Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Neu-Lumen

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman

With a slight hiss the rock of his cigarette glowed in the dim light of the apartment, Captain Corbett's lips pursed around its filter as his eyes dashed from light to light before him. It was a beautiful sight, the tips of the skyline and the night sky, and the Azrican man took pleasure in trying to pick out constellations he might recognize. There were two that were known to anyone who dwelt in this system, the Tower and the Lady, which he spotted after a few moments. Without thinking he still searched for the constellations of his childhood at times, for the stars of Eglin and Eßfeld, before he recalled that he lived in the farthest place from home that he could find. Smoke spilled from his lips as he lingered over such a thought with a lengthy sigh, eyes dropping from the image he so enjoyed to drift over a coffee table. Were it that his work would allow him a modicum of time free to his own devices, free to live in his own home, it likely would've been cluttered to the Constructs and back, but instead it just held some petty decorations, the sorts of thing that he never cared for but Daedri always said made the place more home-y.

He was still debating on whether he should throw them away or not.

Green eyes flitted back to the stars he'd watched before, his visage softening as he began to wonder about each of them, whether or not they were Imperial systems, or if they belonged to the Coalition, or the Soviets. Weathered fingers pinched his vice and brought it to a nearby ashtray, flicking it idly as he pondered each one's nature. The answers were only a moment away of course, he could draw up the computer in his wrist and look over the many likely entries on every star that he could see, but that thought ruined the fun of it, in his eyes, to dispel the mystery and the wonder that he held for each system and world that might be out there, that he might see. Were it under different circumstances, his venture here to Neu-Lumen would've likely elicited a similar response.

There were times like this that he was tempted to check on his family, his brother, back on Eglin, to see if they were doing alright, to make sure that he hadn't ruined their lives the way that he always feared he had. With a startling ring heard only in his mind Otto's computer alerted him of an incoming call, as if summoned by his own thoughts. Instead of jumping, or even flinching, Corbett glanced to his left wrist with a disgusted look on his face. Sticking the cigarette once more between his lips, the policeman pulled back the unbuttoned cuff of his white dress-shirt, a gentle press of a finger to the wrist bringing up a holographic interface which he tapped and slid his fingers over, answering the call quickly enough. "Major Kleist."

"Four bodies on Arqaplatz, Otto. I've already got two on site to secure the scene. Be there within the hour."

There was no visual feed on the call, and likely for the best considering the look that Corbett gave the display that had flashed up before him. Two fingers moved to his temple, pressing firmly there against his head as took another drag. "Confirmed, major." With that the call ended, leaving Corbett with a few minutes to prepare himself to head back out into the city. Frustrated eyes looked back to the stars and the skyline, some part of him lusting for the chance to head out, to explore, but knowing that he couldn't get within a thousand parsecs of any Redwing world without being arrested. With another swipe of his fingers on his own holo-display, the silhouette of the skyline against the stars disappeared, the projection gone. Without moving the Azrican elected to finish his cigarette before he got up.

Perhaps next time they'd give him enough time off to change his uniform.

____

It wasn't raining today, which was already a plus, though there were times that Corbett couldn't tell whether it was actually a change in the weather or if he was simply standing underneath so much urban sprawl that the water wasn't reaching him where he was. The reed-green uniform of the Zivilwacht remained a rather sickly tone in the neon light that was so prevalent on this world, but especially in this particular sector. Arqaplatz - not so much a plaza as a general region utterly dominated by the influence of the Diva Arqa and her 'modest' economic empire, moreso than the rest of the planet that she veritably owned. It was one of the most popular locations on-world, both for natives and tourists alike, and in the eyes of Corbett one of the most dangerous.

The click of his boots' heel-irons announced his arrival, Corbett's sullen gaze moving from body to covered body, what few members of the crowds that milled around the cordoned crime scene that bothered to look being shooed away quickly enough. "Hauptmann Corbett!" Came a voice from nearby, eliciting a curious glance from the man at whom it was directed. A young Wachtmeisterin that seemed oddly familiar to the captain, earning a furrowed brow from the veteran as he tried to place her while she approached. Did he train her? "We were told you wouldn't be here for another twenty minutes-"

Zabala. That was her name. Her olive tone betrayed her Vendragan heritage, the combination of such with the blue eyes sparked his memory. The nametag didn't hurt either. "Got tired of waiting." The captain replied with a wave of his hand, soon looking back to the bodies gathered. "Anything notable?" Beyond what was already there for them to see. Once Zabala finished he'd take a genuine look over the deceased, but for now he was content to listen to whatever she had to say.

"It looks like a dump. All four were executed, probably tossed out of an aircar here. There were some lurkers rifling through the bodies but... I don't think they're who we're looking at for this, sir."

Lurkers. It was a term that Corbett was fairly familiar with, the general term applied to the unregistered and feral population of major urban centers like this, used by civilian and Zivi alike. They could range from children to the elderly, though considering the stress of that sort of life many didn't make it too far into middle age before tripping up. The captain bit his lip in thought as he considered what their presence might indicate. There had been plenty of murders by lurkers before, but if that was the case then he didn't think they'd stick around for the police to find them looting the bodies. "I take it you didn't apprehend any of them?" That didn't need to be answered, and it seemed like they hadn't shot any of them either, or Kleist would've said something over the call about it.

"... just ran them off, sir." Zabala was a soft sort, which wasn't a bad thing in her position as a Wachtmeisterin, having been raised poor, here in the bowels of the city. She knew as well as any how difficult it could be to live here, and how not every lurker was a feral savage. Corbett could understand where she came from, and understood the blessing that a sense of mercy could be firsthand, and would refrain from mentioning her failure to detain those at the scene to Major Kleist. With a droop in his shoulders, a sigh accompanying, Otto moved forward to the first of the bodies, crouching beside it and pulling back the sheet to reveal what might have once been a handsome face, were it not for the exit wound that had blown most of it from his head. Corbett was unfazed by the sight, hand moving soon enough to draw up the man's wrist. Reaching about his waist, Otto slipped a small device from his belt and placed it over such, reading the data that was displayed on its minuscule screen.

"Zabala."

"Sir?" Came her quick response, having glanced over to her colleague to make sure he had the situation under control, turning sharply back to Corbett, face showing some slight worry at how unperturbed the officer was.

"Have you checked any of these bodies identifications?" Came Otto's inquiry, looking over his shoulder to the young woman. She blinked, nonplussed for a moment as she considered how to explain her reasoning. It was a matter that she had felt best to leave to the officer in charge of the incident, but now... the last thing she wanted it to look like was incompetence.

"... I felt that it was best to leave that to you." A severe look came over the Azrican's face at such, the man moving with little hesitation to the next body. This one was a woman, though her fate seemed to be much the same as the other, and her identification proved much the same as the first. The next two yielded all-too-similar results, Corbett's calm demeanor seeming to disintegrate with each body observed, with Zabala stepping closer out of concern. She didn't need to ask the question she held in her mind as she watched Corbett check the last of the bodies, soon pulling the man's jacket open and searching the body in earnest.

"I would hope your Lurkers haven't gone far, Zabala. These officers are missing their sidearms." Considering that only someone with a chip broadcasting a Zivilwächt signal could use one of those weapons without triggering the explosive charge, it was likely only a matter of time before an innocent wound up crippled, and a Lurker dead.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Krysis and Ottoman

The streets of Neu-Lumen were a paradise to those that knew where to look. Sure, the kids were still eating garbage, but it was 5-star garbage from some of the best restaurants in the Empire. Tourists threw away clothes that were almost new (when they found them to be out of fashion within the week). The young lurkers even had shoes, most of the time. Tommy was smoking a shorty and scratching under his hat as he watched over the half of the crew under his direct command. The youngers had stayed behind while this raid was going on, since they needed the taller and stronger kids to pull it off.

They had swiped cases of booze from the shipping dock of one of the casinos, slid them down a slimy pipe and into the sewers. Then they floated the prizes on rafts made of debris to the people that wanted to trade. A few bottles were kept for their own enjoyment, but most of it was handed over for things they found much more valuable.

Now the trick was to get the goods 'home' without having them stolen right out of their hands, which was why Tommy was giving the 'not yet' signal with the bobbing of his hat over the bouncing of his knuckles. Someone was watching the entrance of the safe house where the youngers were supposed to be hiding.

While the tall young man watched, Addy Smith and her small clique of girls her age came dashing up. They were too young for caution, being about 8 or 9 years old, but old enough to want to contribute to the crew. It was impossible to control the scamps, though Tommy could have sworn he extracted a promise from Addy not to go gadding about while the tallers were doing their business.

Tommy stomped towards Addy as he jammed his hat down hard on his head, forgetting that was the 'come on' signal. Twelve taller, older kids came boiling out of the alley they had been hiding in. Addy stopped near the entrance of the safe house, almost comically dismayed. The other girls darted inside, their prizes hid under their shirts and the entrance falling shut behind them, but Addy was caught by the arm before Tommy reached her.

"Give up the goods, sister!" The older lurker demanded, shaking Addy and pawing at her. The older group, which had Tommy giving the 'not yet' signal before, gathered around threateningly. Then they were swarmed by shouting boys.

Chaos, shouting, and then tragedy. Addy hauled out the sidearm she had stolen from one of the bodies that had been dumped a mere two blocks away. She jammed it into the midsection of the man that was shaking her like a terrier with a rat.

He had time to go pale as she fumbled at the safety, but not enough to get back before the weapon exploded.

Seconds later, most of the kids had disappeared, mostly through the small entrances to the safe house, as well as all but one of the older lurkers. The man that had grabbed Addy was almost dead, his rib cage exposed and busted, and his guts slopped over the filthy pavement. Tommy was holding Addy's arm with both hands while the girl screamed, trying to staunch the flow so the girl wouldn't bleed to death. A chip of bone had sliced open her forehead too, and her face was covered in blood, but he didn't have the means to help her further.

"Damn it, Addy, what have you done?" Tommy growled among the screams, young enough that he couldn't help the tears smarting his eyes, but old enough to be embarrassed about his reaction to his companion's suffering.

____

"... and you're telling me we have no overwatch here, Wachtmeisterin?" The Azrican called over his shoulder, moving in the direction that Zabala had indicated that the Lurkers had fled in, the Vendragan woman not far behind her superior as she moved and ducked through the crowd with him. They'd left the other officer, Bohrmann, behind to control the scene after requesting further aid, deciding to pursue the dregs as well as they could on foot before air support arrived - once they had eyes in the air it would hopefully become a far more simple affair. Corbett had yet to draw his sidearm, yet to fire it into the air to disperse the crowds that ebbed and flowed in whichever direction, moving at a pace quick enough to satisfy him for now, even if his comrade had some difficulty matching it. Despite their efforts, it proved in vain, the tell-tale crack of a pistol's explosive charge muffled by the storefronts and slums surrounding them, just barely audible over Zabala's response.

"N-no sir."

A momentary lapse in the Hauptmann's pace came with the sound, knowing that one of the Lurkers - or some other poor soul - had tried to use one of the weapons and had suffered the consequences. If they were fortunate only one of the Lurkers managed to be caught in the blast, and with renewed vigor Corbett pushed on, now genuinely pushing and shoving his way through the crowd, determined to let that be the only sidearm lost today. Following the screams, faint as they were at first, Otto and his colleague closed the distance, stumbling across the scene soon enough - a man with his guts blown out across the scene and a girl, not even a teenager by the looks of it, with a bloody stump of an arm and a boy doing his best to help her. The sight didn't quite stun him as disgust him, the thought that children, of all people, should have to experience such misery. This sort of thing was unheard of in the Duchy of Azrica, at least where he was from. "By the fucking Constructs-" He managed, Zabala soon taking up his flank and regarding the situation with a piteous look while Corbett moved in to help, knowing that the man was beyond help, but she wasn't. "Get us medevac, Zabala."

Deft hands moved to unbuckle his belt, the polished buckle sliding off the belt's clasp with ease, waiting to strip it of its contents until he was kneeling beside the boy and girl, giving orders with only the concern to do what he could for the young woman. "Get her down on her back and lift her arm up." He directed Thomas, not even bothering to look at him as he focused on the girl and her injuries. Taking care to tuck his holster underneath his knee, the man cleared his belt of the rest of its pouches and accouterments, moving quickly to begin winding it as tight as he could about her arm once it was free. "Zabala!" The woman, already in the middle of requesting medical aid from dispatch, snapped her gaze about, looking to Corbett.

"Sir?"

"Your baton, now!" Still on the horn with the powers that be, she moved with purpose to Corbett's side, sliding the weapon from its frog and handing it to the captain as he finished his makeshift tourniquet, beginning to tighten it on the girl's arm. No doubt it would hurt, she likely was so focused on pain now that the added misery wasn't too much of a disturbance, but it was a chance at saving the girl from her blunder earlier. Once he had adequate pressure, or as close as he could get to adequate, Corbett spared one hand to push back his shako by its brim, glancing to the young man who'd been trying to help. Doing his best to seem amiable, despite the circumstances, Otto inquired as to the other firearms, lingering on his words.

"Get us the rest of those weapons and there'll be no charges."

____

Tommy had kept up the pressure until the man in uniform seemed to have the belt tight enough to stop the bleeding entirely. He had also yanked Addy around so the girl's head was cushioned by his own knee and her arm was as high as he could get it, when instructed to get her on her back. While Thomas' hands were big enough to encircle the girl's arm and tight enough to staunch the flow, his strength was not endless. The belt might not be quite as comfortable for the girl, but it was positioned better, below the elbow instead of in the shattered mess of the forearm where Tommy had instinctively grabbed.

When Addy was sufficiently in someone else's hands, someone that could provide for her better than him, Tommy intended to scuttle away. No point in him getting pinched when he had his crew to care for. Otto's words stopped him cold.

"The rest of them? How many did they take?" Tommy swallowed hard, staring down at Addy and her cooling attacker, shoving his blooded hands through his messy blonde curls without thinking about it. The kid needed a shower badly anyway, so a little more mess didn't really hurt. It just made his hair stand up in burgundy spikes where his fingers had squeezed in frustration.

Addy was in no state to answer. Her screams had faded off as she slipped unconscious, and without her usual expression of cocky superiority or infuriating false innocence, she looked as young as she really was. Dressed in the same random mess as the rest of the kids, the little girl was a particularly pathetic figure. Her rags were clean, though, and Tommy tore a piece from her ruined shirt to use on her forehead, so that his filthy hands wouldn't be so likely to give her an infection.

Tommy settled back down on his knees instead of being tensed to run as he had been. He was young, but he understood responsibility. It was his job to keep his crew safe, and if they had more of those explosive weapons, he wanted to know from someone that wouldn't lie to him. Plus, he couldn't really leave Addy. It had been just a few years ago that she had helped him start his crew, and while she was too young yet to be his second, she had been the one to convince him that he needed older kids to help, as well as protecting the littl'uns.

