[FT/TG]Journey of a Thousand Lightyears

[Enso and Mu]

Edit Adds: An OOC communications thread for this thread was added to II here: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=439688

Yokohama Station - Major Outbound Trade Post
Miur System
Curwin-Controlled Space

---

Few of the Satoshi Carbourne ever set foot on the worlds ruled by their distant cousins,
the Curwin. Fewer still who did walked the path of the Red Enso Society. Curwin tended to join the society only when pressganged, forced into service by their state to meet the levee the Curwin had committed to the Sangha Council to flesh out the society's numbers. Still, there were exceptions to prove every rule.

Satoshi Vega was one such example. He had come to the station by way of Exodeen, which was itself the connecting flight between here and the nearest MSA facility, which had been the Jovian orbital shipyard at Muona Kentaro. But then, Sohei-Pilots rarely travelled independantly,
especially with their machines in tow. But Vega had arrived with his customised ZS-222 "Zenith Ten" tucked away into a container, and wore, at his hip, an extravagance almost unnoticeable to most - a proper Sohei Pilot Module. Pilot Modules were rare enough tech to begin with, but the variety used for piloting MAP-patterned mechs were pretty tightly restricted, limited only to the use of the Sohei, and not merely by law.

Pilot Modules were among a very short list of technologies the Mujin-Aligned cultures referred to collectively as Satori Yosegi - ancient technologies from a bygone age whose manufacture yet survived. The common thread among all examples of SY technology was the pseudomonasticism required to efficiently enter the right mental state to enter a union with the devices's neurolattice - a level of dedication usually found only in those suited to the specific roles of the device. Added to that, Yosegi technology was rare - the technologists to craft it highly specialised and bordering on monasticism in their own right.

Some speculated that the irregular gold chasing on the man's own PM was a mark of special value to the usually-more-stoic devices, but in fact, it was that chasing that had set him so far afield on the first place. A well-meaning, but inept - specialized in Hyperdrive Engineering had attempt to repair the module after it was damaged in a combat accident. In doing so, they had all but crippled it. In the few months he'd so far been on the road, Vega had managed to etch out a path to the most basic, simplistic of functions the brain-machine interface provided to him.

He was like one of the warriors of old with a broken sword, and that thought did amuse him. It amused him enough that he looked up and down the station bar one more time, before looking to the barman. "I'll settle the tab."
"You ain't had nothin' to drink," the mujin-human barman explained, jabbing a finger in the man's direction. "Apart from half a yen worth of tea!"
"Well, make it a whole yen and consider the rest a gratuity."

The Sohei rose, and headed out from the bar to join a presently-departing lift, up to the transfer docks. He knew tramp freighters frequented this particular station. If he could find one headed further afield, into Mind Empire space maybe, or Roanian, he could be on his way. He was confident in his ability to hitchhike.

The owl-like Satoshi Carbourne male could be found for much the rest of the day, studying the boards which displayed arrivals and departures, looking for likely candidates.

[Achesia]

Of all the stations Priscilla May had been stranded on, this was most likely the dumpiest. The short blonde girl sitting against the bulkhead reflected on a few passers by of Tarkeer descent (a squat creature near the slender girls own height but much fatter) as they trudge along the departure deck, also known as Deck Green of Yokohama Station. As she picked at her fingers watching the green pudgy xenos trot by, Priscilla reflected on how she knew this station so well though she would hardly consider herself a resident. Could it be the ill-fated venture on the freighter Ravager that stopped here just days before she was discovered as a stow away? Or maybe it was the fact she had been stranded here for two weeks since the last freighter kicked her off for mouthing off to the captain? Though if Priscilla was honest with herself, Yokohama Station was not the worst port she had been to, Soywanuk certainly took that prize. But the fact that Yokohama was associated with several bad legs of her space fairing career she was ready to burn it to the ground.

Her posting in the corner opposite the departure boards gave her a clear view of the large digital screens that displayed ships names and destinations. While the steel deck platting was not the most comfortable on her small ass, it provided her with a full view of potential employers, and competition. This of course was provided no asshole being higher than 5’3” decided to stand in front of her resting spot. But being the girl she was, Priscilla was quick to let them know her displeasure either with a loud belt of her commanding voice (that was surprisingly low and threatening for a little girl), or a swift flick of an Obat Nut shell to the face. A few such encounters almost turned ugly, but most objections to her style were hushed if she merely showed them the butt of her .44 G-Type Hybrid Revolver tucked under her brown leather jacket next to her breast.

Low and behold such an individual came along in that moment as Priscilla rolled her bright blue eyes, some smooth-boy pilot none the less, a type she almost hated more that the fat green Tarkeers. Priscilla knew a hundred different ways to deal with this type, often they were dissuaded by her obtuse personality, but even more frequently they found that cute and would dare talk to her in a way they thought flattering. Most would soon run tail tucked after she showed them otherwise, but today she felt somewhat uncaring enough to be nice… or at least Priscilla’s level of nice.

“Hey down in front!” She yelled to the slick haired pilot boy in a harsh tone. Clearly he was competition for the freighter pilot jobs that would crop up, and there is no way some pretty boy was getting between here and getting off this rat hole.

