Celeritas: Jupiter Feretrius

[tankdrop24]

As the fleeing cultists, Oswald could help but give them a few insults for the road. "That's right. Go fuck off back to the shitholes who own your fucking leashes. Tell them I'm coming for them, you fucking wankers."

Stunned, somewhat, at the sudden departure it actually takes a second before Morgana shakes her head. "Uh, thanks for the assist. Now, I'll admit this wasn't my best plan but it seems to have worked well enough. The next step is to go and find ourselves a place to interrogate the guy. Got any ideas or are we both improvising?" As she speaks she hefts the only knocked out cultist up and onto her shoulder. Morgana seems to shoulder the weight with relative ease, a clear sign she'll probably have an easy time carrying the guy for a while.

Click to shrink...

"That's what it looks like, unfortunately. I've never been to this rathole before, so I don't have any place off the top of my head. I'm thinking we find a motel or something and tell them we're finding a place to crash with our passed out 'friend'."Oswald looked back at the bar. "And we'd better get going fast. Before more of those saturn gimps show up."

And before that idiot Waters came out and tried to exercise his non-existent authority over Flowers. Then Oswald, looked back at Morgana, and her pointed ears. "And you'll have to permit an old war hound to ask a weird fucking question: Your ears are that way because you or one of your ancestors had their genes messed with, not because of actual goddamned magic, right?"

 

[Daraken]

It gave Nathan and him a moment of advantage, but only a moment.

Click to shrink...

The captain was fast, no two ways about it. Maybe not quite as accurate as he could be, but if it kept that stupid idiot who decided a gunfight was a great idea off balance, all the better. Nathan's own reaction was only a few steps behind Mike's, his attention drawn briefly towards some odd movement from the doctor, before he dismissed it and drew his pistol. Later, there was more pressing things going on.

Nathan's pistol barked twice in quick succession, only for the bullets to shatter some bottles as the cultist officer dodged his fire. A scream of pain from behind the covering tables meant that the man had at least hurt something during the attempt.

"Drop the gun, you fucking idiot!" Nathan yelled out. Sure, it was a half-hearted attempt at deescalating the fight, but someone had to try, right?

 

[Dragontrapper]

Martina was, to put it frankly, pissed.

Some bastard had damaged Mephestopheles, and half the crew seemed intent on making things worse. Then again, she probably couldn't be pointing fingers in that regard.

Her captain had been nice enough to try and ruin her would-be shooter's day though, so that was nice.

Less nice though were the nearly half-dozen other hellions who still seemed intent on causing trouble, starting with her somewhat preoccupied captain.

Well, she couldn't have that.

The nanoswarm only took a bit of coaxing to curl back out from under her skin, curling back around her in familiar tendrils of inky black. A simple thought was enough to tell her companion what she wanted - her enemies, laid low and taught a lesson they wouldn't forget any time soon.

Mephistopheles acted out her will with aplomb.

Of the five, nobody noticed the attack coming until the first of them was yanked skyward by a tendril with a shriek. The nanoswarm held him aloft for a moment before it, with an almost dismissively flick, launched him across the tavern and through a far window, glass raining down as it shattered. His four companions watched his flight before their eyes turned back to you. A baleful red gaze stared back at them from twisting shadows, a small smirk dancing across her features, "Kneecaps are a privilege, not a right, boys."

Action was put to word as the tendrils snapped out again, wrapping around legs and twisting. Another dropped with a blood-curdling scream that nearly drowned out the sound of his legs snapping before being picked up and hammered into one of his colleagues. Both went crashing into a nearby table with enough force to reduce it to kindling. Martina only spared them a brief glance. She was fairly certain legs were not meant to bend like that.

With most of its prey fallen, Mephistopheles seemed content to play with its last morsel, snapping at its ankles as it scurried back on all fours.

So, when the stranger in the Augmented Perception equipment burst onto the scene, the hum of robotics following on their heels, they decided discretion was the better part of valor.

Martina let them go, watching the only 2 still mobile beeline for the door. In the back of her mind, she considered collateral damage. The bar was small, the victims less than credible, and the entire situation chaotic… In all, an acceptable level of exposure for the time being. Hopefully.