Though he couldn't help but be envious of Corbette's hat and that might have had something to do with him staying as well.

____

Twisting the belt with Zabala's baton, Corbett did the best he could to stabilize the girl here before more help arrived. The only medical supplies that officers on the street had were kept in their aircars, with his and Zabala's both back at the drop point there was little point in moving to fetch them when better assistance was already on its way. At least the other Lurker seemed reasonable enough, though whether his cooperative nature thus far was born out of fear or actual mettle had yet to be seen, and given the impact that his statement already had on the boy it seemed that they might get somewhere easily enough. It only took Corbett a moment to consider what seeing a friend's arm blown off could do for incentive. "There were four bodies, I'm assuming three more pistols."

"Hauptmann Corbett." Zabala's voice caught his attention, looking to the Wachtmeisterin soon enough, silently bidding the Vendragan to speak. "Overwatch is already en route, they say they can provide medevac but we're not getting a dedicated ambulance." It wasn't exactly what Otto wanted to hear, but beggars couldn't be choosers, and so he nodded, looking back down to the now-silent girl. What first aid materials they had on the shuttle would have to do on the way to the hospital, though already his mind began to wander on how to proceed with this. He couldn't take his belt off of the girl, at least not until she was better stabilized, and he couldn't return to the scene without his equipment. The Azrican began to weigh the pros and cons of leaving on the shuttle with the girl, and just how he could bullshit his way out of a reprimand.

"Zabala." Otto started, looking back to the girl and glancing to the boy before reaching his free hand into one of his tunic pockets, drawing out a tightly-wound wad of transparent bags. "When this young man gets these other sidearms for us, put them directly into these bags." Though they likely had these Lurkers hands all over them, there was still some slight chance they might get a print. Beyond that, at least they'd have them secured as evidence. As soon as Zabala had the bags out of his hand, the officer turned back to Thomas, a severe, but not hostile, look paid to the boy. "You will do that for us, won't you?" He'd hoped the promise of no charges being levied against him would be enough incentive for him, though the added danger that these weapons posed the rest of his group likely worked far more in Corbett's favor than he gave it credit for.

____

Tommy let the grown-ups talk while he thought about the situation, though most would mistake it for politeness. When spoken to again, he finally answered, "No offense, officer, but I don't see what charges you could lay against me just for knowing Addy. I wasn't around when she stole. In fact, this morning, I told her not to steal anything. That makes me just a bystander. One that can be helpful to you, but maybe you'd get my help quicker with promises instead of threats."

The young blonde male gave a sad smile, "My price isn't high. Just some food that ain't rotten for me and my crew. Maybe some medicine for a couple that are sick, if you can get hold of the right stuff. If not, maybe someone else wants those weapons badly enough to help us out. There is thirty of us, and keeping that many mouths fed is hard work, even with charity from nice folks like yourself."

His dirty hand brushed affectionately over the little girl's mousy hair. "Addy will just have to pay for what she did. Adelaide Smith, if you need her name for your papers. She doesn't have a chip or identification because she was an illegal birth, so you'll have to ask her for her history if you want it. She must have taken all four of those weapons herself, after she saw what happened to the proper owners. Maybe she gave the other three to her friends, but I am sure her friends didn't know they were stolen." Of course that was an outrageous lie, but unless there was a recording of the events, Tommy was sure he could get the others to back up the story. Especially if it kept them out of whatever form of lock-up was reserved for such naughty children.

More importantly, the powers-that-be would want to keep Addy alive until they got what they wanted from her. An injured witness would surely rate better care than a wounded criminal. Maybe they'd even find her a good place somewhere, better than the life a crippled street urchin would have at the very least.

____

The stare that such words elicited from Corbett spoke volumes as to how rash and unexpected this boy's response was, his hand moving the bags back to his pocket before Zabala could reach them. The fact that a lurker was attempting to negotiate with an officer of the law almost dumbfounded the captain before he realized that the boy had likely never spoken at length with an officer of the law before - Thomas likely had no experience with them, or knew what the Zivilwächter were capable of. Simply being who he was, rather what he was, there were a multitude of charges that could be brought against the young man, nevermind the ones that he could fabricate as a matter of circumstance - his status as an officer of the law and Thomas' as a lurker would seal the matter in the eyes of his superiors. Only after a few moments did the man blink, squinting slightly as if there was something about Hook that he hadn't noticed before, unsure whether he was ballsy or simply stupid.

The bellowing roar of the repulsor-rift engines of the dropship began to near, its rectangular shape guided by thrust-vectoring engines, having to take its time through the underbelly of the city even though most traffic gave it a wide berth. Zabala looked rather confused herself, though it was a reaction born more out of uncertainty as to Otto's reaction as it was regarding the actions that warranted such response. It was only when the dropship came into sight, the displaced air from the engines kicking up water and grime from the street below, that Corbett replied, having given his words sufficient thought. "I think you've misunderstood me." The doors slid back on the dropship to reveal Zivilwächt officers clad in grey combat gear, stepping off of the bird the moment it was low enough, StGs in hand. They fanned out, securing the position with one moving to the side of the now-expired Lurker that had made the mistake of manhandling the young miss Smith, checking the body before rejoining the rest of the body.

"We were told to prepare for medevac." One spoke through his helmet, the faceless, smooth surface glancing without eyes to Zabala and Corbett. The latter didn't answer, leaving that task to Zabala as she approached the leader of this armed team. It only took a few moments for the matter to be clarified that they weren't there for an officer, but rather the girl on the ground. Within moments they had a stretcher free, with the captain continuing only once they'd taken the girl from his direct custody. Bloody hands stuffed the accouterments from his belt into his tunic pockets, lingering on the large holster of the P-118 he usually carried before stuffing that into his trouser pocket.

"This was not a negotiation." With that he rose from where he had been crouching, heel-irons grinding into the metal surface below, scraping against it with a less-than-pleasant noise. "... and it will be quite clear when I begin to threaten you." He detested practicing such methods, of using force to coerce out of civilians what discourse usually should, but that was a method reserved for citizens and not for lurkers. Regardless of the citizenship and legal rights of the young man in front of him, Corbett wouldn't sink to the levels of his peers, to the levels that he had fallen to before Neu-Lumen, and coerce him here with force or threats. The detective simply moved to accompany young Addy's stretcher to the dropship, waving Zabala off to return to her post at the crime scene. As the armed figures retreated to the dropship, Hauptmann Corbett paid a glance to Adelaide on her stretcher before looking back to Thomas.

"I wouldn't want to be caught holding a weapon without a permit, young man, much less one stolen from the police." Reaching a hand up to hold one of the supports, Otto braced himself for takeoff before the gunmetal doors slid back into place and the engines roared to life once more, off to carry Addy to the nearest public hospital.

____

Tommy pursed his lips at the officer's reaction, then shrugged to himself and sauntered off. He seemed quite at ease among the debris stirred up by the drop ship, and would soon be out of sight among the buildings.

"I must have sprung it on him too fast. He'll rethink things. Who else can get those weapons for him, after all?" Tommy muttered, absently spinning an old bicycle wheel that was attached to a wall, and then deliberately stepping on a particular bit of trash that littered the ally floor. Those were triggers that unlocked the hubcap that covered a chute, which Tommy used to get into the hideout which was below the street.

Maybe the place was once meant for maintenance, but as the neighborhood above had decayed, it had gotten closed off and forgotten. It had become a perfect place for kids to hide. All the remaining entrances were small ones, narrow slots where wires ran, places where the bricks had fallen out and been shoved wide enough for the children to get through. The door had been welded shut at some point, and had proven to be beyond the talents of the older lurkers to open.

In the previous generation, it had been a place of last resort with no heat to make it bearable and the cold cement floor sucking the warmth out of their bones. Tommy and one of the other orphans had fixed that. They had rigged one bizarre heater out of old heating elements and wires, stealing electricity from the building above via the power lines that ran through their little home. It just took someone brave enough to put on the three rubber gloves and close the connection by folding the bare wire over the live wire and jump back in case of sparks.

Tommy was staring up at that evidence of his good stewardship while the other kids scurried around him. Some of them were lively enough to play. Some were handing out shares of what food they had. The three very oldest boys had opened a bottle of the stolen liquor and were finding out what it was like to be drunk. Addy's three friends were sitting nearby, watching Tommy as he absently washed up.

"Whatever else you guys got with Addy, I want you to put them in bags. Whatever clean plastic bags we've got." Tommy finally told those three, his expression hardening when one started to whine.

"Addy might die tonight. She's gone from here for good anyway, because the Zivelwatchers have her. We're going to get what ever we can from that stuff, and forget we ever saw it." He instructed, frustrated at the selfishness of the young girls.

"What's more than that, I wanted to give it to the officers, if we could have gotten Anything in exchange. The Baroness has too much of a hold on us already, and she is the only other option. What do you think would happen if the Baroness knew we had that junk? Huh? She stopped the assault on our door once because of the percentage we have to give her goons, but if we piss them off again, we're fucked." Still moist with mostly clean water, he gave the little girl a shake, holding her by her shoulders. "Ethie, we can't screw this up. This is the biggest thing we've ever done and we've already lost something precious to do it. So give it up. The gun and whatever else you took. Into a bag."

When Ethel reluctantly obeyed, Tommy sat back again. Worrying at his thumbnail with his teeth, he muttered, "If that officer doesn't come back looking for us in three days, I'll have to go see the Baroness."

____

According to the extranet feed he'd been listening to a few minutes ago it was raining, though without any sight of clouds here it was hard to tell - the water that dripped and fell about everywhere down here could've come from any number of sources. Still, some part of his mind wanted to believe that the water that he watched from the window was precipitation, if only in that it reminded him of his home, of a planet that wasn't covered with urban sprawl. Across the mighty chasm from the window he stared out of danced a woman on a massive holographic screen, though from here it looked to be little more than a typical bill-board, the sign proving all the smaller to the eye at some forty kilometers away, the yellow backlight a saffron glow over the buildings and facilities that surrounded it. Another club was opening, it seemed, and Corbett wondered who had financed it as he took another drag off of his cigarette. Of course there were thousands, if not tens of thousands, of people who could afford to do such a thing here, he couldn't help but wonder if it was her...

The shuffling footsteps behind him caught his ear but not his eye, only glancing to the reflection of the man who soon stood beside him in the window, seeing it was a patrolman stopping by to give him the requisitioned belt he'd put in for. He'd arrived at the hospital some nine hours ago, the leather belt he'd used as a tourniquet having long since been ruined, and so to have something to put his gear back on was something of a relief. "Quartermaster said he'd dock it from your pay, Hau-" Otto took the belt with little change in posture, his spare hand moving from his pocket to take the black belt from the junior officer, unrolling it as he replied.

"Tell him to suck a dick." The cigarette was perched in the corner of Corbett's mouth as he took each piece from the bulging pockets on his tunic, making sure to slip them onto the belt in their correct order, having to reset the handcuff pouch he carried after putting it on upside down. The patrolman seemed to blanch at the uncouth words of the captain, uncertain how to take such an attitude towards a man who had, for the most part, seemed quite serious on having the belt paid for. "You can tell him I told you to say it, Anwärter, if it makes you feel any better." Otto knew Wilhelm back at the station, and how he skimmed off the top by hiding behind regulations and procedure, but the two had an arrangement: Willy didn't pull his shit with Corbett and got him a good price on his Rotdrossel Smooths, and in return Corbett didn't blab to the chief that their quartermaster was a profiteer. The boy stammered silently for a moment or two, uncertain what to say before Otto looked up to him, holding the belt with both hands for a moment as the rock of his vice held an amber light.

"... thank you for the belt, Anwärter. Dismissed."

Quietly the younger man showed himself out as Corbett slipped the belt around his hips, clicking the two-piece buckle together as it rested at his navel, the leather accouterments nestling nicely in the belt-hooks his tunic sported. Weathered, cold fingers returned to the filter of his cigarette, relishing the heat that came as the thing wore itself down over time, the brief blossom of feeling that returned to them with their proximity to the embers. He'd already gone through a pack since he arrived, fretting over the presence of law-enforcement firearms in the hands of the general populace. It was a safe bet to assume that the other children, Thomas' little gang, wouldn't be pulling the triggers any time soon after seeing what happened to their comrade, though whether or not they would hold onto them was another matter. Already he had run through the list of people that Hook might try to pawn the weapons off on three or four times, mentally checking off the various unsavory elements that lingered around Arqaplatz and the Triegen District, though one in particular didn't sit well with him - the Diva for whom the level was named.

Though it would've been unfair to Corbett to say that the condition of young Addy Smith wasn't also contributing to his consumption of his treasured Rotdrossels. The girl had been stabilized, though there was a time when whether or not she'd pull through wasn't quite clear - she had lost quite a lot of blood, though between the medevac and his first aid she'd kept just enough it seemed. For now she slept, her body doing its best to recover from the trauma that she had been subjected to, and once she was cogent enough to answer the proper questions she would be processed and integrated into the registry. Already she had been chipped, though the thing still had to be properly updated beyond 'Name: Adelaide Smith'. She could clarify the situation at the drop for him, even if she was uncooperative now, as he had the definite advantage in negotiations with her here, and without any of her friends to fall back on. Her life as she knew it was gone, and already part of him wondered what would befall her once he had the information he required. There was little doubt in his mind she would become a ward of the state, likely sent off to one of the major academies for training, to become an officer in the struggle for 'der Endsieg' as the Empress called it.

"Mister Corbett?" Another man's voice came over his shoulder, Otto glancing about to see a man in medical scrubs standing there, having just emerged from the ward that Addy was staying in, ducking out into the waiting area that the captain had made his nest for the time being. A brief glance looked the nurse over before Corbett took a final, lingering puff off of the cigarette and ground it into the well-used ashtray, the policeman not having a chance to respond before the other continued. "You asked to be informed when she woke?" The detective nodded, rubbing what ash had gotten to his fingers off on the leg of his trousers as he turned. "I wouldn't press too much, she's high as a kite right now, but she seems-"

"Thank you, sir." Corbett murmured, cutting the man off as he moved to look in at the girl, glad to see that she lay on something far more comfortable than an operating table now. As the nurse slipped away, Otto moved as quietly as his boots would allow, pulling a stool over beside the young girl's bed, taking a seat and looking over the work of the doctors on her arm and forehead. She'd taken quite the blow, but to her credit she had weathered that tempest. Though he hadn't worn the thing since he moved inside, Otto's shako rested neatly in his lap, the man speaking as gently as he could manage.

"... feeling better, Addy?"

