The Stars Fell To Thee (A Sci Fi/Space Opera RP (IC))

[The Twelve Isles]

OOC
viewtopic.php?f=31&t=451388

Tiau System, New Prague City Space Port,
Isra Daoud, Ship captain and smuggler,
Valenten Petrov, Outcast lordling.

A young man and a young woman were waiting besides a small ship, scanning the crowds in front of them. They were an odd pair, and under any circumstances did not seem like they would be the types to ever interact. The young man was dark haired and pale skinned, and wore beautiful clothes and wore a pin the announced he was a member of a noble house in the Core Systems. He looked elegant and refined. His companion on the other hand, was not. She was wiry and wore a faded cloak and a garish shirt underneath. On her hip she wore a pistol, and she stared around smiling like an idiot, as if she was simply happy to be anywhere.

Of the two of them however, she was clearly the one who was more at home in their environment. She moved easily and with a certain grace, and clearly was used to the movement of a space port. Her companion watched her judgingly, and watched all of the people around him judgingly, and minced as he stepped as if he was trying to not taint himself with the masses of humanity around himself. He was named Valentin, and his companion was Isra. They were archaeologists. Or at least, that's what he was trying to one day be. Isra just owned the ship and he payed her.

As they waited, Isra stuck her hands in her pockets and made silly faces at children who she made eye contact with. Half of them laughed happily, and the other half were pulled away by their parents, who gave Isra dirty looks. She didn't care. When there were no children to make faces at, she occasionally whistled, and occasionally tried to make conversation with Valentin. He was rarely very receptive, and most of his responses were in single syllable words. And so she simply shrugged and went back into her own little world. It didn't matter much to her, and underneath her carefree exterior she was constantly calculating. Howe much could she make off this pompous little lordling? How important was the expedition really to him? How pretentious was he, to think that Whisthall would ever fund an expedition for a student of Old Earth, and how desperate was he to truly make this expedition happen. All of it played into her mind, and every detail was turned over in her head.

Her thinking was interrupted when Valentin suddenly spoke, his voice coming as more of a snap, as if the situation at hand was somehow her fault. "What in the hell could be taking them so long?" he said, his voice tight with frustration.

Isra looked at him, and tried to make up her mind about how she should take this sudden outburst. "Its a half hour before we told them was the best time to be here Valentin," she said.

"Anyone who's anyone knows that when someone tells you to be somewhere at a certain time, what that really means is be there a half hour early, and yet none of them are here,a half hour early, as is proper," he responded.

Isra paused, and gave him a look of confused humor. "I dont think I follow," she said.

"Im simply speaking of proper etiquette," he said. "Though I don't know why I'm trying to explain something like this to a spacer, why you would have any understanding is beyond me."

"Pfft," laughed Isra, "Did you just call me trashy in rich kid?"

"No, I simply stated that you have no understanding of etiquette, not that you are trashy," said Valentin, straightening his back as if he was preparing to accept a duel. "If I was calling you trashy, I would have said so to your face as is proper to do, not try and trick you into thinking otherwise."

"Hmmph," said Isra. "Well, weather you like it or not pal, the Core Systems this aint. At least you aren't a miner in the Reach."

The conversation halted, and the two went back to staring at the town. Isra started whistling, and Valentin stood brooding to himself. He didn't like the situation he was in, having to fund an expedition out of his own pocket, and having to rely on people who were dubiously professional. He was fairly certain that the woman he had hired to transport him was in fact a criminal, and there was no telling what sort of horror stories the other people he had been forced to hire might hide. As far as he was concerned, it was absurd that the University had not agreed to give him a grant for this expedition. Something like this, as mysterious and inexplicable as it was, coming from an ancient text from Old Earth, was more than worth sending a few archaeologists and body guards and a well equipped ship for. And yet, here he was, waiting for a group of unknowns, preparing to be flown around the galaxy in what was little more than a glorified freighter. He didn't even have his own room, having had to hang a hammock in a corner of the cargo bay. It felt shameful to him.

But, it was what it was. This expedition was likely to be a defining moment in Valentin's future if it was successful, and even if nothing came of it, it would prove that he had what it took to organize an expedition like it in the future. If he had to sleep in a hammock and cavort around with a group of undesirables, it was worth it. And so, he went into the cargo hold and brought out a box, and sat straight backed and proper, to wait for the members of the crew he had put together.

[Dragos Bee]

Ascot Rider

Ascot Rider had not actually arrived 'late'. Rather, he had arrived at Valentin's appointed time, but decided not to show himself. Why was that? Because One, he wanted to see what his employers were like when left alone to talk among themselves, and Two, because when he eventually revealed his presence, he wanted to show off; it was rare that he had the chance for childish mischief. So the boy hid himself behind a nearby barrel of cleaning fluid, using his relatively small size, his training, and his pisonics to hide his presence. That, and Valentin was making a good unintentional distraction for his actions.

To be honest, the boy didn't want to be under the noble's thumb; he didn't want to be under anyone's thumb unless it was a mutually beneficial contract. But alas, this was his best chance at freedom later on. If he can get away from the area of Shivii soveriegnty, or at least to a place where their laws held less sway, then he was as good as free.

He didn't think about what he would do once he'd gotten his freedom, except for a vague notion of finding his parents and taking them away to safety as well. But Ascot knew that was just fantasy; they were probably dead, or if not dead, unreachable. He resented it, he resented the reality of fate and how it had severed him from those he loved forever. But he wasn't there to angst; he was also there to see what Isra, the captain of the ship, was like. By all accounts, she was a more tolerant person than Valentin, but that spoke little; no one survived the space lanes by being just mischievious and fun-loving.

So these are who my new masters are like. Ascot thought resentfully. Best show myself to them now lest I stew in my... Dislike of this situation even longer than necessary. And with that decision made, the boy-psionic thought on how to reveal himself, his mood slipping back to mischief as he did so.

With a twitch of his psionic implants, the boy muffled the sounds he made by cushioning his combat boots with a slight blanket of telekinetic force. With Valentin and Isra being beside their ship, and no one else watching (as far as he knew), Ascot can sneak behind them, inching himself into their presence. Once he was behind them, he deactivated his pisonic implants, and his feet made a very slight sound as the telekinetic cushion dispelled itself. Isra was more likely to hear it than Valentin, as the latter, to Ascot, preferred the sound of his own voice to anything.

Nevertheless, the boy that had presumably snuck behind their watch was a deliberately odd figure; clad in child-sized armor and fatigues, with a sword, assault rifle, and a small pack strapped to his back, and with a pistol and grenades strapped to his belt. With a smile, he gave them only the briefest of moments to asborb his apperance, before clearing his throat so he can introduce himself properly.

"Greetings," the boy was as formal as possible. "My name is Ascot Rider." He then telekinetically lifted up his meta-material sword from its sheath in a further demonstration of his powers, and presented it to Valentin hilt-first. "I am an Artificial Psionic Human-Indenture sent by Myriad Star Corporation to participate in this expedition. Despite my age," Ascot hated making a reference to how young he was, but hid his grimace with a bow, "I have been taught the arts of marksmanship, fencing, and am a passable unarmed combatant who has also been taught how to carry himself in high and low society, to associate with people of culture and people without it. I know History, Calligraphy, Art, and a smattering of Music, both High and Low. Note that being sixteen, I do have my limits, so there's that."

As he finished, Ascot looked at Valentin, letting a flicker of his true feelings - resentment and even some hate - show. "And no, I am not actually happy with being an indenture. That is immaterial to Myriad Star and my participation in this journey."

And finally, he exhaled and breathed easy; all the while knowing he might receive some backlash from his new 'masters' for that last bit of back-talk.

[Kelmet]

Dr. Sebastian "Bass" Monroe
Tiau System
New Prague City Spaceport

"And here you go Dr. Monroe fully pad for." The merchant smiled as he handed Bass his shipment of freshly grown peaches in actual dirt, not some space station greenhouse. Not really much of a difference in taste but he thought so. Now with his final box checked he headed towards were he was told to meet his fellow expedition members."Shit.." he thought to himself "I'm going to be late" Picking up the pace wasn't easy, with with a duffel bag on each shoulder a case in his right hand and yet another case in his left you could hardly see his upper body. Just when he thought he couldn't possibly be running any further behind his holo communicator rang, forcing him to set down his luggage and answer.

He answered it on its final ring as the face's of his mother and father were projected fallow by his mom's energetic voice "Hi sweety, your father and I wanted to catch you before you left is this a good time?"

He smiled back, knowing they could see his face "I always have time for you guys, I have a little but I can't talk for long."

His father pipped up "We'll be sure not to be long son, just wanted to remind you your accounts have been linked to our, so anything you need to purchase for yourself clothing food equipment ammo..."

His mother shot in " But your with others right Bass? you'll be safe?"

"I will be fine mom" as both he and his father reassured her he would indeed be safe. "Look, I got to run, ill write you and I love you."