As the captain and their communications officer - Nathan, if she recalled right - handled the shooter, Martina pulled Mephistopheles back before turning to the new arrival, "I am afraid you missed the festivities," Martina adjusted her glasses with a frown, "I do hope you aren't intending to kick off any more excitement…"

Around Martina's feet, her nanoswarm slowly twisted about, still on edge and on alert.

 

[Sushi]

_____The mellow tunes of an "outdoor" performer carried on a dry breeze, if the wind patterns inside this colony could be called that. It looked dry, anyway. Justine had seem every way the wind blew across most of the system, but with most of her work done in the climate-controlled confines of her power suit, she hadn't felt most of them against her skin. Even now, the heavy foot-falls of the armor were muffled by armor and padding, converted into a digital mimicry of sound within her helmet. Justine heard the muted pop-pop of guns firing before the blues outside had died off, and long before the strange men came charging outside in a bleeding hurry. Her pulse took a measured increase and pace, and Justine thumbed the safeties within her armor without a conscious though.

_____And just like that, her nice weekend had come to an end. Her days off had a strange habit of going this way, dumping trouble in her lap when she had been perfectly content to do anything else. It had been her mistake getting the armor worked on. She'd have had the perfect excuse to keep walking in normal clothing.

_____It didn't come as much of a surprise to those still in the bar when the heavy footfalls moved up to the threshold. More than two meters of black armor plate and glowing power conduits emerged from the main door, the newcomer bending their head slightly not to bump the frame. The gleaming armor was angular and utilitarian, and its shape slightly hugged the figure within, pinching off to a narrower, thinly armored midsection connecting the bulkier top and lower halves. The suit's right forearm supported a launcher with a wide barrel, although it appeared to be unloaded, and a small arsenal of equipment clung in various pouches around the figure's waist.

_____The suited figure's voice was even, something recognizable through the helmet's audio filter as a high contralto. "I expected more bodies. It's a good thing none of you can aim." The gaze hidden behind that opaque visor seemed to linger on bartender, then each gun-wielding figure in turn.

_____"You should leave."

 

[DB_Explorer]

Michael watched as his ship's doctor managed to throw the goons in the bar through window and table alike. The inky blackness around her writhing in an unsettlingly organic way.

All in all, it was quite the scene Gale had entered into, yellow sundress swishing around their ankles. The rustic attire completely at odds with the VR goggles and glitzy drones hovering around them. Frankly it would have had more of an impact if it wasn't for the shadow curling about Martina's feet as the doctor addressed the smaller engineer.

Around the crew the cultists groaned or otherwise cautiously moved toward the exits, grabbing and carrying off their less lucky comrades. The miners were having none of it though and with a yell from the foremen that broke the silence caused by Doc's attacks and Gale's sudden arrival chased after the cultists like a posse trying to run someone out of town.

"Doctor, setting aside my thanks for the help" Michael said as he turned toward Martina. "You mind explain exactly what that was, or rather… is?" He asked gesturing to the shadow at Martina's feet. He'd say it was like something from some sort of scifi… but well he lived on a spaceship.

Heavy footfalls cut off any possible reply as a newcomer emerged from the main door, looking as big as Morgana and clad in black armor plate. Power armor wasn't unheard of, a staple of your more professional or at least better equipped forces. Most of the corporate security types didn't bother with it outside of some units – cheaper to give your levies vac rated suits and a load of drones when most of their work was security related rather then assaults.

A hire by the governor perhaps? Michael thought thinking back to the dig site that seemed to be the cause of all the trouble around here. If they were, they looked competent enough - the armor being utilitarian and plethora of pouches clinging to their waist in the vaguely organized way that meant the user had everything setup just the way they wanted.

"I expected more bodies. It's a good thing none of you can aim. – You should leave." Michael sighed – great a sarcastic hired gun that was competent. He was going to have to give the governor some more credit if this woman, and it was a woman based off the voice, was one of his hires.

Michael carefully holstered his own gun carefully before approaching the armor-clad mercenary. "We we're just about to leave Miss." Michael replied as friendly as he could, glancing at the wide barrel on the suits armed, it looked unloaded and he was hoping to keep it that way. "Frankly we'd leave this settlement this instant if your governor hadn't locked the port down looking for some thief – some of my crew came here to ask questions and some people objected it seems."

 

[Dragontrapper]

"You mind explain exactly what that was, or rather… is?"

Click to shrink...