[Enso and Mu]

The young man seemed posed to argue, but as he turned to look over his shoulder at his accuser, he caught a glance of Vega standing at the back of the viewing area. His eyes hung on the Carbourne for a moment. While Yokohama was constructed by - and largely peopled by - the more commonly-seen Curwin Carbourne, whose crowlike appearance universally belied an avaricious nature, this particular Carbourne had more in common with a horned owl. Rare were the Satoshi, and their moods and disposition as varied as the earthly strigiformes they represented.

Before he could protest further, Vega took notice of him, and spoke. "It can be hard to see with people standing. The board is plenty large enough to view from a seat."

The pilot's eyes scanned the area a moment longer, where he eventually went to sit with a friend, keeping his voice low, but not quite low enough. "Since when do the Curwin and the Satoshi get along?"
"You blind? He's a sohei pilot. Guy shows up with mobile armour at a station you let him aboard."

Vega, for his own part, was happy to let them gossip. Actually, he'd had to pay a healthy quantity of his questing budget in bribes to be let aboard, and then much of the rest to get the armour registered as cargo. He was still fine to cover his expenses, as long as he negotiated shrewdly enough with the various captains he met with along the way - but food and lodging planetside and stationside would have to be done on the cheap until he found a secondary income.

It seemed... beneath him, somehow, and so he eased himself into a chair not far from Priscilla and busied himself with his datascroll. Not as convenient for data entry as a tablet, it would none the less suffice to register himself and his container as a light transpo job. If someone threw a wide enough net searching for such things, he supposed it might be interesting. In total, he registered a dozen such jobs - light transpo for a passenger (willing to work to help defray costs) and a shipping container to any of twelve different worlds.

[Achesia]

Priscilla had earned a nickname for her short snippy nature, “prissy” often bestowed upon her naturally by people on ships who didn’t even know each other. Prissy and Priscilla almost went hand in hand, and in moments like these her snippy nature was her only defense mechanism against snarky boys who looked down upon her… literally.

As the pilot Vega sat down in a chair not far from her seat on the deck against a bulkhead, the feisty blonde couldn't help herself but try and get the last word. Hopping up to her feet, the runty girl trotted over to the pretty boy pilot as he stared down at his data scroll looking to mind his own business.

It had been a long day for Priscilla as she had already been rejected by two other freighters for piloting positions. Too many captains didn't want to take a risk on the little girl at the helm and most certainly would choose some grizzled or slimy man over her. So as she stomped her feet into position in front of Vega, she viewed him as nothing more than competition.

“You know that's easy for you to say, but sometimes you tall people need to come down to us short people’s levels huh!” She shouted at Vega without a response from him. “Well don’t just sit there and ignore me!” She waved her arms as she sternly placed her hands on her hips, glaring down at him with her blue eyes.
“I’m sick of you slick haired boys walking up here and taking all the work, while here I am on the steel deck weeks on end fighting to get off this trash heap!” She looked over to the Curwin who inhabited this station and shot a sharp look.
Leaning into whispering range of Vega she continued her rant in a more hushed tone. “I’m sick of picking feathers out of my ass from all these Curwin, the next pilot job is mine! I want out of here! Got it?! Now there is a freighter coming into port within a couple of hours, that job is mine. I better not see you try and grab it!” Priscilla finally ended her rant and waited Vega’s response.

[Enso and Mu]

Throughout, Vega listened impassively, though with the countenance of a horned owl it was fair to say that his resting expression was closer to what humans called "resting bitch face" than the expression most associated with monastically-enforced serenity. He blinked ruddy-amber eyes once or twice, and generally waited for the girl to get it all out of her system. It was very clear she considered herself somehow universally preferable, but also clear there was a deep and fundamental misunderstanding here.

"Kid," he said, when she was finally done ranting, "I'm not that kind of pilot. Wouldn't know what to do with the controls of a freighter if you showed me."

There was a chuckle from somewhere. Evidentially the pilot they'd both scolded earlier was feeling somewhat vindicated. This was just as well. For all Vega knew, he was going to wind up flying with one of these assholes one way or the other. "I'm more like a client, so... I wish you good luck in your search for employment."

He looked back to his scroll - which by now he had flicked to what a heading revealed to be a "Post-Battle Quality Assessment Report" (if Priscilla could read Mujin, and was gauche enough to read over his shoulder, as it were). He was hoping the report would have some clue, however remote, as to why the targeting system liked to pull right these days.

"He's a sohei, sweetheart," the Scolded Pilot interjected. "He flies mechs, not ships."
"So they tell me," Vega responded, not looking back up, and only half-sarcastically.

[Achesia]

For a rare moment Priscilla did feel rather foolish, but true to her iron personality it was only for a moment. Of course the sarcastic comments from the Curwin behind her did not help in quelling her snark either. Turning around she shot an icy cold glance at the feathered thing that called itself a pilot, and much do to her reputation that she had earned in the past two weeks aboard this station, the Curwin stepped off. The pilot moving to the far end of the arrival deck in an effort to avoid the girl’s wrath.

“A mech pilot huh.” Priscilla said in a hushed tone to herself as she searched her memories. Lots of mech pilots from back in her old stomping grounds. Most of the young ones were rather arrogant, but the grizzled old veterans often were rather down to earth that she could recall. Often her previous line of work involved allot of mech pilots, not the worst crowd to get involved with.