"Love you to kiddo" they both answered back as he signed off and sighed as he loaded himself up once again to hurry to his destination.

He made sure to look the part of the field professor with his jacket cargo pants and other obvious field gear all with his personalized with his iconic Monroe family crest and his nickname Bass . All made for toe balance of function and fashion as Bass always took the opportunity to look nice, freshly showered and shaved but every second he was late he was sure it meant less and less until finally he arrived at the ship with Valenten Petrov waiting for his at the bottom of the loading ramp. He preferred if he kept the fact he wasn't being paid and was a volunteer for this mission to himself but if the rest of their merry band already knew oh well.

" Mr Petrov apologies for my tardiness. Doctor Sebastian Monroe at your service."

[Sterkistan]

Alistair Seravee
Tiau System, New Prague City Space Port

---

Alistair skimmed his way through spaceport security. Discarding the digital card he'd used to get through into a nearby trash can. before making his way further into the spaceport. His cloak was fully extended and the hood was pulled up over his helmet, a fairly common sight in the depths of space.

Alistair brought up the information on his newest job, hired to work on a freighter, given his history, probably as a bodyguard. But considering he had done work on speeders for a while, he may be there for a multi-role job. He'd done a little digging into the client, some rich kid who probably couldn't get University funding. As well as the captain of the ship, a fairly well-respected, if a quite unknown trader. Alistair searched around for the meeting point, the ship itself. Usually, he'd arrive at least 20 minutes early if it seemed suspicious, in case it was a trap and they were putting the finishing touches on the spring. But his digging into the situation showed it was about as innocent as it got. He also doubted the client would be able to pull a trap together in the first place.

He arrived about 2 minutes late to the meeting point, then again by mercenary standards that was considered about as prompt as it got. He stepped out of the crowd, flashing his wrist-pad and showing his hire details to both the captain and the client. The Captain looked as expected from her reputation, with eyes that were friendly, but could just as easily turn and gun you down, dressed in the garb of the average freighter captain, someone who knew they were going to get filthy. The client, however, stood out here like a pimple on a pumpkin, he was lucky he hadn't been robbed on the way here. There were also two others, a scientist based on his garb. And a kid who looked like he was dressed to go to war, then Alistair quickly remembered how he was dressed and brushed it off.'
"Got hired for a job."

[Rupudska]

Tiau System, New Prauge City Space Port
MacDougalDougal, Dougal, and Dougal MacDougal's Tavern
Approximately that same time

It was so common as to be expected, that any space port with more than two humans near enough to use it would have an Irish pub, or something similar.

And it stood to reason, that with so many similarities in culture, there would be a lot of Giokeni in such facilities. This was true - in many cases, there were as many Giokeni as there were humans, and in some cases there were more Giokeni than humans.

MacDougalDougal, Dougal, and Dougal MacDougal's Tavern was not one such place, but it was an Irish pub, and that was good enough for Maira d'Ierunan of Clan u'Oriunn. Beer in hand, she joined humans, Giokeni, and other species in dancing upon the table in a drunken revelry. MacDougalDougal's son had just been declared free of cancer, and for that the taps were open all day, music would play all through the night, and any debts, tabs, bills and damages would be forgiven. Which was fair, as MacDougalDougal had already made four times his regular daily profits.

Hooves clicking against the pseudo-wood tables, Maira leapt from table to table like a deer. When she wasn't drinking, she was eating from a rather novel dish called a 'barbecue parfait' consisting of a layer of baked potato salad (with bits of cheese and bacon), a layer of pulled pork, a layer of baked beans, a layer of brisket, another layer of baked potato salad, and a layer of sour cream, with a fork stuck out of it at an odd angle, indicative of how she was trying (and succeeding for the most part) at holding three things with two hands. Far from an Irish dish, it was delicious, meaty, and had potatoes, and for most aliens that was close enough. MacDougalDougal, Dougal, and Dougal MacDougal's Tavern had more 'accurate' meals of course, but none were quite as popular with the omnivorous races.

After a complete round of The Rattlin' Bog (bless the First Smiths for making Giokeni with efficient lungs), the animatronics switched to a more rapid pace and started belting out another ancient Irish group of singers - the Dropkick Murphys. And the Giokeni, many of which were of the industrial classes, went wild as they played a particularly popular song. Maira in particular began dancing faster, more wildly, and actually juggling the three things in her hand, not spilling a drop despite the navy blue blush on her face indicating an advanced state of intoxication. She didn't miss a lyric, either.

"In the factories and mills, in the shipyards and mines,
We've often been told to keep up with the times -
For our skills are not needed, they've streamlined the job,
And with sliderule and stopwatch our pride they have robbed!"

"We're the first ones to starve, we're the first ones to die,
The first ones in line for that pie-in-the-sky;
And we're always the last when the cream is shared out -
For the worker is working when the fat cat's about!"

On it went. It wasn't a long song, but it sure as hell was energetic, and Maira loved it. So much so that she finished her drink in the process of singing. She turned to face the bar and the clock behind it, and frowned.

Gettin' close to time to go... wait.

"Oi, Murphy ya wanker, yer clock slow or summin?"

"'Bout by three minutes er so, why?"

Shite.

With perfect aim, she tossed her glass bottle into the rubbish bin, shoveled the last of her parfait into her mouth, then tossed that into the bin as well while swallowing. With another toss, she fished about twenty over her actual tab from her pocket and hurled it at the bar which Murphy Dougal easily caught. With a leap, she sprung from her perch to the door, grabbed her rolling luggage bag, and ran like a bandit for the hangars, while the bar's radio had shifted out to 'Come Out Ye Black and Tans'.

Still, she arrived at the appointed time she was told to. Precisely on time, and not a moment later. With a practisedly comical bow, she gave her name. "Maira d'Ierunan, daughter o' the proud and noble Clan o' u'Oriunn, at yer engineerin' service."

[The Twelve Isles]

Ascot Rider
-SNIP-

Tiau System, New Prague City Space Port,
Isra Daoud, Ship captain and smuggler,
Valentin Petrov, Outcast lordling.

Valentin and Isra jumped simultaneously, and Valentin even let out a rather undignified sort of yelp, his whole facade collapsing around him in one fell swoop. Isra composed herself quicker, leaving Valentin to catch his breath with his hands on his knee's.

"Holy fuck kid," said Isra, "didn't your mama ever teach you not to sneak up on strangers? Fuck me."

Valentin had managed to compose himself as well at this time, and stood up straighter again. "As much as it pains me to admit it," he said in his crisp, upper class accent, "I have to agree with my associate. Please don't sneak up on me. And honestly, knowing Ms Daoud here, its a miracle she didn't wheel around and shoot you."

"Dont listen to him kid," said Isra, extending her hand to shake, "I dont just start popping off rounds for the sake of it. Im Captain Daoud, but you can just call me Isra. And this is Valentin, our beneficiary and the person funding this expedition."

Valentin sniffed, now back up to his full, better than thou height. "Charmed," he said in that cold way he spoke, never extending his hand or bowing. "I am glad to see at least one member of the crew understands proper etiquette," he said, giving a pointed look at Isra.

"Fuck off," said Isra, and to his credit, he did.

Dr. Sebastian "Bass" Monroe
-SNIP-
" Mr Petrov apologies for my tardiness. Doctor Sebastian Monroe at your service."

“Oh look, here comes another,” said Isra as Monroe approached. Valentin looked on disapprovingly. It was far past when he considered to be the acceptable time to arrive. The man appeared to be of similar age, but his name meant nothing to Isra. Valentin however, seemed to have some understanding of who had arrived.

“Dr Monroe,” he said. In the world of Old Earth Studies, Dr Monroe was a known name. He was a fresh face, but an up and coming man, with the skills and tenacity to possibly help break the study to the mainstream. “There is no need to be sorry for your tardiness, it is quite alright,” said Valentin, though it was clear from his tone that his feelings on the matter were mixed to say the least. He extended his hand to shake, before gesturing at Isra and continuing, “this is Captain Isra Daoud. It is her ship we will be using, and as a result she is effectively our co expedition leader.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Isra. “I’m glad we can have you along.” She said so with a pleasant tone, but in her head she was sizing Monroe up. He seemed soft like Valentin, but different as well. More malleable, like he was able to adapt to difficulties when the need arose.

[b]Alistair Seravee
-SNIP-
"Got hired for a job."

“That you did,” said Valentin, turning from Monroe. “I take it you must be our Mr Seravee,” he continued. “I am Valentin Petrov, and this is my associate and our expeditions captain, Isra Daoud.”

Isra for once did not smile. She couldn't place it, but the man seemed out of place, even more so than Valentin. However, it was a different way. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said, keeping with the niceties, and trying to make herself not come across as rude as Valentin often times did. But still, she couldn't get past the immediate sense that there was something off about the new comer.