Martina considered her captain carefully. He was... a good man, as best she could tell. Honest in ways that mattered, and generally something of a people person. Still - not the place. "I actually do, my apologies," she replies with a regretful smile, "It is something I prefer not to discuss in public. The condition is... embarrassing." she hoped the captain got the hint.

As heavy footfalls drew his attention to the other side of the bar Martina spared a quick thought in Mephistopheles's direction, pulling the nanoswarm back into herself she stepped back and let her captain work. She'd have to double-check for any troublesome security monitors, but hopefully the Governor had enough to worry about then a back-alley barfight.

She didn't bother resisting the sigh that escaped her lips as she started pacing around the room, checking on the few patrons still laid out on the floor. How troublesome.

 

[Hydrokinesis]

"That's what it looks like, unfortunately. I've never been to this rathole before, so I don't have any place off the top of my head. I'm thinking we find a motel or something and tell them we're finding a place to crash with our passed out 'friend'."Oswald looked back at the bar. "And we'd better get going fast. Before more of those saturn gimps show up."

And before that idiot Waters came out and tried to exercise his non-existent authority over Flowers. Then Oswald, looked back at Morgana, and her pointed ears. "And you'll have to permit an old war hound to ask a weird fucking question: Your ears are that way because you or one of your ancestors had their genes messed with, not because of actual goddamned magic, right?"

Click to shrink...

"Same here so that makes two. I'm down for a motel though, it'd work as a quick sort of excuse and they usually don't ask too many questions." Morgana spoke as she started to walk down the alley. "As how I look... Yeah, one of my ancestors on my mother's side. I mean, it was magic as far as some people are concerned but that's not really too big of a deal, right? It continued on the female side of my family for a while until they achieved what you see before you now. I put on muscle as easily as breathing while my overall shape stays roughly the same, along with a few other things." She doesn't seem particularly happy as she speaks given the large frown she's now sporting.

After exiting the alley she started towards what looked like it could be a motel while continuing to talk. "I am, essentially, a designer baby. Born and bred to be in the family business. I'll give you three guesses as to what exactly is the family business, if you want? It doesn't bother me too much now that I've left."She glances towards Oswald beside her as she keeps the knocked out cultist firmly upon her shoulder. It also would appear that they're going in the right direction as the sign for a motel becomes visible a little ways away. There's no doubt been a few that have given the two of them a few looks though that's something Morgana's used to at this point so she pays the onlookers no mind.

 

[Sushi]

@DB_Explorer
_____"Asking questions and shooting people - those tend to be mutually exclusive." The hunter's heavy footfalls echoed through the floor as she moved to one side, and then gestured toward the outside with her thumb. "Go on. Get out of here." Her head remained still as the person within seemed to track and weigh each individual trouble-maker inching toward the very door she were standing beside. "... if it gets you and your guns out of here, I'll see if I can put in a word with the governor," the woman said, leaving out the one small detail that she hadn't been working for the governor.

_____Fingers crossed.

 

[DB_Explorer]

Michael stared at the new comer for a long moment before relaxing as they stepped aside, he motioned towards his crew to head toward the exit – though most were already heading that way. Lovely crew he had, willing to leave their boss behind. "Never said we we're the ones to start shooting – but I thank you for letting us go nonetheless." Michael said as he followed after his crew out of the bar.

The captain's breath fogged in front of him in the chill of the colonies penny-pinching life support as he felt vibrations coming from beneath his feet. That feeling was a familiar one, the feeling of a ship's engines coming online, the vibrations of tons of equipment and propellent coming to life. Michael stopped following his crew as he turned toward the docks at the center of the colony – the source of the rumble which was now shifting into something actually audible

Someone was trying to leave.

A pale blue lit up the colony as the Ferdinand's secondary engines flared as it coasted by the massive windows that helped try to make the colony a little less claustrophobic.

It seemed Williamson had taken Lafarge's comments on the quality of the governors' defenses to heart…that or the privateer had pressed the boy some more. The freighter cleared the lip of the colony's docking area and the rumbling vanished – for a moment the colony was silent.