Her mind fumbled around with a few ideas of how she could move forward now, surely a mech pilot this far out here had a good bit of coin. If he was looking for a freighter to transport his suit to wherever it was he was going, then it would be a rather profitable endeavor for said ship. Perhaps if she brought a ship this business, she would be a shoe in to be hired.

While she resented the "kid" remark... she was in her twenties now for god sake, Priscilla swallowed what she could of her pride and reengaged with the mech pilot.

“Well sorry about all of that… uh… before ya’know.” The words were evidently unnatural for the girl to say as she scratched the back of her blonde head. “My name is Priscilla, and as you guessed it, I’m a freighter pilot… only without a freighter at the moment.”

[Roania]

"Understood. Good luck." The light slipped from Maein's ear and twirled around a light green tress before tracing down her neck, shoulder and arm, back to her ring. Now her pilot had deserted her. Found a better posting, he claimed, and one heading in the direction he wanted to go. And here she was with goods in stasis, a narrow window to get the best price, and no way to move them.

Perhaps she should have accepted his offer to share her bed. Still, regrets and might have beens would not help her do her job. First, she needed to cancel her departure arrangements. Would do her no good to leave the station without someone to fly her ship. Then, she needed to find a pilot. One ideally willing to work on contingency; his decision to cash in now left her somewhat cash shy until her first stop.

This was not good.

[Enso and Mu]

The Satoshi Carbourne's mood improved somewhat with even this small act of contrition - though Priscilla would have to read this from tone and inflection, as his face seemed permanently stern. "Satoshi Vega. For what it's worth, I understand your frustration completely. Yokohama is not a good station to be marooned on."

He glanced at the board. "I think a job posting you'd like just showed up."

Loosely translated, this was polite-mech-pilot for "we have nothing further to discuss", and so, Vega returned his attention to his scroll, wondering if that same ship perhaps needed some hold space filled and could spare a bed aboard for those willing to work. He wasn't quite sure what use he'd be aboard a ship, but he had the size to be intimidating, knew a little around a kitchen, and all-else-being-equal was intimately familiar with the process of cleaning things.

[Achesia]

Spinning around Priscilla turned her attention to the several departure boards. The large digital screens was a layout of all the ships, their destinations, and any other relevant data. But under that miscellaneous column was the golden ticket that she had been sitting on the hard steel deck for days for, whether or not the ship need a pilot. Scanning the board Priscilla searched for the new listing Vega referred to, her eyes darting back and forth as the race to grab the job began. She hardly had time to notice the Curwin doing the same thing, surely looking to grab the job before her.

But as she stood with her hands in her utility pants, nervously tapping her thumbs on her hip bone as she scanned, she almost let out a yelp as she found the new listing amongst the hundreds of old ones.

“Freighter… no departure time… Airlock 15 agricultural cargo… needs pilot.” She whispered to herself as she read. But just as the excitement got to her. She saw the owl like Curwin make a dash for Airlock 15 to beat her to the job.

But Priscilla did not rush, she had her idea. Spinning around back to Vega, no clue or care that he had no interest in talking to her, the excited Priscilla bent down to his eye level (which was not far for her height) and blurted out the plan.

“Listen… uh Verga!” She wasn’t sure if that was right but she needed his attention fast. “That ship needs a pilot, and there is about a hundred of us here. But you need a ship. Its an agriculture ship so they usually have a ton of room if they ever have a prayer to make a profit. If you come with me, I can put in for the pilots position WITH a new job in tow for the ship… sort’a symbiotic!” She cheesily smiled hoping Vega would buy into it, else she just wasted a ton of time.

[Roania]

<change>

[New Dornalia]

The funny thing about places like Yokohama Station was that they tended to attract all kinds of people. Merchants. Beggars. Itinerant monk-pilots looking for a new part. Excitable pilots. So on. It wasn't too shocking to find that everyone and their cousin who needed to go somewhere from anywhere else stopped at a place like Yokohama first.

Amongst the teeming crowds and the busy environment, however, one man would stand out.

The man was certainly quite the character. He didn't look a day over twenty-one, and he had a wild, fresh-faced look in his eyes which seemed entranced by the sights around him with a spirit of bold curiosity. One would wonder how he could see anything from underneath his unusual hat, which was a wide-brimmed green creation made of felt with a sort of u-shaped peak in the middle perhaps more suited to cattle ranching or some other outdoorsy endeavor than a space station. For his part, the man seemed to notice this--he brushed up against someone who curtly shouted, "One side!" The man said, sheepishly and politely, with a mild twang to his voice likewise suited to a world of ranchers and legendary wanderers, "Sorry, man." He adjusted the wide hat, focusing in on the mission ahead.

Other parts would stand out about him too. To begin, he was wearing a hunter-green uniform of some sort. It had a decidedly militaristic cut about it, with a Sam Browne belt, four front pockets and trousers--all made of a rip-stop modern material, but with an old school look about it. His boots were a bit more modern, and their shape suggested they were veterans of a long journey. The man had a large backpack on his back, which seemed to dwarf him a bit even as it seemed strangely small for something of its ilk. However, if he felt any strain from the bulk of the thing, he didn't say a word and seemed to bear the backpack with great patience. Attached to the side of the pack was a shovel and a bedroll, and a tube which came out of it which came out at shoulder level. The man picked up the tube, and putting it into his mouth, seemed to suck on it. Water came out and refreshed, he put it back where it was.