____

Addy lifted her arms to try to rub at her face, or at least tried to. One hurt like hell, the other was cuffed to the rail of the bed. The pain killers had her groggy still, so it took her a moment to focus on first the bandages and stitches, and then on Corbett's face and start whimpering. Holding up her truncated right arm, which had been cut back to the elbow joint, she asked with a quavering voice, "Where'd my hand go?"

Yes, she was playing up the pathetic just a little, but it wasn't like anyone expected a little girl to be tough about something like this. So she started to cry a little, struggling to sit up as she let herself think about how hard it was going to be to survive on the streets short a hand. Panic would come soon after, though dulled a bit with the chemicals in her system. Wide-eyed and scared, she shook her head rapidly, staring at Corbett as she started to whisper and hyperventilate, "I can't do this. What am I going to do? I can't do this!"

____

"You lost it today, Addy." He offered, trying his best to explain it honestly, if gently, before the girl began to panic. Could the captain really blame her for the reaction? She was but a child, the doctors guessing that she likely wasn't even ten yet, and had already had the life she had known - not to mention her arm - ripped from her, both figuratively and literally. Whether it was the girl's objective or not, she did produce a most pathetic sight, drawing some sympathy from the man as he reached to put his hand over hers, hoping to calm the girl if he might. His quiet words were soon drowned out by her quasi-hysterical fit, the man forced to raise his voice. "Addy-... Addy!"

Once he had managed such a feat, olympian as it might have been, the Azrican man sighed, his voice dropping back into its usual muted baritone. "... you don't have to do anything right now." The policeman relaxed in his seat, moving to set his hat on the tray the girl would take her meals off of, thinking of what might work best to calm the girl. "You're safe." Safe, that was likely an alien concept to her if anything was - life on the streets was unforgiving, especially in a society that tended not to tolerate vagrancy or delinquency - and in retrospect for a moment he didn't know if that was the best thing to say. At the very least the statement was genuine, and without caveats. There was no 'for now', 'until dawn' or 'for a little while', just safe. "Is there anything I can do, or get, for you?"

____

"Safe is a lie that grown-ups tell. No one is ever safe." Addy corrected Corbett with a hard set to her narrow jaw and a coldness in her teary eyes. She held on to his hand though, tightly enough to demonstrate a reluctance to be alone, even if she did think he was either a liar or a fool.

Adelaide thought about it for a moment when he offered help, sniffling and using her shoulders to wipe at the lower parts of her face as she tried to think about what she needed and could convince the man to give her. She shrugged after a moment, "Take the cuff off? And maybe something to eat? And some clothes? And--"

The little girl stopped there, biting her lower lip before giving the officer a pleading look, "Could you tell me what happened after...?" but her voice broke and she couldn't finish the question, hoping he could figure out what she couldn't bring herself to say out loud.

____

The truth of the matter was that the girl wasn't entirely wrong - safety was a fleeting concept, especially on this planet. Despite wanting to contradict her, to correct the girl, the man simply let the comment slide, figuring it was going to take more than just him saying something once to overcome nearly a decade of survivalist instinct. She had seen the streets just as much as he had, if only from a different perspective, and neither of them could deny the experience, the reality, that they had been witness to. But, as Adelaide would find out soon enough, she wasn't going to be on the streets again - never again, if God was willing.

Actions, not words, he reminded himself.

Patiently he waited to hear her requests, setting his hat to the side, listening intently as she reviewed the various things that might improve her stay. Of course he could comply with them, though the clothes and food might be a bit coming, reaching for the keys that went to all of the cuffs used by the Zivilwächter, freeing the girl from the bounds that kept her to the bed. There was nothing to worry about really, between her injuries and the chip that was planted in her arm she wasn't going anywhere fast. "In a moment, Addy." He would send out a call for clothing, proper clothing, for a girl her age soon enough. Someone from the department could see to that, he was sure.

There wasn't all that much to tell, really. "Officer Zabala and I came across the scene, and I stopped the bleeding. We got you on a ship and brought you here, to the hospital." Corbett offered her a smile at that, hoping it might calm her nerves some. "The doctors and nurses fixed you right up." There was no need to burden the girl with the what-ifs of her survival - she was in the clear now, no need to complicate the situation.

____


"Who else got hurt? Was it just me and the man?" Addy asked swiftly, remembering her friends being present for the event. She flashed Corbett a grateful look when he released her from the cuff, despite her worry. Worry about her friends, sure, but also... she was pretty sure she had killed that man. Whatever else, Corbett was an officer of the law, and that meant that sooner or later, that death would be accounted for.

At first she tried to rub her wrist with her missing hand, but the missing appendage couldn't complete the task. She looked at the stump of her arm again with dismay. Then gave an impatient sound at herself and used her chin to massage her frail wrist and get rid of the feel of the metal that lingered.

It was just another reminder that she was going to have to relearn everything: from wiping her bottom, to picking a pocket, nothing was as it had been. Addy struggled not to cry anymore though. Big tough murderers didn't cry. Even if they were just little kids. Her chin quivered though as she asked, "Am I going to go to jail?"

____

"Just you and the man." He confirmed for Addy, leaning back in his seat once she relaxed somewhat, her hand free from its constraint. Was it her dominant hand that she had lost, he wondered. If so the girl was in for something of a time, though depending on her choices the trials that lay ahead might be lessened, somewhat. "Your friends are..." He hesitated to use the word safe, considering their earlier, brief discourse. Corbett decided on a bit more concrete term in lieu of such. "... unharmed, though they are in some danger." They were always in danger, living on the streets, but with those weapons in their possession they were a target.

The Azrican smiled at her apprehension, shaking his head at her speculation. "No, not if you answer some questions for me." Very simple ones at that, though one couldn't be too sure when it came to these children. They were slippery at best, but he figured that the cards were in his favor at the moment. "Nothing hard, I promise." She wouldn't be incarcerated anyway, she was too young for labor or the penal legions, more likely than not she would be shipped away to one of the military academies as a ward of the state. Her arm would be replaced on the state's tab, repaid with service to the nation.

Unless someone here ventured to adopt the girl, but he didn't know anyone really looking. Neu-Lumen was a place where one usually looked after themselves before anyone else.

"But we don't have to ask them right now, if you'd rather not. I should get to seeing about your food, shouldn't I?" Came his rhetorical question, fingers moving to his wrist to bring up the holographic interface.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman and Krysis

"Just you and the man." He confirmed for Addy, leaning back in his seat once she relaxed somewhat, her hand free from its constraint. Was it her dominant hand that she had lost, he wondered. If so the girl was in for something of a time, though depending on her choices the trials that lay ahead might be lessened, somewhat. "Your friends are..." He hesitated to use the word safe, considering their earlier, brief discourse. Corbett decided on a bit more concrete term in lieu of such. "... unharmed, though they are in some danger." They were always in danger, living on the streets, but with those weapons in their possession they were a target.

The Azrican smiled at her apprehension, shaking his head at her speculation. "No, not if you answer some questions for me." Very simple ones at that, though one couldn't be too sure when it came to these children. They were slippery at best, but he figured that the cards were in his favor at the moment. "Nothing hard, I promise." She wouldn't be incarcerated anyway, she was too young for labor or the penal legions, more likely than not she would be shipped away to one of the military academies as a ward of the state. Her arm would be replaced on the state's tab, repaid with service to the nation.

Unless someone here ventured to adopt the girl, but he didn't know anyone really looking. Neu-Lumen was a place where one usually looked after themselves before anyone else.

"But we don't have to ask them right now, if you'd rather not. I should get to seeing about your food, shouldn't I?" Came his rhetorical question, fingers moving to his wrist to bring up the holographic interface.

Addy chewed her lower lip, then nodded in agreement. Then she gracious offered, after he had finished his call and she had gazed enviously at his ease of communication, "You can ask questions while we wait. It might help me to talk about... it."

He nodded at that, unaware that she envied such a thing about him. It was hardly easy, at times, to the man, especially depending on who it was he spoke to. "How did you find out about the bodies, Addy?" He asked, looking to get straight to the point. There was no point in beating around the bush, as far as he was concerned.

"I heard a noise, and when I looked, they were on the ground." Adelaide answered rather too quickly, but firmly, as if she intended to give no other answer. She shifted her weight uncomfortably again and squirmed to sit up more.

The man kept an open ear as he saw to the food, making sure that it was on its way before he turned to face her again, the green hologram vanishing with a flick of his fingers, smiling still. "They were there, alright. Did you see anything or anyone that could have put them there? People, or a car, perhaps?"

"Nuh-uh. I was in an alley nearby, scavenging some trash. Had my head in a can. Just a weird thumpy noise. Something soft and heavy being dropped. Four times. By the time I decided it was safe to look, nothing there but bodies." Addy met his gaze steadily, a touch of amusement in her smile as she waited for him to deny or refute her.

The man did neither, waiting and listening to what she had to say before responding, knowing that his interface was recording everything said here. "You're sure?" Was all that he spoke on that matter, wanting to make sure she was positive on what it was she recalled, just wanting to be thorough. There was no reason to believe she was lying. "How long did you wait to look? A few seconds, a couple of minutes?"

The detective made a sort of 'this or that' gesture with his hand, hoping to gleam something from her answer.

"Not long. I don't have a watch. Just waited long enough to be sure they were gone before we-- I went out." Addy blushed faintly, and tried not to let her expression change.

"You have one now." He mused nonchalantly, glancing down to his lap for a moment as his brows arched slightly. It was likely that she was with her friends, or at least near them, when this happened, considering that the others still held the rest of the sidearms - her slip confirmed that notion - but simply being around the others didn't reveal anything big. At least, not yet.

"Someone else was watching to make sure it wasn't the Zivis, then?" Came his question, looking back to her, smile fading.

The little girl looked away at that, biting her lower lip before nodding. "Didn't want any trouble. Usually, if we clear out fast, no one chases us."

The man sighed at that, biting his own lip for a moment as he waited a moment or two after she answered before speaking. "It's a yes or no question, Addy."

"Someone was watching. Yes. But I won't tell you who." Addy answered a bit mulishly, agitatedly rubbing at her bandages, as if the stump itched under them to the point she didn't care if it also hurt.

"Why not?" He asked, brow exaggerated in his mock curiosity, growing more disappointed by the moment that she was leading him like this. She had nothing to fear here, nothing that could endanger her, so long as she stuck on the straight and narrow.

It wasn't the best start. "It's not like I can go out and catch them, right now."

"Because it is trouble to get mixed up with the Zivis. And trouble to get in the middle of who ever killed those people and the Zivis coming after them. And maybe she doesn't know anything helpful to you." Addy pointed out impatiently. "You get mixed up in that sort of trouble, and poof. You're gone. Dead or reclaimed or whatever, but no longer living free anyway."

"Maybe she doesn't." He shrugged, glancing to some invisible observer before looking back to the maimed girl. "Or maybe she does, and maybe she can save hundreds of lives by telling me what she saw." Hundreds, that was a low-ball at best, but it was a number that the girl could connect with better than the more accurate figure.

"What about your friend... Tommy? Isn't that his name?" He asked, knowing full well it was, but still wanting to ask regardless. "What do you think will happen to him, or any of your other friends who might have seen something, now that they know we have you?"

"Tommy knows the streets. He'll be fine and he'll keep the others out of trouble too." Addy insisted quickly, much more willing to express her confidence in her 'big brother' than in 'betraying' any of her friends.

She was a bit worried about the other part though, and after squirming for a minute, she inquired shyly, "How could it help to say what was seen? You could probably guess exactly how it went, just by thinking about it a minute."

And who did she think people like Tommy worked for when they grew up? But the officer didn't elect to shoot down her Neverland fantasy, at least not now. Life itself would do that in good time, and he was already backed up as it was. Corbett simply sighed and thought of how best to put his thoughts into words.

"Because even if I could guess what happened, Addy, it's still just a guess. You can't arrest people off of guesses, you can't get warrants off of guesses." But with eyewitness testimony, he could get farther than he had before. "I think I know who killed them, and what was seen can either deny my hunch, or get me that much closer." There were other questions, of course, but if they were dropped from a vehicle, there was the possibility that it might not have been Arqa's people.

"If it is who I think it is, I would hope Tommy hands those pistols over quickly."

"Can't give something away for nothing. You start doing that, and soon enough you've got nothing at all and the older lurkers come prowling. You get dead that way." Adelaide laid back then, a worried look at the ceiling as she frowned and rubbed her belly through the blankets.

"So if it was an aircar, and the people in it were in a hurry, that helps you? I mean, you knew they were in a hurry since they didn't strip the bodies themselves. They just left them in a lurker alley, so we would do it for them. And the dropping would mean a vehicle with some height, so not the standard auto."

It also wasn't wise to sell things that didn't belong to you, but that was something he left unsaid and instead listened to what it was she had to say. The captain leaned back on his seat, testing that the stool had wheels for just a moment as she explained, in her 'iffy' sort of way. "In a way. Did you search any of them yourself?" He asked, wanting to see if she had actually handled any of the bodies.

She cut her eyes towards Corbett without lifting her head, as if she were trying to decide how much trouble she would be in if she admitted her involvement. Something about his expression made her decide to hold her silence though. Of course she had to have touched at least one of the bodies to get her prize before the older lurkers had arrived.

The man continued to sit, not budging from his spot as she remained there, silent. Perhaps the girl didn't realize yet that there was no going back, that she was, thoroughly, a part of Imperial society now, and properly. "... it only helps if you can tell me if you handled one of them yourself, Addy." Otherwise it was simply conjecture, and conjecture didn't win him any favors in the department.

She hesitated, but then... he was helping her. So by her own rule, she had to give him something in return, "I did. The one on the end. Male, mid-thirties. Birthmark on his arm. I wanted his belt too, but I wasn't fast enough."

He nodded at that, a faint smile returning to his lips, hoping that this might be his breakthrough, or the beginning of it at least. "... and was he still warm, Addy?" If the body was warm, then it wouldn't have been that long at all since he was killed. Of course they had the times of termination on the chips of each of the deceased, but what they didn't have was a location.

"Yes. And I could smell what they shot him with." Addy volunteered, then sighed and shook her head, "That's what happens when you cross the wrong people though." Something so fatalistic should never be said by a child so young, but from the bleak look in her eyes, she believed it wholeheartedly.

So it was close, and very close at that, on Arqaplatz of all places. It was a terrible thing to hear a child say, of course, but her answer was a wonderful sort of thing to hear, especially after having gotten no where so far with this phantom cartel. "It is." He confirmed, "Hopefully they don't find any of your friends." He mused, looking back to the door for a brief moment before he continued. 'That's all for now, Addy."

With that he moved to stand, the door soon parting with the nurse and a tray of food. "If you would like, I'll excuse myself while you eat."