Then a new sound started, the sound of ice cracking and shifting reverberated throughout the colony. The entire colony was lit red as the tower in the center of the dig site came to life with the sort of pure red glow only a laser could create. The beam crossed the distance between the tower and the Ferdinand in an instant – slicing through the freighter as if it barely existed. The remains of the freighter exploded as propellants and fuels mixed and exploded the fragments of the once massive freighter bouncing against the colony dome like a hail shower. Around the dig site ice slogged off massive radiators coming out from the base of the tower glowing a dull red as the heat they gave off cracked ice for miles around.

Across the colony datapads chirped with the sound of an incoming emergency alert message before the face of the governor appeared, voice sounding from a hundred tiny speakers and the colony PA in an odd reverb. "I am Governor Pavlovsky and I hope this…demonstration shows how serious I am with the enforcement of the lock down. The rat that stole from me is still in this settlement, my settlement, and I will not allow her to escape. Anyone else trying to depart will be met with the same fate." The governor smiled. "I thank you for cooperation at this time."

Michael watched as the message ended along with the sound of the remains of the Ferdinand raining down. In the quiet that followed the captain had only one response. "Shit."

Across the colony with Oswald and Morgana they had witnessed essentially the same thing before a young woman, whose appearance indicated the mixed Indian and Slavic decent of many of the locals and dressed in the attire of a common miner, rushed toward them. "You are from one of the ships in port, yes?" She quiet asks as she approaches them. "I saw you in the bar." She explains. "I don't know what you want with that man." She gestures to the cultist the pair carried. "But you can't take him to a motel – the governor will be watching it to closely. I can give you a place to ask him questions, a quiet place." She explained quickly. "I just…I cannot stay here any longer if the governor is willing to use that machine." She wrings her hands in distress as she continues. "And you cannot stay here either, that ship ...it was a union vessel... they will not take this lightly."

 

[Dragontrapper]

Martina had finished checking over the few people still comatose and scattered around the bar and was about to go check on the captain when Mephistopheles screamed.

The doctor stumbled against a wall as the nanoswarm flooded her mind with a thousand warning signals even as its thrummed under her skin. "What the hell are you-" she started to mutter before a eerie red glow washed over the windows, followed closely by a deep, bone rattling thrum of the air that Martina hadn't felt in ages. "...No. nononono..."

She stumbled over to the nearest window just in time to see the massive ground-to-orbit laser battery finish lancing through the cargo vessel like it was ever so much paper. The message from the governor barely registered to her as she tried to process this.

It was working. The goddamned antique was operational and the colony could control it. Or maybe the governor was bluffing and the system had been operating under automated interdiction rules of some sort. Either way, if the system was online, then so to were the labs most likely.

And that meant records.

A few drunks with a tall tale she could handle. A bit of unexpected footage, she could weather. The odd people or twelve, she could avoid. But this - if they found this, they could find her. She would never be safe again.

Martina Ruland stared up at the still falling debris for a few long moments before muttering one, simple, word. "...Shit."

 

[tankdrop24]

"Same here so that makes two. I'm down for a motel though, it'd work as a quick sort of excuse and they usually don't ask too many questions." Morgana spoke as she started to walk down the alley. "As how I look... Yeah, one of my ancestors on my mother's side. I mean, it was magic as far as some people are concerned but that's not really too big of a deal, right? It continued on the female side of my family for a while until they achieved what you see before you now. I put on muscle as easily as breathing while my overall shape stays roughly the same, along with a few other things." She doesn't seem particularly happy as she speaks given the large frown she's now sporting.

After exiting the alley she started towards what looked like it could be a motel while continuing to talk. "I am, essentially, a designer baby. Born and bred to be in the family business. I'll give you three guesses as to what exactly is the family business, if you want? It doesn't bother me too much now that I've left."She glances towards Oswald beside her as she keeps the knocked out cultist firmly upon her shoulder. It also would appear that they're going in the right direction as the sign for a motel becomes visible a little ways away. There's no doubt been a few that have given the two of them a few looks though that's something Morgana's used to at this point so she pays the onlookers no mind.

Click to shrink...

"Didn't need the whole story, but that calms the hairs on the back of my head. See, that doc Waters picked up? Turns out under her skin she's a shadow monster. Yeah, you heard me right, a goddamned shadow monster that ripped some poor idiot's arms off. If you turned out to be an actually a real elf as well I'd have to throw myself out a goddamn airlock before this whole mess morphed into a fucking high school fantasyfest novel."