The man seemed to be wandering for some reason, until he walked up to the arrivals and departures board. He smiled, and muttered to himself, "This here's the place." Looking around, his expression lost its luster and he sighed. The flight he had arranged to get to the next destination on his Fieldwork List was cancelled. The only ones he could find were to New Itta Bena--not quite the destination of choice, as he had just come from there--and the other worlds in the MSA he had already visited. Then, he sniffed the air, and closed his eyes for a moment. He felt some kind of disturbance in the Force, and he sniffed the air to figure out where it was. Wouldn't be easy to tell among the teeming masses, but hey--he had been taught at the Temple and he was on a major "field work" project for a reason. Well, sort of.

After all, he, Mr. Paul McClintock, Novitiate of the Order of the Vanguards lately of the Temple of New Hong Kong, New Chicago County, had to get the know the people after all, whom he would be defending and assisting as an Orderman. The Order prided itself on serving the people, and not lording over them just because they had powers. He then turned about, and opened his eyes. He could sense in the far distance, a man with a large container at his hip and a very loud, young woman eager for adventure. He also could perhaps sense a fortuitous opportunity coming up.

Looking over where the two were, McClintock decided to follow them. After all, what was the worst that could happen? As such, he approached the two and made his presence known with a simple, "Howdy. You folks look like you're going places. Mind if I come with?" Bowing slightly and extending his hand in greeting, the man said, "Name's McClintock. Paul McClintock, Novitiate, Order of the Vanguards. I'm travelin' about for research and I don't bite none."

[Enso and Mu]

"If you think it will help your odds, feel free to recommend me to her," Vega said, in standing. "But I doubt very much she'd both be flying in a direction I care to go and be looking for a new hire."

It wasn't impossible. He had plenty of leads to go on, and was on the point of pondering them when he noticed the traditionalist backpacker approaching them. His mood warmed considerably, to see the other. Likewise, Vega too was dressed in a manner considered dated and outmoded by some. Having little else to wear, he made due with the close-fitting and simplistic saffron trousers and shawl common among Sohei of his race. He wore no sandels - no need - and most of his posessions existed tucked into his sash, though these were few enough that it was probable he had more luggage stored somewhere, perhaps with his shipping container.

He had not, after all, expected to leave the station at this very moment. He returned the kind stranger's bow more fully and formally, but, with hands as taloned as his feet, did not grip the man's hand. "Satoshi Vega," he replied, in the usual mujin fashion of giving the family name first. "Sohei-Captain of the Red Enso Society. It certainly doesn't bother me if you came along."

He didn't look to priscilla, or further confirm the point. Frankly, he didn't much care if she approved his itinerary. In fact, he was half hoping either she would be hired and his business rejected, or the inverse. Just because he was a warrior in a garden, that didn't mean he couldn't do a little weeding on the side...

[Roania]

It was no easy thing, being a merchant captain. Especially not one who dabbled in the, shall we say, unusual. Maein didn't think she was in trouble. Her contacts had all panned out and everyone had treated with her honestly. That didn't mean she was not cautious. But caution could not be confused for paranoia. Paranoia would make her twitchy. Twitchy would draw the wrong kind of attention. The attention could lead to customs officials taking second and third looks. Not that there was anything for them to see, now. But principle, and practice.

So the woman sat outside her docking station, drinking a local tea and reading. She was beautiful, perhaps. In an (absolutely) unearthly sense. She was young. Or perhaps she merely looked young. But not too young. She could have been a girl in the first flush of womanhood, or a woman playing a girlish part. It was difficult to say; she was youthful, but ageless. Her eyes, first tilted towards her book, now following security, then glancing towards other captains and locks, revealed nothing. They were deep pools, highly reflective and set in a face too perfect to be human, and too inhuman to be truly perfect.

But then, she was still beautiful. Perhaps more as art than woman, though in this environment resplendent femininity drew attention regardless of its source. She smiled beautifully. Like the flash of a firefly's first glow, or distant summer lightning. You could not catch her smile, but its aftermath remained. And she was elegant. Her every movement was controlled, and not a one was unnecessary. The tea barely quivered in her glass as she sipped it, and not a drop dared to spill.

Of course, perfect poise, a mask of tranquility... these were the stock-in-trade of Imperial Reixanxi, whatever their origins. They were literally schooled in it, and from an early age. And as a woman... beauty was in one's carriage and in one's style, not merely in one's appearance. That was taught, and taught well. Even a renegade and a rogue could not break these habits, even if she wanted to.

Inside, though, she was seething. It was one thing to think that sharing a ship alone made her somehow open to advances. It was quite another for him to decide that her (polite, kind, gentle) refusal was grounds for departing her employ. And, worse, to make a mess of her cockpit? To sabotage her controls? To defile her kitchen? Faint lines appeared around Maein's eyes, her brow furrowed. This would not stand... is what she wanted to say. Is what she would have said, had she the time and resources to pursue her former employee. But let it be. People find their own level, or so the sages taught. He would try his game on someone less forgiving and less in need of his services, and serve him right.

It left her with a mess, but... well...

Another smile flashed. The wrinkles faded. Peace reigned once more. All would be well.

