[FT/TG]Journey of a Thousand Lightyears

[Roania]

"Hm." Maein reached up and touched one of the pointed tips of her ears. "...very well." The Reixan considered all her options, spread out before her like cards on the table. After a moment, she hook her head. "Vega, then? If your name is known on this station, then I accept your offer and thank you for it. Otherwise, my intention is to be underway as soon as possible, and I will eat the charges on my local accounts. Mention my name, and there should be no further trouble." She'd worked hard enough to establish a reputation in this sector, and her credit should be good on something as small as it was being described. "We should have space for a standard shipping container in the primary hold. I leave its stowage to your discretion; I carry nothing in there that will be damaged should it shift." Though she didn't exactly say what she was carrying. "Have me informed if there is any trouble, and I will resolve it."

This left...

"Priscilla." Maein spoke as one who expected to be obeyed. "I hope you are familiar with a standardized ZMI generational cockpit." She lifted her hand to the airlock, and it opened for her, without even needing to be touched or controlled. "My understanding is they are simple to learn, and if you have piloted one, you will find the transition to another simple enough."

The Dok-Shifa was a Capri-Space yacht, one painted a sort of navy blue. The airlock opened and closed behind them, though Maein left an instruction for the gate to open when Vega returned. "Welcome to the Dok-Shifa." For all that it was a yacht, it wasn't particularly fancy. On board, the interior was largely bare of decoration or of furnishings. "These are my quarters." Maein said, pointing to the nearest door.

She made no move to open the door, instead stepping down the hallway and pointing to the left. "Priscilla May, your quarters are through there. I ask you to excuse their state. I have regular pilot quarters closer to the cockpit, but your predecessor..." For the first time, Maein faltered. Her neutral expression dropped like a stone. "I... I'm sorry. If you like, I'll leave you to get situated. Until Satoshi Vega has finished his work, we will not be departing." The woman opened the door. Inside was a fairly standard room. A faint hospital smell, probably predating Maein's ownership, still hung about. But it was clean, and the bed was well-made, if slightly dusty. There was a closet, and even a carpet upon the metal floor. Vega's room was, it transpired, next to it. McClintock...

"Paul McClintock. Come with me, please." She led him (And Priscilla, if she chose to accompany them) down the hallway. Along the way, she pointed out the galley and the break-room. There was a large security door at the end of the hallway, and another door next to it. "...Paul McClintock, your first duty is to clean this room." She didn't want to open it herself, but duty compelled her.

The room on the inside was a fair bit nicer than Priscilla's currently assigned room. The bed was larger, the floor was carpeted, and there were spaces for other furniture.

That other furniture had been hastily and roughly disassembled, and in such a fashion it would not be reassembled. The bed's clothing was missing, though from the looks of it someone had stuffed them into the restroom, somehow.With the door closed except for a part of the sheet sticking out around it, it was difficult to say. What was more important were the words and symbols written on the walls, in thick black paint. They were not pleasant words, nor did they speak well of the ship's owner, whose cheeks were fuming with either embarrassment or fury.

[Enso and Mu]

Vega bowed when he was left to his own devices, and quickly departed - he would not, therefore, be witness to either McClintock's incident or Priscilla's lecture, as he had taken the admonition for haste quite seriously. He hurried down the airlock "quay" as quickly as possible, back into the module which serviced all eight - the Harbourmaster's station.

There was no real need for queuing - he was by all rights allowed to make use of the Military/Governmental Services line, which was almost always empty - Yokohama being a backwater enough that it rarely serviced either the Red Enso Society or the Curwin Trade Fleet. The attendant clerk - a Curwin, naturally - looked up from whatever he was wasting time with on his terminal, clearly annoyed by the interruption to his cushy life of sloth. "... What do you want, Sohei?"
"Cargo transfer. Container 8807-3481 to be stowed aboard Dok-Shifa."
"... One container. You're sure this is army business?"
"You said it yourself: I am a Sohei. All my business is Society business."

The curwin nodded. "That'll only take a few minutes. Would you like to supervise the stowage personally?"
"Yes. Oh, one other thing..."

Vega's hand dipped into his sash, setting a few coins onto the desk. "Would you be so kind as to also transfer the contents of Locker 17-88-0801 to the same vessel?"

The curwin gave a low whistle. That was a lot of coin. "We're going to miss you, Satoshi Vega."

----

"What gives, Sohei, why'd you make us wait?"
"Special handling instructions for that container," Vega answered. "I want it installed with the opening end facing the hold's airlock. Don't add it to a stack, either."
"You sure? What's in this thing?"
"Multirole Armour. There's a reason I checked it out as military cargo."

Vega's thumb lovingly stroked the pilot module tucked into his belt like the sword-hilts of ancient history. "Notify me on this frequency when you are done loading."

With that, he turned, and left up the ramp to join his ship.

[New Dornalia]

"Paul McClintock. Come with me, please." She led him (And Priscilla, if she chose to accompany them) down the hallway. Along the way, she pointed out the galley and the break-room. There was a large security door at the end of the hallway, and another door next to it. "...Paul McClintock, your first duty is to clean this room." She didn't want to open it herself, but duty compelled her.

The room on the inside was a fair bit nicer than Priscilla's currently assigned room. The bed was larger, the floor was carpeted, and there were spaces for other furniture.

That other furniture had been hastily and roughly disassembled, and in such a fashion it would not be reassembled. The bed's clothing was missing, though from the looks of it someone had stuffed them into the restroom, somehow.With the door closed except for a part of the sheet sticking out around it, it was difficult to say. What was more important were the words and symbols written on the walls, in thick black paint. They were not pleasant words, nor did they speak well of the ship's owner, whose cheeks were fuming with either embarrassment or fury.

McClintock was having a decent enough tour at first. Despite being a cargo hauler--and McClintock did note she didn't mention the type of cargo, nor would he have really any reason to ask about it at the moment--it seemed to be decently equipped with crew comforts. The part about Maein's credits--social and otherwise--were more noticeable to McClintock anyway. Evidently, she had done business here before to be so trusted by the local merchants and other sorts. Clearly, he was in good hands--well, well connected ones anyway.