Addy just nodded, glad for the break.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Calcos and Ottoman

Sitting, drifting, wallowing in the deepest chasm of the mind, that blank and limitless white slate of unconscience, contemplating everything and nothing all at once. Rhythmic breathing resounded in his ears, his spirit in tune with every steady beat of his heart, his eyes staring blindly at the backs of his eyelids as his mind eased into its comfort zone; a resting place for all of his troubled thoughts.

All around him was a white room, detailed in black linnen pieces. Incense burned in the distance, filling his olfactory senses with the perpetual scent of jade and lavender. He rested, cross-legged on a cushy black mat some four feet by four feet, comprised of five layers of a soft, malleable foam.

His hands rested on his knees, clad in a pair of black, skin-tight leggings that ended at his shins, the rest of his body adorned by nothing else, save a necklace depicting the Endless Cycle -- a dragon perpetually attempting to consume itself. It was the perfect metaphor for life: while the beast yet lived, it was simultaneously dying. And he was just the same as that creature, spining endlessly through the world, looking forward to the end of the cycle.

He was dying.

The doctors had informed him, rather unceremoniously, that he had yet five years to his name, with treatment. That had been seven years ago, and the weathered man was still going, having come to terms with his mortality and now finding solace in his meditation, and in his work. He found himself bound to this world, joyous and content; at peace with himself at last, his conscience carrying him off to a place of serenity, allowing him to drift into-

A sharp, harsh ringing snapped him out of his trance, his eyes breaking open to attention and coming to rest on a small, disk-shaped object before him. A holocomm device, one that he had forgot to deactivate before embarking on his mental journey. He sighed, leaning forward to answer the call.

A flash of pale blue light erupted from the center of the console, the figure before him projected in a cone of holographic imagery. He smiled, for there, "standing" in the artificial glow that emerged from the comm system was none other than Devika Arqa, Neu-Lumen's famed (or infamous) diva.

"I thought we both agreed that you weren't to contact me through this channel," he said lightheartedly.

____

It wasn't a surprise for the Baroness to find the man in the state that he was, it seemed far more his preference to spend what time he could in quiet. After such a long time in the various establishments and concerts she had been a part of, she could understand the sentiment. The smile was repaid, the Soruk's lips parting to reveal teeth as pale as the face that bore them, her hands behind her back as she bowed her head slightly - a mark of respect from a woman who typically spent her days looking down her nose.

"So we had, Jason." She felt comfortable enough to use his given name, a mark of trust that few, on Neu-Lumen and beyond, gave out freely. "But Victor is busy and, well." Her head righted itself, chin returned to its proper position, her eyes darting to the talisman he wore for but a moment. "We haven't spoken in some time. I thought I might take the chance." Business or no.

Her gaudy dress hardly shifted as he feet did, her pose betraying that she was at work - were it that someone like her 'worked' at all - far too tense to be at her estate, where privacy was a thing guaranteed. "I do apologize if I interrupted." She offered, a spare hand gliding about her form to briefly gesture to the mat, extravagant nails soon hidden again in a half-fist.

____

He glanced over the diva's image, a smirk pestering his lips, beckoning to smile. "It's no trouble," he said, only halfway lying. He'd have enjoyed being able to complete his meditation, but the company of a friend was just as welcome, even if she were merely an ethereal face connected to him through a series of networks and wires and finally projected as a dim image of the real Devika. Still, he was glad she had thought to reconnect with him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked.

____

Some part of her felt that it had likely perturbed him, her smile maintained even if she internally doubted it. Still, what was done was done, and the baroness glanced briefly to her own flank, out of a window that the operative couldn't see in the hologram, across the establishment that she was so very proud of. "Business." Was her reply, some subtle pang of guilt tinged the word, understanding that it might have cheapened the call in some manner.

"But business that can wait, none the less." She added, looking back to her colleague. "How have you been, Jason?" The same, no doubt - she had only known him for a few years now, but he was set in his ways, and she could tell that easily enough. Perhaps the question was a formality, or perhaps the woman hoped for a different answer than usual.

____

His smile lessened, lips pressing together in a thin, upturned line as he pondered that same question she had asked him several times prior, always having delivered the same answer each and every time she posed it: 'surviving.' But, now, he felt different from that, as if he weren't just going on and living, if he even was living at all, what with the slow embrace of death creeping ever further.

He couldn't help but think that, especially after accepting the reality of his situation, the thing he feared the most about dying wasn't that he'd no longer be around to experience life, that death was the absolute end of the journey, and he certainly had no misguided desire to go back and rewrite his life to be more ideal. No, it was nothing like that.

What he feared most was having to say goodbye.

In his dwelling, however, he finally realized that he'd neglected to give the woman her answer, a sheepish half-grin cocked and his head bowing slightly. His deep hazel eyes met her own luminous stare, the sickly blue of the image piercing his soul, as her real eyes did. Finally, he spoke.

"Surviving."

____

Her smile widened at that, though it was something born not quite of disappointment, but pity, perhaps. Surviving. At the very least, Jason seemed rather apt to do that, in his world and his struggles, just as she was in her own. The Baroness wondered if he chose that answer for a particular reason, having paused as he had.

"As always." She offered, her tone pleasant, her voice relaxed. It was rare she had the chance to speak like this, indeed rare she had the chance to speak to anyone who was her equal - in her mind at least - in class or capability. That was where so much of her respect for Jason came from - the man was an artist. The way that she wove words into song with her voice, he could do much the same, save his instruments were the blade and the bullet, not any dulcet tone or soft note.

A master of his craft, if she had ever been witness to one.

His home was a spartan one, indeed his life was much the same, and she knew better than to ask if anything had changed. Jason was not some petty noble or common dullard who was distracted, enthralled, by the material world, and the last thing that she wanted to do was insult the man by insinuating such. But her mind always touched, however briefly, on that question. Perhaps it was habit, from her day to day life, or perhaps it was just some part of her wanting to speak more plainly with him, to speak as one might to a friend, were it that either of them could have friends, considering their vocations. Anything new? The words lingered in her mind.

"And I suppose that answer will never change." She mused. The only time it would, it seemed, would be the time its question was no longer posed.

____

He nodded, an unspoken understanding presenting itself between the two that, one day, his answer just might be a different one. The answer of silence; the answer of the soft Autumn wind blowing over a grave --marked or not made no difference to him. All the same, he felt it best not to delve too much further into that particular topic. They both knew his time wasn't too much longer, and so it was best to spent what was left of his eternity basking in the good memories, and forging new ones to reminisce upon later on down the road.

"You called for business, and I think it may have waited long enough," he said in a stern, but not unfriendly tone. "What's the trouble?"

____

It was a mutual understanding, though Arqa could not help but appreciate the ironic dichotomy between the both of them - Jason, a man who had already come to terms with his mortality, having been forced to, and herself, a woman who felt, so very many times, that she was no mortal at all. Perhaps it was best for her to call her friend, for he was just that, and speak with him, even if briefly, every day. It was a pleasant sort of reminder that she was just another movement in the symphony.

But, ever professional, even if he was not always severe, Jason cut short that brief exchange. The Diva felt something inside of her twitch - in pain, perhaps, or in regret - absently wishing that she had capitalized on that initiative instead of letting it slip away. "I have reason to believe that I have misplaced my trust." She offered, her mind moving to the task at hand. "The police made an unsolicited inquiry, the other day." The other morning, to be precise, and what a mess that was to wake up to. It was a raid, by any other term, though apparently one that the department hadn't put its weight behind. What it was that they hoped to find she didn't quite know, and honestly didn't quite care.

"They have been taken care of." Devika stated, bluntly. "But they knew where to look, which way to take as not to arouse our initial suspicion." The woman wasn't pleased in the slightest with the affair, but out of it all, at least she was able to rely on someone who she knew to be entirely solid - a rock, against which so many proverbial waves had broken.

"Suffice it to say, they knew too much." Too much to have known on their own.

____

"And you want me to find out how," he said, already cognzant to the situation and not pretending in the least that he had any right to know exactly what it was they were looking for; had he even that much influence, it wouldn't have mattered. His job wasn't the details.

His job was to enact a solution.

____

"Precisely." She nodded. There was, of course, the unspoken caveat of what would follow once he had discovered that, but having worked with him as long as she had, she figured that such need not be said. He would deal with the problem, or, were it that the situation was more dire than she expected, perhaps examples would have to be made.

The thought of there being multiple informants brought a slight tick to her eye, irritation that threatened to erupt into vindicated anger, were it that it only had the fuel.

"I cannot do this from where I stand, Jason." Her own people, carrying this out? Who was she to know who to trust and who not to? For all that she knew, she could be giving orders to the informant - her lieutenant, of all people! No, this had to be done from the outside in. "I know not at what echelon you can expect to find them, save that they know the truth." Which exempted a great deal of her organization - the bottom rungs, at least - though it left all of it that truly mattered.

The parts which she surrounded herself with.

____

The assassin nodded in understanding, a precious commodity that existed between the diva and himself like clouds and rain, a coexistant relationship that was mutually beneficial. Devika being good for more than just a handsome paycheck was a graciously accepted bonus; her friendship meant a lot to him, considering he hadn't a one to spare outside of her. All he had were mere contacts and acquaintences, people to get in touch with when he needed to get things done.

It seemed he would need those people moreso than any friend at the moment, however. "Already done," he said. All that was left was to get to the bottom of this mess, and silence whoever was needed.

____

That was a lovely thing to hear, even if she was surrounded daily by those who wouldn't dare refuse her in any respect. "A caveat, Jason." She offered briefly, knowing that he would focus on the matter soon enough. "If they act alone, then we already know what will happen." Like before, it need not be said. "But if there is more than one, if they collaborate, bring me the ringleader's head." A grisly request, but one that she had to make.

"If you might deliver the rest, unmolested, you would have my gratitude." That she might see to a fitting punishment, where all could see what broken trust yields.

____

"I'll see to it," he said, leaning forward. "Goodbye for now, Devika." And with that, he silenced the holocomm, the blue image of the diva flickering away and sinking back into the rounded object that had moments earlier breathed it to life.

He needed to prepare.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Krysis

Somewhere in the city, where only rats and orphans gathered, Tommy Hook was holding court. Of course he didn't think of it that way. The firearms had been handed off without a problem a few hours before, and the left-overs of his snack had already been passed around to those most in need, and those most in favor.

Tommy looked around at the dirty faces of his friends, knowing each name, each story, and feeling in his grimy little soul that everything he had done was worth the cost.

"You got to see the Diva?" Benjamin asked, his eyes very wide and white in the cinnamon darkness of his face. Bangs had been very relieved to see Hook emerge from the Aurora, and a playful shoving match had relieved his feelings before he surrendered the hat that symbolized leadership in their little group.

Tommy's belt of tools had been returned, along with his vest with a dozen pockets and the shoes that actually fit and had laces, though they had been repaired with plastic in the bottoms and taped together. Bags stuffed with rags and more plastic formed cushions for the group to sit and sprawl on in one of their more comfortable sleeping areas. It meant that it was their 'story time' before 'bed', because only three of their number were not present. Someone had to keep watch after all.

"Yeah. She was soooo white. It was like staring at one of those lights under the Grand. You know the ones? Light so pure and bright that it hurts your heart?" Tommy explained a bit, the youngest of the kids snuggling against his sides to share warmth and hear better.

"Pure? Baroness Devika? Man, you be more dazzled than those moths that burn themselves up on those lights." One of the older girls smirked as she joked, coiled up by herself a few feet away.

"Hey, I'm just saying what she looked like. I know she's trouble, but man she's pretty!" Tommy laughed nervously, very much aware of why Anna no longer cuddled with anyone. The baggy shirts she layered on couldn't hide that she was becoming a woman, and soon she would need to find a better place than the band of kids. "All white and purple and glittering."

"She sounds like one of those cakes they have in the window of Durgens' bakery." One of the others said dreamily, and there was a long moment of silence as the band thought of the sweets that they hardly knew the taste of. The rumbling of tummies would be audible before the sickliest boy started wheezing and coughing in that troubling way again.

"We'll have good food soon, everyone. She promised." Tommy reassured them, inwardly crossing his fingers as he prayed he hadn't been scammed.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Krysis and Ottoman

elsewhere

Adelaide Smith was pacing in the room that she had been given to live in for the time being. The bandage on her arm had been decreased as the stump was healing cleanly, and she had almost trained herself to not pick at it except when stressed. Being locked in a room, alone, was a sure way to stress her out.

It was her own fault. Twice, she had tried to just walk away. The first time, she had been stopped before even leaving the hospital. The second time, she had actually made it to the street before a man in the zivilwatcher uniform scooped her up and put her in an air car. Since she was smaller and shorter than what they said she should be for her age (which the nurses had gauged by her teeth), the man had no trouble hauling her around like a sack of yelling potatoes.

Even three days of eating regular meals had not been enough to pack on the six inches of height she lacked, though she was getting some healthy weight and muscle mass.

Finally, she sat on the edge of the bed and considered her options. It was clear that they weren't going to let her go back to her life. Once she realized the itch in her left arm wasn't just an echo from the pain in the right, she'd figure out that going 'home' wasn't something she could do anyway. Going to school was a terrifying thought. How could she cope? She couldn't read more than the simplest words, and there was no certainty that the older kids had been right about even those. The safe, clean kids would never accept a street child like her. Especially if they carted her off to the military academy like it had been suggested would be her fate.

"Tiny, weak, uneducated. They are going to eat me alive." Addy murmured out-loud before flopping face-down on the bed, both arms outstretched and the fingers of her single hand flexed into the mattress.

____

There came a light knock on the door to Addy's room, the auxiliary wing of the hospital seeing several such individuals as Addy - people who had nowhere to live, nowhere to go, simply waiting in limbo for the system to give them a new number and a new life. It was part of why the captain had come back, aside from coming once or twice to check on her recovery, to make sure that she was doing well on rebounding from the wound. From what they'd told him she was doing marvelously, likely better than she ever had before even with the missing hand, though that was the sort of miracle that a proper diet and a safe, warm bed could work. Corbett only hoped that the girl would recognize the opportunity she'd been given, even if it came at the cost of an appendage.

If she would give him leave to come in, it would be rather obvious that he'd been on shift before dropping by - his usually groomed hair was askew, and his tie wasn't much better - but at least it showed that this venture was on his own time, and not that of the department. "Addy? It's captain Corbett. May I come in?" Came the Azrican's question, spoken into the door.

____

The muffled mumble might have been a weary assent. Addy didn't bother to sit up, just turning her head and blowing her hair out of her face. It was easier to do that now that it was clean and untangled. Though Addy didn't seem to realize that she could take a shower whenever she wanted instead of only when prompted, she was still less dirty than she had ever been before in her life.

When she realized exactly who it was (there had been far too many names to remember them all), she pushed herself up on her knees and gave Corbett a surprised look when he came through the door. Her expression quickly went to hope then as she twisted to face him more completely. "Hey! It's you!"