[Achesia]

Vega’s callous attitude was beginning to rub on Priscilla’s anxiety to get free from Yokohama. Her fierce drive to find some path of escape rubbing up against his slow and methodical assessment of seemingly numerous options almost made her want to scream. While Priscilla may be a hot head, she also have some sensibilities, and while her eyebrow would twitch as she forced a smile, she kept her calm in this moment as for now he was her biggest chip in the pocket.

It had been a few moments since she put in her bid to be the pilot of the ship at Airlock 15. She needed to make it down there before more ravenous pilots decided they would underbid the freighter and easily steal Priscilla’s chances. In her mind however, she was willing to almost work for free to get off this crows nest, lord only knows she did when she worked on the RAVAGER in less than ideal circumstances. But all the squawking was driving her insane as the Curwin stepped about like hens. But as another voice appeared behind her, she was all but ready to rush off.

The simple garb of the traveler walking up on Priscilla and Vega set her aback for a moment as she stared uncaringly as she wondered if this guy thought he was going on some sort of hiking trip. While he introduced himself she looked over him queerly, but decided telling him to scram would do nothing but piss her golden ticket, Vega, off as she seemed more interested in the new guy than her.

Wondering how half cocked the both of them were, Priscilla nodded and swiftly introduced herself before moving around him to grab her back still sitting on the floor.

“Ya, Priscilla, freighter pilot.” She said briskly as she brought her bag to the two boy’s feet. “Sure you can join us.” She said in a unsure tone. At the very least another passenger to offer to this freighter might illustrate how well she could bring in business. But something also told her she was going to need to sleep with her blaster under her pillow tonight less these boys got any ideas.
“Ok… watch my bag… I’m going to go talk to that freighter… don't… go… anywhere…” She jutted out her palms to them as if she was trying to freeze them in place. After she felt comfortable that she illustrated her point to them, she turned and made a dash for Airlock 15.

It was down the long corridor, past a makeshift bazar full of feathered hats and dumb shit that birds ate, through a myriad of lighted walls meant to scan incoming persons for infectious diseases as they disembarked their crafts, and further past 14 other airlocks until she found it… airlock 15. Outside of it sat a young girl who looked to be about her own age, black hair, very pretty. She was sipping tea no less, looking at the passers by as she surely was waiting to get the pilot position on the freighter, just like Priscilla.

Unsure of the situation, Priscilla walked up to the airlock, past the girl and looking around the hatch for some sort of communications button to the ship. She didn't want to just walk in, it would be rather rude and she had seen people shot for less. But yelling down the airlock of the ship seemed like a safer option.

Unabashedly knowing that the girl behind her was calmly sipping tea, Priscilla cupped her hands around her mouth and projected her voice into the ship.

“Hello, Uh, my name is Priscilla! I put in for the pilot job!” She stood waiting for a reply.

[Roania]

The soft clink of porcelain on porcelain. The even softer fold of a book, closed. The brush of air on skin as a body turned. "Good afternoon" It was not a girl's voice, though it wasn't particularly low in timbre. Maein was at Priscilla's arm, the ghost of a smile haunting her face. One hand snaked between Priscilla and the door. "Please step away from my ship, Priscilla." The other hand rested on a holster that had not been visible a moment before. "I do not appreciate loud noises and shouting any more than I appreciate being walked past as though I am not here." The Reixan narrowed her eyes, and her hair brushed itself back behind her sharply pointed ears. "I am Dasal Maein, Ship-Mistress of the Freighter Dok-Shifa. You are a pilot?"

She did not wait for an answer, instead pointing towards her old table. "Sit." In three steps, she was upon her chair once more. Another tea cup joined hers, and a carafe lifted itself at a gesture, pouring a hot steaming liquid for Priscilla on its own. "Drink. I will talk, first, and you will listen." She sipped her tea, paused, and began, after an appraisal of the other female. "Standard rate, plus 8%. I am prepared to extend 1/4 credit on salary now, with the remainder upon successful completion of the contract. Early termination, and I will deduct the cost of finding a replacement from this sum. On board my vessel, I will provide room and board with no cost. I am not an excellent cook, but I had some training. Beyond my skills, of course, you may purchase other goods to lighten the monotony. My employees are responsible for their own lodgings in port under normal circumstances, should they not wish to remain on ship when we are docked. For injuries sustained in the course of their duties, I accept full liability. Otherwise, I will pay them off, minus the termination fee, and deposit them at the next station. As you know, this is a business where I cannot afford to wait overlong. I am in competition with millions of people, if not billions. "

Another sip of her tea. "My cargo is my business. I'm sure you know how that works. As are any duties, port fees and local laws. I will not ascribe responsibility to you, if you do not seek it yourself." She placed her teacup down. "Now. Priscilla. Why should you be my pilot?"

[Enso and Mu]

Vega quirked a brow at being made a servant, and frowned the whole time the young woman was leaving. For a moment, he was tempted to leave her bags behind. That would do nothing other than to inconveience her out of spite, though, and while he was not without spiteful influences, he liked to think he was above acting upon them.

Carefully, he stooped, scooping the bag up together with his own (rather small) bag, which turned out to have been tucked beneath his seat all the time. There, he looked to the Orderman, as he shouldered his bag and figured out the best way to carry the others.

"We'd best keep as close to her as polite," he said. "I have a feeling this one is so impulsive she'd forget she promised us to the captain as bait, and leave without us."

