Celeritas: Jupiter Feretrius

[tankdrop24]

The frozen customer service smile dropped as she looked back at Oswald. "If your friend had Red Eye to drink, he'd be proclaiming how he can see fifteen new shades of orange – not puking his guts out. So… what can I do for you and how do I get you out of my club?"

Click to shrink...

Oswald met Rachel's honest face with one of his own. It looked like there was a chance she might not be in on the criminal side of things, and he could use that. "In my case, nothing more than pure goddamn business, Ms. Sylvie. Now, would you prefer we play a dance of hypothetical situations we absolutely no relation to reality or would it be better if I just cut to the fucking chase?"

 

[DB_Explorer]

@tankdrop24

"Oh please, I'd love to cut to the chase." She replied as she glanced around the bar. "But perhaps we can talk somewhere more private?" She asks as she motions toward the stairs to the VIP section. "Less noise, private booths - your friend can even come along once's he's... done." She says nodding toward Nathan. "Would that be acceptable Mr.....?"

 

[tankdrop24]

@tankdrop24

"Oh please, I'd love to cut to the chase." She replied as she glanced around the bar. "But perhaps we can talk somewhere more private?" She asks as she motions toward the stairs to the VIP section. "Less noise, private booths - your friend can even come along once's he's... done." She says nodding toward Nathan. "Would that be acceptable Mr.....?"

Click to shrink...

"How about this: I'll let you lead the way to whatever private room or back alley you want to speak in, and you'll just call me Mr. Smith for now. Would that be acceptable?" Oswald said.

 

[DB_Explorer]

@tankdrop24

"Well then Mr. Smith," Sylvie nodded before gesturing to a bouncer who approached and leaned forward to receive orders inaudible to the larger crowd. "I will be stepping out for a moment to discuss this incident with our guest here - please ensure this mess is cleaned up and expect me back in an hour." She turned her attention back to Oswald. "Lead the way Mr. Smith."

 

[tankdrop24]

@tankdrop24

"Well then Mr. Smith," Sylvie nodded before gesturing to a bouncer who approached and leaned forward to receive orders inaudible to the larger crowd. "I will be stepping out for a moment to discuss this incident with our guest here - please ensure this mess is cleaned up and expect me back in an hour." She turned her attention back to Oswald. "Lead the way Mr. Smith."

Click to shrink...

Oswald did so, and shortly enough, they were outside in a presumably private back alleyway. The place stunk in a way that still smelt fake to him, like only a place this far out in the void could.

Oswald turned back to Sylvie. "Now then, Ms. Sylvie, are you familiar with the Allied Security Associates as well as a certain Mr. Marcel Sylvie?"

 

[Dragontrapper]

@Daraken

Mankind never changes.

No matter the progress of technology, the upheaval of society, or the shifts in location, the needs of man never changed. And sitting at one end of the bar of a nightclub, Martina was in prime position to watch people do what they always do when they had the time and spare resources - relax, unwind, and generally try and get shit-faced with whatever form of alcohol they could get their hands on.

Granted, this wasn't her usual scene but when one's usual dive was closed for maintenance to the life support system, one made due. This place at least had actual alcohol she thought as she took another sip of her scotch. Too many places this far out tended to serve synthesized ethanol - made getting a proper drink a proper pain. Her, at least, she could enjoy a proper drink.

Or try to, at least - the pounding bass line and strobing lights were trying their damndest to stop her, and the press of people were making her passenger too tense for her liking. Mephistopheles didn't like the crowd, the nanoswarm's risk-tracking algorithms a constant angry buzz at the back of her mind as the AI forcefully suggested she leave.

She ignored it and sipped her drink, continuing to study the crowd around her as a few studied her in turn. It used to be the white hair and red eyes that drew attention to her, but in the decades since gene modding took off she'd become less noticable. She briefly considered that it might have been her age before deciding that it was probably her attire - but in her defense, long skirts and turtlenecks fit it much better at Dalian's then at… whatever this place was.

She would really need to get the name before she left though - the scenes here made for much more entertaining viewing then the slow pace of her usual speakeasy. The simple consideration of frequenting this sort of place triggered a cavalcade of counter-responses from Mephistopheles, a image of her long-dead employers narrowcasted into her mind serving as a reminder of what was at stake.

Marina gently ran one hand up an arm, gently rubbing it like one would rub a sore limb. She wasn't sure if the network of nanomachines that lived inside her appreciated the effort, but she was fairly certain that it was literally the thought that counted. She hadn't had a proper run-in with any of the Families in years now, but the threat always hung over her head, a constant thing - she took her moments of relaxation when she could, even if it meant drinking a scotch while people-watching in a bar that drove her symbotic Nanoswarm into a minor tizzy.

She was getting great material though - the red-head flirting with 'cat-woman' had been amusing, but the sudden bout of vomiting from a fellow bar patron had been the real eye-catcher. Especially since she was fairly certain the man's friend had dosed him with something. Any doctor worth half their salt knew what emetic ingestion looked like, and she was worth quite a bit more than most.