[b]Tiau System, New Prauge City Space Port
MacDougalDougal, Dougal, and Dougal MacDougal's Tavern
Approximately that same time
"Maira d'Ierunan, daughter o' the proud and noble Clan o' u'Oriunn, at yer engineerin' service."

Isra liked this one. She had the air of a fellow spacer about her, all adventure and grease. She got the distinct impression that the they had the potential of being two peas in a pod. She grinned in amusement as the Giokeni bowed in an overly comical and overwrought manner, announcing her name and clan.

“And I,” responded Isra with and equally ridiculous bow, her cloak thrown over her shoulder like an adventurer from some scummy dime novel, “am Captain Isra, of the lowly and poor family Daoud, commander of the fine ship Valen Sky.” She straightened back up before gesturing at Valentin. “And this is my, or all of our, beneficiary and employer, Mr Valentin, of the great and noble house Petrov.”


Valentin, for his first impression, did not like this one. She was late, and had he felt made a fool of herself and by extension him with her ridiculous entrance, and had even managed to entice the good captain into acting in an equally derisive manner. “Im glad we could have you aboard,” he said, and nothing more.

Isra frowned, but did not say anything to Valentin. “Ah, forget him, he’s just grumpy because no one ever taught him how to have fun. I’m glad we can have you on the team.” She smiled again, and extended her hand to shake.

[Rodez]

Tiau System, New Prague City Space Port,
Elias Therrion, freelance pilot

"You wanna test 'em?"

Elias Therrion weighed the flashbang grenade in his gloved hands, and glanced up at the elderly arms vendor, who was gazing at him expectantly.

"These are Pattern 4's, right?"

The old man scratched his beard. "Sure as the void is black, yep."

Pocketing the thing, Eli dug into his coat and spread a plethora of credits out on the counter. "Three more, please."

"Woah there," the merchant furrowed his bushy white eyebrows and pushed the credits back towards Elias. "How do you even know they work? That's an old design - you've got some prior experience with them or something? Let me show you a new-."

Eli held up a hand to cut him off. "That won't be necessary, friend. The pattern 4's will do."

Looking at him skeptically, the old man counted up the credits and fetched the desired product from the rear of his shabby store, clinging to the edge of the New Prague docks. He returned in short order and laid out the flashbangs for Eli to attach to his belt. "You some kinda war veteran?"

"Yeah, Kundell."

The old man just laughed. "Look at you! Did you fight a battle at age six? Kundell War! Hah!" He shook his head and returned to wiping clean a counter which was impossibly caked over with grease and oil. Elias merely sighed, picked up his grenades, and left.

Out in the wider environs of New Prague, Elias was merely another spacer, which was just as he preferred it. There were innumerable beings passing every which way on one manner of business or another. Most were humans, New Prague being a human city, but plenty of other races were represented in the hustle and bustle that existed at all space ports.

Elias kept walking until he caught sight of the ship that marked his employer's designated meeting spot. He glanced at his watch. A few minutes late. Nothing to be concerned about.

There was a collection of figures gathered about the ramp. Elias surmised that these would be his traveling companions - he noted with interest that one was a Giokeni.

Pulling down his hood as he approached, so as not to appear threatening, Elias gave a slight nod to the group in general. "Apologies for being late," he said. "Elias Therrion's the name. You can call me Eli." His gaze swept around from person to person. "Who's in charge here?"

[The Twelve Isles]

Tiau System, New Prague City Space Port,
Elias Therrion, freelance pilot

"You wanna test 'em?"

Elias Therrion weighed the flashbang grenade in his gloved hands, and glanced up at the elderly arms vendor, who was gazing at him expectantly.

"These are Pattern 4's, right?"

The old man scratched his beard. "Sure as the void is black, yep."

Pocketing the thing, Eli dug into his coat and spread a plethora of credits out on the counter. "Three more, please."

"Woah there," the merchant furrowed his bushy white eyebrows and pushed the credits back towards Elias. "How do you even know they work? That's an old design - you've got some prior experience with them or something? Let me show you a new-."

Eli held up a hand to cut him off. "That won't be necessary, friend. The pattern 4's will do."

Looking at him skeptically, the old man counted up the credits and fetched the desired product from the rear of his shabby store, clinging to the edge of the New Prague docks. He returned in short order and laid out the flashbangs for Eli to attach to his belt. "You some kinda war veteran?"

"Yeah, Kundell."

The old man just laughed. "Look at you! Did you fight a battle at age six? Kundell War! Hah!" He shook his head and returned to wiping clean a counter which was impossibly caked over with grease and oil. Elias merely sighed, picked up his grenades, and left.

Out in the wider environs of New Prague, Elias was merely another spacer, which was just as he preferred it. There were innumerable beings passing every which way on one manner of business or another. Most were humans, New Prague being a human city, but plenty of other races were represented in the hustle and bustle that existed at all space ports.

Elias kept walking until he caught sight of the ship that marked his employer's designated meeting spot. He glanced at his watch. A few minutes late. Nothing to be concerned about.

There was a collection of figures gathered about the ramp. Elias surmised that these would be his traveling companions - he noted with interest that one was a Giokeni.

Pulling down his hood as he approached, so as not to appear threatening, Elias gave a slight nod to the group in general. "Apologies for being late," he said. "Elias Therrion's the name. You can call me Eli." His gaze swept around from person to person. "Who's in charge here?"

"I am!" said Isra, leaning out from her conversation with Maira. "Or at least, kinda," she continued as she made her way over to Eli. "Valentin is the one funding this little shin dig, but I own the ship taking us everywhere."

She made it up to Eli, extending her hand to shake as she had for all the others. "Captain Daoud, at your service," she said. "But you can call me Isra. And this," she said, resting her hand on her gun and throwing her cloak back over her shoulder as Valentin approached, "is our mysterious benefactor,Valentin."

Valentin, as always, remained impassive. At heart though, he felt unsure of this man. He looked like he wasn't much older than early to mid thirties, but his eyes gazed around with far to much knowledge. It was like this wasn't his first time being alive, and what his life had been before was one of strife and conflict. It reminded him of the people who fought incessantly in the chaotic systems at the edge of human space. "Good to make your acquaintance," said Valentin. "Im glad we can have you aboard for the voyage."

"So," said Isra, picking up the conversation again before it could collapse, "I understand your one of our pilots. Im glad you made it, I was a little worried it would end up just being me and Maira, the Giokeni woman there flying the ship."

[Sterkistan]

“That you did,” said Valentin, turning from Monroe. “I take it you must be our Mr Seravee,” he continued. “I am Valentin Petrov, and this is my associate and our expeditions captain, Isra Daoud.”

Isra for once did not smile. She couldn't place it, but the man seemed out of place, even more so than Valentin. However, it was a different way. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said, keeping with the niceties, and trying to make herself not come across as rude as Valentin often times did. But still, she couldn't get past the immediate sense that there was something off about the newcomer.

Alistair Seravee
Tiau System, New Prague City Space Port

---

Alistair put his wrist down, nodding at both Captain Isra and Valentin. He was glad the client didn't ask too many questions or expect many answers from him. He may have been a stuck-up rich kid to the bone, with credits hanging from his ears. But he knew who's details should be left undisturbed. However, the look of distrust on the Captain's face, as well as the constant analytical glances from the ship's Captain had told Alistair that his client hadn't told the ship's owner they'd be paying for muscle. And that always caused problems. Because no matter who you were hiring, you always told the Captain about every single person and object coming onto their ship.

He excused himself from the introductions by stepping back from the group and walking up the ramp into the ship. He looked around, finding himself a good little perch near the speeder bikes, a small stack of assorted, and possibly empty crates. He sat down on one of the crates, looking over at the group. He had an inkling to tell the Captain about his hired role, but from the looks she was giving him, that conversation would happen whether he started it or not.

[Brusia]

Dr. Theanor Jarak
Tiau System
New Prague City Spaceport

As he moved about through the crowded spaceport, Dr. Theanor Jarak peered over and around the meandering groups of people in an attempt to spot the berth where he had been instructed to meet with his new employers. Though he'd grown somewhat accustomed to these sorts of crowded, disorganized areas in his recent travels, the constant loud noises in such places still irritated him, and at this point the thought of taking a ship back out to the quiet vacuum of space was growing more and more appealing. It took abit more searching, but eventually he found the ship he was looking for and began to approach the group of people gathered near it.

While he was still not terribly familiar with human naming conventions, it wasn't too difficult to guess which of the group were likely the ship's Captain and which was the expedition's financier based on their clothing and what he could observe of their body language, microexpressions, and general attitudes. For his part, Theanor's elegant and durable Quihansu clothing more closely resembled the financier's outfit, while his more humble disposition looked closer to that of the Captain's. As he broke from the crowd and approached the group, Theanor politely and gracefully bowed his head then gave a traditional Quihansu greeting: "Jolan'suila, I am Dr. Theanor Jarak; I believe I was hired to serve as the physician for this vessel." He shifted the duffel bag currently hanging from a strap on his shoulder a little then looked to Isra and Valentin respectively before asking: "Are you Captain Daoud and Mr. Petrov?"