Then, Maein commanded Paul to follow, and sure enough, he did. He wondered what was with Maein's unusual pause back when he was talking to Priscilla. The Orderman--even with his comparatively basic powers at the moment, given that he was a Novitiate and thus effectively new meat--could sense some sort of disturbance on Maein's part. The feeling that something was disturbing Maein would only get worse as he approached the designated room. When she threw open the door to reveal the situation within, McClintock's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. The last tenant had effectively trashed the room and written graffiti that had, judging by Maein's looks, were rather offensive to her personally.

McClintock looked about, and nodded. The room was nice enough, except for the trashed room. He did promise to put in some labor on this ship, even if the task looked daunting due to rather extensive damage. It would make for interesting field work at any rate. After all, this was a situation where his powers might come in handy to reduce the workload on his hands. After all, if nothing else, he could make himself a pot of coffee, like Old Man Young made on the range so long ago, to keep awake as he did all that scrubbing and mopping.

Turning to Maein, McClintock asked, nodding as he figured there'd be plenty of time to do the cleanup and looked at the damage, "Seems to be quite a mess--nothing I can't handle though. Before I start--where do you keep the cleaning supplies?"

[Achesia]

Priscilla silently noted to herself the seriousness of her new boss’ deminor on a consistent basis. Priss couldn't quite picture herself being that uptight on a constant basis, but part of her could understand having to be that way as she was a lone girl in space just like her. Specially since Maein looked to be even younger than Priscilla, though to a third party little difference could be seen. The blonde hair girl would silently shoulder her bags and follow her employer onto the Dok-Shifa, listening and observing the state of the ship.

It was important for a pilot to get a feel for her charge before stepping behind the controls. While Priscilla was familiar with the Capri model of space yacht, this one obviously had seen its share of time and strains in deep space. It was certainly long past being a luxury liner. However as they approached and opened Priscilla’s new quarters, she was reminded that from deck to overhead this ship while not shiney was far better than some of the scum pots she had been subjected to. Peering around the hatch into her cabin a small smirk would leave her thin pink lips as she was grateful to finally have a bed and four walls to herself. It was the first time in who knew how long.

“Thank you mistress.” She said to Maein, even indulging her in the title she so wanted to be called. But only out of gratitude this time because the world almost grinded her throat as she said it. Such an unnatural word that she had only heard uttered in some compromising situations. But whatever floats Maeins boat… or space freighter, Priscilla thought to herself as she dropped her bags next to the foot of her new bed and followed McClinthingy on his tour of the ship.

He was not getting as welcoming of a tour as she was, but it was nice to know where the galley was and where also she could take a break when she could.

As they witnessed the other set of quarters that was in major disarray from some sort of misdeed, Priscilla was starting to get a full picture as to while Maein was so guarded to all these new faces on the ship, specially why she could sense some sort of feeling of Maein being threatened by her. While Priscilla put on a tough face for the crowd, she did carry with her some empathy.

“If you don’t mind I am going to go look at the engine room and then make my way to the flight deck for pre-flight checks.” Priscilla said politely, much calmer than she was on the station. The stress of being unemployed behind her was evident in her tone. Surely if it was the last pilot that did that to the quarters, as Priscilla had been picking up with how Maein was acting, it would be best to check that the past pilot did not damage anything important Maein wouldn't have noticed.

Priscilla slipped away down the corridor to the engine room, praying that everything was still intact.

[Roania]

The ship's bay had more than enough space for the dock workers to load Vega's cargo. A section had been cleared out (maybe by these same men) less than a day ago, for transit across this region. Other cargo was labeled for distant worlds.

Onboard the ship, Maein was listening to something only she could hear. Her expression softened almost to the point of slackness, and she scratched her left wrist. She scratched the wrist of her left hand, which had tightened into a fist. But it only lasted for a bare minute, before a soft chime could be heard through the ship's sound system, followed by a quick series of High Rudanese words. Her face tightened up, and she looked to her new pilot. "Yes, I would appreciate this, Priscilla May. I do not know what I would be missing, but you are a mechanic. It would be best."

After Priscilla had vanished, Maein turned back to McClintock. "Paul McClintock, you will find the cleaning supplies in the left closet of the recreation room. At my last port of call, I had a full supply done, so please inform me if there is anything missing. I will have it obtained." She hesitated, but handed him a key anyway. "No room other than my quarters should be locked, but I may have locked up entirely when I left the ship earlier. Please return the key to me when you are ready. By then, I should have finished preparing quarters for you and Satoshi Vega." She cupped her hands below her breasts and bowed once more. "Thank you for doing this work. I cannot help you in this matter, weak as I am. I will see if Satoshi Vega is able to help you, but as he is also my employer, I would hesitate to give him such an order. I am sure you do understand. As Satoshi Vega is now walking through the airlock and approaching, I shall greet him."

She moved quickly away from that room. Doubtless she would not return that day at least. Instead, she walked to the airlock door and opened it a moment before Vega reached it. "Honorable Sohei, I welcome you to my ship. " This time, she bowed lower than before. She was now in much finer mood, and probably grateful even for the company of McClintock. "I have noted that loading is going well." She let him on board after greeting him and stepped to the side. "Your quarters will be down the hall and to the left, across from Paul McClintock's quarters. I did not expect more company than my new pilot, but I will have them ready before we depart." She walked him down the hallway, past Priscillas' quarters, and indicated the door that she said was his place. "It brings shame to me, considering how I trade amongst them, but I do not know much of your people. If I do not meet your needs or expectations, please inform me and I will have the work done." She bowed once more. "I thank you for your trade, Honorable Sohei."

He would receive the same tour as the others, possibly running into McClintock as they approached the rec-room. But his tour also ran by the hall leading to the cockpit, down which she did not venture. Instead, she continued on, past the turning where Priscilla had gone to the engine room. "This door provides internal access to the cargo monitoring system." She opened the door, revealing a large, clean room, whose only human(oid) touch was a book written in a series of runic characters upon the desk. There were a number of controls, some of them similar to a mech's control, others more shiplike. Maein, however, pointed to a second door at the far end of the room. "Through there, you may access the cargo, should you need to access it. It can only be opened from this side, though, unless you press..." She skimmed the series of controls and found a switch currently set to 'Access Denied'.

"Now, Paul McClintock has begun the work on cleaning up a... a..." her lips curled, as though she had been soiled, "a mess left behind by Priscilla May's predecessor. I am unable to attend to it myself, as I am but a weak woman. I am sure he would be grateful for your assistance, if you would be so kind as to give it." She smiled brightly, trying to make it seem more of a suggestion than an order.