He followed her towards the motel, sighing at the inevitable reactions from onlookers. It had been how many years since we'd left the rock that the rotting soup that had birthed them was on, why had people not evolve the ability to keep their goddamned pants on along the way? Sure, Oswald and Morgana might have been skeezy motel, but from their general appearances and age gap they could at least assume he was some kind of criminal and his muscular thug, not that.

Across the colony datapads chirped with the sound of an incoming emergency alert message before the face of the governor appeared, voice sounding from a hundred tiny speakers and the colony PA in an odd reverb. "I am Governor Pavlovsky and I hope this…demonstration shows how serious I am with the enforcement of the lock down. The rat that stole from me is still in this settlement, my settlement, and I will not allow her to escape. Anyone else trying to depart will be met with the same fate." The governor smiled. "I thank you for cooperation at this time."

Click to shrink...

Oswald rolled his eyes. This was going as he expected, only faster.

"Three days," He said to Morgana as they went on their way. "at most, before this place is goddamned space dust, unless we find this mad scientist. Probably still even then, but at least there will be a damn chance that we'll be somewhere else by then."

Across the colony with Oswald and Morgana they had witnessed essentially the same thing before a young woman, whose appearance indicated the mixed Indian and Slavic decent of many of the locals and dressed in the attire of a common miner, rushed toward them. "You are from one of the ships in port, yes?" She quiet asks as she approaches them. "I saw you in the bar." She explains. "I don't know what you want with that man." She gestures to the cultist the pair carried. "But you can't take him to a motel – the governor will be watching it to closely. I can give you a place to ask him questions, a quiet place." She explained quickly. "I just…I cannot stay here any longer if the governor is willing to use that machine." She wrings her hands in distress as she continues. "And you cannot stay here either, that ship ...it was a union vessel... they will not take this lightly."

Click to shrink...

Yet another likely story. The sounds that spewed from her mouth stunk like word vomit. But whether that was of fear, or deception... Either was plausible to Oswald.

But time was a vice choking them right now, and if this was a trap, then whoever set it probably had an alternative for if they ignored the woman's offer. And he wasn't in the mood to risk putting himself in the gunsights of someone spewing enough crazy to do what the Governor just did. So, as far as Oswald's mind was concerned, best to go with the pisswater flow and take the blows as they come.

So Oswald nodded. "Thanks for the help miss. Whatever information is knocking around the head of this stupid lad here," Oswald slapped the unconscious head of the cultist Morgana was carrying, "could be the only thing that can save this colony and every last person on it." So don't be planning to do something incredibly regrettable. He left unsaid.

When the woman turned and Oswald followed after her, he made a string of gestures to Morgana:

A finger pointed at her. You.
Two fingers at Oswald's eyes. Eyes on.
A finger at the woman. Her.
His fist spun in a circular motion. Around us.

Hopefully that got the message accross without tipping anyone off. Weird as it seemed, the muscle elf was the most useful one on the ship so far.

 

[Daraken]

If he was the type to smoke, a cigarette would have fallen out of his mouth at this momen. Instead, Nathan's mind was running in a hundred different directions. The freighter was gone. The governor was insane. Corporate reprisal was coming. They couldn't stay here, not with a madman and an ancient skip-killing laser he was more than happy to use. This bar fight didn't matter. That mercenary didn't matter. Whatever the doc had been doing down here didn't matter. Escape was all that mattered.

The apologies tumble out of the communications officer's mouth in meaningless mumbles as he excuses himself to head back to the ship. The computers aboard the Celeritas were good, better than the obsolete crap Nathan had seen too many other captains settle for. He could work with this.

No data from the active sensors while the ship was docked of course, but the passive electro-optical, environmental, and radiation sensors had still been recording. Pulling out the data and inputting it where it could be analyzed was tedious if familiar work. But it was the type of monotony Nathan craved right now, one that kept his mind firmly distracted from the image of a freighter ship sliced through like hot knife through butter, leaving only a confetti of scrap and shrapnel behind.

The hours pass by without comment from the ex-specialist, before the results finally reach his bleary eyes. A sort of relieved sigh escapes his mouth as Nathan takes it in and slumps back in his chair. No golden bullet here, but it was something they could work with at least. The message that goes out to the rest of the crew is terse, with only a basic data analysis packet attached.

Laser cooling system inefficient. Limited shots before overheating. Radiators weak point?