As they walked, the Sohei dropped some coins into the bowl of a beggar sitting near the doorway to this particular airway wing, and looked over his shoulder to the Dornian. "What brings an Orderman way out here? I didn't think we had much in the Sphere that fell into your wheelhouse."

[SF n F]

OOC: It is traditional to mark a thread as "closed" in its header when those in it are not accepting new participants. I will not waste my time, as was put to me, trying to rehabilitate the idiocy and rudeness of those who put it to me, but I WILL point it out.

[The Archregimancy]

OOC: It is traditional to mark a thread as "closed" in its header when those in it are not accepting new participants. I will not waste my time, as was put to me, trying to rehabilitate the idiocy and rudeness of those who put it to me, but I WILL point it out.

*** Warned for flaming and spamming. ***

Please cease and desist.

My apologies to other thread participants for not simply deleting the post in question; but I thought a formal warning was warranted, which required leaving the post in situ.

[Enso and Mu]

To be fair, I was a tad curt.

[New Dornalia]

Vega quirked a brow at being made a servant, and frowned the whole time the young woman was leaving. For a moment, he was tempted to leave her bags behind. That would do nothing other than to inconveience her out of spite, though, and while he was not without spiteful influences, he liked to think he was above acting upon them.

Carefully, he stooped, scooping the bag up together with his own (rather small) bag, which turned out to have been tucked beneath his seat all the time. There, he looked to the Orderman, as he shouldered his bag and figured out the best way to carry the others.

"We'd best keep as close to her as polite," he said. "I have a feeling this one is so impulsive she'd forget she promised us to the captain as bait, and leave without us."

As they walked, the Sohei dropped some coins into the bowl of a beggar sitting near the doorway to this particular airway wing, and looked over his shoulder to the Dornian. "What brings an Orderman way out here? I didn't think we had much in the Sphere that fell into your wheelhouse."

McClintock took in the events since he met Vega and Priscilla. Vega he could deal with. He was calm, orderly, and polite. Were Vega a human, McClintock would have seen the doppleganger of his Sensei, the one they called "Sensei Don." A man whose reserves of calm and patience for teaching Basic Spiritual Focusing courses was matched only by his gentlemanly nature. McClintock had a good feeling that this guy had his act together, although he did wonder why a mendicant needed to hitch a ride on a freighter....or why he carried a crate with him. Sensei Rodrigues would be asking McClintock to get curious and investigate.

Priscilla meanwhile reminded McClintock of his little sister at home--the one who had a habit of raising more hell than a group of drunken soccer hooligans. His sister could be that loud, and quite impulsive as Vega was concerned about. If Priscilla was the same way? She'd be trouble. McClintock wondered privately if Priscilla indeed had what it took to fly this rustbucket--especially since the management was demanding the same thing.

The Orderman could only nod at the idea to Vega, saying after he sniffed the air, "Sounds about right. I'm sensing that she's got a lot going on." His tone suggested a bit of concern at their teammate, hoping that she didn't get them killed. As for the Sohei's question, McClintock laughed and said, "Well, Sohei-Captain Vega, it's because I'm doing "fieldwork" right about now. Order wants all of its students to go into the community to work with the people, get to know those who we're gonna be using all these powers for. So, for new guys like me--hence the rank Novitiate--we're required to do go out into the real world, and do activities and document them, preferably doing something important for people. Kind of a requirement for new people, but if we do it, we can get promoted to the rank of Orderman 3rd class.

A lot of people do it in different ways. Some teach inner city students. Some go to hospitals. Some even engage in manual labor at some logging camp somewhere or go on a cattle drive. In my case, well, I've got a little bit of money, so I figured I'd get in some fieldwork through wandering the Universe learning about new people and doing good, write about my experiences. That sorta thing. I mean, I haven't been to the MSA before, so I figured 'Why not?' And you fellas certainly have an interesting thing going on here, given what I've seen and written about to Sensei Krupp back home. At the very least, I haven't seen a place with so much mecha besides maybe Fort Irwin, on Dornie Earth."

McClintock also noticed the other woman--Maein, her name was? She was certainly shouting loudly enough for his hearing to pick it up--and noted she certainly had something distinct about her. At the very least, McClintock felt through the Force and witnessing her method of interviewing Priscilla that she wasn't to be trifled with. The mixture of tense, annoyed questioning combined with Maein's rather distinct looks--nobody could miss someone that stood out like a diamond in the rough--held McClintock's attention, and he whispered to the Sohei-Captain, trying to be as clear as possible and subtle as possible, without causing Maein to notice, "Figure something happen to her recently to get her actin' like that?"

[Achesia]

As soon as she heard the clanking of teacup and spoon Priscilla had realized she messed up. Knowing full well her propensity to jump into a situation with only momentum propelling her, Priscilla cursed herself under her breath before turning to face her prospective boss. Wiping off the standard straight face of determination she wore like a flag, Priscilla donned her smile of charismatic appeal to try and earn her way off this dump full of hens.