Her hand gave a beseeching gesture, echoed by the stump of her other arm. "What's going on out there? Are my friends alright?"

____

He smiled that she was pleased to see him, glad for that small boon, as he moved into the room properly. A light shrug and an earnest sort of arch to his eyebrows spoke volumes as to his dealings with the other lurkers, her former crew. "I wish I could tell you." He wished he knew in general, they were one of the few leads he had, but he wasn't going to make deals that weren't his place to. But, that they knew was more than enough, and that was part of the reason why he was here. A momentary glance back to the door he'd come through, the thing closing shut in his wake, waiting until it sealed before he gestured back to it. "What about here? They treating you alright?"

Otto figured that they would but, one could never be sure on this damn planet. A weary pace brought him to a nearby seat, the captain settling into it with something of a groan, glad for the relief. The boots, dapper as they were, were hell on his feet, especially on a shift like today's. His already-shed shako found its way to his lap, Corbett sighing before he spoke, "Have you chosen a branch yet?"

____

Addy nodded at the lack of news, then gave a cocky smirk as she shrugged one shoulder. "No news means they aren't dead yet. That's good enough for me."

The question about the treatment made her shrug again and sit cross-legged in the middle of the bed as she tried to think of how she wanted to answer Corbett. She cradled her right arm against her middle as she admitted, "I guess so. I mean. It's kinda nice, I guess? It's just lonely, and they won't let me leave."

She had nothing personal, no clutter on the few surfaces available. Her clothes had been taken (and probably burnt). The things she had in her pockets had also been confiscated and mostly destroyed. The only thing she had left from her previous life was her memories.

When he mentioned her choosing a branch, she hunched a little further. "No. I'm too small, and-- Umm. I don't think I'd fit in." Adelaide blushed a bit then, mumbling, "And I don't understand the choices."

____

The police officer sighed, another shrug coming of his shoulders. He couldn't do anything about it being lonely, at least not while he was away all day with work and doing his best to keep up with sleep, but not letting her leave was something that couldn't be budged on, not in the slightest. "Food's bearable?" He could never stand it himself, but he'd never gone hungry like a Lurker had, at least not in the same extreme. There had been many times in his life where he lived paycheck to paycheck, doing good to just get the next brick of noodles to ration throughout the week, but that had more to do with Daedri than with his payrate. He'd recovered, financially, from the divorce some time ago, though his pantry and bank account still spoke volumes of the impact those months had had on his life.

One polished boot's shaft came to rest on the opposite leg's knee, Corbett crossing his legs as he resisted the temptation to reach for the cigarette case in his coat pocket. He refrained from speaking of her fitting in for the moment, instead focusing on the second note. "... is there any way I can help?" Clarification, or perhaps just simple explanation. He wasn't the most knowledgeable on the matters but, he could do his best to explain.

____

Addy shrugged again, having no opinion on the food. It filled her belly, and she didn't really notice what it tasted like except when there was a sweet treat in addition to the bland proteins and such. "It's pretty good, I guess. I have no idea what they call it though, and then one of the nurses asks me if I liked a particular thing and I never know what to say to her."

She fiddled with the sock-like covering over her stump as she avoided looking up at Otto. Her mousy light brown hair helped with that, falling forward and hiding her face with how she hunched. "Um, the words are too big for me. They just gave me a list and showed me how to find it again, but--"

Adelaide squirmed a bit rather than continuing to explain exactly why she didn't understand. Then she awkwardly moved to bring up the list she was talking about, only her name filled in where appropriate since she wasn't even sure what her birthday was. "No one has time to explain. I'm supposed to figure it out on my own? And I can't get out of here until I pick something, I think?"

____

The detective took the holosheet in hand when it was offered, rubbing his eyes for but a moment before they darted over its contents. He supposed it was a poor decision to give the girl her choice of service when she might not even know how to read. "There are five-... well, six choices, in truth." The man flicked along the holosheet's data, scrolling over the various branches, their blurbs, their information fields. Six choices that Adelaide could make, to pay her debt to society. "Some are better than others." In his opinion, at least, especially in her case.

The NHA, the RSF, the RWK... The Azrican let out a light sigh as he pondered what joining one of these would mean for the young woman in her state. Some Lurkers did remarkably well in the academy, in the service, but that was through cunning and ruthlessness, things that he hadn't seen overtly out of the girl, at least not yet. "There's the National Home Armies, the Imperial Starfleet, the Imperial Marines, the Landwächter, the Zivilwächter, and... and the Seraphim." He was surprised that they would include that on the list, but he supposed that joining that order was just the same as joining any other state organ, though the thought of a girl signing over almost every facet of her life as a child, without knowing what it might entail...

"I'd stay away from the marines, and the Seraphim, Addy." He offered, glancing between the girl and the sheet. "But I can explain the others to you, if you'd like."

____

Addy was grateful that Corbett was taking the time to read off at least the names she could recognize, scooting to the edge of her seat with her interest. She tried to hide the reaction after a moment though, trying to play it cool, like she thought a girl her age should. Still, it was nice to see someone from 'before'. She viewed the officer as someone that looked at her as a person with thoughts and opinions. The doctors, nurses and such tended to treat her like a lump of sentient meat to be pushed around and ignored when convenient.

She did recoil a bit at the thought of joining the Zivilwächters though. They had been the enemy of the lost kids for too long for her to consider it a serious option. The rest she was only vaguely aware of, just like she was somewhat aware that there were stars above the smog. Things that she had no idea what they were, just that they existed. Somewhere. Far from her life.

After a moment, she asked uncertainly, "What are these people thinking? I mean, I know what Zivies are. That sounds like probably the safest of the possibilities? That's crazy to let someone like me even think of--"

Addy gestured helplessly, unable to find the words to describe how nuts she found that concept: The madness of inviting a life-long criminal to enforce the law was beyond her ability to articulate.

____

The holosheet found itself set to the side as Otto leaned back in his seat, listening as Addy did her best to voice her thoughts. He understood where she was coming from - considering her background, for her to become a Zivi herself? It would be an ironic twist of fate, but he had seen stranger things happen himself, especially on Neu-Lumen. The captain afforded himself a small, sad smile at the thought, looking to the cuffs of his uniform and the smaller things that denoted his station. Her only transgression was being born at the wrong place, at the wrong time. They let him be a police officer, why not her?

"Well," Corbett started, taking a moment to think of how best to explain, "To the state, you aren't really that grave a criminal. A drain on resources, an unfortunate byproduct of your surroundings, but not a threat." To the state or the populace, that was why she was afforded the opportunity to enforce the law. Sure, a vast majority of the marines were convicted criminals - murderers, thieves, rapists and worse - but that was a suitable place for them, the Zivilwächter was not. "It's a show of faith, Addy. They trust you." They were giving her her arm back, and they felt that it was suitable repayment - service to the state in return for a service to her. Corbett didn't broach the subject of safety, however - safe was a relative term.

One could go their whole lives in the navy and never see combat, while another could be shot dead within a week of their career in the ZW. It was impossible to predict.

"They're offering you membership in the Zivilwächter because they don't think you're evil or wrong. They think you're a normal person - because... you are." The Azrican shrugged at that, his smile, while having always been genuine, was a hint less melancholy now. The state, the Supremacy, which he had seen so often cursed and reviled, was not the tyrannical menace many felt it to be, at least not to him. No, to Corbett it had always been a force of hope as well as redemption, even if he had never been much of a believer. To look at it any other way, especially in his case, would be unfair.

____

The former lurker thought about it for a while, but then started to nod. It made sense. She was beneath notice, so they didn't care what she did, as long as they got their value out of her. It was the same principle she lived by, never giving anything away for free-- though on a much grander scale.

Addy sighed and gave a shrug at him saying that she was normal. "I don't feel normal. I kinda feel, um--" The little girl teared up a bit, then grimaced and wiped her face as she forced herself to try to chill out. She looked a little lost for a moment before changing the subject.

"So, what brings you here, Captain Corbett? I mean, you wanted something, right?". This was actually a big step for Adelaide. Before, she never would have thought about what anyone else wanted until after she had gotten everything she wanted, or feared that their needs would interfere with her own well-being.

 

[Tiko]

as written by glmstr and Krysis

The sudden deceleration from FTL travel threw its lone captain from her chair and face-first into the window.

"We have arrived, captain.
Current Location: urban planet Neu-Lumen, territory of Union ally 'The Scatterran Supremacy'."


Once she peeled herself from the enameled glass and crawled into her chair, she flew the ship towards the nearest security checkpoint.

A valid ID from the Union and a ship painted with the Supremacy's national colors meant the customs process was quite simple. Before long they waved her through and she made a run into the atmosphere, eventually slowing down through re-entry and landing in a public hangar.

She needed crew, firepower, anything. Thankfully Union ducats were accepted here (or could at least be converted), but that only solved the latter issue. Uzan had in fact killed her former crew, and she couldn't face him without some help.

She did what any self-respecting mercenary and captain did: sent out chain e-mails and put up flyers, some in the Unionite trade pigdin, some in Aenglis, some in Trade, and some in Austran. Additionally, in the corner of the picture, there was a small image of Melina's face from her Union ID and the blue triangular emblem.

Help and Work wanted!

Unionite ship captain is looking for work and members to join the crew. Capable of escorts, minor transport, investigation and most other forms of work.

Please contact Melina Areleous in Public Hangar E-22-A-5 with potential offers.

____

In the Unionite embassy, Margrit had already spent days trying to figure out how to get home. Her university had been sympathetic, and promised that her situation would not delay her degree if she could get back before the next semester started. How much it would cost, and whether her interrupted classes would be refunded or credited or have to be retaken, had not been decided yet. Or, at least, hadn't been told to the dark toned girl.

She also suspected that the Nascimbeni family was pulling strings to make things difficult for her. Edina had been her friend, close enough that they had shared matching bracelets, and with Sigfrid too, but her parents blamed the Page girl for their daughter's death. They had already sent several messages to that effect, and banned any companies they had an interest in from transporting poor, stranded Margrit.

One of the embassy workers was even pushing her to become a citizen of the Hegemony instead of going back home, so the feeling of urgency was building up for Margrit. Which was why she was scanning the bulletin board in the embassy every day and a new ad got her attention immediately.

This was how the teenager ended up walking into Public Hangar E-22-A-5 with her suitcase in tow, looking for Melina Areleous.

____

Neu-Lumen
Several hours passed after the Unionite captain spread the ads with not a single legitimate offer. She sat somewhat slouched on a steel crate in front of a foldable card table with a few copies of her ad laying around.

One man tried to ask her to transport sensitive cargo but he was cut off when multiple Zivilwächter officers tackled him, hauling him and his contraband -whatever it was- away. A few other people stopped and seemed to think about speaking to her, but still no takers.

However, a very young woman approached the table that seemed to be clearly looking for Melina. She sat up straight in her 'chair' and raised an eyebrow.

"Can I help you?"

____

Margrit gave a hopeful, but fragile smile to Melina. Her eyes had dark circles beneath them as she raised one hand to straighten her hair, though she hesitated at seeing the red beaded bracelet on her wrist before finishing the gesture. She glanced at the ads on the table before giving a helpless shrug. "I hope so. I need work, so I can get home. When I saw your ad, it made me think, maybe I can get home by working? I mean, you're from the Trade Union, so you'll be going back that way, right?"

The teen shifted her weight uncomfortably when she realized she had been rambling. Though if the captain demanded more information or even begging, Margrit was very aware that she would provide whatever was needed for the mere chance of getting on a Unionite ship.

____

Neu-Lumen
"That's it?" Areleous blinked a few times, seemingly in disbelief. No pay? No extra circumstances? This seemed too good to be true, but that has never stopped her before.

"You want to work on the ship for a ride home?" She produced a small PDA and punched something into the screen. The ship behind her, a black and yellow craft with hefty jet engines under the wings and even larger thrusters behind it for moving in space, rumbled softly with life.

A boarding ramp beneath the aft of the ship unfolded itself and lowered to the floor of the hangar, and the airlock to enter the craft proper opened as well.

"Welcome aboard. There's empty personal quarters inside, put your stuff in one of them and we can put your name on the door later."

____

Margrit shrugged uncomfortably, then mumbled something about counting it as intern work as she nodded in agreement to everything the captain asked. The tone of the questions made the dark skinned girl start to relax and even smile more warmly.

She was all set to pull out her id and such when Areleous welcomed her and told her to board. Margrit paused then, one hand in her tiny, bear-shaped purse as she stared at Melina in astonished gratitude.

Not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak, young ms Page grabbed her suitcase and made her way up the ramp. She paused at the top though, and turned slightly to ask her captain, "Umm. What should I tell the rest of the crew, if I run into them?"

____

Melina followed Page up the ramp to make sure she got to her room, but then she asked the question.

Shit. It's already too late for me to back out, might as well tell her.

"You don't tell them anything, because they don't exist. They're dead."
She hated every second of saying that. This young lady reminded her all too much of herself...

Areleous quickly dismissed the thought. She already had enough on her mind.

____

That revelation made Margrit pause, considering various responses to such a statement. Finally the teen just nodded and continued along the passageway, "I lost my friends recently too. It's hard to cope on your own."

There. That was supportive enough, without being too friendly. There needed to be a certain level of respect for the captain of the vessel, after all. Though, if this Melina Areleous was so trusting to let Page onto her ship without even asking her name or finding out what was in her bag-- Well, Margrit would just have to investigate the other hires herself.

"So what are the duties of the day? Decks to be scrubbed, diagnostics to be run and the like?" She was rather eager to get to work, since actually Doing something would be the perfect antidote for the hours of paperwork and waiting she had been stuck doing for weeks.

____

Where have I heard this before..
Melina sighed and pinched her forehead.

"The Pirates turned the place over pretty badly, so I guess you could help clean up a bit. Also, the ship seems to be running alright but feel free to take a closer look. We're not going anywhere until we get another person or two, so make yourself comfortable."

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman

When Melina deigned to return to the table she'd been sitting at before, she'd find a man who, while of respectable height for a human, was no Scatterran by any stretch of the imagination. While his looks were dulled thanks to the advanced medicine of his adopted home he still wore his age plainly on his face, as most immigrants to the Supremacy did, though one might not see too much of it with it turned down, looking over the advertisement as he was. It was in his left hand, the right resting on the otherwise massive duffel he had slung on his shoulder, resting against his hip, holding the ad until it was evident someone was coming out of the ship.

Allen's eyes were quick, though it wasn't quite clear if it was the sound or the sight that drew his gaze, the ad still in his hand as he gestured to the Unionite - for it was obvious she was one, if not betrayed by her complexion then at least by her height - who he assumed was the captain of the vessel, the author of the piece he held in his hand. "Miss Areleous, I presume?"