The Engine Room seemed to be in good order. ZMI built its equipment to last, and to survive rough-handling, even on such a class as the Capri. It had certainly seemed to have been accessed, the light dust and ashes on the floor having been disturbed by someone with much larger feet than Maein. The actual drive, secure behind its armor and door, had been left untouched. Whoever the former pilot had been, he had had no death wish. Instead, a faint outline had been scratched on a wall near to the drive, revealing a hidden compartment. It had been jabbed at with something, as if to try to force it open, but it had held shut. It would stay shut no matter what Priscilla did, if she did anything.
Besides that, nothing seemed out of place.

There was a ladder with a simply written 'To the Flight Deck'.



The Recreation Room was also something of a mess, but there had been less to mess-up there. A set of screens, some mid-century ZMI game systems, and a single shelf of books. Someone had taken the time to turn the books out on the floor, but there was little else. This room also had nothing of Maein about it; There was nothing of the spartan, but feminine, manner that decorated the remainder of the ships, nor did the books seem likely to appeal to the Ship-Mistress. Instead, they were largely adventure stories and a haphazard collection of novels and technical manuals.

A single closely written piece of paper lay on the couch, in Galactic Standard English.

A quick read would reveal its writer had grown frustrated with his Ship-Mistress, who he described in physically flattering (but inappropriate) terms. He was sad that she had refused what may politely be described as 'taking him into partnership' And unhappy that she refused to 'share the merchandise', whatever that was, and whether or not that was a metaphor.

And he was terrified that the ship seemed to be haunted, a conclusion he had come to quite recently. That everything he tried (whatever it was he was trying) seemed to come to nothing, even though she seemed perfectly unaware. Either a confession, or a warning.

The supply closet was as well-stocked as Maein had said.

[Enso and Mu]

Vega returned the bow warmly. He enjoyed the rare blend of hospitality and practicality that Maein represented - it was mot wholly dissimilar to the practices of the Satoshi Carbourne, nor indeed the MSA as a whole. He was a bit formal in his manner, not wringing his taloned hands like the impudent Curwin did, but keeping them at his sides, fanning his wings just slightly as he bowed. "It is my pleasure, Ship-Mistress. Your aquescence to my strange request aids me more than you know."

Vega was handsom for his own kind - traits lost on most humans, like a firm, unworn beak and clear amber eyes. They suited his largely grey plumiage nicely.

As they set out on their tour, the Sohei gave McClintock a nod - the young esper no doubt sensing his general approval of the young man thus far. "For the time being, Shipmistress, it suits me just fine to work as you would have that young man work." Vega figured he could use the supervision. "Those were, after all, the terms I agreed to, and I would hope that you don't think it beneath a mere sohei."

He had however made careful not of the path he had been shown to the hold. He was tempted to ask her not to disturb his arrangement of the container nor obstruct the space between it and the airlock. But she seemed a wise woman who might have already seen his point in areanging it so, and either way... It was ultimately her ship.

[Achesia]

Tapping the hatch open panel the doors to the engine room opened with a hiss, a bit if steam circling the ceiling as the gap between the doors opened wide enough for Priscilla to walk through. They were thick doors, there for the protection of the crew in case of a explosion or depressurization of the engine room, so Priscilla was thankful that safety measures were still in place.

She had always been warned by those who bothered to mentor her and from her own experiences that in heavily modded ships, the Dok-Shifa a space yacht turned freighter for instance, some of the safety features meant to keep both ship and crew floating would happen to be stripped out. Whether it was laziness on part of the modder or lack of knowledge its never known, but as Priscilla stepped into the engine room, it was all quiet except for the redundant battery ebbing in the energy from shore power, she could see many of the safety features intact.

“Emergency coolant valves, redundant outflows….” She mumbled to herself as she traced the pipes and cables with her finger in the air. All of it checked out. A few things were scattered here and there, a tool left out or a panel half pried off the bulkhead, but the Dok-Shifa was still ship-shape to be flying. Whether or not Priscilla would be around her long enough to make it Priscilla-shape remained to be seen.

Stooping over the short girl picked up a few of the scattered tools and peice parts from the deck, it was best to have all gear secured less it fly into the engine if they hit a bump. She stowed them in the nearest container she could find, clearly some work would need to be done in here eventually, but if “Mistress” was at all serious about being in a hurry to leave port then there was little time to mess around and make things as tidy as Priscilla prefered them.

Hiking up her tight trousers, Priscilla mounted the ladder that led to the flight deck. She wanted to see these ZMI controls that Maein was touting, though from what she had heard from other pilots was that it was flight controls for dummies. Simplicity wasn’t always bad, but it was still important to have control over as much as she could from the flight deck.

Priscilla was not disappointed however when she reached the top of the ladder. Everything in the spacious flight deck which was about the size of the rec room seemed to be in order. A large canopy window adorned the front of the space, something Priscilla always loved as piloting from a screen in a room with four walls was always rather boring. Five chairs circled the room, all infront of different workstations, the standard layout on a ship this size. You had the pilot and co-pilots chairs behind the mass of ZMI controls and canopy, the communications chair in front of an array of sensor readouts and radar, the captains chair which sat behind a small station that jutted out from the starboard side of the flight deck, and an extra chair which featured redundant controls that could access a myriad of systems.

First thing Priscilla would do however was to plopping down in the pilot's chair and turn the rest of these stations to locked. No one else but her would need to be controlling anything, and it wasn’t like they would be doing anything complicated enough that she would need an extra set of hands to control. If it need Priscillas all the time at all she would be suprised.

“Switch to one player….” She jested as she tapped a few digital switches on the orange and cyan blue screen in front of her. It was an upside to the ZMI controls that she could manipulate how many persons would be controlling the ships systems, she supposed if Maein really wanted to sit in the captain or “mistresses” chair and control things she could, but from what Priscilla could make of her knowledge of her own ship, she figured that most would be left up to her.

“Lets see how you are feeling this morning hun.” Priscilla slide a few scales and hit a few digital buttons, each giving their own chime as she tapped away. Priscilla would run a few diagnostics on the ships systems, just to be sure everything was in order before she was given the command to push off.

“Diagnostic completion, five minutes.” The computer read back in a digital voice.

“Ah good.” Priscilla leaned back in the chair, slouching down. She took this moment to look out the canopy and admire the station that she had been stuck so long on, sitting in front of them as they rolled through space together. Soon both the Dok-Shifa and Priscilla would be detached from thus rust bucket...