[Rupudska]

Isra liked this one. She had the air of a fellow spacer about her, all adventure and grease. She got the distinct impression that the they had the potential of being two peas in a pod. She grinned in amusement as the Giokeni bowed in an overly comical and overwrought manner, announcing her name and clan.

“And I,” responded Isra with and equally ridiculous bow, her cloak thrown over her shoulder like an adventurer from some scummy dime novel, “am Captain Isra, of the lowly and poor family Daoud, commander of the fine ship Valen Sky.” She straightened back up before gesturing at Valentin. “And this is my, or all of our, beneficiary and employer, Mr Valentin, of the great and noble house Petrov.”

Valentin, for his first impression, did not like this one. She was late, and had he felt made a fool of herself and by extension him with her ridiculous entrance, and had even managed to entice the good captain into acting in an equally derisive manner. “Im glad we could have you aboard,” he said, and nothing more.

Isra frowned, but did not say anything to Valentin. “Ah, forget him, he’s just grumpy because no one ever taught him how to have fun. I’m glad we can have you on the team.” She smiled again, and extended her hand to shake.

Maira shrugged. "Innellectuals're all the same if they're out here, eh?" She grinned as she took Isra's hand. "Glad ta be on th' team. 'Aven' ha' a proppa payin' job this big in years."

She ignored Valentin of course. If he was going to be cool towards her, she didn't mind. Or care - he was the paying customer, and a scholar to boot. His and her worlds were metaphorically and literally as different as could conceivably be, and the chances of them meeting except in the galley or on payday were quite slim.

Unless he did something quite stupid, or just wandered into the engine room. Which would just not do - the engine room was a place solely for engineers like herself, and she wouldn't have any nobs running around it.

[Kelmet]

“Oh look, here comes another,” said Isra as Monroe approached. Valentin looked on disapprovingly. It was far past when he considered to be the acceptable time to arrive. The man appeared to be of similar age, but his name meant nothing to Isra. Valentin however, seemed to have some understanding of who had arrived.

“Dr Monroe,” he said. In the world of Old Earth Studies, Dr Monroe was a known name. He was a fresh face, but an up and coming man, with the skills and tenacity to possibly help break the study to the mainstream. “There is no need to be sorry for your tardiness, it is quite alright,” said Valentin, though it was clear from his tone that his feelings on the matter were mixed to say the least. He extended his hand to shake, before gesturing at Isra and continuing, “this is Captain Isra Daoud. It is her ship we will be using, and as a result she is effectively our co expedition leader.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Isra. “I’m glad we can have you along.” She said so with a pleasant tone, but in her head she was sizing Monroe up. He seemed soft like Valentin, but different as well. More malleable, like he was able to adapt to difficulties when the need arose.

"A true pleasure. Were can I unpack my things?"

[The Twelve Isles]

Isra liked this one. She had the air of a fellow spacer about her, all adventure and grease. She got the distinct impression that the they had the potential of being two peas in a pod. She grinned in amusement as the Giokeni bowed in an overly comical and overwrought manner, announcing her name and clan.

“And I,” responded Isra with and equally ridiculous bow, her cloak thrown over her shoulder like an adventurer from some scummy dime novel, “am Captain Isra, of the lowly and poor family Daoud, commander of the fine ship Valen Sky.” She straightened back up before gesturing at Valentin. “And this is my, or all of our, beneficiary and employer, Mr Valentin, of the great and noble house Petrov.”

Valentin, for his first impression, did not like this one. She was late, and had he felt made a fool of herself and by extension him with her ridiculous entrance, and had even managed to entice the good captain into acting in an equally derisive manner. “Im glad we could have you aboard,” he said, and nothing more.

Isra frowned, but did not say anything to Valentin. “Ah, forget him, he’s just grumpy because no one ever taught him how to have fun. I’m glad we can have you on the team.” She smiled again, and extended her hand to shake.

Maira shrugged. "Innellectuals're all the same if they're out here, eh?" She grinned as she took Isra's hand. "Glad ta be on th' team. 'Aven' ha' a proppa payin' job this big in years."

She ignored Valentin of course. If he was going to be cool towards her, she didn't mind. Or care - he was the paying customer, and a scholar to boot. His and her worlds were metaphorically and literally as different as could conceivably be, and the chances of them meeting except in the galley or on payday were quite slim.

Unless he did something quite stupid, or just wandered into the engine room. Which would just not do - the engine room was a place solely for engineers like herself, and she wouldn't have any nobs running around it.

"Yeah, it seems every year or two I get hired out to ship some professor or lordling or CEO's kid across the Outer Systems, and they all come in about the same box. Stuffy, clueless, and with no applicable skills aboard a star ship. Still, Valentin's not the worst. I think he may actually have a good head on his shoulders, underneath all that pomp and narcissism."

“Oh look, here comes another,” said Isra as Monroe approached. Valentin looked on disapprovingly. It was far past when he considered to be the acceptable time to arrive. The man appeared to be of similar age, but his name meant nothing to Isra. Valentin however, seemed to have some understanding of who had arrived.

“Dr Monroe,” he said. In the world of Old Earth Studies, Dr Monroe was a known name. He was a fresh face, but an up and coming man, with the skills and tenacity to possibly help break the study to the mainstream. “There is no need to be sorry for your tardiness, it is quite alright,” said Valentin, though it was clear from his tone that his feelings on the matter were mixed to say the least. He extended his hand to shake, before gesturing at Isra and continuing, “this is Captain Isra Daoud. It is her ship we will be using, and as a result she is effectively our co expedition leader.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Isra. “I’m glad we can have you along.” She said so with a pleasant tone, but in her head she was sizing Monroe up. He seemed soft like Valentin, but different as well. More malleable, like he was able to adapt to difficulties when the need arose.

"A true pleasure. Were can I unpack my things?"

"Im afraid that the only space available is the crew's quarters. Our captain has turned the two Mates quarters into closets," said Valentin, in that stuffy, self righteous way of his. It was never meant to sound as uptight and self righteous as it often did, but it still rubbed most who were not of the same class as him the wrong way. "But, if you pick your way through the cargo hold and climb the ladder, the first doors on your left and right will take you to the crews quarters, four beds each."

Dr. Theanor Jarak
Tiau System
New Prague City Spaceport

As he moved about through the crowded spaceport, Dr. Theanor Jarak peered over and around the meandering groups of people in an attempt to spot the berth where he had been instructed to meet with his new employers. Though he'd grown somewhat accustomed to these sorts of crowded, disorganized areas in his recent travels, the constant loud noises in such places still irritated him, and at this point the thought of taking a ship back out to the quiet vacuum of space was growing more and more appealing. It took a bit more searching, but eventually he found the ship he was looking for and began to approach the group of people gathered near it.

While he was still not terribly familiar with human naming conventions, it wasn't too difficult to guess which of the group were likely the ship's Captain and which was the expedition's financier based on their clothing and what he could observe of their body language, microexpressions, and general attitudes. For his part, Theanor's elegant and durable Quihansu clothing more closely resembled the financier's outfit, while his more humble disposition looked closer to that of the Captain's. As he broke from the crowd and approached the group, Theanor politely and gracefully bowed his head then gave a traditional Quihansu greeting: "Jolan'suila, I am Dr. Theanor Jarak; I believe I was hired to serve as the physician for this vessel." He shifted the duffel bag currently hanging from a strap on his shoulder a little then looked to Isra and Valentin respectively before asking: "Are you Captain Daoud and Mr. Petrov?"

"Jolan'suila," replied Valentin in a practiced manner. He had learned the traditional greetings for many other species and cultures, having met with many growing up with his father. Typically the more aristocratic of their stock. While he still had a strong accent of Common Human, it was still far more elegant than most would have been able to pull off. "I am Mr Petrov, and this is my associate, Captain Da-"

"Howdy!" interjected Isra cheerily before Valentin could finish, prompting the latter to give a long suffering sigh. "Im Captain Daoud, but please, call me Isra. And this is my ship, the Valen Sky. She's a real beauty aint she?" She waved her hand over her shoulder, showing off the ship behind her. She was not a real beauty. The paint was faded, some of the plating was dented, and here and there were badly patched blast burns. In honesty, the ship was a rust bucket.

"Yes," said Valentin. "This is our captain, Isra Daoud. I have been assured by many here in New Prague that she is one of the best around, but quite frankly I have my doubts."

"Your just jealous that Im cooler than you," said Isra, before turning back to Theanor and saying, "you can place your things anywhere you like in the ship, Ill be giving everyone a tour shortly," before turning and making her way over to Alistair where he sat just inside the ship, her cloak trailing slightly.

“That you did,” said Valentin, turning from Monroe. “I take it you must be our Mr Seravee,” he continued. “I am Valentin Petrov, and this is my associate and our expeditions captain, Isra Daoud.”