“Priscilla….” She was stopped mid sentence as she was whisked off to a table near the airlock. Surely this “Ship’s Mistress” was rather domineering, but Priscilla certainly had dealt with some strong personalities I’m her day aboard more than a few freighters. Though having a woman… girl… female person as a captain would certainly be new to her. Priscilla looked over Maein as discreetly as she could, while a much greener Priscilla would have questioned why such a young girl was captain of a ship, the Priscilla with some experience under her belt that sat here today knew that space offered up a lot of mysteries, the smallest of which was the deception of age and appearance.

As a tea cup was thrust in front of her by her prospective employer she nodded her thanks as Maein rambled on. Taking a few sips she listened to the black haired she-being as she tried to read between the lines to figure what Maein was all about. Captains often talked a lot of talk, but something Priscilla was quickly realizing about her line of work was that words were wind, and while it may blow north today, it could go south tomorrow. Priscilla would rather work for someone she found genuine, but of course that was in ideal conditions when she wasn't stuck on this station.

Standard rates, ¼ up front, termination fees, contracts… it was all wind to Priscilla in this moment. The young blonde girl as she wiped away a golden bang from her eyes was eager to just leave this station. Maein could say she wasn’t going to pay her for a month and she would jump at the chance to leave. Plus while brisk and rather stern, Maein didn’t strike her as such a bad person, but the jury was still out on whether she could trust her fully. Trust was not something that came easy for Priscilla, it was the main reason she put up such a bold and aggressive face to most people. Experience had taught Priscilla to never show weakness. And when inhabiting such a small and delicate frame that the short and petite blonde girl did, she had to compensate somehow.

In talking to another woman though Priscilla could tell Maein was forced to act similarly, so in that regard Priscilla understood her. Moving forward in these negotiations, she thought it best to bow to the domineering tea sipping personality across from her. So as it was finally her turn to speak, Priscilla donned her charm once more and took a deep breath.

“Well, I am an experienced pilot, don’t let the young age fool you. In the past 3 years I have been a mechanic and co-pilot on 3 medium sized freighters, and pilot on 2.” She didn’t include her time on the Ravager, best not to speak about that. “I’m a self starter, I love piloting and mechanic work, and I’m good in a tight spot. I can be discreet, I can be energetic, I am what you want to be.” Priscilla looked over her shoulder this moment as she made a habit of doing. It was then she saw Vega and the strange Orderman walking up, and then was her chance.
“And while I wont ask anything about your cargo that isn’t my business, I do also find myself pretty handy in finding business. In fact I have two passengers, one of which has a bit of cargo, who are willing to pay well to get off this station if you are interested.” Priscilla finished her sentence and cleared her throat. Only her charming smile was left as she waited and prayed she got the job.

Behind her the cawing of random curwin could be heard as the hustle and bustle continued around them. Priscilla could only hope she would soon be rid of that noise.

[Roania]

"Hm." Maein contemplated Priscilla's pretty speech and her claims. "I have yet to tell you where I am heading, and you have yet to be hired for the job." She sipped her tea, thoughtfully, nothing in her dark eyes giving a hint as to her thoughts. "The Dok-Shifa is a cargo freighter, not a passenger vessel, and while I have the space for more crew, I am not in the habit of taking passengers." Especially not men, who would have nothing to do but stare at her and be bored while on the freighter. She did not find the company of the human to be particularly appealing. The curwin... was interesting, but ultimately irrelevant. Hmph.

"Very well. You will serve as my new pilot." Maein placed the teacup back on its saucer. "Now." The woman rose to her feet and closed her eyes for another moment. "I will speak to our passengers. You? Go and get your tools and equipment, and meet me here when you have all you need. If you must make purchases, then inform the merchant that I will speak for your payment. You have one hour, Priscilla." With that, she dismissed the other girl from her presence and her mind.

Instead, she stood for a moment, appraising the two males with a sidelong gesture. She did not trust the Curwin, not considering her recent business in Mujin Space. Her track was too clean for his presence to be related, but who knew how they would think? His equipment meant nothing to her. She was a freighter pilot, not a student of militaries. He must have the cargo, though. He certainly seemed more burdened than the human. Well.

It was expected for the men to introduce themselves, and she said nothing until they did, however they chose to. She did not offer her hand, or accept an offered one, though unlike many Roanians she did not stare at the offered fingers as though they were some sort of weapon.

"I am Maein." She turned to face them, now letting them appraise her. Though her face retained its alien quality, its expression lightened somewhat. She would not be losing money, she would not be losing time. All had become well. "Ship-Mistress of the Dok-Shifa. You will forgive me my haste, I have already been here far longer than I intended and I have no time to spare for formalities." Still, she rested her left hand in her right hand, and held both directly below her breast, bowing her head and shoulders forward lightly. She focused her gaze on the Curwin, examining him from feathered head to clawed feet. "You have the cargo spoken of? I am carrying a light load to Marston City. I would be glad to carry you and your cargo to that port, if that is your desire. But I do not take passengers. There is always work to be done on board a ship, and if you were to board mine, then you will have a hand in it. In exchange, I will..." Her eyes flickered down to her hand, reading something that appeared on her palm. "Halve my usual rates for your cargo. Quarter them, if you will accept half-rate pay. If this acceptable to you, then I will add your name and cargo to my manifest. Otherwise, I wish you a good wind."