Martina Ruland pulled her glasses off, idly cleaning them as she considered things for a moment. Her week had been rather dull as of late, and whatever was going on with Mister Emetic and his friend could prove entertaining.

Also, the man was still heaving and it was disturbing her calm.

Decision made, she redonned her glasses before draining the last of her scotch and striding across the club, "Out of the way," she shouted, pushing past the ring of gawking spectators, "I'm a doctor."

"Says who?" One man speaks up - an employee, going by the mop in his hand.

She sighed and pull out your datapad, pulling up the relevant digital certificates, "Says the Union Ministry of Health, dear," she replied in the sort of european accent that only came with high education or old money.

Properly chastised, the man stepped out of your way and you went to work.

You drop down to one side of the man, making a show of checking his pulse and adjusting his posture as he continues to heave into the bucket somebody had shown up with at one point, "Alight, easy now…" you say before leaning close and saying quiet enough that only the man can hear you, "So, why did your friend dose you with an emetic, and how can I help?"

 

[Daraken]

You drop down to one side of the man, making a show of checking his pulse and adjusting his posture as he continues to heave into the bucket somebody had shown up with at one point, "Alight, easy now…" you say before leaning close and saying quiet enough that only the man can hear you, "So, why did your friend dose you with an emetic, and how can I help?"

Click to shrink...

That complete and utter asshole. Okay sure, as plans went this wasn't bad. Make a scene, draw out the staff as a distraction leaving the technical support free to move into position.

Except he was the one left heaving his guts into a bucket, nor was the ex-specialist in any condition to poke around the club backroom as he was. Maybe if he had a chance to prepare himself beforehand, but that jackass couldn't even give him a warning.

And now there was a doctor here. A doctor who seemed to know what had happened damn it! Sluggishly working past his nausea-addled brain, Nathan tried to come up with something that didn't sound too laughable. Well, at least the woman hadn't ratted him out immediately, so there was a glimmer of hope there. Now to see if his luck would hold...

"Asshole friend," the Martian groaned out quietly with unfeigned pain. "Trying to get freebies, you know?" Turning his head aside to let out a hacking cough, Nathan plastered on what he thought was his most charming smile and threw the dice. "Mind helping me out? Need to get into the back rooms, could share the rewards...?"

 

[Dragontrapper]

"Mind helping me out? Need to get into the back rooms, could share the rewards...?"

Click to shrink...

"Keep making my evening interesting and that'll be payment enough," Martina replied in a low voice as she checked his pulse, "Now follow my lead," before he could say anything else, she'd pulled out a pen-light of some sort and started checking his pupil-reaction, "Sir? Do you know where you are? Can you tell me your name?" She asked, loudly enough that those nearby could hear her as well. She continued through a quick flurry of diagnostics before turning to the nearest bar employee, "This man is already in the first stages of Metabolic alkalosis and, based on his heartrate, he's beginning to develop Hypokalemia. Very impressive. Luckily, the symptoms seem accute - I just need somewhere to lay him down..." she glanced back at her 'patient' as he had another involuntary expulsion of his stomach contents, "...Preferably somewhere out of the way."

"Yes, of course!" the slightly panicking bar-official replied quickly, "Anything you need! Should I call a doctor?"

"I am a doctor," Martina replied flatly as she turned back to Mr. Emetic and looped an arm around him, "Alright, sir - up we go. Keep hold of that bucket, yeah? Okay..." Both of you now on your feet, you turned to the bar employee and gave him a polite smile, "So, how about that room?"

"We have a room in back you can use," he replied quickly, "This way."

As she followed the man, she leans toward her impromptu co-conspirator and whispered, "I can probably treat your vomiting, but first we need to get in back, yeah?"

 

[Daraken]

"Keep making my evening interesting and that'll be payment enough," Martina replied in a low voice as she checked his pulse, "Now follow my lead."

Click to shrink...

Well, that sure was an impressive spiel of medical mumbo jumbo that poured out of the woman's mouth. But keep things "interesting" huh? So not some busybody good Samaritan but a thrillseeking civvie then. Right, he could work with that. As long as the doctor didn't panic or end up squealing to the club later. Everything was still fine.

Letting himself get pulled up, Nathan followed Martina in a not-at-all feigned stagger, a new wave of nausea over taking him as the ex-specialist tried to move. Flowers, you god damn asshole. Letting his head drift closer to the woman's as she half carried him, Nathan nodded shakily. "Server room. Just get me...as close as you can."

Eyes half shut, the next few minutes pass in a haze before the Martian finds himself laid down in some back room. "Right then," Nathan manages to croak out. "Fix me up doc."

 

[DB_Explorer]

Oswald did so, and shortly enough, they were outside in a presumably private back alleyway. The place stunk in a way that still smelt fake to him, like only a place this far out in the void could.