 

[Tiko]

as written by glmstr

After more or less stuffing the girl into the ship to get her to find a room to inhabit and something to occupy herself with, Melina made her way down the gangplank to return to her makeshift stand and address a potential customer or employee, the latter she was able to notice about halfway down the ramp.

"Yep, that's definitely my mug on the flyer."

 

[Tiko]

as written by Krysis

Margrit really didn't have much else to say to the captain, accepting the directions with a nod. She'd happily take whichever bunk Areleous assigned to her, though it was creepy in the extreme to have the personal belongings of the previous resident still in place.

So the teen would take some time to start packing up those belongings, at least the more personal ones, to be eventually returned to the family of the deceased crew member. Though if the clothes in the room fit the young woman, they would be kept to supplement the meager supply miss Page had brought with her on the weekend excursion.

Once she finished such chores in her own room, Margrit would move up the hall to provide the same service to the next room. The better to spare the next hire the morbid task.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman

"So I see," Allen mused, almost to himself, as he tossed the flier back down onto the table he stood beside. "Just what sort of 'help' are you looking for?" He asked, looking up to the woman with an arched brow, an occasional glance paid to the ship behind her. As far as his eyes could tell, it didn't look like a vessel of ill-repute - it was well-maintained, and lacked any of the pirate insignia that he was familiar with. It wasn't so much that McGregor had any qualms with piracy, it was more that McGregor had very serious grievances with being apprehended and charged as a pirate in Austran space. There were a plethora of ways to meet one's end in the universe, and that was one that he knew he'd rather avoid.

"I've a resume, if you'd like to read it."

 

[Tiko]

as written by glmstr

"Over all, I need people with arms and legs to make things run correctly. Specifically, I need just about everything on this ship. Some nasty pirates out in Union space killed my entire crew, so I've got nobody on there. That is, aside from the girl I just recruited. I think she can do mechanic things, and I can fly the thing pretty well and operate just about all of the little gadgets in there," Melina gestured to the ship while speaking.

"We can do just about whatever someone will pay us to do, of course always trying to err on the side of legal practices when possible. Our biggest liability isn't a government, she held her PDA out to McGregor, "it's pirates. This group in particular," she pointed to an image of their emblem: a skull.
"They don't officially have a name, but when someone talks about Union pirates, they are usually talking about these guys."

On the backlit screen was a slideshow of pictures, with several less-than-friendly individuals, each clad in black with a skull emblazoned on their 'uniforms': A hulking fishman sporting vibrant colors and sharp fangs protruding from his massive maw, with a myriad of scars lining his body; a man covered head to toe in a strange black suit and wearing a grayish hooded cape; a woman with silvery hair and a red tattoo in the shape of a clawmark over her left eye and a steel guard lining her jaw.

"These three are the biggest three players in the operation," she pointed out each one as they came by, "really nasty bunch, the Union's been looking for them for years and haven't made any progress. Fish-Face here is the one that killed my crew, and quite a few of those scars are from previous scuffles I've had with him. If you've got any other questions, feel free to ask," she took a deep breath and put her PDA away, hopefully she didn't overwhelm the potential employee with information.

"I'd also like to see that resume of yours."

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman

The man nodded as he looked over the PDA and the rather colorful characters shown on its display, having only had limited dealings with the fishfolk of the Union thus far. But the prospect of combat and bodily harm didn't seem to perturb the Terran overly much, being no stranger to either, Allen handing the thing back to Melina with lips pursed in thought. "Well, if you already have a pilot and an engineer, I suppose it wouldn't to just have an extra gun." The man patted the duffel at his side at that note, a knowing smirk playing across his lips for but a moment before he brought his left arm about.

Pulling the sleeve of his jacket back, a spare finger moved to bring up the holographic interface of the Imperial computer he'd had planted in his arm. "I don't suppose you have one of these, do you?" He asked, as an afterthought. "I could push it to your PDA, if you'd like. The resume, that is." There was an abundance of data on the thing, most of it having little to nothing to do with his work, though he never knew who might or might not enjoy the music he adored. These Imperials, for one, were cut from the same bolt as he was, even if they didn't like to admit it.

No matter what device Melina preferred the information transmitted to, she'd witness the record of a man who had achieved top marks in academy, several decorations in the field when he had served with Earthforce and the Nightwatch, and a decade or so abroad afterwards, going from system to system, working as a freelancer, bounty-hunter, hired hand or worse.

 

[Tiko]

as written by glmstr

"No chip, just this PDA and my ID," Melina pulled a little card from her left breast pocket, with the triangular logo and the standard identifying information printed onto it. She pocketed her card again and accepted his transmission, scanning over his 'résumé' briefly.

"You have working limbs, you aren't trying to kill me, and, as far as I can tell, you aren't too stupid to function on your own. Sounds like material for the crew."

"And would you look at that, you've done this kind of work before. Alright, welcome aboard. There's personal rooms for crew members, just pick one you like and unpack in there. You might find things belonging to whoever, erm, used to live there, do with those what you wish," Melina gestured towards the gangplank and to the door at the top of it.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman and Krysis

"Solid copy, ma'am." He murmured with a nod in regards to the effects of her former crew. Most of it he'd probably box up and send on its way to where ever, save any liquor or ammunition they'd managed to leave behind. "I suppose the negotiation comes later." Pay rates, responsibilities, maybe even a contract, if he liked staying on this ship enough. The human pulled his sleeve back down as he moved past her to the gangplank, his boots' relatively silent footfalls drowned out both by the white noise of the docks and his words. "Let me know when I'm needed."

Until then, he had a bunk to claim.

It wasn't a terribly large ship, but it was still big in its own regards, and once he was out of sight from Melina, Sweets moved to slip his earbuds back in, having figured earlier they would've made a poor impression - after all, what sort of mercenary listened to the sort of music he did? Resuming the track from where he'd left it off, he pulled the overburdened duffel further up on his shoulder as he began to explore the vessel, finding the crew quarters easily enough. Were it that one were used to EarthForce accommodations, this was, for lack of a better term, spacious, and McGregor began to look over each room with a keen eye, not sure which one felt quite right.

Or at least he did until he accidentally stepped in on Margrit cleaning up.

Immediately he stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing, brow furrowed, as he looked over her and the room. Small, silly suspicions came over him for a moment before Sweets reminded himself that ghosts don't clean up. The man blinked before shaking his head and apologizing, excusing himself. "Sorry, I, uh... didn't know this one was claimed."

____

Margrit lifted her head from what she had been doing when the door opened and smiled up at the new face. She dusted her hands off on her coveralls as she straightened, making the red-beaded bracelet twist around and glitter until she covered it protectively with her other hand. "It's not. I'm next door. I just thought I would clean up for the next person, since it is such an unpleasant task."

She gestured and shrugged at the small pile of personal belongings that had been left behind. "I can understand by the Captain didn't do it herself. These people must have been her friends." Then young miss Page shrugged and added, "Or maybe not, since she seems to be avoiding asking questions at all."

The teenager grinned at the thought of how easy it had been to get on board the unionite ship. Then she lost the smile just as quickly, since it was clear that anyone could just walk on, if it were left up to Areleous, despite what had happened to the previous crew.

"So! This one? Or would you care for a hand with clearing out another room for yourself?" She punctuated her question with clapping her hands once, briskly, to shake off the darker feelings.

____

The other nodded at her explanation, figuring it reasonable, though he knew, or felt like he knew, why Melina might not want to get to know them that well. Allen had his fair share of fallen comrades. "No, this one's fine, I don't think I'm going to find much better." The man jested with a half-nod back out the door he stood in, pulling the minuscule speakers back out of his ears, not wanting to seem rude. "... nothing too interesting then?" He asked, gesturing to the pile of things she'd been seeing to.

Of course, interesting by McGregor's standards wasn't quite interesting by most functional human beings.

The veteran stepped inside the room and moved to sit his duffel on one of the seats, debating on whether he wanted to start unpacking now or later. Of course, the longer he thought on that, combined with not knowing what kind of reaction he'd draw out of the young woman by brandishing any of the weapons inside, the more he felt that his previous question might have been a bit crass. With a sigh he took a moment to think, feeling the 496's frame through the duffel's canvas, "I..." He shook his head, leaving his duffel and soon offering his hand to Margrit to shake.

"I shouldn't have said that, it-... I'm Allen."

____

Margrit shrugged again as she stretched and rubbed the small of her back. "Interstellar shipping is so expensive that I am only saving the most sentimental things. Pictures and mementos mostly. I mean, most of this stuff is replaceable, and some of it might be useful to us. Like me, my clothes are extremely limited, so picking through the wardrobes left behind is something I am very much interested in."

She gestured vaguely to shelves where one might find containers of liquids, "And the booze, of course. Someone will want that, I'm sure. Every room I have looked into has had at least one bottle, though why anyone would want to drink straight liquor is beyond me."

When offered a hand she gave a startled jump before she grinned and clasped Allen's fingers firmly. No stranger to hard work, the teenager's hand was as rough as any dock worker's. "Nice to meet you, Allen. Margrit Page. Stranded student of astrophysics hitching a ride home."

She rose a brow then, kinda hoping that Allen would take the hint and reveal more about himself as well. After all, if they were going to be working together, they kinda needed to know each other's specialties.

____

His eyes flitted, a momentary glance, to where she'd gestured, wondering if there was any liquor to be found there, though he was taken aback by her statement. Well, yes, there was some liquor one didn't want to drink straight but - by God, there were so many that were meant to be. Sweets chose not to comment, more out of the conversation's flow than any sense of propriety, looking back to the young woman who returned his handshake in a firm and admirable manner. While the man didn't wear a grin, he certainly paid Margrit an amiable smile, returning the handshake with a weathered hand not too dissimilar to her own. "Likewise. Allen McGregor, I should say, though most wind up calling me Sweets. Jack of all trades, master of... one or two."

McGregor afforded himself a small chuckle at that as he returned to his duffel, unzipping the titanic bag and doing his best to remember the order he'd set things into it. First to come was his dopp kit, the synthetic leather catching a hint of the ambient, flourescent light, "Most notably a pilot, though I also fancy myself a mechanic of sorts. Not quite an engineer, technically speaking, without the degree and all." He shrugged, tossing the kit onto the nearby bunk, dismissing the occasional, errant thought that he should get an education here in the Supremacy - they'd good universities, but Allen just never was one for their script, the runic alphabet making his already poor penmanship an even greater handicap. The reflective expression that had fallen over his face was juxtaposed with the submachine gun that he pulled from the bag, held aloft in his right hand, the mercenary debating on what tuition would run him and what sort of profits he could expect on this little venture.

Realizing that sort of pondering was pointless until he sat down with Melina and worked out his pay he shook his head, tossing the weapon onto the bed as well, not thinking anything of it as he returned to rummaging around in the duffel. "What are you wanting to do with that degree, Margrit? Going into the theoretical or the practical side of thing-" He barely had a moment to glance over his shoulder to her before something rose out of the bag of its own volition, the speedy blur rushing past Sweets' face as he ducked out of its way in the nick of time. McGregor's shoulders sank even before the digital, feminine voice rang out in the room, knowing what was coming.

"You kept me in there on purpose, jackass."

"I did not, Jules-"

The metallic sphere moved to hover over his shoulder as if to jeer, Allen rolling his eyes as it did. "You just don't want them to know about us, do you?"

"Well they'd have to find out sooner or later, wouldn't they?"

"Indeed they would." She, or rather it, remarked, pivoting about in the air and rising slightly as it did, so that it was resting just barely higher than Margrit's head might reach. "... she's younger than I expected her to be." The pilot sighed at that, a finger coming to scratch at the bridge of his nose as he looked to the floor, thinking of how best to explain this.

"Margrit, this is Juliet. She's my-"

"His."

"... my assistant."

____

Margrit moved towards the door to be ready to exit, if Mr. McGregor seemed to want some privacy to get settled, but had just lingered in that area as he spoke. She nodded pleasantly as he explained himself, giving small sounds on occasion to let him know she was absorbing the information and was interested in what he had to say.

The weapon did make her slightly nervous, though she didn't think anyone would pay to have her killed. Assuming anyone even knew where she was, since Areleous didn't seem to be the sort to be too fussed about paperwork. Then he started to ask a question.

Miss Page opened her mouth to answer, but then was distracted by the flying ball. Then she just gaped until she was introduced. "Oh wow. Hi, Juliet."

The young student edged a little closer, peering up at the floating computer, but too polite to try to touch it. She only examined it with her eyes, and wasn't exactly sure if she should ask Sweets her questions, or direct them to the machine in question.

Margrit decided to err on the side of not offending the computer, since if she was mistaken, Allen would just laugh at her and Juliet wouldn't be angry at her anyway, "Anti-grav tech? Can't be magnetic, since you, Juliet, are obviously a very sophisticated device and that would interfere. Am I talking to an AI, or a communication channel to a biological entity, or is there something even more amazing going on here?"

____

"A-..." The possessive machine was taken aback for a moment by Margrit's compliment, not expecting it in the slightest as she took a moment to herself to try and regain what composure a computer could. "... you're right, it would." She admitted as her metal globe spun to itself for a moment or two, turning slowly on its invisible axis as it figuratively pursed its lips in thought, glancing to Allen before looking back at Margrit. "I am just an artificial intelligence, miss Page - mister McGregor has burnt so many bridges that I don't think he could convince anyone to stick with him as long as I have." The sphere glided to a nearby shelf, hovering just above its surface as a panel on its surface receded, a small light coming forth, issuing a projection of a dark haired, young woman in a liquid silver dress, her arms crossed as she looked to the mercenary pilot.

McGregor had returned to unpacking his things, shaking his head with a small smile as miss Page had curbed Jules' attitude. There was indeed a reason why he kept her inside of his duffel when he looked for work, as the last thing he wanted was to lose a chance at a job because of her mouth, much less her jealousy. But there was a definite reason why he kept her around too: she was one of the finest AIs he'd ever seen, even with these monstrous things in the Supremacy, and he'd taken the time to retrofit an old maintmech to house her core, something that parts were not easy to find for, especially out here in the greater galaxy. The man sighed at the thought of giving her a new chassis, even if he knew it was likely inevitable. He would lose the old EF maintmech but at least he'd still have Jules.

Lippy as she could be, Juliet was one of the last pieces of home he still had, and for that alone she was priceless.

"No one had to convince you, Jules." He mused from over the duffel, helical magazines tucked under his arm, not knowing that she'd moved to the shelf or issued her projection. The miniature woman blinked at that, digital eyes lingering on him as she thought of what to say, refraining from her usual sass as she murmured in response.

"No. No you didn't."

She sighed, in the way that an AI might sigh, the sound coming through her speakers as she looked back to Margrit. "I... apologize, miss Page. I shouldn't have been so rude - being stuffed in a duffel has that effect on you."