Click to shrink...

 

[Dragontrapper]

The good doctor was moving before the public service announcement even finished. Internally, she was alternating between violently swearing and running through contingency plans. Her existing options were... not good. For the last century she'd counted on one thing - that this crap would stay buried or out of reach. To be fair, it was a usually a good bet; the old labs were generally death-traps by virtue of location or construction. She'd once worked in a lab located in an active geothermal field - fun times.

Well, it appears they hadn't properly booby-trapped this particular lab. Damn stupid of them, given that the lab was co-located with what looked like an early-generation propulsive laser facility. "Stupid cheap-ass Corpo bastards..." Martina muttered as she weaved her way through the crowds. Well, no other course for it - time for damage control and containment. Her only consolation was the lack of armed goons hunting her down via alpha decay signature or gravimetrics or whatever else was buried in the Development notes.

But she couldn't run containment on a situation if she didn't know what was going on... well, she could, but she didn't have a pure-fusion warhead on hand. So, hard way it was.

And to start, she needed to get to the archives. The sort of information she needed wasn't going to be floating around indexed on the net. So, time for manual research. A grumbling thrum ran through her body, causing her to frown, "Oh, pipe down," Martina chastised her symbiote, "Its a library, not another bar. I'll be fine."

There had been days, long before even her early days, where libraries had been a person's primary source for knowledge. Even with the advent of wide-area networks, they'd limped along as access points for others. After a few centuries of ubiquitous information access though, libraries had been relegated to being simple archives for backups and esoteric files. The type of files that needed to be accessed maybe once a year perhaps. 'Write Once Read Rarely' files like government project expenditures, public academic reports, and similar boring documents that are usually read once and then buried until the end of time.

All the better for her.

The Thebe's Libary and Archive was a suitably drab over-sized block of a building. Tall and narrow windows broke up the dull outer facade, but let in little light. Inside was, thus, dull and poorly lit. Only the small pools of light cast by user terminals the only sign the place was even operational. There wasn't even a person at the main desk. Typical.

After a quick stop at a index terminal for directions, Martina headed for the section holding goverment research and academic papers. Half the stacks were marked as 'restricted' but that didn't concern her for the moment. Shelves stretched toward the ceiling, row after row of translucent silica cubes waiting to be read. Carefully scanning through the stacks, she picked out a few that looked like promising leads before heading back to a reading terminal.

This should be fast.

Several hours and a dozen dead-ends later, Martina was ready to murder something and Mephistopheles was more then happy to try and cue up a few acceptable targets. Too bad this damn place was basically empty. She'd found lots of oblique references to the Excavation Project - budgeting line-items, blurbs in employee evaluations, memo's complaining about equipment allocation - it gave her a rough idea.

She knew they were employing quite a few crypto-analysts and data-mining experts. They'd tried to bring in new drilling equipment... but she had no idea what they were trying to analyze, or the type of equipment. And she still had nothing on where they had reached inside the facility beyond the obvious of 'Laser System Controls'.

But anything newer then a few months was in the restricted stacks, and they were locked behind a keycard-controlled door. "Time for some light property damage, I suppose..." Martina muttered as she moved over to the door, nanites already swarming to the surface of the skin on her hand, poised to morph into a thin blade when-

"What are you doing?"

Martina turned to find an older-looking woman, maybe eighty-years of age and looking most of it, was glaring at her. "...accessing the archives." Martina replied flatly.

"Not without an access card," the older woman - most likely the librarian - replied haughtily as she adjusted her glasses, "And I haven't seen you around her before."

Martina could feel her eyebrow starting to twitch, along with Mephistopheles. She should probably back off, find another way... but she didn't have time. Whatever bridges she had to burn here and now to progress, she would. Whatever the price would be worth it.

Martina gently clasped the woman's shoulders, giving her a friendly smile as she removed her glasses, "Ma'am, I'm sure you've heard of the recent incident with that poor ship, yes?"

The librarian nodded hesitantly, "...of course."

Martina's smile sharpened as she pulled off her glasses, "Then, Miss, if you do not wish to die horribly-" Mephistopheles had already begun spinning up targeting sub-routines, which included retinal projection for augmenting HUD operations. Which meant that when Martina opened her eyes and stared at the Librarian, the poor woman was presented with the visage of a pale-haired woman with glowing red eyes glaring down at her with a wide, almost manic grin, "Then would you kindly open the way for me?"