Oswald turned back to Sylvie. "Now then, Ms. Sylvie, are you familiar with the Allied Security Associates as well as a certain Mr. Marcel Sylvie?"

Click to shrink...

Sylvie gave Oswald a long stare before she rolled her eyes. "If you have an issue with my brother, take it up with him - I'm not Allied Security now am I? You have a problem with something they did it's not my concern"

 

[tankdrop24]

Sylvie gave Oswald a long stare before she rolled her eyes. "If you have an issue with my brother, take it up with him - I'm not Allied Security now am I? You have a problem with something they did it's not my concern"

Click to shrink...

Oswald frowned. He actually couldn't tell if she was lying. It wasn't like it mattered, though. He was getting something useful out of Ms. Sylvie one way or the other. "Well, if that's the case you're a great deal stupider than I first thought."

Oswald walked around the club owner. "Listen, since apparently you haven't been keeping an eye on your own flesh and blood, let me fill you in on somethings. Your brother and his blandly named cronies, they've been operating with their heads firmly tucked between both ass cheeks. He didn't do his homework, and he tried to play insurance salesmen with the wrong person. Now, he's slated to receive a right good spanking one way or the other, just a matter of time. You could give us a hand with that, or we could do that on our own. But if we find out that you did have something you could have given us, or that actually did have something to do with his business, well..."

Oswald kicked a can that had been lying on the ground. "It's a very nice club you have. I'd love the chance to make my friend vomit there again."

 

[HatsuZ]

Sakura used the poor man puking his guts out on the ground to excuse herself from the woman who was hitting on her. She preferred men; big men with well-defined muscles, in fact! The redhead, however, had made her think of her more 'experimental' days back in flight school. She really needed to get back in touch with her roommate sometime...

She put those thoughts aside as she followed Oswald and the club owner outside and listened as they verbally sparred.

Oswald kicked a can that had been lying on the ground. "It's a very nice club you have. I'd love the chance to make my friend vomit there again."

Goddamnit Oswald.

"Ahem..." Sakura smiled disarmingly. "I'm sure you are a perfectly legitimate businesswoman, Ms. Sylvie, though it it nice to see you help out your brother by paying for his mail server..." she let this sink in for a second.

"Of course, this connection could become a liability if the activities of his employees come to light in any official capacity, or even in an unofficial capacity. The other independent business owners on this station would likely find themselves wary of the sister of someone who doesn't train his employees in proper courtesy to prospective clients."

The feline woman took a relaxed pose and tilted her head slightly to the side. "But wouldn't it be so much easier if his sister simply gave him a phone call and counseled him on the concept of image and courtesy?"

....Oh, I almost forgot. "You can call me 'Ms. Katt', by the way."

 

[Dragontrapper]

"Right then," Nathan manages to croak out. "Fix me up doc."

Click to shrink...

"Of course," Martina replied before she began to take stock of her resources. The space they were in appeared to be, at least in part, a storage room.

'Hrm... bottled water, various alcohols... aha.' She grabbed a bottle from one of the shelves, twisting off the cap and taking a quick sniff, "Ginger ale - perfect." She moved over to the side of the room, setting the bottle to one side as she pulled out a small plastic case from one pocket and popped it open before picking out several pills from the myriad inside, "Hrm... antihistamine, synthetic cannabinoid, receptor antagonist..." after a few moments she had around a half-dozen pills counted it in one hand. clenching them in one fist, she squeezed it over the open bottle before whispering, "Mephistopheles, if you would..."

A faint black wisp of what could have been smoke twisted around her hand briefly and a moment later a thin stream of dust trickled down into the open soft drink, dissolving with a hiss.

She gave the bottle one final quick stir before grabbing it and turning back to her patient, "Lean back and try not to vomit for a minute while I get you to drink this," she said as she had Mr. Emetic slowly drink the whole bottle, "Now, side-effect may include dry-mouth, excess energy, and altered mood," Once the bottle was empty, she tossed it into a corner and leaned back to study her patient, "It should kick in fairly fast - how do you feel?"

 

[Daraken]

"Now, side-effect may include dry-mouth, excess energy, and altered mood," Once the bottle was empty, she tossed it into a corner and leaned back to study her patient, "It should kick in fairly fast - how do you feel?"

Click to shrink...

Blinking to himself, Nathan found himself amazed. Both at the efficacy of the doctor's ad hoc cure and at the fact that he had actually drank the weird black wispy concoction without a second thought. Well, any port in a storm right?

"Like a million credits," the ex-specialist declared to the doctor. And with that puking episode taken care of, it was time to actually get back to the job on hand. Albeit with an unexpected passenger coming with.

"Keep your evening interesting you said, right?" Nathan asked rhetorically. "How do you feel about helping me find some hidden servers here? The owner here has been very naughty." Pulling out his trusty old tablet, the communications officer begins tapping at it, searching for any signals that could lead him to his goal.