[New Dornalia]

Entering the closet, Paul picked up some supplies--generic cleanser, a bucket, a mop, scouring pads, sonic thinguses, so on--and then proceeded to head back to the soiled room which Maein didn’t seem much interested in looking for the time being. Just what had her so spooked about the last guy? That must have been some falling out they had, Paul wondered to himself. He had grabbed a lot of supplies. It was fairly obvious that whatever the last person did, they were in what his father would call “a mood.” A particularly nasty one at that.

As Paul walked onwards, he passed Vega and gave him a polite nod and a simple, “Howdy.” The sohei still seemed to have his act together, and Paul was glad to have such a traveling companion.

As he wandered back towards the space which would be cleaned, he peeked over into the rec room. Evidently, this spot had been scuffed up by the irate crewman who had gone AWOL also. As he entered the room, Paul sniffed the air. Something was off about the place, and it wasn’t the materials inside. He closed his eyes, and for a brief moment, began to control his breathing to become one with the Force. Like any good Orderman, he was taught to regard his form as an antenna to the divine, so to speak, picking up any number of energies flowing through the galaxy and the universe even. And right now, his metaphorical antenna was picking up some bad juju. Opening his eyes, he wondered if the bad juju didn’t have anything to do with Maein’s AWOL crewperson.

Looking about, he saw a paper on the couch. Picking it up, he began to open it up, when he saw it looked like a page from someone’s diary. Paul gulped, and decided to put it back where it was a few seconds after opening it up to read it. He figured it was private--no need to pry. Putting the page down after folding it back up to the way it was, he walked into the room with the graffiti and began to clean things up.

If anyone came in, they would see him first put down his backpack, and pull out a small chair and what looked like a small metal coffee pot and a bag of coffee marked “Carstairs Bold Roast.” He would grab a small spoon, and put in some coffee grounds and then fill the pot with water. Then, putting the pot onto a heatresistant surface, he would clap his hands and close his eyes, breathing in and out before he extended his hand to the pot, as if to coax something within it. The pot would begin to bubble and boil soon enough, and the room would fill with the smell of coffee. After a few moments, Paul pulled out a small mug marked with the Order’s logo and then poured himself a cup. Downing it quickly, he then grabbed a scouring pad and some of the cleaning agent and then proceeded--after documenting the damage--to begin scrubbing off the offending text. Just like how his Sensei taught him. Wax on, wax off. With a bit more than that of course.

Of course, there would be a lot more to do, like cleaning up the rec room and also dealing with the heaps of garbage--which he began to sort mentally, moving the objects about telekinetically into those which could be put back together and which could not be (albeit a bit clumsily given his comparatively low experience), but needless to say that was why Paul had brewed a fresh pot of coffee. And if anyone needed any? Well, he’d offer it. Although he did wonder if Vega enjoyed coffee. More importantly, what was with that paper the guy or gal or whoever had left in the breakroom? And what was with that spooky feeling he had earlier?

Either way, Paul opened up his uniform and put the jacket aside to reveal a simple plain white t-shirt--no need to get it too dirty with caustic chemicals now--and began to work. This would take a while...

[Enso and Mu]

It would take what could charitably be described as a "while" for Vega to catch up with McClintock, though it wasn't sloth that kept him. Long years of practiced living had turned him into something of a perfectionist, and when he briefly retired to his cabin to change for manual work, it took him a few minutes to do so. He had to stow his bag - the size of his torso, although considerably narrower - after retrieving his change of clothes from it. He set aside the more formal tori-yukata, folded neatly, and stepped into loose trousers of a style popular among the rural polpulations of his people. Since walking around shirtless with humans was generally seen as poor taste, and the chemicals he was likely to work with were probably liable to stain, he also donned an apron-like tabbard that tied around his waste. Both garments were of plain, undyed cloth - the design of the tabbard was narrower at the back so the fabric could sit comfortably between his wings without bunching.

Satisfied he was now in a state to clean with a little dignity about the process, he dug his stainless-steel water bottle out of his backpack, tucked it into his sash, and stepped back out, leaving behind his datascroll and pilot module.

He hesitated at the door for only a moment. Realistically, they were moments away from being underway. The risk of any of his crewmates to his belongings was low - few could lie convincingly to an angry sohei, and fewer still, he hoped, were dumb enough to pilfer from shipmates when the roster was so small.

When he found McClintock he gave a slight, friendly bow, found himself a cloth, and proceeded to start attacking the unwanted paint with the same vigour he was sure the young man would have expected him to attack his combat drills.

[Achesia]

<Test complete>

The green text flashed on the screen in front of Priscilla as she sat with her hands folded behind her head for a long while. She had hardly noticed the notification as she stared out the canopy window at the glistening stars and lights of passing ships. This was the freedom she yearned for, to be amongst the stars and ion engines as they fluttered about the cosmos. No chains shackling her to the deck, only the controls in front of her and window to find her way by.

“Oh goodie.” She mumbled to herself as she saw the diagnostics came back clean. Maein kept a tight ship after all, most freighters would come back with some unusual error code that the crew could never seem the clear. It was usually dust on the sensor or a tangle in the LKGE cords near the outtakes. Priscilla had a knack for fixing things like that but she surely didn't need those skills today.

Instead all she had to do was wait for the order. It seemed like a long time had passed since the boarded the ship, though Priscilla certainly wasn't going to ask questions. Like the mistress said, her cargo, her schedule, her business.”

[Roania]

Maein did stop by the cockpit. "Excellent work, Priscilla May." She bowed, briefly. "I can see you did not misspeak. When you have received word that the hold is closed once more, you may begin our departure. It should not be more than 45 minutes." She tilted her head to the side, as if listening to someone else. "...30 minutes. I believe you will find our itinerary programmed into the machine. Inform me when you are ready, Priscilla May. I will be in my quarters." Maein walked back out of the cockpit, and down to the room where the two boys were busy with cleaning the wall. She watched, silently, feeling better as every bit of graffiti was removed. When they got to Marston, she'll have to see about replacing the furniture and repairs to the plumbing.

Not saying a word to interrupt them, she walked back out of that part of the ship and, presumably, vanished into her room.