Martina was in in short order.

With the leads she'd already managed to find, Martina dug up the rest of what she needed in short order. Equipment inventories for high-end laser drilling systems, environmental evaluations for an excavated series of pressurized tube elements - and an associated map.

The resulting conclusions she could make were... mixed.

On one hand, they were definitely into the labs. That meant she needed to work fast. On the other... the amount of work they were putting behind data mining suggested they hadn't dug too far into the records. Hopefully the oversized flashlight would keep them busy for a while longer. On the upside, the rest of the crew would appreciate a map for the inevitable break-in.

Martina and her nanoswarm were so pre-occupied with analyzing the data they'd found that, as the left, they hadn't even noticed the cultists lurking outside the library, nor how they followed the good doctor as she headed back toward the docks.

 

[tankdrop24]

@DB_Explorer @Hydrokinesis

The chair's feet made a harsh, clacking noise as the sweating form of the cultist futilely tried to twist his way out of his binds. Seeing the mess of confused fear and panic on the bastard's face at least brought a sense of satisfaction. The universe could take it all from Oswald, but he was going to claw it all back, starting with the little things like this.

"Now, Mr. I Do Not Care, you've had something of a shitty night. Your head's pounding and your brains wracked by the throes of outer planet devil juice, so one of the very few things you can be considered to be blameless for would be not understanding the situation you're in." He loomed over the cultist, hunch over him and looking him dead in the eye. "My name is Oswald Flowers. In the off chance that your worthless creedspawn superiors have evolved a sense of shame and have failed to inform you of what exactly that means and while you should be praying to whatever twisted things brainless like you pray to, then allow me to explain. In a world of bigoted idiocy, of people who refuse to understand anything outside their own skin, I'm the man who gave your little group of saturnites a chance, in exchange for just the tiniest bit of help and a promise to play by the rules." Oswald scratched his chin. "And you know what that got me, right?"

"Boom." The old security officer stretched his arms out wipe in a blur. "An entire colony, thousands of lives, gone. All because your lot decided that you just had to make your detractors the receipts of an understatement of the year award. But they couldn't even get that right, because you know who else ended up getting the rotten bulk of the blame shoved down their throat? Me. And because of it, I've been tossed out of the career I spent the best years of my life building, thrown in the cesspit of this systems outer reaches and forced to endure tramp haul to tramp haul. Now, I think you know what my friend here is capable of." Between Morgana's... distraction and general beatdown of the cultists, Oswald was certain of that. "She's been breed with all the black sciences of gene modding for muscle mass. Her guns are fucking loaded enough that there would be next to no difference between her twisting the cap off a soda bottle and your skull off of your filthy form. And believe me, at this moment there is nothing in this solar system I would love more than to gleefully document her doing that over the next twelve hours or so. But you know what? I'm a grown fucking man and I have business, so it's your lucky day. All you have to do is just tell me what the fuck you and your sad little techie club are doing here and what you want with the old hag you're after, and you get to live. That's all I want. You could probably sum it up in less words than a fourth grade essay it you wanted to, you lazy bastard."

Then, Oswald suddenly took a pair of fingers and danced them accross the cultist's forehead. "And don't go thinking you could take the silence of the grave for your wretched faith. I know you bastards love sticking wires in your body. In fact, it would probably make it much less annoying, just butchering whatever chips you've got in your head and taking whatever info's useful on them. Really, me letting you tell me what your big plan is the greatest act of mercy in a thousand generations."

 

[Hydrokinesis]

Morgana wasn't exactly sure what she'd expected when she actually carried out the interrogation. Like, maybe a little roughing the guy up and the like but actually having Oswald laid out part of his life's story wasn't close to what she'd figured would happen. Still, she's here and she's got to play a part, it's no different than the countless mooks she's already fought with and squeezed for information. So she listened and stood with her arms crossed, doing her best attempt at being imposing with maybe just a little flexing going on to really make her bulk stand out more.

She listened attentively when he went over how he got to where he was though she couldn't be sure if parts of that weren't just bullshit to build up the situation more. It might be entirely truthful, and if it was she honestly felt for the guy though they weren't too different, in a sense. But, if it was all bullshit then it was a good story and one she wondered if he created on the fly or cultivated over the years. Regardless, when he eventually moved on to her she walked around behind him before bending down and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, an arm she kept flexed just to keep it a bit firmer.