"Could use another pair of eyes here, and I'd be happy to share any interesting gossip a budding gang boss might be hiding," Nathan offered, attention seemingly entirely on the tablet in his hands, even as he carefully watched Martina from the edge of his vision. Getting him to the back room was one thing, but was the strange doctor really going to help him commit some well meaning crimes...?

 

[DB_Explorer]

@Mina @Jeboboid @Ryo0955
The wrench Helena hefts is an intimidating piece of improvised melee weaponry but it's also large - even for the Martian born engineer. The suited thug opposite Helena managed to dodge under the engineer's ponderous swing as the Celeritas, the wrench flying a hairs breadth over the man's head.

The sickening crunch of a cybernetically enhanced fist slamming into altogether natural cartilage and bone echoed across the alleyway causing Helena and her opponent to turn toward Klaudie as she sent her own mook sprawling across the alleyway in a boneless pile, knocked out cold.
Ajax growled in counterpoint to the event, as the robotic wolf placed itself between the remaining mooks and Elise.

Both remaining thugs glanced between the wolf and their knocked-out compatriot before the sound of running grabbed everyone's attention. The prospective leader of the small group was already rushing toward the far side of the alleyway – spurred on by memories of his encounter at the café.

The remaining two thugs followed their bosses lead and taking only long enough to grab their fallen teammate and rushed toward the far end of the alleyway.

@tankdrop24 @HatsuZ

Rachael glanced at Sakura before scoffing. "Galling to be lectured over manners when you have this bundle of profanities working for you." She says, waving a hand at Oswald. "Really so much focus on my brother, did you decide his older sister would be an easier target? I'm starting to wonder who you lot are."

 

[Dragontrapper]

"How do you feel about helping me find some hidden servers here? The owner here has been very naughty."

Click to shrink...

Martina mulled the proposal over for a moment, and the longer she thought about it the more she liked it, "You know, I think I can do that - but how to..." she trailed off in thought for a long moment before a thought occurred to her, "Oh, oh that's quite good," she clapped her hands together, giving the man - Nathan, wasn't it? - what was (probably) a reassuring smile, "Be a dear and stay here for a minute or five and if anybody comes in... I dunno, act horrendously ill or something. Right back!"

Spoiler: Free invoke 'Anything you need'; roll investigate

(+1,+0,+1,+0)+2=+4

She didn't wait for him to reply before she ducked back out into the hall and, after a quick scan around, started toward the nearest door and yanked it open. Inside, a row of lockers and a pair of bartenders in the middle of changing stared back at her, "Oh sorry - doctor, dealing with a medical emergency. Carry on!" She quickly closed the door and moved onto the next one - storage room, natch. She took a moment to grab a bottle of some sort of alcohol and an ice bucket before moving back into the hall.

By then, the employee from before had re-materialized, and was hovering behind Martina as she headed for the next door, "Um, pardon me ma'am, but what are you-?"

"Need supplies," Martina replied succinctly as she turned the nob on the next door and found it was locked. She glanced down to see a fancy-looking digital lock on the door, "Patient stable, but that much fluid loss - eeeh," she continued to talk at a rapid clip as she pressed an ear to the door, hearing a faint 'whirr' from the other side, "Not something you want to ignore too long, you know?" a quick glance up and the sight of thick conduits of wires overhead confirmed what she thought - servers found. She gave the door another knock before turning to the bartender, "So, looking for things - fluids, salts... oh! you have those little candies? No. Eh - I'll manage. Excuse me."

The bartender could only stammer in reply as Martina beelined for another door, pulling it open and peeking inside before ducking in and grabbing a small pile of cleaning cloths from within before emerging and heading back toward where she started, "Well, I think this should do it - back to the patient. Ta-ta!" she disappeared back into the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Server room is the second door on the right," she announced as she tossed the bottle at him, "Also, I grabbed you a bottle of whatever swill they serve around here."

 

[Daraken]

"Server room is the second door on the right," she announced as she tossed the bottle at him, "Also, I grabbed you a bottle of whatever swill they serve around here."

Click to shrink...

"Uh," Nathan responded back intelligently as he reflexively grabbed the bottle in the air. "Right then. You're certainly sounding sure about that."

This lady...she was definitely a character alright. And despite himself, Nathan could feel her flippant confidence work its charm on him, the communications officer finding himself responding in kind. "Think I'll pass on anymore drinks tonight," Nathan laughingly replies as he sets the bottle to his side, an easy grin on his face. "But let's go see what hidden secrets are hiding here, shall we?"

The corridor was conveniently empty, allowing the man easy access to the locked door. Which proved surprisingly tricky to crack. Management must have shelled out for a security upgrade recently, miracle of miracles. But of course, still cheap enough that Nathan could find an old unpatched hole through it. Pushing himself into the room as the door finally slides open, the ex-specialist's eyes gleamed as he took in the sight of a server filled room.

"Give me a minute and let's see what entertainment I can dig up, eh?"