____

"I'm sure it is very upsetting. Plus, a computer perceives and thinks so much more efficiently than a human, what seems like just a short break to us, must seem like ages to you." Margrit reasoned out loud, not really thinking about how she answered Juliet as she stared at the magazines that Allen was holding. It took her a little bit to realize what they were, and then she glanced at the weapon again nervously.

The young woman retreated to the door again, not wanting to be in the way, and preferring not to risk offending either of the two. "Umm. This will be my first non-commercial space voyage. Are we likely to need--" She pointed at the weapon vaguely, not sure how to phrase her question.

"I mean, I know how to fire a handgun, but I didn't bring one. This was supposed to be a vacation, and there are rules at the university too." Her cheeks turned pink as she turned her gaze to Juliet for help, "I'm so out of my depth here, I don't even know how to start swimming."

____

The mercenary glanced over to the young woman, blinking as he tried to follow her finger, soon realizing she meant his weapon. His eyebrows climbed a hair, soon placing the magazines in a rather haphazard pile beside the weapon they belonged to as he shrugged. "Well..." In all honesty, he wasn't sure, and that was a majority of why he brought it along. It and the other four, though he usually only had two on his body at any time, as far as firearms went, and it was a practice he maintained, even here in the Supremacy. They were finicky people these Imperial Scatterrans, especially when it came to carrying, but he had a string or two pulled, a favor or two called in - it was part of the reason why he had that computer in his arm, the price he paid that he could keep his Mk. 98 strapped to his side, the combat pistol almost entirely hidden under the fatigue jacket he wore now. "I'd rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it."

From his flank came an audible sigh, Juliet rolling her digital eyes this time as Sweets moved back to the duffel rising from the bag with a holster in hand, offering it to Margrit. The black webbing of the holster did little to camouflage the bulk of the weapon within it, though its dark frame was difficult to distinguish from its carrier. Allen still wore a smile, uncertain why the girl blushed as she glanced over to Juliet. "Here, just in case. I've got more than enough to spare loaning one out."

"Don't foist it-"

"Doesn't have to take it if she doesn't want to, Jules." He murmured with a shrug, glancing to Juliet briefly before looking back to Margrit. "Hope for the best but prepare for the worst, right?"

"... you hope for the worst and you know it, Allen McGregor."

____

Margrit was deeply embarrassed at her lack of being prepared, and she shuddered as she accepted the weapon. If she had been carrying a weapon that night-- Well, then her friends might still have been with her, and those roadblocks on her passage home would not have been erected in the first place.

"It's good to know what the worst can be, and where to place your trust." the olive-toned girl pointed out as she cradled the holstered weapon to her narrow chest. After a moment of just holding it like that, like it was some bizarre teddy bear to be hugged for comfort, she examined the holster to see how it worked. If it didn't require a belt, she'd clip it to her overalls in the appropriate place.

"That way, the unexpected can't bite you in the ass and leave you stranded. Lesson learned the hard way, in my case." She gave them both a wry smile then, rubbing at her cheek with one hand to make sure she wasn't crying again.

"Maybe later we can set up some sturdy targets or something in the cargo bay and practice? I mean, I was always taught to know a weapon thoroughly before you might need to depend on it, and that means knowing how loud and what kind of kick-back and whatnot. Then how to care for it after firing. But I am sure you want to get settled in first, and we'd need to let the Captain know before we go plinking away so she won't panic." Maggie realized she was babbling about then, trying to not let herself get emotional.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Stellar and glmstr

One of the problems with being a bounty hunter was this: despite a universe full of criminals, thieving and backstabbing assholes, and galaxy worth of capitalizing crooks, somehow Helena found herself out of work. It was a rare event, but it happened on occasion and usually during an inopportune time; particularly after her ship had taken a head-on collision with a warhead and was currently resting within the hangar in shambles. It was during times like this she was left at the mercy of others; more specifically, an individual – or individuals, plural – with an objective that rarely ever aligned with her own. But that was the cost of doing business. Things were rarely ever 'hunky dory', despite what those 'The Power of Positive Thinking' self-help books proclaimed; thinking happy thoughts would not somehow miraculous fix her ship.

It was with this mixture of self-loathing and desperation that Helena found herself with an advertisement in one hand and what little remained of her pride in the other in search of someone named Melina Areleous persuading herself to at least pretend to be likeable.

People weren't her thing. Probably due in part to her inability to get along with anyone besides herself. It wasn't because she was cynical or hyper-critical or anything along those lines. It was because people were stupid. And in her twenty-seven-years of life, the universe had yet to prove this opinion wrong.

____

"What, is it because I'm a Draziri? Refuse to work with fishmen, huh?!" A loud and low voice boomed throughout the hangar bay, from the gaping maw of a furious man standing opposite Areleous at her folding table. His scales were a well polished indigo, the tips of his fins a gradient that turns to cyan at the tips.

"No, goddamnit, I'm not letting you on my ship because you're rude and scaring people away from my stand!" Melina stood up and shouted back at him, nearly reaching a volume equal to the Draziri ahead of her. Their shouting match continued for almost a minute, two brightly colored creatures yelling and making aggressive body language at each other.

Eventually, the fishman turned around and walked away, muttering something about 'damn skinbags'. The Vorik captain glanced to the door and noticed a new customer, a woman, and gave one last scowl to the beligerent Draziri as he left the hangar.

"Can I help you?"

____

"I'm looking for Areleous?" She turned her shoulder just in time to avoid a near collision with the brooding Draziri as he barrelled full-chested through the door. Her answer hadn't intentionally been worded like a question. Rather, it was a side-effect of having seriously considering pimping herself out to another person. It been a bitter pill to swallow. One she had taken with a mouthful of air. "I'm here about the ad?"

Helena took a few steps towards the fold-out table holding out the advertisement as if it was made from an olive branch, briefly glancing over her shoulder towards the Draziri's retreat.

She really, really needed this job, which meant she had to not only pretend to be likeable, but also convince herself that she could be likeable.

"Something about looking for a crew..."

The other woman looked like she could have been an Unionite ship captain, but the ad hadn't exactly been descriptive.

____

Melina eyed the flyer in Helena's hand. It was definitely one of her own, and the fact that this many people had showed interest in her venture was surprising to say the least. At this rate, she'd have a skeleton crew before even leaving Neu-Lumen.

"Yes, that would be my face plastered on those flyers," the Vorik held up one of her own copies, "and yeah, I need crew members. Looking to join?" She dropped the piece of paper back onto the table, and glanced back to her ship briefly. Areleous frowned at the scraped and paintless area towards the bow, where the name of the vessel was supposed to be.

The Vorikos Arrow died on Demeter VII when the captain failed her crew. She didn't have the nerve to keep the ship's name after such a travesty.

"All I really need to know is what you can do and what groups, if any, you've previously worked with."

____

"I'm more of what you'd call a 'fixed-term contract worker'." She replied cryptically following the captain's gaze to the vessel behind her. It wasn't exactly in pristine condition, but it could be worse for wear. At least it looked functional. That was more than she could say for her own ship.

Meeting the captain's gaze Helena shrugged, "I'm a bounty hunter." She paused. "Usually." Then teetered her head between her shoulders. "Normally." Clearing her throat she broke eye contact and instead fixated on the hull of the ship. As she chewed on the side of her cheek, she added nonchalantly. "Business has been a little stagnant lately." Admitting that to another person was the equivalent of spraying battery acid into an open cut before rubbing salt into the wound.

It left a permanent scar on her pride.

"I usually work alone. But I get the job done. If that's what you are concerned about. Unfortunately, my last job was a little deficient in the benefits versus risk department."

____

"Unfortunately, there won't be much 'alone work' with me, I hope that's alright with you. Especially after what happened that put me here, I won't be keen on solo missions if I can help it," Melina's face soured slightly at the idea, but it flashed back to the neutral but amiable expression she had before. "If you are planning on working long term, then I guess there's not much more for me to ask you. Welcome aboard,"
Areleous pointed down to the gangplank that leads into the ship, "the doors will open for you."

"There's personal crew quarters inside, just pick one that isn't taken and get your stuff in there. Do what you will with anything that was left over from the last person to live there.

"Oh also, we'll probably be heading out pretty soon, and by pretty soon I mean within an hour or two most likely."

____

"Sure." Helena mumbled adjusting her trajectory towards the gangplank. Helena wasn't certain how she felt about how easy her whole 'getting recruiting' process had gone. For one, the other woman hadn't even asked Helena for her name. Was the captain one of those 'don't ask, don't tell' sorts, 'your business is your own until it interferes with mine'? If that was the case, they'd get along swimmingly. Not that the bounty hunter had much to hide – apart from a handful of pissed off competitors and a few 'bounties' that might have wanted to drown her in a vat of hydrochloric acid. Fortunately, the universe was big. And for now, perhaps it was best she laid low under someone else's charge for a change.

She hadn't occupied a 'crewed' ship since she was a teenager.

"Guess... I'll... see you later then." An awkward nod was exchanged before she headed below deck.

In comparison to Polaris the ship was massive. She didn't have to bend low to avoid smashing her head for the umpteenth time off the bulkhead and the toilet was no where within a six-foot radius of the kitchen stove. Helena could comfortably stretch out across the width of the hall and still have room to spare. So this was how the rest of the universe functioned. It almost made her feel nostalgic, back to her days on a drifter ship. If it had all the amenities she could spot with a preliminary assessment, she had to wonder what secrets the ship was hiding and more importantly this new captain of hers.

The crews' quarters was easy enough to find after a handful of wrong turns. The bounty hunter wasn't picky. Her 'lifestyle' hadn't exactly given her the luxury of being choosey. Nevertheless, she was grateful to find the quarters were not only intact, but roomy.

That 'pride' she had been carrying in her other hand had included a bag of personal effects and a few trademark items that she'd need to survive an extended stay aboard another person's ship; a toothbrush, a comb, a stick of deodorant, a PDA with a fiberoptic-cybernetic module, and a custom-designed proton pistol – should the need arise. She set the luggage bag down in the first available room and became acutely aware she wasn't the only one who had answered Areleous' ad. Their voices drifted down the hall, a echo of conversation that was near indistinguishable. She counted three. That was five people including herself that currently manned the ship. Four people she'd have to trust her life with. Suddenly, she was feeling less confident with her decision. Trust was a fickle thing.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman

The Terran nodded at the notion, able to see that there was more on Margrit's mind than small arms. "Sure, we can put a few magazines through, see how you like it... with the captain's permission." He didn't know how the ship would hold up to small arms fire inside of it - some were sturdy, meant for that sort of thing, while others... Well. McGregor wasn't keen on dying, and hull depressurization was probably near the top of his list when it came to most unpleasant. "Jules can always run analysis of your work, groupings, drift and all, but she can be a bit..." He glanced over to the machine for a moment, the projected avatar still there.

"Honest?"

McGregor smirked at that, "I was going to say harsh."

"So, honest."

The man shrugged, looking back to Margrit as he did, "Harsh, honest - same difference. We can do it with or without her, if you'd rather, but she's a lifesaver when I'm breaking in a new weapon." Especially these things from the Supremacy, which were nearly always consistently overchambered for someone like him - his own 'sub-machine gun' using a rifle round. But by and large his mind didn't linger on weapons and the like, put off, if only slightly, by that swipe at her own cheek that Margrit made.

"Margrit, ah... are you alright?"

 

[Tiko]

as written by Krysis

"Honest is good. I'd rather know that I am screwing up before someone's life depends on getting it right." Miss Page was actually relieved at the banter, and gave the unusual pair a grateful look.

Margrit nodded a bit, then smiled after blushing a bit at how easy it was to wring emotion from her lately. "Sorry, just been a rough couple of weeks. I guess I am just overwhelmed."

The teenager took a deep breathe then and nodded more briskly. "Well, these cabins won't clean themselves. Then I was going to run a few diagnostics to make sure we won't fall out of the sky. Plenty of work to do, and it keeps me out of trouble!"

Even as she spoke, she was groping for the door back out into the hallway, and would soon make her escape. After all, being in a man's room for no particular reason was not smart for a girl her size and age.

 

[Tiko]

as written by ConquererMan

The hanger was a silent tomb, interring a lone freighter and nearly two dozen metal crates that'd already been off-loaded at that point. The neon lights of the city outside cast their glow across the metallic floor, though the intrusion was outshone by the white blocks that illuminated the majority of the hanger.

Each crate stood a meter tall and about two in length, stacked in clusters of six save for the last few that'd been set apart. Two men stood near the first cluster talking in impatient tones and hushed whispers.

"I told you, stop worrying about it, we paid our dues, we got our protection, ain't nobody gonna come down and snoop around," the shorter of the two men spoke, clearly the impatient one. He was a stocky fellow that held an air of authority around him that clearly intimidated his partner.

"It ain't that, I just, some ain't sitting right with me," he second replied. This half of the smuggling duo was easily a head and a half taller, but far lankier.

"You took your meds today right," the first barked, poking at the other's chest before leaning in and whispering, "because they will pin you for that, you hear me."

"Yeah, yeah I took them," he whispered, reassuring the first man again, "it's not that, I... I keep hearing things, like... whirring noises or something."

"WHIRRING NOISES HE SAYS," the first man remarked, letting his volume shoot up without warning and causing his partner to flinch. "Every thing whirls and whines Hare, okay, you gotta stop jumping at shadows, you hear me."

"Okay, I'll, I'll try to calm down Jace," Hare replied with a gentle nod and a deep sigh. That was enough to calm Jace down from his previous out burst, and pull an apology from him.

"Listen, I'm sorry, I understand you're nervous, I would be too after all you've been through, but you're with the right people now, I promise, ain't going to let anything happen to you," Jace added, trying to console his friend, "plus, the Sup is about as safe as it gets, yeah they're a little strict, maybe go a bit over board here and there, but safe."

"Thanks, I needed to hear tha-" Hare started to respond but was cut short. A heavy metallic thud resounded through the quite hanger.

"Okay, I heard that too," Jace said in a hushed tone, eyes wide as he turned around to try and make out where the sound came from.

A second thud sounded out, and then a third- drawing the pair towards one of the three container that'd yet been stacked. The sturdier Jace approached first while Hare kept his distance, eyeing the container with a mix of caution and dread.

A rectangular pad was produced from Jace's tool belt and with a few taps against the screen the man scanned the container. His eyes were focused solely on the display as the read out confirmed that nothing but their smuggled cargo, a rare powdered drug from the far reached of the galaxy, occupied the container. That didn't completely settle their nerves however.

"Nothing," he muttered.

That sound was very real, and they both new it had to come from something. Curiosity however was the victor between caution and the desire to know what was causing the sound, and slowly Jace reached out and lifted the metal lid up and was greeted with neat piles of large bags containing white powder. For a split second.