"He's entirely right... I've been genetically engineered to have both muscle and form in one convenient package. Flawless and certainly more than capable of ripping your head from your shoulders. So, the easiest thing to do is just tell us what we need to know and you walk away free." Morgana speaks softly into his ear, giving Oswald a look before motioning with her free hand to back up a bit.

"Why should I tell either of you anything?! For that matter, why are you even working with this pathetic worm?" The cultist opened up, speaking fast as he turns his head towards Morgana and does his best to just look at her with a mixture of anger and curiosity. "You, the clearly superior being, should be above him. You're better than him and that's easy to see. So why? Why would you be working with this pathetic human when you should be ruling him."

He stops to catch his breath for a moment and Morgana takes that moment to speak again. "A good question with a simple answer. Because I'd rather maintain my humanity than ignore it. Now, are you going to answer our question or not?" Morgana raises a white eyebrow as she looks at him, her red eyes staring into his.

He actually lets her finish before continuing himself. "Actually, fuck it. Sure, I'll tell you what I know but first... You can maintain your humanity while still being his master. You just need the other part of it though, engineered flesh and machine. You've only got one half covered, you still need the other half. With both, you'd truly be set free from the constraints of humanity! It's why they're here, it's part of why they're interested in the tower." He paused again to give himself a moment to breathe and Morgana wondered if this was true now. "There's so much more to that tower and the fools just think of it as a weapon, of all things. It's not even supposed to be a weapon! It's meant to transport stuff and the utter fools can't comprehend that. This is why humans must move beyond their base selves, why be limited by the capricious randomness of nature? We can make better people and not doing that is just leading to humanity's failure. And you, woman, are extremely wasted potential."

By the time he finishes he's staring Oswald in the eye as best as he can. The cultist starts to move slowly, smiling wide as his jaw clenches. There's only the faint sound of something cracking to indicate anything is off before the cultist swallows. Morgana gasps and she swears what happens next happens in slow motion as she steps back from the cultist. It only takes seconds for him to start gasping with his head falling limp. A second later, maybe three at most, and his body starts to twitch where it is bound to the chair.

 

[DB_Explorer]

@Sketchy Lurker @Daraken @Dragontrapper @Floom

Michael sat on a crate in front of the Celeritas' open cargo bay - Nathan had gone inside the ship muttering something about the ships' sensor systems. Around him several of Harper's drones worked alongside the more mundane drones of the ships' maintenance system wandered about going through their routines.

Michael's datapad chirped as a message from Nathan came in, swiping away from his dive into the settlements' news archives he read over the message - annotated data slices from the ships passive sensors came along with a simple message about that damn tower overheating.

"That's not so bad, they used to think 65% was efficient after all!" Michael started at the otherwise cheerful voice coming from over his shoulder. The captain turned to see Harper's slender form looking over his shoulder at the datapad.

Michael was about to give the apprentice engineer some choice words about sneaking up on people when a muffled series of explosions echoed down the settlements corridors catching Harper and Michael's attention.

A subtle shift of air pressure set Michael's spacer senses off even as three of Harper's drones chirped before one flew off down the corridor, Michael's data pad switching to a video feed from the drone. The bland corridors of the settlement gave way to well… a small battlefield.

It was really the only way to describe it - it looked like the rover garage Harper had reported earlier, though now two of the rovers seemed to be burning wreckage scattered across the ground and a massive blast door had sealed off the airlock out of the settlement.

All around this were people with guns, maybe a couple dozen total with most of those being cultists - not looking much different from how they did in the bar, though more heavily armed. The other half was the Governor's troops, trying to fend off the cultists even as they used the rover wreckage as cover from the local troops fire.

Those nut jobs had already caused the airlock to seal down, and if they were trying to get out of the settlement than they were going to have to override the blast doors - and god knows what chaos that was going to cause with the rest of these places emergency protocols.

Michael cut the feed off and switched over to his message app. "Those nut jobs from the bar are trying to blast their way out of an airlock, I'd suggest you all get back to the ship to regroup… and grab a gun while you're at it." Michael turned to Harper. "How much damage can those drones of yours do?"