 

[DB_Explorer]

Several Days Later

The Celeritas hurtled through space without a sound, its massive trifecta of nuclear engines silent since their departure burn from Ceda. The transport looked less like the flying bricks or assemblages of framework and tanks of many other vessels and more like the planes of old. It's stubby wings, running down a third of its length, gleamed as millions of droplets ran along their surface glistening in the waning power of a distant sun – dissipating the heat of the myriad of systems tucked inside the ship.

Michael Water's did not care about how his ship's radiators were working, merely that they were as he worked through the paperwork that accompanied any merchant vessel trying to make its way around the solar system. Below him, for the engines always defined which direction was down on interorbital craft like the Celeritas, enough grain to feed a small town sat destined for one of the many Jovian moons.
A chirp from his console grabbed the captain's attention as the system starting displaying an urgent message. His eyes scanned the text before resisting the urge to curse – clauses to allow the redirection of a cargo were not uncommon, sometimes a trap trader made a good guess, and the propellent surcharge was normally cheaper than the cost of the wasted cargo. Michael forwarded the new navigation data up to the bridge before he left his own cabin.

Michael couldn't help but sniff as he emerged out into the passageway, new ship with a new crew meant a whole new slew of smells. Every ship had a different odor to it, even if they all made their air so chemically pure you could use it in a lab, each ship had a different mix of materials, crew and items on board all outgassing their own unique signature. Eventually you get used to it, but until then Michael's ship smelled like an old warehouse with a gym next door.

Michael had never been to Thebe, though it everything he knew of the place didn't make it seem like much more than a fueling base. Oh well – it would let him see how good his pilot was.

 

[Daraken]

Nathan watched with squinted eyes as the pot in front of him began to boil. The Celeritas' galley was quite decent, especially when compared to those on the other ships he had worked on before. At least this one was actually stocked with provisions and had working appliances. And as an added bonus, with a completely new crew that meant there wasn't some crusty old veteran "cook" aboard who insisted on drowning all the meals in hot sauce and peppers, and refused to let anyone help them around. Seriously, to hell with the Ruby Rocket and that incompetent geezer.

Taking a sip of the soup before adding a dash of additional spices, the ex-specialist nodded to himself. Speaking of the crew, well the last week certainly had been a whirlwind of activity. A new crew assembled from scratch, cargo stolen and recovered, and then chaos as various people backed out due to circumstances and issues. It certainly spoke to Captain Waters' skills however, that he was able to recruit yet another new set of people and still depart before the deadline within the span of a few days. No easy task, in his experience. Though, with the rush there had been hardly any time to get acquainted with the others. Nathan had barely exchanged a handful of words with most of them.

Flowers was still the same old bastard as before. Spiked drink giving asshole. Ms. Martina had been a surprise, though. Even if she did seem like a bit of an oddball thrill-seeker, what with getting involved in the whole nightclub affair without any prompting, Nathan wasn't going to think twice about her recruitment. Having a young competent doctor like her aboard was well worth her weight in platinum.

Both the new pilot and engineer seemed professional enough, the former's flying being smooth as silk so far, while the latter's cybered body making a hell of a first impression. His assistant uh, less so. They were certainly on the younger side and rather waifish in appearance. Hopefully they'd be up to the rigors of ship life. In sharp contrast was the new deckhand, who was rather...statuesque. Yes, that was certainly the word to describe her.

With an internal shrug, the communications officer went back to stirring. It'd take time for everyone to get settled in and for relations to develop. Hopefully things would turn out decently, but if not, well. This would hardly be the first ship he'd have to leave. But at least for now, there was peace and cooking to do.

 

[Kensai]

Sera absently rolled the hypermeth lollipop around her mouth as she felt the ship around her. A torrent of data poured into her mind through the interface jack in her upper spine, at a bandwidth that would have overwhelmed an unenhanced nervous system. But hers was very much enhanced, and it processed the incoming data into a set of secondary sensory impulses, working with the wiring of the part of her brain that was still meat. She experienced the Celeritas as virtual smells and sounds and feelings, overlaid on those that were actually there. It was the only efficient way to properly pilot a ship. She knew where the attitude thrusters were and what they were doing through proprioception rather than conscious thought, she felt the reactor temperature as warmth in her belly; in a deep sense she had become the Celeritas, and the Celeritas her.

She used this gestalt consciousness to lay in a course for Thebe that took in a couple of gravity assists that were calibrated much finer than most ships' safety margins allowed. But the Celeritas was a sweet ride, with gobs of thrust on tap if it was needed, and more responsive than a ship her size was supposed to be. It would be even sweeter once she'd had an opportunity to really tune its control systems, but even as it was she could do things that would leave their insurance adjusters aghast.

She toggled the ship's internal comms and opened up a private channel to the captain. @DB_Explorer "Captain Waters, this is Vammatar on helm. Course set for Thebe. Expected arrival time T+76 hours."