Before Jace could even react a metal fist rocketed out of the container, buried underneath the cargo. In that nearly instantaneous moment hard alloy connected with soft flesh.

That strong sculpted nose was the first to meet it's destruction as it was pushed aside by chrome knuckles and quickly busted open and rendered into a red pulp mixed with cartilage. The upper teeth were next as the man's lip was quickly shredded by the force of the impact and the shatter teeth and bones. That didn't stop the projectile like punch there however. It continued upwards where knuckles met the lower eye socket, turning bone to dust practically and bulging the man's eyes upwards. The assault only stopped once the center of the thrust had burrowed itself deep enough in the center of Jace's face to bury the hard bones of his septum into his brain, and with the force of the blow carrying the man backwards and off his feet- dead before he even hit the ground.

Sometime between the initial connection of the hit and the death of his friend Hare realized his fears were founded and began to sprint for the exit of the hanger. All he had to do was get outside, and find the authorities. Hell he'd turn himself over for smuggling if it meant staying alive. He wasn't quick enough to escape however.

The disembodied hand proved it was anything but as it latched onto the side of the container, and in an acrobatic move impossible to most humanoid organics pulled out was half constructed demon of chrome and sending bags spilling up into the air. Even without being fully complete, to the point where it's right arm was nothing more than a hundred smaller armatures pulling pieces together and fastening itself properly, it moved fast and fluidly. Even plucking a bag out of the air with it's one good arm and throwing it right at Hare and beaming him right against the back of his head. The machine closed the distance while his impromptu projectile was in flight, only a few paces behind Hare when it hit.

The impact sent the man stumbling and careening forward, but before he'd gone too far forward the assassin was upon him. Left foot, right foot, left foot planted a single step ahead of it's target, and the machine swept the legs out from under the lanky man and insuring he landed on his back with a thud. It was fortunate that Hare had the wind knocked out of him, making what came next much quicker and more merciful.

The machine's form had fully reconstructed itself during that hundred meter dash and through blurred vision Hare gazed up at the hammer head machine as it straddled him in the blink of an eye.

Th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk; Hare's heart raced, pumping as fast as it could. Th-thunk, th-thunk; it pounded. Th-thunk, th-thunk, thud thud; it stopped.

The machine had landed a rapid one two punch in time with the beat of the man's heart. The force broke several ribs but the strikes induced a cardiac arrhythmia that simply shut the organ down, the real intention.

For Hare it felt like an eternity of staring at his tormentor as his brain died of deprivation. For the machine it was roughly twenty eight second before the dimming light in the man's eyes disappeared.

The construct wasn't finished yet. There was the task of confirming the kills. Evidence needed to be complied and identities confirmed.

The first step was video and sensor evidence. Along with his own feed he'd hijacked the cameras and sensors watching the hanger while he loomed over Hare, waiting for the man to die. The latter was at least less brutal in it's depiction, showing Jace falling backwards and then the machine over taking Hare a second later and then nearly a half minute of peace.

The next part was confirming that its targets were in fact who they were supposed to be.

Blood and flesh from Jace covered the chrome finish of the assailants left hand, tarnishing the reflective surface. Lifting its fist up towards its head, a small tendril extended from the base of the hammer shaped metal cranium, sucking up a sample of red organic matter and quickly sequencing the DNA. That was enough to confirm the first target. Hare however required an extra step.

Sharp and long, a metal spindle extended from secondary manipulator hidden in the construct's right forearm. With a quick and measured jab next into the eye socket the half-foot long needle punctured the deceased's skull and burrowed its way deep inside, only to be withdraw a second later and at it's end a tiny black box clasped between minuscule pincers that'd unfolded from the tip of the spindle.

The black box found a new home in a port secluded away beneath several armored plates that covered the machine's chest. The data inside was quickly decrypted and copied, readied to be sent to the client after leaving Supremacy space. Of course the spindle had also sequenced Hare's DNA and confirmed his identity on top of the implant's data as well.

With its task completed all that was left to do was gather its things. Along with its deconstructed body several items, including a few weapons, had been secreted away inside the shipping container. Several more bags of narcotics found their way to the floor as the metal assassin dug out his tunic and harnesses.

The idea of "clothes" had been suggested as a way to humanize the synthetic, and one that'd been initially rejected out right due to efficiency concerns, but over time its initial calculation had proven wrong and "personalizing" itself had increased standing and reputation considerably.

The tunic slid over the metal surface easily and clung to the humanoid torso once the cape and harnesses were in place. While it did nothing to hide the fact it was an automaton, at least to most it made the machine approachable, understandable to some degree.

Reaching in the mercenary pulled out a pair of pistols, twirling them for good measure as each one found their home at its flanks. Finally a long sniper rifle was produced from inside the modified container; broken into two for ease of storage. With a click and a whir, the machine attached the barrel to the main body of the weapon.

Now all it had to do was find its ride off world to complete the contract.

____

As luck would have it, though the construct held no view on the concept of luck, there was one ship looking for crew members. The Vorikos Arrow. He'd pulled the name up off the docking manifest after a quick probe into possible options to get off world.

Her captain was looking for a crew, as evident by the holo-fliers posted up on various notice boards at the star port. No need for fare or awkward security checks. Plus the chance for earning more funds was attractive; though by the look of the condition the ship was in he doubted Areleous, Melina could afford to fully contract him out.

The machine marched into the hanger stiffly, hiding the fluidity of his frame. Right angles and uniform steps gave his gait an unnatural feel as he approached the raven haired woman sitting at the makeshift desk. Even without eyes it was clear his focus rested solely on the human before him.

"I'm joining your crew, Holistic Soluctions Incorporated regulations states I, contract worker 11-38, as per employment contract 11,339, section 89, subsection 3, outsourcing clause, can not freelance my services to any and all potential clients of Holistic Solutions Incorporated without prior consent from a labor relations committee."

It paused for a split second. Enough to punctuate it's message but not enough to give Melina time to speak.

"You can not afford my services, I, contract worker 11-38 will be doing this pro bono, as per my rights as a being, artificial or other wise, and contract worker, I will also take a thirty percent cut of all funds, assets, shares, or other treasures earned, legal or other wise, while I am a crew member on board the Vorikos Arrow."

There was another pause, this time denoted by a beep from Melina's datapad notifying her that she'd received several files, including; the contract and terms of services for the machine's employment, previous records and commendations from HS Inc and other institutions that employed it, and the security footage from the hanger- showing her his last two bounties claimed.

"I am worth it."

 

[Tiko]

as written by glmstr, ConquererMan, and Krysis

"Wait, thirty perce- that's way too mu-" Areleous glanced rapid-fire between her datapad and the robot ahead of her. Didn't match any BMIR or UA designs she'd ever seen before. Holistic Solutions? Never heard of 'em. Maybe a foreign group? Melina had run into corporations and groups of all shapes and sizes in her travels, and nothing with such an innocuous name for a line of work that was anything but. Then again, the footage now being broadcast to her tablet was a good sign.

The last robotic crew member on the ship was much less sophisticated than the one standing before her, but did more than its fair share aboard the Arrow. Areleous and the crew called him 'Jeremy', after the name embroidered on a jacket the automaton presumably stole from somebody. Jeremy had been one of her most loyal, and stayed with her until the end..

Melina shook her head and dismissed the thought. That wound was still too fresh in her mind to think about now.

"I... Just get on the ship and find a room to stay in. We can discuss your pay later," she groaned, visibly defeated by little more than her own thoughts.

____

The chrome head stared silently down at the captain as she acquiesced to the machine's offer. There was no outwards sign that the artificial machine was pleased, or any sign that he was capable of feeling such emotions. The only road bump so far was the matter of his payment and claims on any "booty" they were to stumble upon. That was non-negotiable, but it had faith that the frail organic would see reason well enough.

Without a single word the machine made an abrupt 90 degree turn and marched straight before making hard right and clanging up the ramp. The inside of the ship was of no real interest to the automaton. All he needed was a room to call his own.

Scans of the ship pointed out several locations it could hold up in; a supply closet, the engineering section, an escape pod. All were either too small, too important for it to claim, and so the temp agent found its way to the crew quarters.

Marching past the half dozen or so room, the machine found its way to the very last quarter at the end of the block. It was still cluttered by the personal effects from the previous occupant, but such petty objects didn't matter to the machine for the time being.

____

Margrit finally escaped Sweets' freshly claimed room just in time to hear something heavy marching past. A glance down the hallway showed her the back of something humanoid with a huge metal helmet, and a-- Was that a cape? Who wears a cape on a spaceship, with all the points and angles to snag it on?

Then she winced at him picking one of the rooms she hadn't gotten to cleaning yet and so the small teen would follow the unknown being. Of course, she was completely unaware that she had missed someone else's arrival entirely, and walked right past Helena's room in her pursuit of the person in the cape.

"Um, excuse me? Would you like me to remove some of the personal stuff that got left behind before you get too settled?" The darker-skinned unionite girl asked as she caught up in time to keep the door from closing completely. Catching it in lieu of knocking seemed prudent. At least until she got a better look at the being she had followed.

"Oh, wow." was her impressed and surprised exclamation when again confronted with an unusual AI, for the second time in less than an hour. Then, once more, in a dismayed tone at spotting the dried gore splattered on the left fist, "Oh, wow. Umm. Maybe a cleaning for yourself might be useful too? I'm guessing your chassis is rust resistant, but a good oiling might be helpful?"

Margrit was again torn with the desire to examine a unique engineering marvel, and a certain natural wariness. After all, there was no telling how it got that gore on itself. Maybe she should have just let the door close, but it was too late by then to pretend that she hadn't noticed the new arrival. It had probably been too late from the moment she had stepped into the hallway, and running away would probably provoke an unpleasant response from such a war-like machine. At least, that was her reasoning as she attempted bold politeness.

____

Even before the machine could turn around it was beset by one of the other crew. A curious human female who seemed interested in the machine as soon as it realized what the artificial being was.

The chrome head tilted slightly downwards as if staring directly at the girl, a habit 11-38 had picked up while dealing with organics. Perceived direct eye contact was useful in a myriad of ways, both in communicating respect and politeness as well as intimidation. Whether it was the latter or the former was up to the intruding girl to decide.

"No," the machine replied, it's metallic voice warbling slightly as a small droning continued after speaking. The red tarnished metal hand was lifted up and rotated slowly counter clockwise so the back was facing the head, as if the machine was appraising it's handy work that'd left the mark.

"What occupies the room does not concern me, and I will self lubricate if my joints need servicing," it added a moment later, "and if the debris on my hand is bothering you, then I will see to it that it's dealt with."

The right hand's twin was quick to join the former as the machine produced a small cone off of another armature hidden away in it's forearm. This one was shorter than the needle, and was topped with a small cone that connected to slender and winding tube, snaking it's way further into the machine's systems.

A brilliant light arced from the end for a split second before a jet of gas was ignited, excited to the point of becoming plasma. The nearly invisible blue flame was swiftly bathed over the offending red mark, turning it to a deeper red before finally blackening it to the point the organic matter simply turned to dust and wafted into the air. The flame had burned so hot and so quickly that no smoke was produced, only the stench of burning gas and a hint of charge flesh. All that was left was a glowing metal hand.

____

The young engineering student stared, shifting her weight as if she were pondering getting closer. Seeing him char the gore off the alloy made her back up a step though. There had been very little warning and it just underlined further how dangerous the man-shaped machine could be.

"I see. Wow." She winced at the way she kept saying that, but couldn't seem to get her mind to process beyond amazement. She shook her head then, trying to get he brain unstuck, "Well, if you would like any help with anything, please let me know? My name is Margrit Page, and I guess I am the ship intern? The unpaid help. I'll probably be in the engine room most of the time."

The teenager stood back, with just her fingertips on the door enough to keep a view of the android. As much as she itched to get a chance to get in there and get a closer look at how the machine was put together, she had to give him the same respect and courtesy as an organic person.

____

I should go check on them. Make sure that bucket of bolts didn't end up killing those new recruits.

Areleous sighed and sat up in her cheap metal chair, reluctantly rising to her feet. Robots like the one she just met, in her experience, do not take kindly to being told 'no.' Especially ones designed for warfare.

Then again, maybe this foreign droid was smart enough that it could react to refusal without throwing a tantrum. Melina would prefer not to test that herself though.

After a brief internal monologue and attempts to rationalize or second-guess her way out of doing it, she left her post at the table and started up the gangplank.

At the door to her ship, the Vorik crinkled her nose at the smell coming from inside.
"Do I still have those on board?" The Unionite scrambled to the cargo bay and opened the airlock door into it, her eyes widening when every single crate of cargo was still in there, one of them with the lid pried open and a few of the unmarked metallic and plastic discs scattered on the floor. Clearly the Pirates had no interest in what she was carrying here, or more likely they simply didn't know.

"Shit!" She slammed her hand onto the button to close the airlock and ran back up to the crew cabin level, where the stench was coming from.

She arrived just in time to see the robot with its hand heated to the point of glowing.

"Please put that out, right now. I'd prefer to have this ship not turn to confetti from our cargo going off."

She tried her best to give off a commanding tone, but it was much more panicked and nervous than intended.

____

The machine's attention turned from the short human girl to the captain of the vessel, only signalling such as it's hammer head shifted slightly up and to the right. There was no response from the machine, just a simple hum and whir from the mechanical parts inside the artificial body.

Finally it moved after a long, awkward silence as it stared the captain down. It didn't speak however, simply reaching out with it's glowing hand, finger out stretched until the orange tip had met the control panel to the door of the room with a hiss, and holding it there as the door closed shut- regardless of either standing on the precipice.

Retreating it's finger revealed a small circle where the polymers of the display had started to warp and melt. With some peace and quite the machine resumed it's passive stance in the center of the room.

____

Margrit yelped and jumped back when the door started to close. Then she gave a nervous laugh and smiled encouragingly at Areleous. "What a find! I've never seen anything like it, even in textbooks. Did it come with someone, or on its own?"

It only took her a moment to realize that Melina seemed agitated, despite Page's enthusiasm for the mechanical resident of the room she was just ejected from. "Umm. It seemed perfectly controlled, whatever it was he burnt. No worse than many of the tools that will be needed in the engine room, if things should need repairs."

Of course, in the back of her mind she was wondering 'what cargo?'.

____

Melina frowned at the robot's brash gesture, but did not provide a response.

"The ship worked well enough when it got here, but go ahead and see if there's anything off about it," the captain waved vaguely in the direction of the hallway that led to the engine room. The stress from the day was more than slightly beginning to add up, and the Vorik shuffled back down to the exit airlock, back down the gangplank and plopped down into her chair behind the folding table. She was going to give it another hour or two before taking off, as she could still cash out on the shipment onboard if she made it to her destination.