[New Dornalia]

For his part, McClintock nodded, acknowledging the sohei with a polite nod and a simple, "There's coffee for y'all if you want some. One sec." Walking to his Bag of Tricks, the Orderman pulled out a small tube with what appeared to be cups thick enough to hold the hot liquid inside, putting them next to the pot of coffee and saying, "Of course, I forgot to put out cups. My apologies."

He then went back to cleaning off the graffiti. So far, the combination of the sohei's combatitive vigor and the enthusiasm of the young Orderman were doing effects upon the crude graffiti. The Orderman couldn't help but think about what the note he had read said. Was the man who wrote the note in the rec-room the same man who trashed this place? Given the tone of the graffiti, McClintock wouldn't've been surprised if they were one and the same. Something had driven the last guy off the ship. Was it a lovers' quarrel? A malevolent force? Frankly, it was too early to tell and a bit beyond his ken. Either way, it was not pleasant to think about, and he decided to distract himself with some discussion.

As he moved to apply some more cleaning solution to the walls, McClintock asked the Sohei, "So, I don't mean to pry. But I couldn't help but notice y'all were moving that crate around. What's it do?" He had a feeling the crate was important, but as he wasn't exactly party to the discussion of how it was military cargo--and it wasn't Maein's cargo, which he had a nagging feeling she wasn't going to discuss--the Orderman felt asking Vega wouldn't hurt. Besides, they had plenty of time before getting to Marston City. Plenty of time to chat and plenty of time to get the essential tasks done.

[Enso and Mu]

It so happened that McClintock's question came at the very moment Vega reluctantly admitted to himself he could use the coffee, and had stepped to fill a cup of it. The delicacy with which he held the cup in his talons may have been surprising to those not used to dealing with Carbourne, the Satoshi in particular.

He sniffed at the coffee gently, enjoying it with as many senses as possible, if he was going to waste time in drinking it. "The crate? Oh, my shipping container. It's a set of MAP mobile armour. The sort of thing I typically pilot."

He leaned, for a moment, on a clean spot on the wall. "I wanted it positioned so that I could deploy the armour if necessary. That model's designed for close-in interdiction."

The coffee drank, he'd set the cup where he could find it later, picked up his brush, and set back to work.

[Achesia]

It had been a good while since Maein had given Priscilla her orders to depart after the cargo was loaded. Though in her mind the time spent in the pilot seat was all that mattered. With her legs up over the armrest laying sideways in the pilot's chair, Priss watched the belly of a large Nakada Foundation freighter slowly lurch over them.

A queer chime began emanating from the console in front of her, a flashing symbol on the digital screen begging to be touched. Priscilla sat up straight, she wasn’t sure what it was about, still getting used to all the bells and dings of the Dok-Shifa, but the tone of it didn’t seem too ominous so she tapped it without hesitation.

<Bill of Lading, Dok-Shifa>

A message title appeared. Clearly the cargo was strapped in and ready to go. A quick scroll over the ships systems confirmed that all hatches were closed and secured, including the cargo’s bays. Turning her attention to the communications controls she hailed the station.

“Yokohama control, this is Dok-Shifa, we are switching from shore power to internal power and would like to request permission to depart.”

Tapping another button on the “outgoing communication panel” that appeared when she hailed the station, she put herself on mute as she knew that it would take a few moments for them to get back to her. In the meantime she flipped on the internal communications and her voice filled the decks of the ship.

“Cap…. Errrr...Ship-Mistress, we are now awaiting clearance to depart, should be underway in a few moments.”

Priscilla took one last look at the station, noting that she ever planned to look back on here. Soon she would be thousands of lightyears away and her thoughts never to return to Yokohama.

“Dok-Shifa…” The rough Curwin voice of the station controller echoed from the panel. “Dok-Shifa, you have permission to depart, stay wun-hundred and fifty degrees trajectory at point-wun light speed till you clear the security zone.”

Her small white hand flew up to the comms panel and she answered the station control back with muffled excitement.

“Aye control, Dok-Shifa releasing moorings, and pulling away.”

A large metallic noise could be heard throughout the ship as the docking clamps released the freighter. And soon the maneuvering thrusters pulled her backwards and away from the station.

Priscilla was up straight and excited to once again be behind the controls, pressing digital buttons swiftly as she planned the thrusting trajectory perfectly for their break away from the station’s field. Yokohama got smaller and smaller as the Dok-Shifa got farther, and in the large canopy window Priscilla watched it before turning the long slender ship full about and powered up the real engines.

“Control, this is Dok-Shifa, we are departing.” Priscilla ended the call and pushed her finger along a sliding dial as the ship gained speed. Passing ships and freighters heading to, from, and around the station disappeared faster and faster as she opened up the itinerary that Maein had told her was programed into the ships navigation.

She looked over the plan for a moment and nodded, seemed pretty simple, and as ergonomic as the ZMI controls were she really only had to press “GO” on the itinerary to set the ships path, speed and attitude were decided from there.

Leaning back in her chair Priscilla smiled to herself as she twirled a blonde strand of hair on her index finger. Today was the day, and it had certainly been a long day, the petite girl feeling it as she rubbed her eyes heavily.

While this ship had ways of letting the pilot get some rest during a pre planned path, she felt some sort of obligation to stay at the helm for just awhile before heading back to get some Zs.

But that thought was crushed as the wafting smell of coffee reached her nose….

“Oohh, someone read my mind.” Priscilla forgot her weariness and hopped up from her chair. Scurrying down the ladder she knew she had a few minutes before the Dok-Shifa reached the Miur Star and engaged it’s transit drive, and certainly getting a cup of coffee was needed if she planned to stay up much longer.

Stepping into the room which Maein had ordered McClintthingy to clean, she found both Vega and McClintthingy sipping their hot beverage while scrubbing some very modern looking wall art.

“I smelt some coffee... “ She said as she leaned her brown leather jacket clad shoulder on the door frame. “You all wouldn’t happen to have a spot extra?” She smiled and shrugged her shoulders in a way she figured was cute enough to gain herself some coffee.

[Enso and Mu]

When the ship had begun to move, Vega seemed all the more determined to kill this particular stain - a task he had accomplished by the time Priscilla appeared. In fact, he'd already rinsed the brush, leaving it lying on its back to dry, and folded the towel he'd been using carefully, setting both aside. He had every intention of coming back to complete his task, though, at the moment, something more pressing presented itself.