She waited a beat for the double take she knew was coming, then cut in again before he could reply.

"You're welcome."

And then she opened up the all-ship.

"Thank you for choosing the Celeritas. This is your pilot Sera Vammatar speaking. We are on course for the pleasure paradise of Thebe, where you will experience delights such as you have never known. The expected travel time on the average carrier flying a safe, secure and sane route is 22 days. Fortunately your pilot is clinically insane and therefore we will arrive in three. Please note that taking this flight automatically voids all life insurance plans you may hold, now or in the future. Thank you for your attention, and have a nice day."

 

[Dragontrapper]

Martina Ruland studied the vial in her hand for a moment before taking a sniff of the contents. Her expression quickly soured at the faint smell of saline and reagents. Biting back a curse, she dropped the vial into the autoclave before turning back to the phrama-fab and adjusting some of the settings again. Whoever had last ran this infirmary had been a git, and she suspected they'd tried to use the synthesizer to distill recreational drugs. The fact that they seemed to have failed was another mark against them.

Now, she had a drug synthesizer that kept having contamination issues across its main feed lines. Always fun. Under her skin and in the back of her mind, the gentle sympathetic buzz of the nano-machine swarm that lived inside her resonated with her on frustration. "Not something you can fix by attacking, Mephistopheles," She said softly under her breath, and what felt like annoyance reverberated through the mental link with the synthetic symbiote. She gently brushed a hand across one arm, and after a moment Mephistopheles calmed. After a century together, she knew her companion well.

Synthesizer cleaning itself again and quirky AI calmed, Martina turned back to her main task for the moment – updating medical dossiers. Most people who saw her would not think she would make a good doctor; Lightly built with pale hair and skin and blood-red eyes, many assumed she was sickly in some way. None realized that the nanomachines had been keeping her healthy for going on a hundred years, naturally, and she had no intention of educating anyone. She was already worried about one group coming for her. Though this crew could make that complicated.

Michael Waters was at the forefront of her list of 'people likely to make life interesting', a man of fine moral standing, at times questionable survival instincts and – for the foreseeable future – her captain. Bone Density patterns common to those who group up in the asteroid belts, made their living in space, or both, but in otherwise in fine physical health. Based on his sleep pattern logs though she had a few questions on his mental health. A question for a later time though, if ever.

Mister Feng, their communications officer, was in comparison a fairly straight-forward case. The cold, asocial persona common among lifetime contract security and combat contractors, and he had the collection of prior injuries to match. The up side was that the military types tended to pride themselves on their physical fitness so at least he shouldn't be in her office too much.

Oswald was a similar case, albeit with his own twists. Another former military but nearly twenty years older and with a temper that was sure to make life interesting. She was expecting to see him semi-regularly just to patch him up from the inevitable bar fights he would be starting.

Then there was the new crew – A few of their number had bowed out at Ceda and with their departures a new gaggle of potential problem-triggers had come to fill their places. Sera Vammatar had replaced the Cat Woman as pilot, and what she lacked in age she made up for with cybernetics and a complete disregard for reasonable safety margins. Martina made a note to regularly examine the neural implants during standard med-screenings. Some of the more invasive modifications could be prone to prion or autoimmune conditions.

She wasn't even sure if she needed to make a note for their new engineer – or even a file. Mister Rogers had by far the most extensive physiological damage she'd ever seen in a living person, and given the extent of his prothetics she was wasn't sure how much she'd be seeing him that much. At the least, she would be keeping an eye on the tissue-hardware interface points for his suit. She was certain that hardware was not meant for such use.

For entry number three (four, if she was counting herself), Martina came to the file for young Gale Harper. The girl was filling in as an assistant engineer, and was a maestro with her drone systems. The history of immunodeficiency disease was already noted, and Martina added another note to monitor her for overworking and stress.

And then there was Fallowfield. The Deckhand was a mountain of a woman and Martina was expecting her to be sending others into the infirmary more then showing up herself. Though, given she was always working in engineering… After a moment of thought, Martina made a note to keep an eye on her for concussions before saving the last file.

As she finished, the intercom system buzzed to life as their new pilot announced that they'd managed to shorten a 22 day journey down to three due thanks to their pilot being 'clinically insane'. Martina stared up at the intercom for a moment after is clicked off before slumping in her chair with a sigh, "Really, this ship..."

 

[tankdrop24]

Flowers tore about a muffin with his teeth in the ship's mess. All that for fucking nothing. No, even worse like that. He might've left a trail from that stupid fuckery with the ringus and dingus twins for someone working for White Dove or those cultists or someone else who might like to see Oswald's head thoroughly detached from his head could be able to suss out. Of course, plenty of others managed to get a job off of this overblown scrap heap, even that damned cat and her brat. Who could blame them after the mess they'd been through?

Oswald himself had been this close to cutting and running before that smug bastard Waters had by sheer luck another posse of idiots fall into his lap. Was there just a factory out there in the depths of space that produced brainless creatures for ships of fools like this one?