Isra for once did not smile. She couldn't place it, but the man seemed out of place, even more so than Valentin. However, it was a different way. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said, keeping with the niceties, and trying to make herself not come across as rude as Valentin often times did. But still, she couldn't get past the immediate sense that there was something off about the newcomer.

Alistair Seravee
Tiau System, New Prague City Space Port

---

Alistair put his wrist down, nodding at both Captain Isra and Valentin. He was glad the client didn't ask too many questions or expect many answers from him. He may have been a stuck-up rich kid to the bone, with credits hanging from his ears. But he knew who's details should be left undisturbed. However, the look of distrust on the Captain's face, as well as the constant analytical glances from the ship's Captain had told Alistair that his client hadn't told the ship's owner they'd be paying for muscle. And that always caused problems. Because no matter who you were hiring, you always told the Captain about every single person and object coming onto their ship.

He excused himself from the introductions by stepping back from the group and walking up the ramp into the ship. He looked around, finding himself a good little perch near the speeder bikes, a small stack of assorted, and possibly empty crates. He sat down on one of the crates, looking over at the group. He had an inkling to tell the Captain about his hired role, but from the looks she was giving him, that conversation would happen whether he started it or not.

"So tell me," said Isra, coming up to Alistair. Her cheer, ever present in the meeting of the crew, was suddenly gone and replaced with a cold, hard, calculating expression. "What is it that brings you to us? Because, while I mean no offense, you seem a little rougher than the rest around here, and I generally like to know who it is that is getting on my ship." Throughout her sentence, Isra was resting her wrist on her pistol, but never actually putting her hand on it.

[Sterkistan]

"So tell me," said Isra, coming up to Alistair. Her cheer, ever present in the meeting of the crew, was suddenly gone and replaced with a cold, hard, calculating expression. "What is it that brings you to us? Because, while I mean no offence, you seem a little rougher than the rest around here, and I generally like to know who it is that is getting on my ship." Throughout her sentence, Isra was resting her wrist on her pistol, but never actually putting her hand on it.

Alistair Seravee
Tiau System, New Prague City Space Port

---

Right on cue, Isra made her way toward Alistair. The cheer from before sapped away and replaced with business. He wasn't going to sugarcoat it or mince his words, he'd been on ships with captain's who didn't like him. Needless to say it got pretty old pretty fast.
He jammed his thumb in Valentin's direction.
"He's why I'm here, paid me to be the 'muscle' as he called it."
His cloak wound into his armour plates, and he visually showed his armament, also handing over his weapons registration and carry details.
"I'm not his lapdog. I'm just here to make sure you don't get offed by some band of pirates."
He leaned back up against the wall,
"You want specifics you gotta take it up with him, I only know what I've been paid to know."

[Dragos Bee]

Ascot Rider

Ascot looked over the flood of new hires; can the ship really take so many without being cramped? Especially with the crews' quarters being able to take four people each. Nevertheless, looking at Doctor Monroe, the sixteen-year old made a decision to help the archaeologist; if he roomed with the guy, it would mean that he'd be around someone who was both intelligent and non-jerkish. So he walked up to the man and cleared his throat once more.

The armored boy might be a strange sight as he spoke, "Greetings, my name is Ascot Rider, Artificial Psionic Human Indenture; can I help you with your luggage?"

A smile as the young man showed off once more, causing Doctor Monroe's bags to float of the ground slowly; this time, this show of telekenesis would not be ignored. He had not spent time practicing how to use his implants just to have them brushed off; Ascot Rider was well-aware that he needed to establish himself as an equal member of the crew. He the said to Monroe, "Now, let's go inside the ship -"

The mercenary, Alistair, introduced himself as Valentin's 'hired muscle', though not a direct lapdog. Well this was interesting. As he waited for the door to open for Monroe and him so they can deposit the latter's bags, he would turn to the latter and quip, "Funny, Mr. Seravee; I think I was hired to be the same! Guess we'll be working together as part of this crew, then?"

Ascot flicked his right thumb and index finger, and Alistair would feel a slight tap on his forehead. He then smiled. "I don't want to pick a fight, but let me tell you this beforehand: My freedom depends on this voyage's success. So if you have any ulterior motives, shed them."

Hypocritical advice; Ascot totally had ulterior motives for going on this voyage, and wasn't planning on waiting for it to 'succeed' before taking his freedom. But the boy was doing more than try and establish his skills, show off his psionic powers, and proclaim loyalty to the crew: He was also fishing for compassion; fishing for proof that the crew was not worth leaving to rot at the first opportunity.

[The Twelve Isles]

"So tell me," said Isra, coming up to Alistair. Her cheer, ever present in the meeting of the crew, was suddenly gone and replaced with a cold, hard, calculating expression. "What is it that brings you to us? Because, while I mean no offence, you seem a little rougher than the rest around here, and I generally like to know who it is that is getting on my ship." Throughout her sentence, Isra was resting her wrist on her pistol, but never actually putting her hand on it.

Alistair Seravee
Tiau System, New Prague City Space Port

---

Right on cue, Isra made her way toward Alistair. The cheer from before sapped away and replaced with business. He wasn't going to sugarcoat it or mince his words, he'd been on ships with captain's who didn't like him. Needless to say it got pretty old pretty fast.
He jammed his thumb in Valentin's direction.
"He's why I'm here, paid me to be the 'muscle' as he called it."
His cloak wound into his armour plates, and he visually showed his armament, also handing over his weapons registration and carry details.
"I'm not his lapdog. I'm just here to make sure you don't get offed by some band of pirates."
He leaned back up against the wall,
"You want specifics you gotta take it up with him, I only know what I've been paid to know."

“Isra breathed in, but did not immediately respond. She didn't like his attitude, all tough talk like he was trying to prove something, but said nothing of it. As long as it didn’t become a problem, it was something she would overlook. She glanced over his registration information and carry papers, which all looked to be in order for Confederacy specs, making him a legally registered mercenary. Still, there was something about him that perked Isra’s discomfort, making her worried that he may be trying something. All of him seemed to private.

“Alright,” she said, handing his registration back to him. “Your hired by the guy who hired me, so I can't say anything. But, I just feel like I should be honest. You give me a weird vibe, and I don't trust you. As long as you cause no problems, we’ll have no problems, but Ive still got my eye on you in particular.” She nodded to him, and threw the cloak back over her pistol in a gesture of the confrontation being over.

“If you know anything about speeders,” she said to Alastair as she walked away, “that cargo speeder on the left wall has been having some trouble. I wouldn't be opposed if you gave it look over.”

Ascot Rider

Ascot looked over the flood of new hires; can the ship really take so many without being cramped? Especially with the crews' quarters being able to take four people each. Nevertheless, looking at Doctor Monroe, the sixteen-year old made a decision to help the archaeologist; if he roomed with the guy, it would mean that he'd be around someone who was both intelligent and non-jerkish. So he walked up to the man and cleared his throat once more.

The armored boy might be a strange sight as he spoke, "Greetings, my name is Ascot Rider, Artificial Psionic Human Indenture; can I help you with your luggage?"

A smile as the young man showed off once more, causing Doctor Monroe's bags to float of the ground slowly; this time, this show of telekenesis would not be ignored. He had not spent time practicing how to use his implants just to have them brushed off; Ascot Rider was well-aware that he needed to establish himself as an equal member of the crew. He the said to Monroe, "Now, let's go inside the ship -"

The mercenary, Alistair, introduced himself as Valentin's 'hired muscle', though not a direct lapdog. Well this was interesting. As he waited for the door to open for Monroe and him so they can deposit the latter's bags, he would turn to the latter and quip, "Funny, Mr. Seravee; I think I was hired to be the same! Guess we'll be working together as part of this crew, then?"

Ascot flicked his right thumb and index finger, and Alistair would feel a slight tap on his forehead. He then smiled. "I don't want to pick a fight, but let me tell you this beforehand: My freedom depends on this voyage's success. So if you have any ulterior motives, shed them."

Hypocritical advice; Ascot totally had ulterior motives for going on this voyage, and wasn't planning on waiting for it to 'succeed' before taking his freedom. But the boy was doing more than try and establish his skills, show off his psionic powers, and proclaim loyalty to the crew: He was also fishing for compassion; fishing for proof that the crew was not worth leaving to rot at the first opportunity.

Isra turned to Ascot as he approached with Monroe and his bags. He not only looked like a kid, but even seemed to be one at heart, flashing his psionics around and showing off. Valentin showed little interest in any of them, but Isra was feeling increasingly unsure of the two members of their “Security Detail.” Alastair seemed like he was hiding something, and the kid was Myriad. One did not grow up and live their entire lives in space and not develop a healthy fear of the Myriad Star Corporation. It seemed like every port she came to in the Outer Systems had some bar somewhere where the patrons were all gossiping like old wives about Myriad. Some said they had eyes and ears in every major settlement in the Hegemony. Some said that they were secretly a Shvii run company, building sleeper cells so that Humans could never gain power over them and would remain their enforcers forever. And still the most common, and most likely to be true, was the stories of white suited people coming to poor settlements, and stealing children away to make them into killing machines.