"Hmm?" Vega puzzled for a moment over the small human's behaviour, before realizing what was happening. "Oh. You'd have to ask him."

As though this were explanation enough, he slipped out, tucking his wings in a bit closer as he passed through the doorway. These ZMI ships were so small on the inside, but then, he supposed, most ships were small and cramped, compared to a templeship. He searched through his recent memory of the tour of the ship, and made his way back to Maein's cabin. While he doubted very much she'd begrudge him a half hour or so of distraction, it didn't hurt to ask. It was her ship, after all.

He'd steel himself for a moment - Maein had the bearing of nobility, and he was not at all dressed, any more, for his high station. Then, that was common with monastics. Even the highest-ranking of all Sohei strove to become the man of no rank, after all. Still, it wouldn't do to be intimidated by his host - that was, indeed, beneath him - so he reached out and knocked.

[Achesia]

Priscilla wrinkled her nose at the brisk attitude of Vega as he squeezed past her with nary even an “excuse me”. For someone who carried himself as being so noble he sure didn’t have many mannered. While Priscilla herself seemed like a sort of rough and tumble girl with little knowledge of decorum, there were many surprises wrapped up in Priscilla’s past that would say otherwise.

Turning back to Paul she tried once more to get the sweet nectar of replenished energy.

“So….” Her eyes rolled up and then down and to the right as she pushed out her lips with the roll of the “o”. “Mr. McClint….thingy….” She looked over the boy still scrubbing. “Any chance a tired girl could get a cup of coffee?” She barred both top and bottom teeth in a cheesy white smile. Priscilla being the closed off person she was often compensated for her lack of personal skills with poor humor or goofiness.

[Roania]

The door slid open after the knock. Maein's quarters had a style and charm the rest of the ship lacked. Here alone had some of the opulence of the Dok Shifa's former life been maintained. The floor was richly carpeted and the wall still had its original paint. The furniture was nicer and the room larger, to contain it.. There was a bookshelf, on which sat a variety of books in many different languages, some of them leatherbound. There was a chest of drawers, with a highly-polished mirror sitting upon it. One of the drawers was open, revealing some clothing of a very fine make indeed.

There was a proper wooden bed with a very fluffy mattress on it that looked as though it had been cleaned and made and never slept on. Instead, there was what seemed to be a bamboo mat on the floor, on which was a simple pad which looked as though it had born her weight for some number of nights. Her weight alone.

Right now, she was kneeling on that mat, and she seemed to be naked. Or, at least, mostly naked. A blindfold seemed to be wrapped around her eyes, and some fabric hung about her hips. Maein was, perhaps thankfully, facing away from Vega. Her knees were bent, and her hands rested at her side, the fingers of her hands on the palm, while the thumbs rested on her hip. There was a smell of incense in the air, but it died as the circulated air of the ship passed through. "Priscilla May." The name was clipped, each syllable highly enunciated. "I appreciate you coming to me, but in future, a personal call from the bridge to this quarter will be sufficient, especially after you have announced our departure to the crew."

She slowly rose to her feet, revealing that after all she was wearing a tight skirt. Nominally decent, it still hung only to mid-thigh. "I will leave the..." Perhaps it was the way the air moved around the Curwin, or perhaps breaking from her trance had made her more aware. Regardless, what could be seen of her cheeks reddened, just slightly. "Satoshi Vega!" For the first time, she seemed genuinely uncertain. Her voice cracked upwards in a moment of panic, though only the very skilled and sensitive would have caught it. "I... forgive me, I was not expecting you." Her first thought was not to cover herself, though.

Instead, she knelt once more. And with rather more poise and precision than some people could manage with the use of their eyes, she lifted something and placed it carefully on the chest in front of her, closing something else. "Is there a problem, Satoshi Vega? Do give me one minute." She turned to him, or at least, partially towards him, 'looking' back at him through the blindfold. She was, in a word, beautiful, of course. Her breasts, free of clothing, still stood high on her chest, perhaps only slightly more than a handful, yet well-shaped. Her skin (tan in a way it would never have been back home) glowed with health and fertility. She was not ashamed, though she was cautious, and one hand now went around her chest, shielding it from view as she moved out of the direct sight of the door, grabbing at some fabric that hung over her mirror.

If the Curwin appreciated mammalian flesh and fat, she would be a feast, and she seemed wary of that. She did not distrust him, per se, and even if she did, it would not do to show any concern, so she dressed with haste, still not removing her blindfold. Buttons buttoned, catches caught, and knots knotted, all seemingly by themselves. WIthin the minute she had assigned herself, she was dressed. For a given value of dressed, at least. She did not seem to feel it was complete, casting around the room for something and finding it on the full bed.

"Almost ready." All matter of fact, as she lifted the missing charm and held it, turning back towards Vega. Her body was toned and fit, without being muscular; from her chest to the roundness of her abdomen she was flat, save for the perfect dimple of her navel. If one could look away from it, though, as her hand came there and placed the piercing in its spot at her navel, one would see that the clothing she wore now had begun to glow along its edges and trimming, energy seeming to trace the line. Next came a collar, in which was set a shining crystal, too deep, too perfect, to be even the finest of sapphires. With a satisfied smile, she took off her blindfold, though she tucked it under an arm, evidently planning to replace it soon. "Shall we see to your death-dealer, Sohei?"

[Enso and Mu]

The bulky Carbourne cleared his throat, once Maein had realized her mistake. To be sure, the Sohei-Captain was out of his depth. While the specifics of the human race were not his pay grade, he knew enough of their mannerisms to recognise lewdness (and beauty, for that matter), when he saw it. But Maein was no challenge to his vow of chastity. Humans very much weren't her thing.

The harder part to work through was his embarassment, but if she could work through the chaos, so could he. He had adverted his eyes as soon as he recognized her state of undress for what it was - to be fair the females of his species had worn less in public and gotten away with it - but instead simply stood there, looking somewhat awkwardly to the left.

"No," he answered, when asked. "It's not a problem, per se."

The flash of energy throughout her clothing was interesting to him - more interesting than her looks. He'd read of the fabled crystal technologies of the Rudanese, and wondered if this was an example of the technology - which would, he suppose, make his host an example of their people. They cropped up in a few places in Shibata's journal. The Grandmaster crafter of Pilot Modules had a working theory that the crystal technology was similar in many ways to the Mujin's own Satori Yosegi technology - the technology his people had helped the Mujin perfect.