Worse he'd let that damned doctor onboard as well. Something smelt wrong about her. He couldn't place his finger on what yet, but Oswald would be keeping an ocular stranglehold on her for now.

Feng was the one that seemed the least like a waste of space. He was a PMC man like Oswald, but not one whose service had given him a smug sense of invincibility like a certain useless captain. Of course, he still probably held a grudge at Flowers for the spiked drink thing. But they'd all had to take one for the team at some point, so he should understand that.

He was at least a little glad to see the hulking elf. It was always good to have a great big piece of meat to throw between him and any bullet sources. But baggage radiated from her and someone else hunting down the ship was the last thing Flowers needed.

Professor Walking Scab, Oswald wasn't sure what hole he had crawled out from, but at least he had the decency to stay quiet. His apprentice on the other hand... Oswald was convinced that Waters needed to have someone pretty on the ship as a mascot, after the cat woman and her spawn had fled for better pastures chose the first cutesy little blonde kid that had come along.

"Thank you for choosing the Celeritas. This is your pilot Sera Vammatar speaking. We are on course for the pleasure paradise of Thebe, where you will experience delights such as you have never known. The expected travel time on the average carrier flying a safe, secure and sane route is 22 days. Fortunately your pilot is clinically insane and therefore we will arrive in three. Please note that taking this flight automatically voids all life insurance plans you may hold, now or in the future. Thank you for your attention, and have a nice day."

Click to shrink...

And then there was that goddamned fucking pilot Waters had found.

He had half a mind to toss her out an airlock, and a full mind convinced that if he did so not a jury in solar system would convict him of anything more than slight overkill while carrying out self defense.

If Oswald went to a fancy ass restaurant and ordered something that took twenty two minutes to cook and received his order in three, he wouldn't thank the waiter for saving Oswald's time. He'd storm into the kitchen and demand to know what pile of rotting shit the chef had placed on his plate instead of preparing him a proper meal.

In fact Oswald was certain that back at White Dove he'd read at least a couple of case files involving chases with ships the flew insanely enough that this bat might have been behind the controls. So add another strike to the so-called 'Captain' Water's hiring practices.

Oswald sighed and went back to his cabin. At least his could do his best to die asleep if the ship was about to crash.

 

[Hydrokinesis]

With a contemplative hum the ship's new deckhand finished adjusting her gym. It was her own little corner of the ship as far as she was concerned given that there wasn't much people would want where she set up. Still, the equipment had a familiar scent and overall a rather varied look given her building the setup over the course of years. There was a moment where Morgana looked over her setup, definitely more roomy than the previous place she'd set up but there was still had room for expansion. Perhaps a better sound system to really feel the music as she was working out?

She shrugged to relieve some of the tension that built up after moving everything in and started towards somewhere with someone around. Food might not be a bad idea, at least a little nibble to keep her caloric intake up. Sipping from her protein shake she contemplated who'd she'd already seen and cursed her birth at the same time. Sure there was some nice things about being a designed to be a certain way but the downsides were there as well. Downsides that had led to more than one situation she didn't want to repeat.

The captain of the ship was definitely a looker, the classic salt and pepper and rough features one'd expect a seasoned handsome man would have. Probably around a high seven or low eight, in Morgans's books. He seemed rather nice as well given that he'd hired her on without much of a problem even with her requesting some space to maintain herself. She did have a feeling Waters might eventually have a problem if the ones following her finally caught up but Morgana had some doubts about that especially when it came to the pilot.

The pilot was cute in her own way, smaller and spunky, and the same spot as Waters in her books. Could use a bit of muscle on her though Morgana wasn't sure she'd manage to pull the pilot out of her chair long enough to actually get weights in her hands. Having been through a few stations on her wayward journey to wherever she'd heard the odd rumor of a pilot with a essentially a death wish and now that pilot was here.

Speaking of smaller cute people the assistant engineer definitely qualified though the chief engineer was the opposite. The small slim assistant kinda struck her as a very curious lost child and spawned a sort of 'big sister' urge Morgana wasn't sure she was previously capable of. That urge was, admittedly, working against Gale in Morgana's book. Gale's superior however did the opposite and when it came to book ratings she didn't know what to make of him. He might not be bad outside of the armored shell he wore but he didn't seem to ever take it off. She also didn't peg him as the sort to really be all that outgoing but she has been wrong before about that.

Nearing the mess an announcement over the ship's intercom system confirmed, for the most part, that the pilot was indeed the one she'd heard about. On the mental topic of people possibly crazy there was the ship's doctor. She was cute and svelte, about an eight, though there was something off about her. For all the similarities between the doctor and herself... Morgana couldn't put her finger on what was throwing her off.