Isra rubbed the back of her head as she watched Asco and Monroe pass, a gesture that on most would make one seem shy or friendly, but for her only managed to muss her hair even more severely than it already was. “Hey,” she said to Ascot, “where is it that you come from kid?”

[Kelmet]

Isra turned to Ascot as he approached with Monroe and his bags. He not only looked like a kid, but even seemed to be one at heart, flashing his psionics around and showing off. Valentin showed little interest in any of them, but Isra was feeling increasingly unsure of the two members of their “Security Detail.” Alastair seemed like he was hiding something, and the kid was Myriad. One did not grow up and live their entire lives in space and not develop a healthy fear of the Myriad Star Corporation. It seemed like every port she came to in the Outer Systems had some bar somewhere where the patrons were all gossiping like old wives about Myriad. Some said they had eyes and ears in every major settlement in the Hegemony. Some said that they were secretly a Shvii run company, building sleeper cells so that Humans could never gain power over them and would remain their enforcers forever. And still the most common, and most likely to be true, was the stories of white suited people coming to poor settlements, and stealing children away to make them into killing machines.

Isra rubbed the back of her head as she watched Asco and Monroe pass, a gesture that on most would make one seem shy or friendly, but for her only managed to muss her hair even more severely than it already was. “Hey,” she said to Ascot, “where is it that you come from kid?”

"Thank you Rider, we can put these in the bunk closest to the kitchen." Monroe then moved passed what seemed to be meaningless drama regarding to his other crew members. We were all here for the same reason, to find our home. Anything else just gets in the way.

As he unpacked his things, numerous little nik-nacs from digs across human space his tablet and a few other personnel effects. His next order of business was the ships mess hall. In his years across space he had learned how to make eating at even the most remote digs quite enjoyable. That and his extensive knowledge of human cultures gave him a thousand recipes to work with as food is a cornerstone of culture he felt personally human food was an extension of his pan-humanist outlook.

Smiling, he had worked with less and got to work preparing the meal plan for the rest of the day, Sending a alert to all crew members communication devices with updates and revising dietary requirements and allergies. His tablet playing Hotel California and his multi faith neck less (Each holy symbol, cross, star and crescent, star of David ext.) hanging over his college soccer team jersey.

Lunch - Moroccan spiced cauliflower & almond soup

1 large cauliflower Cauliflower brassica, like cabbage and broccoli, cauliflower is a mass of tiny, tightly packed.
2 tbsp olive oil Olive oil Probably the most widely-used oil in cooking, olive oil is pressed from fresh olives.
A½ tsp each ground cinnamon, cumin and coriander.
2 tbsp harissa paste, plus extra drizzle.
1l hot vegetable or chicken stock.
50g toasted flaked almond, plus extra to serve.

Dinner- Buttermilk pancakes w/Meat of choice.

Not going to put recipe for pancakes and bacon, come on guys.

[Sterkistan]

“Isra breathed in but did not immediately respond. She didn't like his attitude, all tough talk like he was trying to prove something, but said nothing of it. As long as it didn’t become a problem, it was something she would overlook. She glanced over his registration information and carry papers, which all looked to be in order for Confederacy specs, making him a legally registered mercenary. Still, there was something about him that perked Isra’s discomfort, making her worried that he may be trying something. All of him seemed too private.

“Alright,” she said, handing his registration back to him. “You're hired by the guy who hired me, so I can't say anything. But, I just feel like I should be honest. You give me a weird vibe, and I don't trust you. As long as you cause no problems, we’ll have no problems, but I've still got my eye on you in particular.” She nodded to him and threw the cloak back over her pistol in a gesture of the confrontation being over.

“If you know anything about speeders,” she said to Alastair as she walked away, “that cargo speeder on the left wall has been having some trouble. I wouldn't be opposed if you gave it look over.”

Isra turned to Ascot as he approached with Monroe and his bags. He not only looked like a kid but even seemed to be one at heart, flashing his psionics around and showing off. Valentin showed little interest in any of them, but Isra was feeling increasingly unsure of the two members of their “Security Detail.” Alastair seemed like he was hiding something, and the kid was Myriad. One did not grow up and live their entire lives in space and not develop a healthy fear of the Myriad Star Corporation. It seemed like every port she came to in the Outer Systems had some bar somewhere where the patrons were all gossiping like old wives about Myriad. Some said they had eyes and ears in every major settlement in the Hegemony. Some said that they were secretly a Shvii run company, building sleeper cells so that Humans could never gain power over them and would remain their enforcers forever. And still the most common, and most likely to be true, was the stories of white suited people coming to poor settlements, and stealing children away to make them into killing machines.

Isra rubbed the back of her head as she watched Asco and Monroe pass, a gesture that on most would make one seem shy or friendly, but for her only managed to muss her hair even more severely than it already was. “Hey,” she said to Ascot, “where is it that you come from kid?”

Ascot Rider

Ascot looked over the flood of new hires; can the ship really take so many without being cramped? Especially with the crews' quarters being able to take four people each. Nevertheless, looking at Doctor Monroe, the sixteen-year old made a decision to help the archaeologist; if he roomed with the guy, it would mean that he'd be around someone who was both intelligent and non-jerkish. So he walked up to the man and cleared his throat once more.

The armored boy might be a strange sight as he spoke, "Greetings, my name is Ascot Rider, Artificial Psionic Human Indenture; can I help you with your luggage?"

A smile as the young man showed off once more, causing Doctor Monroe's bags to float of the ground slowly; this time, this show of telekenesis would not be ignored. He had not spent time practicing how to use his implants just to have them brushed off; Ascot Rider was well-aware that he needed to establish himself as an equal member of the crew. He the said to Monroe, "Now, let's go inside the ship -"

The mercenary, Alistair, introduced himself as Valentin's 'hired muscle', though not a direct lapdog. Well this was interesting. As he waited for the door to open for Monroe and him so they can deposit the latter's bags, he would turn to the latter and quip, "Funny, Mr. Seravee; I think I was hired to be the same! Guess we'll be working together as part of this crew, then?"

Ascot flicked his right thumb and index finger, and Alistair would feel a slight tap on his forehead. He then smiled. "I don't want to pick a fight, but let me tell you this beforehand: My freedom depends on this voyage's success. So if you have any ulterior motives, shed them."

Hypocritical advice; Ascot totally had ulterior motives for going on this voyage, and wasn't planning on waiting for it to 'succeed' before taking his freedom. But the boy was doing more than try and establish his skills, show off his psionic powers, and proclaim loyalty to the crew: He was also fishing for compassion; fishing for proof that the crew was not worth leaving to rot at the first opportunity.

---

Alistair Seravee
Tiau System, New Prague City Space Port

---

Alistair nodded as Isra gave him the 'I don't trust you' spiel. It was normal, trust was something that was earned, not handed out to the weird guy in the helmet.
"Yeah, yeah. I hear you, you won't get a peep from me."
He relaxed slightly as Isra pulled the cloak over her gun, he was glad he wasn't getting shot at. A quiet job is easy money as they say. He looked over to the speeder that Isra pointed out, an old junker of a cargo speeder, could have been 100 years old from the way it looked.
"I'll see what I can do."

As Alistair was making his way to the speeder, he felt a flick on the front of his helmet, the psionic boy decided to make a statement on his prior conversation. He was rather bratty and showoff-ish, almost like he had to have others constantly reaffirm that his powers were 'wicked cool'.
"Seems that way. Seems quite an extensive security escort for a mission like this though. Rich types always are paranoid bastards."
The next line was surprising and set off a few alarms regarding this kid's temperament. Seemed like he was carrying his own motives while trying to get everyone else to drop theirs. God, he hated kids.
"Look, kid, I'm not here for you or whatever spirit quest you're on. I'm here to get paid and that's that."
He snapped at the kid, but his voice was rather calm instead of agitated.
"Do whatever you want, I'm not paid enough to care."

Alistair walked up to the speeder, crouching down and pulling the engine panel off. Taking a look inside.

[Dragos Bee]

Ascot Rider

The boy turned away, and said, "The spaceport-city of New Winchester, Captain. And yes, I mean the slums, where I was rescued from starvation by my 'benefactors' only for my debt to bind me to an indenture with them. And by that, I mean a form of slavery in all but name, unless my debt is paid off by success in this mission." He looked at Isra, taking care not to lie to her when he continued, "And I do want my freedom, and my freedom is bound up with this mission."

A smile at that as he tried to continue on towards the ship, only for Alistair to finally respond with an 'I don't actually give a fuck'. And so Ascot just smiled again, trying to appear 'chipper', before heading for the ship once more, bags in tow.