While he waited, he ran through the breathing-thinking-being exercise of existing only in the single moment, slipping quickly into the shallow Satori so familiar to any sworn Sohei. It was not the true deep satori and kensho of the enlightened - he had tasted that only once, and only for a moment.

Still, to a psion, it surely seemed an interesting state of mind. The pilot module tucked into his sash positively glowed, feeling at once a part of him immediately and a radiant other-presence as vibrant as a busy access point must have looked to a cyborg. And it was at around that point in time that Maein declared herself ready - and the Sohei-Captain looked her square in the eye.

"The armour I am transporting is a defensive model. The Shunyo is too limited a design for anything more than close interdiction, I'm afraid," he said, perhaps missing her point entirely, or perhaps offended by the veiled suggestion of jingoism. "But yes, if you could excuse the intrusion into your domain... I should like to check it over and place it on standby."

[New Dornalia]

McClintock nodded at the Satoshi Carbourne's reply. He was privately relieved that the alien could consume coffee without much of a problem. After all, one could never tell what species were sensitive to what, given that there were so many in the galaxy floating about, each with their own dietary needs. More interesting was the mecha he was bringing with him. Or was it power armor? Either way, it sounded like serious business. Still, McClintock did wonder why someone would join a merchant ship's crew with a very interest, potent suit of armor. Was Vega on a journey like McClintock was? Or for some other purpose? It was an intriguing question for sure...

...and one which would need to wait because Priscilla entered the room, asking about if there was coffee. McClintock was seemingly more surprised than anything to see Priscilla come in. He had heard Maein's tour, but wondered privately if the ship didn't need someone watching the helm, or if ZMI's boffins had made it so there was a solid autopilot that left the crew able to do other things. He hadn't been party to the startup procedures Priscilla did, so one couldn't blame him--even as he did sense the ship was now underway to its destination. Mostly as he initially felt a slight rumble and sensed things moving through the Force. Not that it stopped him from cleaning up much. Vega and McClintock had managed to remove the offending graffiti from the walls--the other stuff could be handled by a shopping trip in Marston itself, although McClintock was busy drying the surface so cleaned with a chamois. Vega could be seen leaving the room--he didn't know why, and Vega wasn't volunteering the information. He sensed it wasn't anything involving offense caused by Priscilla's entrance, for sure. He may have been a Novitiate, but even he could do the basic "sense if people are nervous or otherwise emotionally in a weird spot" trick Ordermen could do.

Likewise, it seemed Priscilla wasn't happy about Vega's sudden exit. It was obvious from her face, but well, the same powers that sensed Vega wasn't offended by Priscilla's entrance sensed Priscilla may have misinterpreted things a bit. McClintock decided to field the pilot's request for coffee, wondering why she was smiling a bit awkwardly but dismissing the thought after a brief pause. After all, Priscilla did seem to be more than a bit socially awkward beforehand, from what he saw of his first interactions with Maein. Still, he did wonder how the name McClintock could be so hard to pronounce. Then again...

McClintock gestured to the coffee pot and cups and said, with a friendly tone "Indeedily do. There's enough for everyone here on the ship, and I figure y'all could use some. Especially with the piloting and so on. Dad figured that there is no better elixir for hard work than a good cup of good ol' fashioned go-juice." Pausing, he said, "Oh! That reminds me. I gotta get the Ship-Mistress. I think I'd like her to see if this is up to her specs. Excuse me." The cowboy then walked up to a terminal, and dialed in Maein's room and said, "Hey, Boss? I finished cleanin' up that graffiti you wanted me to address. Come down if you wanna inspect it, I wanna make sure it's done according to specs. Oh, and I've made some coffee for everyone too."

[Achesia]

Priscilla made grin a moment before walking to the coffee pot. A small chuckle left her throat as she found some amusement in the twang of the Orderman who went on about his nicesties.
“Thanks.” She twerked her shoulders up and down as she picked up the pot and poured herself a cup. The hot liquid sloshing around in the vessel as a few drops snipped at her hand with the heat. After setting the cup down on the counter, she put the back of her thumb in her mouth to try and relieve the burning feeling the “go-juice” gave her.

“So where are you…. Oh.” Priscilla cut off by her realization McClintock was using the intercom, stopping mid sentence awkwardly. Shaking her head at her social missteps, she poured a few teaspoons worth of sugar and powdered cream into her coffee. After the powders dissolved into the dark steaming cup she turned around and leaned her buttocks on the counter.

Looking to McClintock, she furrowed her eyebrows while he wasn't paying attention, trying to figure out what he was about. But as soon as he turned around again she relaxed her expression, and tried to pick back up the conversation as she struggled with a few wisps of her blonde bangs falling into her eyes.

“So we didn’t get much of a chance to talk back there on the station.” Priscilla sipped her coffee, looking at Paul’s stetson atop his head through the steam. “Where are you from?” She drew her left leg up, weighting her heel on the counter as she planted herself. Something looked rather boyscoutish about him, not the typical wanderer to be making their way without direction through Yokohama.

[Roania]

Somewhere between her chambers, which were hermetically sealed behind them, and the turning-off point, Maein had fallen behind Vega for a moment. She was engaged in that timeless pursuit of putting on her face. By the time they reached the point, Maein's lips glistened with a shining lipstick that matched the vibrant energy that danced through her clothing, and her make-up was in place. "You will remember the way? I think I shall leave the cargo in your hands, Satoshi Vega, for the duration of our voyage. It is work I am glad to pass to another. I must see to Paul McClintock." She bowed slightly, and walked down the hall.

When she stood in that doorway, resting a hand on her hip, the only movement was the bounce of her breasts as she breathed deeply, once, twice. Slowly she stepped into the room, and looked around at the walls, at the careful piles. Tension was leaving her rounded shoulders, dripping down the rounded lines of her figure into a puddle on the floor. "Hin how." She whispered, as her lips began to turn up into a smile. Slowly, and without concern for the inappropriateness of the gesture in her current (lack of) attire, she leaned forward, first her head, then the rest of her, bowing twice to Paul and once to Priscilla. "Gan xie! Gan xi da jia!"

The act of bowing did not seem enough. As she rose back to standing position, a sparkle of tears visible in her eyes, she stepped forward quickly and placed her fingers gently on Paul's shoulders. They were delicate, small, and soft. "I have treated you very rudely, Paul McClintock. And I apologize for that. And I am grateful." She curled her fingers into his shirt, and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. Her lips were soft and cool, and parted from him before they warmed. Still, her lipstick tingled. "Thank you, Paul." She stepped away from him, and coughed.