Meanwhile it was easy when it came to the second to last person. She'd seen his sort on occasion, the sort where they'd look you over and gauge how useful you were to them. If you were useful you'd be kept around though if you proved to be less than adequate by whatever standards they had you might as well not exist to them. Flowers might be an okay drinking buddy though even if they didn't mesh well for some things the man looked like the sort to drink. Stopping for a moment Morgana pondered where to place him before slotting him in at a mid seven.

Coming upon the kitchen Morgana downed the rest of her protein shake before entering into the room and laying her red eyes upon the communications person of the ship. Taller and the usual stern-faced sort of handsome, a probably seven to eight once again. Maybe 8? Either way her hunt to find someone was accomplished and the smell coming from the pot before the man had her considering this likely being the best place to have ended up.

"Hey, eight, how's the cooking going?" She loudly said from near the entrance before continuing in and heading towards the pantry to begin raiding it for munchies. It took her a moment before what she said caught up to her. "Oh! I mean 'Hey Nathan'. But... Yeah? How's the cooking going?"

 

[Daraken]

"Hey, eight, how's the cooking going?" She loudly said from near the entrance before continuing in and heading towards the pantry to begin raiding it for munchies. It took her a moment before what she said caught up to her. "Oh! I mean 'Hey Nathan'. But... Yeah? How's the cooking going?"

Click to shrink...

Odd nickname for the woman to throw out, but Nathan had heard weirder. People's brains worked in the strangest of ways when it came to giving out monikers.

"Morgana," the communications officer replied back with a curt nod. "It's going good."

Idly stirring at the soup some more, Nathan surreptitiously eyed the amazonian woman from the edge of his vision. God damn, she was built like a brick shithouse. He'd bet a week's paycheck the girl was genemodded to hell and back, what with that physique and musculature. Well, the hair and ears were also a dead giveaway. Did she inherit those alterations or did she choose to do it to herself though? In any case, it made for a hell of a look, like something out of an old school fantasy holo-vid.

"Making chowder," Nathan says to fill the silence from his observation. "Picked up some near-clam and potatoes from Ceda, and looking to try them out."

And as is whenever cooking as a topic comes up, the ex-specialist finds himself rambling, everything else no longer mattering. "Ingredients from the Belt colonies are always unique, you know? The gravity, UV radiation, soil mixture, water source; it all varies between them, makes everything taste just a bit different. Makes for an interesting cooking experience. Though, there is something to be said for good old Earther stuff as well, but good luck getting your hands on that out here. Not that I think it makes for superior food like some other people will claim, but traditional cooking has its own charm to it."

 

[Hydrokinesis]

Spoiler

Odd nickname for the woman to throw out, but Nathan had heard weirder. People's brains worked in the strangest of ways when it came to giving out monikers.

"Morgana," the communications officer replied back with a curt nod. "It's going good."

Idly stirring at the soup some more, Nathan surreptitiously eyed the amazonian woman from the edge of his vision. God damn, she was built like a brick shithouse. He'd bet a week's paycheck the girl was genemodded to hell and back, what with that physique and musculature. Well, the hair and ears were also a dead giveaway. Did she inherit those alterations or did she choose to do it to herself though? In any case, it made for a hell of a look, like something out of an old school fantasy holo-vid.

"Making chowder," Nathan says to fill the silence from his observation. "Picked up some near-clam and potatoes from Ceda, and looking to try them out."

And as is whenever cooking as a topic comes up, the ex-specialist finds himself rambling, everything else no longer mattering. "Ingredients from the Belt colonies are always unique, you know? The gravity, UV radiation, soil mixture, water source; it all varies between them, makes everything taste just a bit different. Makes for an interesting cooking experience. Though, there is something to be said for good old Earther stuff as well, but good luck getting your hands on that out here. Not that I think it makes for superior food like some other people will claim, but traditional cooking has its own charm to it."

Click to shrink...

The amazonian woman nods at the answer before grabbing herself a pair of protein bars and leaning against the counter close to the stove. As he speaks she leans in a little to observe the heated fluid and nod when she thinks it's appropriate. Morgana's attentive and a person doesn't get to be her size without having at least a passing interest in what they eat. Having an interest though didn't really mean having skill. The dark elf could cook the basics but it was more cooking to get by rather than cooking to really explore or experiment.

"Huh, can't say I've ever actually had Earther produce." She cracks open one of the bars and has a nibble of it only to swallow before continuing. "Then again, I haven't actually went anywhere near Earth. I've always been on ships keeping away from Earth for whatever reason." Another bite and she turns thoughtful for a moment. "You know, perhaps if we manage to get our hands on some Earther stuff you can cook it up? I know I'd love to sample it and see what all the fuss is about, and I'm sure you'd cook it better than I can." She finishes her first bar with a soft smile towards Nathan. As she spoke her tone was bright and those red eyes of hers floated between his chocolate orbs and the pot.

"And speaking of food..." Morgana's smile grows just a little more now. "When do you think the chowder will be done? I am a little hungry after lugging in all my equipment and wouldn't mind sampling your cooking now." She leans back now and starts eating down the second bar.