He was telling Alistair: 'I know you know what I am. I myself don't care.'

[The Twelve Isles]

Isra sighed again, looking over Ascot as he passed. "Fucking of course he's a slum kid," she whispered to herself. Myriad was always taking slum kids, the ones no one would miss, and who's parents were to uneducated to know any better. "Valentin," she said then, letting the days confrontations go in favor of a new one.

"What is it," he said sourly from the ramp to the ship, his thumbs hooked into his pants.

Isra walked over to him, frustration apparent on her face. Now that the crew was assembled, it was clear that she was not immune to negativity, and that her bubbly image was as much a business practice as it was her actual personality. "Listen," she said once she was close, her voice quiet so that no one else could hear their conversation. "I don't know what you could get away with at daddy's house or in Whisthall, but this is neither of those places anymore, do you understand me?"

"Im not sure I-"

"Shut the fuck up," said Isra, cutting Valentin off before he could finish his sentence. "I vouched for you when these people here told me you seemed like a useless rich kid, and do you want to know why? Because I like to see the best in people. But if you start bringing in stranger mercenaries and Myriad thugs, without at the very least running it by me first, then our business relationship will be over very quickly. You are bringing unknowns onto my fucking ship, and I want to make it very clear that I can live without your money. I've been doing this shit since I was 18 years old buddy, I've got more spacing experience in my little finger than your whole family has in their's. If I decide I don't like the people you are bringing onto my ship, I will drop your ass on the nearest planet and I will be just fine. Do you get me?"

It was clear that Valentin got her, but his face showed that he was furious about the fact that he did. "I don't like your tone Isra," he said.

"Im sorry to hear that," said Isra, obviously not sorry. "I just dont like the way this day has gone between you and me. I don't want to be your enemy, and if anything, I would rather be your friend, but you are making that shit real hard right now. If you want this expedition to work out, I'm gonna need you to keep me in the loop from now on."

Valentin scrunched his face into a pinched expression, giving a look of contemplation. On the one hand, he felt a strong desire to put his hand on his pistol, but he knew that if he intended to attempt to draw down on Isra Daoud and he had better mean it. And on the other hand, though as far he was concerned he was in charge, this expedition would not go anywhere if he did not work with the good captain, and from what he knew there was no other captain in New Prague like her.

"Fine," he said at last. "Ill keep you in the loop."

"Great! Im glad to hear it," she said, patting Valentin on the shoulder, "now let give the crew a tour of the ship shall we?"

Isra turned on her heel, facing the crew assembled at the edge of the Valen Sky's ramp around the boxes and carts of supplies that were still left over.

"Alrighty y'all," she said, clapping her hands together to get everyone attention. "I think that we're all here, so why don't we take a tour why don't we?" Before anyone could reply, Isra was already turned back around and halfway up the ramp into the ship, trailing her cloak behind her. Valentin paused a moment, looking back and forth between the crew and the captain, unsure of what to do with himself now that the sudden confrontation was over. It had left his head spinning how fast Isra could switch between ruthless criminal to charming and friendly spacer.

Isra reached the top of the ramp into the cargo bay, looking around at the many boxes and supplies proudly. "Alright," she said, "this is the cargo bay, and is the biggest of our four decks, since this is after all a freighter. Im going to caution all of your however to keep this section in front of the ramp clear however, so that we can get the speeders out." She gestured at the aforementioned speeders, two two passenger flitters for transportation, one of them spray painted a bright garish purple, and two cargo speeders, one of them missing a thrusters and obviously in need of repairs. "I know they don't look pretty," said Isra, "but they'll get the job done I swear."

She continued on, making her way to a ladder leading straight up, next to a cargo elevator with a second ladder on the right side of it. She pulled herself hand over hand, and stepping out onto the landing of the next deck. She waited for the crew to be up with her before saying, "alright, here we are on deck three, the smallest but arguably most important of our decks. All its really got is the drive core right throgh that first door, and two smaller cargo bays on the right and left. Its mostly our food and such kept in there, as well as back ups and extra parts for engineering. Anywho, on to the next," she said, climbing the ladder again and stepping onto the next decks landing.

"Alright, here we have the second biggest deck but the one with the most stuff in it, crew deck," she said. "To the right and left right in front of us are the crew quarters, you guys can set up however you please." She pointed to two doors to the left and right, each with big stenciled CREW QUARTERS painted on them in white. "From inside the crew quarters, you will have access to a bathroom, one for each. Its only one person bathrooms, so you guys will have to take turns."

She started making her way down the hall, swooping around the tube that the ladder sat in, its twin coming up besides it in the opening in the floor. The hallways quickly narrowed out once the ladders were passed, making it barely big enough for two people to walk abreast in. Space was always a concern on star ships, but it appeared that the Valen Sky's builders were of the impression that that must be taken to the extreme. "This here," said Isra as the space widened out again and with two doors on either side of the newest space, "is our kitchen and living space." There was a little kitchenette against the wall, and a metal table welded to the floor. On one end of the table were swivel chars, also bolted to the floor, and on the other was a long leather (or more likely pleather) couch akin to a restaurant booth. The two doors on wither side were at an angle, as the wall expanded inwards like a half of a hexagon, and on the opposite end of the first doors were two separate doors.

"Behind those two doors," said Isra "are two observation rooms. Theyve each got little couches in them, but theres nothing to special about them otherwise. The doors next to them however lead to the med bay on the left, and the life support on the right. Down his way," continued Isra, "is our guns." She lead them through the living quarters, to where there was a second ladder tube, only this one with only one ladder leading up and down. "As you may have noticed, the ship is armed with two rail cannons, each one loaded with 100 rounds. Not a whole lot, I know, gut believe me rail guns pack a serious punch. The computers will do most of the work or you in terms of aiming, but there is still some human input required of us, so if we get in a fight now you guys know where to go. I imagine Ascot and Alistair will know what to do with thse things, being our resident mercenaries and all."

Isra lead the group back around again, going back the way they came, through the living quarters and passed the ladders and down the hall. "Here," she said, pointing to a hatch in the floor that had CAPTAINS CABIN painted on it with the same big, white stenciled letters, "is my room. Don't go in there unless I invite you, or I will leave your ass behind at the next even remotely inhabited asteroid." She brought them down the rest of the hall, walking over the hatch that was her bedroom door and down the rest of the hallway, opening a door at the end. "This," she said, "is where the magic happens. The control room. It can be run with only one person, but believe me, it will be much more efficient now that I have a crew with me. Elias, Maira, as my resident pilots Im sure the three of us will get along swimmingly in this room. We got our navigation on the left, attached to our comms, those those only work when we're near FTL Comm Buoys, so expect communications to be a little spotty at times. Though I guess most of you are experienced enough to know that about deep space travel. Here on the right we have our ships systems. Power, life support, engine thrust and so on, its all here on the right. And in the center of course, we have the equipment for actually flying this bad boy once we're through the Jump Gates."

Isra turned back to the crew, her hands stuck into her pockets and a satisfied grin on her face. "Now, anyone have any questions?"

[Rodez]

Elias Therrion

Elias took up a position next to Valentin and watched the remainder of the introductions unfold. He almost spoke up when Ascot and Alistair had their kerfuffle, but decided against it. Even though they hadn't come to blows or anything like that, the little interaction still worried him. They couldn't have their two mercenaries at loggerheads, or the expedition was all but doomed to failure.

Still, he wasn't going to insert himself. He wasn't a man who went out and picked fights.

"Shut the fuck up," Isra said.

Elias turned as a new confrontation erupted between Valentin and Isra erupted. He scooted away a few paces so as to be out of the way of Isra, the ship's captain. She was unloading the full brunt of her anger on the wealthy student, not holding back in the slightest. He watched her, admiring. Over the long decades, he had seen the deleterious effects on crew morale that poor officers had. Although the Valen Sky was not any sort of naval vessel, and this wasn't a war, the same basic principle applied. Their success largely hinged on Isra's ability to keep people in line, and Elias noted approvingly that Ms. Daoud was skillfully doing just that.

"Great! Im glad to hear it," she said, patting Valentin on the shoulder, "now let give the crew a tour of the ship shall we?"

Isra turned on her heel, facing the crew assembled at the edge of the Valen Sky's ramp around the boxes and carts of supplies that were still left over.

"Alrighty y'all," she said, clapping her hands together to get everyone attention. "I think that we're all here, so why don't we take a tour why don't we?"

Breathing a soft sigh of relief, Elias followed Isra up the ramp as the freighter's tour got underway.

He glanced around as she explained the cargo deck. There was nothing here that one wouldn't expect on a freighter; the expectation was that most of the ship would be reserved for storage space. Looking over the speeders, however, he hoped one day to try them. He knew from personal experience that the only thing that beat out the thrill of flying a ship was the rush of wind in one's hair while maneuvering a land speeder.

