a race coming up, and if I go all accepting your hospitality, I'll find myself puking in my helmet." She treated Reggie to a wry knowing smile, the sort that said she spoke from a throne of experience. Her hand was lifting the remaining whiskey to her lips when a stern look directed at the glass caused it and the culprit hand to freeze where they were. Tereza closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then set the glass down and shot another small smile Reggie's way. "Probably should hold off on this too."

The mercenary pilot slid off her chair, tugged at the hem of her turtleneck sweater and gave the bar another once over. She should go find the janitor's supply closet of a room she had rented for an exorbitant fee and get changed. If she made the other wait they'd penalise her, either with a fine, or some other equally obnoxious and troublemaking repercussion.  Next stop, the docks.
Dark be the sky
Dense be the clouds
Thunders seem to fright
And storm will take the lives
The sun sets and rise
But the cut above will always FLY
-- Ravi Chan


April 23, 2019, 09:04:11 am #57 Last Edit: April 24, 2019, 01:36:22 pm by noseatbelts
Location: Station Bar

Reggie's eyes lit up. "A racer? Golly why didn't you say so? Go talk to Dewey in Sector 2. He's got himself an office by the pump room." He laughed. "Can't miss it. It's a sight. But if you're looking to get into the race game 'round here, he's the man to talk to." Reggie's head twitched inhumanly, and he laughed. "Can't miss it. It's a sight. But if you're looking to get into the... looking to get into the... looking to get into the... race game race game race race race..." His eyes closed and opened deliberately. "Excuse me, miss. I need to recharge. You have a nice day now." Reggie leaned back against the back bar where a power port was surreptitiously located and went into standby mode, his eyes glowing a faint blue-green as the robot plugged in and recharged.

The saying was true. You really couldn't find good help these days. But you sure could manufacture it. 

Location: Sector 1 - Grave Discoveries

Once out in the Hall, Max saw a gathering not far from his door, in fact, it was the next door down from his own. It appeared that a maintenance worker, fiddling with the control panel, had electrocuted himself. It stood to reason that would be the source of the POPS from before. Before he could further investigate, another maintenance worker, at a jogging pace, rushed past and then directly into Max, knocking them both to the floor. The worker, a young man with a dirty face, scurried to his feet without checking to see if Max was ok, and took off at a run down the corridor.

A small folding leather wallet was all he left in his wake.

Missy Etheridge

Location: The Docks

One of Missy's eye twitched briefly. The knuckles of her left hand -- the hand not currently confined -- made a very faint popping sound from inside a small fist at her side. Her smile gained twenty watts.

"How thoughtful!" she exclaimed, matching Melody's candy-like sweetness with an extra pump of syrup on top. "I've never been in a station quite like this one before, and I assume it can be very disorienting. Not to mention, we don't want our friend here having a lapse and wandering off!" Missy unclenched her knuckles with an effort so that she could give Holger a friendly poke in the ribs. "You're doing a lot better, but best you stay close to the doctor just in case, bùshì ma?"

"My pockets are full pockets," came the forlorn reply.

"Exactly!" Missy chirped as if he'd agreed with her with enthusiasm. "Although... On the other hand..." An artful little frown line formed between her eyebrows, as she appeared to contemplate some potential wrinkle in the plan that had only just occurred to her, but then she shrugged and shook her head briskly. "No, I'm sure that won't be a problem for you! This is perfect! So, where are we off to, Mr. Holger? I'll let you lead the way!"
I wear a TV screen on my head, play the happy channels
Channel happy thoughts, make the people happy

Put on a screen 'cause it's easier to just pretend
Mama says, "Always try to look your best."

Always try to look your best.

Rashy Pete

April 24, 2019, 07:51:13 pm #59 Last Edit: April 30, 2019, 11:04:33 am by Rashy Pete
Location: Docks

A pair of Iscariot's dock hands approached the recently arrived Revenge and opened a side maintenance hatch. Before either of them could inspect the ventilation structure within, an awkward little man holding a bag of "tools" and a rather unsavory looking feline fell onto the floor, groaned, and then looked at the men as if more surprised to see them than they him. Olo rose unsteadily to his feet, glanced back and forth between the confused workers, opened his mouth as if to say something, thought against it, closed his mouth with a quick clacking of his teeth, turned on the worn heels of his work boots, and lumbered away in a half-sneak half-run he seemed to have picked up from a Monty Python skit he saw on the Cortex.