"...and thank you, Priscilla." She made no move to kiss Priscilla on the cheek. The thought would never have occurred to her in ten thousand years. Some things were not done. Still, the invitation was made. "Now, both of you. When you get a chance, I would appreciate if you would clean the recreation room as well, and let me know if you would like anything added while we are at Marston. But first, Paul, please feel free to set up your own room. And Priscilla, I will have this room refitted for you when we arrive, too. Thank you both for your efforts."

Maein poured a cup of coffee for herself and took a deep drink, then placed the cup on a handy surface. "Not bad, Paul, but if you really want my attention, produce some chocolate. Now, I must see to Satoshi Vega" And with that, she turned and left the room, leaving only a hint of her minty perfume. If they looked around the door, she was gone.

She arrived in the cargo control room in time to answer any questions he may have, even though logically there wasn't enough time for that to have happened.

[Enso and Mu]

Cargo Control
To be fair, Vega had not yet had time to get into trouble. He was pleased to find ZMI had the good sense to keep a great amount of commonality in the design of their interfaces. Standardization was, in some ways, the opposite of the Rinzaisen ideal, but it was a great aid to the traveller and the learner. Vega had never operated this particular design of cargo room controller before. But between the similarity to a few standard designs of mech cockpits in terms of the layout of the workstation, and the similarity to the more familiar load-lifter designs the RES sometimes worked with on the ground, he was making a quick study.

Indeed, by the time Dok-Shifa's shipmistress found him, the Sohei-Captain had managed to pull up a complete listing of embarked containers, located his by its serial number, and was opening a simple terminal link to its own onboard computer. He only had to glance around for a moment to notice a small flaw - there was no socket here for the pilot module. Like most Yosegi technologies, this was not a standardized design across the galaxy. He wasn't surprised, merely inconvenienced.

Code: Select all

cmc@dok-shifa ~$ ssh jumpbox@jumpbox1772-833-8211
Authentication Token Absent, Enter Password>
Password valid, perform remote authentication and enter code>

Ignorant, perhaps, that the woman was there, Vega removed the module from his sash. Again, he engaged in the meditative practice of breathing, until he fell into a shallow sort of satori that was sufficient to extract a code, which he quickly entered.

Code: Select all

Please Wait, Autheticating... ok
jumpbox@jumpbox ~$

It was around here that one of his great feathered "brows" twitched, and his head rotated around to look at the door. "Ah, ship-mistress. Am I taking too long?"

[Roania]

"Not at all, honorable Sohei." She bowed slightly, her palms coming together. Somewhere between there and here, she had once more covered her eyes "My apologies if I surprised you. I was concerned you may have questions, but I am glad to see that you have managed." Maein spoke somewhat swifter than before, her eyes tracing over the cargo hold as if she was making sure everything was in order. Satisfied with what she didn't see out of place, she relaxed somewhat. "I estimate that we will have..." She stared into space, "a journey of no more than a week ahead of us, if we travel well. But I cannot be certain of that time frame." She bowed once more. "My apologies for my lack of certainty. I am not yet an expert on the paths this vessel travels. I will leave you to your work, Satoshi Vega. Please inform me if there is anything you need via the intercom or in person." She gestured to a panel on the wall. "Otherwise, I shall return to the galley and start supper.."

The Ship-Mistress stood there, somewhat awkwardly, as if waiting for him to look away. If he did look away, then when he looked back the young woman was gone, leaving only a feeling of... well, shattered, frozen toothpaste. Otherwise, eventually she turned and walked to the stairs that led up and into the main deck.

[New Dornalia]

McClintock didn't quite know what to make of just what had happened. Oh sure, he wasn't a monk. Ordermen were taught to live within the world but not of it, after all. But the idea of an attractive woman--likely very scantily dressed or even going without at that--suddenly kissing him as a gesture of gratitude alongside profuse thanks took the man by surprise. McClintock could only nod and grin, still contemplating the best response. All sorts of feelings were rushing toward him at once, some feeling quite awkward, some feeling grateful for the gesture of gratitude, some feeling a warm fuzzy feeling, and some feeling that the Orderman had perhaps had a moment a lot of people dreamed about.

Briefly, it occurred to the Orderman that Priscilla hadn't quite helped out with the room, and had only come by to imbibe in coffee. Briefly, it also occurred to McClintock that Vega had done must of the work alongside McClintock. And briefly, it occurred to McClintock that Maein might have gotten the wrong impression. But the Orderman was perhaps too busy processing the experience for his ethical sensors to work at the moment. Besides, he was focused on whether he had chocolate in his knapsack that Maein could nibble on. The man did indeed have some Gregson's Enhanced Chocolate--a dark chocolate bar favored by Ordermen for its energizing properties and surprisingly rich nutritional content--but first he had to attend to something else.

Namely, he saw Priscilla was still in the room. Coughing, he then said, somewhat embarrassed, "Oh! Sorry. Yeah, um, I'm from the rural parts of New Hong Kong, in New Chicago County. I come from the rural parts. Dad owns a ranch out there in the rural regions. I worked on it a little, but the hands did a lot of work. As I grew older, I began to develop abilities, and well, eventually I began my Novitiate training at the Temple of New Hong Kong. Now, I'm basically wandering the universe doin' fieldwork. Getting some experiences to make sure I can work with people better."

[Achesia]

“Rural got it…” Priscilla took a sip off coffee as she watched Maein tear through the cabin on her roundabouts as the ever present ships mistress. While Priscilla would self admit that she could be eccentric at times, she never would have seen the kiss between Maien and Paul coming as she seemed to be inordinately thankful for the clean cabin.

“Oh, I’m just here getting coffee.” Priscilla made sure to mention as she could feel a bit of tension after getting some credit for the clean up. “I was up on the flight deck, this is all Clintthingy.” She took a longer sip of the warm fluid this time as she watched the other two interact quite strangely.

A soft ding came from her digital wrist watch, a gentle notification that the ship was nearing its FTL transit point near the star.

“Ah, speaking of which “ She motioned her wrist to show her watch. “It's time i get back up there.” Priscilla gave a blank look to Paul as she left, her eyes looking him over again in a quizzical way.