Elias followed Isra and the others up to deck three, where she briefly described the drive core, before moving on up to deck two and the living quarters.

Nothing here was remotely fancy, Elias noted, but it was good for what it was. The kitchenette looked perfectly adequate, and the observation rooms were a nice touch. His only concern was having to bunk up with their mercenary friends, but it didn't seem like that could be avoided. I think I'll sleep with my gun.

They moved on, past Isra's own cabin -Elias would make sure he wasn't caught snooping around there- and into the control room. He took a breath, and felt a wave of familiarity settle over him. It was cramped, congested spaces like these that he had made his name, in war and peace. Although he felt most natural in the tiny world of a single-seat fighter, Elias felt that he could be right at home here, too.

Though the old spacer's maxim that every ship was different was true to an extent, Elias didn't see anything missing or placed strangely. He figured that within a few days, he would have enough familiarity to master the Valen Sky's controls, just as he had mastered every ship prior.

Elias turned his gaze upon Isra and spoke for the first time since introducing himself. "Yeah, I have a couple. You mentioned the drive core earlier, but we didn't see it. What does she carry, core-wise? And what sublight thrusters? And what computers, if any?"

[Dragos Bee]

Ascot Rider

Ascot took special note of the cargo bay and the speeders; these would be needed if he were to run away eventually. The crew quarters and mess hall were what he needed to take note of next; usage of psionic powers required a lot of calories. For a brief moment, the boy gave the subject of his eventual departure more thought: Should he actually plan to leave the crew? They seemed like decent people, after all. Monroe, the blondie, seemed to be the kindest of all; too good for this sinful world, if the cliches had a grain of truth to them. Now, for the greatest surprise of the day: Isra's confrontation with Valentin.

Ordinarily, Ascot would take offense with being called 'a thug', if not for the fact that despite his training for 'intellectual companionship', he was one. Perhaps that would always be the case, as he hadn't been given any way to demonstrate otherwise, and did not know when to accept or reject any opportunity to be more than he currently was.

So his next question to Isra was, "Can I room with Dr. Monroe?"

Then came food. Old Earth recipies, it looked like. Ascot ate with a soup spoon, sticking to etiquette drilled to him in order to avoid offending Valentin.

[The Twelve Isles]

Elias Therrion

Elias took up a position next to Valentin and watched the remainder of the introductions unfold. He almost spoke up when Ascot and Alistair had their kerfuffle, but decided against it. Even though they hadn't come to blows or anything like that, the little interaction still worried him. They couldn't have their two mercenaries at loggerheads, or the expedition was all but doomed to failure.

Still, he wasn't going to insert himself. He wasn't a man who went out and picked fights.

"Shut the fuck up," Isra said.

Elias turned as a new confrontation erupted between Valentin and Isra erupted. He scooted away a few paces so as to be out of the way of Isra, the ship's captain. She was unloading the full brunt of her anger on the wealthy student, not holding back in the slightest. He watched her, admiring. Over the long decades, he had seen the deleterious effects on crew morale that poor officers had. Although the Valen Sky was not any sort of naval vessel, and this wasn't a war, the same basic principle applied. Their success largely hinged on Isra's ability to keep people in line, and Elias noted approvingly that Ms. Daoud was skillfully doing just that.

"Great! Im glad to hear it," she said, patting Valentin on the shoulder, "now let give the crew a tour of the ship shall we?"

Isra turned on her heel, facing the crew assembled at the edge of the Valen Sky's ramp around the boxes and carts of supplies that were still left over.

"Alrighty y'all," she said, clapping her hands together to get everyone attention. "I think that we're all here, so why don't we take a tour why don't we?"

Breathing a soft sigh of relief, Elias followed Isra up the ramp as the freighter's tour got underway.

He glanced around as she explained the cargo deck. There was nothing here that one wouldn't expect on a freighter; the expectation was that most of the ship would be reserved for storage space. Looking over the speeders, however, he hoped one day to try them. He knew from personal experience that the only thing that beat out the thrill of flying a ship was the rush of wind in one's hair while maneuvering a land speeder.

Elias followed Isra and the others up to deck three, where she briefly described the drive core, before moving on up to deck two and the living quarters.

Nothing here was remotely fancy, Elias noted, but it was good for what it was. The kitchenette looked perfectly adequate, and the observation rooms were a nice touch. His only concern was having to bunk up with their mercenary friends, but it didn't seem like that could be avoided. I think I'll sleep with my gun.

They moved on, past Isra's own cabin -Elias would make sure he wasn't caught snooping around there- and into the control room. He took a breath, and felt a wave of familiarity settle over him. It was cramped, congested spaces like these that he had made his name, in war and peace. Although he felt most natural in the tiny world of a single-seat fighter, Elias felt that he could be right at home here, too.

Though the old spacer's maxim that every ship was different was true to an extent, Elias didn't see anything missing or placed strangely. He figured that within a few days, he would have enough familiarity to master the Valen Sky's controls, just as he had mastered every ship prior.

Elias turned his gaze upon Isra and spoke for the first time since introducing himself. "Yeah, I have a couple. You mentioned the drive core earlier, but we didn't see it. What does she carry, core-wise? And what sublight thrusters? And what computers, if any?"

"well," said Isra, "its sort of a give and take with our engines. The Valen Sky carries a Tachyon Mk II drive core, giving us about average 10x light speed once we're through Jump Gates. The sublight thrusters however are a lot better, they're all three Tours Class 1's, and equipped with LackaLite Turbo's, giving us some serious umpf when we want it. For those of you not in the know, those are the kinds of thrusters that blockade runners use. As for a computer, Im afraid its a lot more basic. Its stock for this ship, and monitors engine heat, damage and pretty much all things condition wise, though Im afraid that while the computers will handle any heat venting issue we may have with the Core or the thrusters, the LackaLite's are not hooked up to it, so we have to monitor those ourselves and vent their heat with manual overrides. Thats usually something that I handle ever day, at about lunchtime."

Ascot Rider

So his next question to Isra was, "Can I room with Dr. Monroe?"

"Well, that's not really up to me," said Isra in response to Ascots question. "There's eight bunks all in all, four in each of the quarters, but as for where you choose to bunk that's up to you."

[Rodez]

"Well," said Isra, "its sort of a give and take with our engines. The Valen Sky carries a Tachyon Mk II drive core, giving us about average 10x light speed once we're through Jump Gates. The sublight thrusters however are a lot better, they're all three Tours Class 1's, and equipped with LackaLite Turbo's, giving us some serious umpf when we want it. For those of you not in the know, those are the kinds of thrusters that blockade runners use. As for a computer, Im afraid its a lot more basic. Its stock for this ship, and monitors engine heat, damage and pretty much all things condition wise, though Im afraid that while the computers will handle any heat venting issue we may have with the Core or the thrusters, the LackaLite's are not hooked up to it, so we have to monitor those ourselves and vent their heat with manual overrides. Thats usually something that I handle ever day, at about lunchtime."

Elias Therrion

Elias nodded, satisfied. A Tachyon Mk. II core was not anything special, but it could (probably) get the job done in tight spots. The computer situation was also to be expected; no stock freighter of this size carried AI. Even if it was added in later, he doubted the ship's electronic innards could support a very advanced system. Between Isra, Maira and himself, Elias very much doubted that they would require the logistical support of AI anyways.

The thrusters . . . though. Tour Class 1s. Got to give those a spin at some point. Tours was well regarded where sublight systems were concerned, and Class 1s would allow the Valen Sky to positively zip around when in-system.

He looked back at Isra. "That answers my concerns, then. I'm sure Maira and I will pick up the Valen Sky's finer points along the way."

[Brusia]

Dr. Theanor Jarak
Tiau System
New Prague City Spaceport

Theanor nodded towards both the financier and Captain as they introduced themselves, somewhat surprised at the former's decent pronunciation of the Quihansu greeting; most humans quite struggled with his language, so he gathered the man must likely have been either well educated, well traveled, or some combination of the two. As the Captain directed him to the ship and informed him that a tour would be starting soon, Theanor again politely bowed his head to her and stated: "Thank you, a tour would be very much appreciated" then made his way inside the vessel. Theanor decided to keep his things with him for the time being, and looked out one of the vessel's windows at the crowded port while waiting for the tour to start.

Despite his location near the window, the Quihansu's sensitive hearing did pick up Isra and Valentin's...disagreement, which did concern him a little; having the leadership of any group at loggerheads inevitably meant trouble, and he certainly hoped the two would be able to work out their differences before it put the expedition, or the crew, in danger. Theanor made his way back to the group once the tour began, and he made particular note of the locations of the med bay, crew quarters, and observation lounges, figuring he would almost certainly be spending the bulk of his time in those areas. Once the tour ended and the Captain opened the floor to questions, Theanor waited for a few of his crewmates to ask their questions first then stated: "Pardon me, if I may ask, what sort of medical equipment and supplies is the medical bay equipped with?"