"As for you." Her eyebrow quirked upwards, and she squared her body toward McClintock. Him, she gave a longer, far more appraising glance. "You don't seem the usual traveler in these parts. But that you are here speaks well. At least, it speaks well of your opinion of yourself." She held a hand to her mouth and laughed. It was nothing like the tinkling of bells, though there was that same elfin quality that comes to that phrase. "As I told your... companion, I do not take passengers. I will take you on as crew, if you wish to go to Marston City. So long as you mind yourself." This last part was said with unusual firmness.

[Enso and Mu]

"On the contrary," Vega would respond, with an ancilliary bow, "I would be happy to work my keep. We sohei are not given to idleness. Rots the brain, as it were."

He searched his mind. Marston was not horrifically far out of his way. It had not been specifically mentioned in Shibata's journals, but it was on the way to a few places that were, and a decent transit hub besides. The Carbourne's wings settled, a bit more cowl-like, about his shoulders, taloned arms vanishing beneath them. "Marston will suffice. My cargo is simple - one standardized shipping container. I had my machine palletized for long-distance travel before I began my journey and the customs seals on the container are still intact. It's held at quay eighty-seven, row eight, stack six. I'll eat the loading fee and any related customs charges for it, in addition to your rates, of course."

He thought, a moment longer, before nodding again. "Would you be willing to hold aside the issue of whether to half my wages underway until you have told me how, exactly, I am to be put to work? If it's manual labour I'd be happy to accept half pay, but if it's something more esoteric."

He listened to her offer to McClintock, as well, and twigged to the understanding. Red Enso ships were still, in this day and age, segregated by gender for the very reason he now suspected for his host's bad mood. IN a way, he felt guilty. He had blamed Priscilla.

In and out, old boy. Just breathe.

[New Dornalia]

"As for you." Her eyebrow quirked upwards, and she squared her body toward McClintock. Him, she gave a longer, far more appraising glance. "You don't seem the usual traveler in these parts. But that you are here speaks well. At least, it speaks well of your opinion of yourself." She held a hand to her mouth and laughed. It was nothing like the tinkling of bells, though there was that same elfin quality that comes to that phrase. "As I told your... companion, I do not take passengers. I will take you on as crew, if you wish to go to Marston City. So long as you mind yourself." This last part was said with unusual firmness.

McClintock was slightly confused by Maein's emphasis on the last line. The Novitiate had always been raised to be polite to womenfolk around him, and any lessons learned previously were reinforced by the Order's training on how both men and women could make a difference in the world around them. Of course, it didn't help that McClintock could notice that Maein was sizing him up for whatever reason. He wondered what was the matter--did he do something to cause offense? Had he simply compounded prior annoyance with another source of annoyance? After all, Maein didn't shake hands and wasn't in the mood for it. Of course, it hit McClintock at that moment that Maein might not have taken the stares too well--momma had told him not to stare at people or things or people with things.

One thing was for sure. McClintock could feel something poke at him, feel him out mentally. It was almost like those tests he had to undergo in Sensei Rogerson's Psychic Defense lessons--like someone was probling his mind. It wasn't Vega for sure, the aura was a bit off. Hell, he wasn't too sure if it was actually a mental probing or if he was just nervous.

Either way, McClintock nodded and said, with a smile to get his composure back, "Well, sure, ma'am. You'll have no problems from me, I can assure you of that. And I don't mind workin' if that's what it takes to come along." Part of McClintock did wonder what he was getting into--but part of McClintock also was looking forward to this. Yeah, they were technically heading back into the Republic--Marston City being within the "FTL-Over COuntry" of New Kazakhstan. But hey, a journey was a journey and he was out and about exploring. No rule against that, right?

[Achesia]

A long wave a relief fell over Priscilla as her soft skin returned to a normal flesh tone form being pale with anticipation. Finally she had got her chance to make it off of Yokohama Station after weeks of being stranded here sitting on the steel deck waiting for her getaway.

Standing up Priscilla would partially extend her hand to shake her new bosses’. However she quickly retracted it as she realized her new captain was more of the bowing type. She lowered her head and averted her eyes, not being familiar enough with Roanian culture if they were more eye contact or not so much kind of people.

After her deep bow of gratitude for employment, she popped tall at the end of Maein’s speech about getting ready. She adjusted the trim of her white shirt down as it rose abit above her belt and showed a sliver of the light skin of her hip and stomach.

“I have everything I need in my two bags. Personal effects, tools, and all.” She smiled to Vega who had brought her bags with them as they followed her.

She didn't really intend for them to come so soon, would have been messy if Maein didn’t want company. And still part of her didn’t feel warm and fuzzy that she wanted it still. But surely the lure of extra money for the ship helped.

“So I am ready when you are Cap’... Ma’am… Mistress?” She mused about titles for a moment as she graciously grabbed her bag from Vega. He would notice her demeanor more warm and welcoming after being calmed by the new job offer.

As she waited for Maein to address the boys, Priscilla finally had a moment to access the newcomer, McClintock, as she previously was too rushed to bother. Looking him up and down from behind Maein, she felt like he was a bit different than most of the boys running around this station. An aura of inexperience surrounded him, which Priscilla found novel. But she also knew that inexperience could mean getting yourself or others around you killed. Hopefully Maein picked up on this and regulated him to moving boxes in the cargo hold. Priscilla would nevertheless have fun messing with McClintthingy as he strived to get his star-legs.

She waited near the airlock for her boss to finish her business and give her first orders.