"Don't worry, Ras. We're gonna make it home yet!" "Mrow." "Whatdya mean you wanna go back?" "Rooooowl." "Sure she's pretty, but I don't think you and I share the same definition of 'nice'. Besides, that chicken guy creeps me out, and I still haven't figured out why they wanted to kill Isaac!" "Rrrrrowr!" Rasputin hissed in displeasure as Olo continued his escape. "Okay fine! I'll get us some sushi right after I check the Cortex and find a way home!" Rasputin clawed at Olo's hand and felled to the floor before scampering off in some random direction. "Ow! Fine! You weren't that good of a friend anyway!"

And so, Olo rushed to a Cortex display, found it only operated on specially minted tokens, and ran over to the nearest changer. Emptying his wallet with a whimper, he shoved the last of his platinum into the machine and collected the 'Cortex Creds' before returning to the display box and dumping his coins into it. "Hopefully I can get a hold of one of my friends at the Flat Verse Society and they can help us secure a ride. This place looks like something out of a Tong vid, and that guy's tattoos scare me. Okay, so a lot of tattoos scare me, but there are a lot of tattoos around here and - hey, this isn't the Flat Verse Society's Cortex directory!"

"ANN Special Bulletin! An update on newsworthy events this week: a group of pro-Independent terrorists have taken credit for the bombings that rocked Heraklion City on Newhall last week, resulting in the deaths of several dozen citizens and tourists in the city's shopping centers. Thankfully, quick action by local emergency services and a visiting law enforcement agent saved a number of lives. Click here for more!"

Olo watched with a disapproving scrunch on his face as a middle aged man twirled a pair of revolvers on the screen. The image then switched to some geezer and a bimbo and Olo shook his head vehemently.

"In other news, the Ainsworth wedding on Bellerophon is hosting a number of guests projected to be in the low thousands this weekend! Invitees are rumored to include the seated Governor of Persephone, elite members of Parliament, and supposedly even Bolin Babylon! Click here for early access to our livestream of the event!"


"And an apparent hijacking of the Alliance gunship Cornwall took place this past week. Early reports from our sources state the crew was poisoned and forced into an emergency landing on Ariel, where it was beset upon by a band of pirates and has since been lost. Any sightings of the Cornwall should be reported to Alliance Navy personnel at once. While the reports on the exact number and physical descriptions of the band of pirates are conflicting, two suspects are currently wanted in connection with the hijacking. One Dr. Melissa Etheridge, the ship's assigned medical officer -"

"That's the lady that gave me the ointment."

"And this man, identified as Olo Rashtivian Petrovic, who is believed to be the mastermind behind the plot."

"That's me. Hey, wait! That's me! I didn't do it! It wasn't my idea! Why would anyone think that!"

"According to our source, identified only as a co-worker named Isaac, Mr. Petrovic is a well-known anti-Alliance dissident with violent tendencies and several ties to various terrorist groups. This man is considered a dangerous threat to law-abiding Alliance citizens everywhere, and should not be engaged under any circumstances."


"No! Wait!"

Olo flailed at the controls, but the panel blacked out to a screen saver bearing a poorly pixelated image of the Iscariot. The mechanic tapped his head against the monitor in dismay and wept. Sniffling, he took a step back and stared at the screen with his last waning glimmer of hope and saw the image of a blond woman stepping up behind him in the reflection. His shoulders deflating completely and his head sagging into his chest as he resigned himself to his fate, Olo turned to face Melody. "So I guess I'm a pirate now."
"You better squeeze all the Charmin you can, While Mr. Whipple's not around;
Put your head in the microwave, and get yourself a tan"

- "Dare To Be Stupid", 'Weird Al' Yankovic

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