Difference between revisions of "Voices of a Mirror"

Revision as of 09:59, 10 April 2010

Altor keeps his optics on Griss for a few more minutes, his gaze returning to him periodically as he watches a Hekayti sitcom that's just came on the holoviewer.

Ribas Salek waddles into the tavern, poking at a claw-marked PDA. His furred face is faintly illuminated by the glow of the display. As the sound and smoke of the tavern wrap themselves around him, he pulls his attention away from the PDA and glances around the tavern before making his way to the central counter.

Griss peers at the list of drinks on the menu, flicking his forked tongue in and out of his mouth. After a minute he seems to decide to play it safe, and simply orders a pitcher of water.

The arrival of a walking badger is enough to distract Altor from the holoviewer as his gaze shifts to Ribas, watching as he walks up to the bar.

Ribas Salek sets his PDA on the counter, looks to Lotorian bartender and raises a clawed finger, opening his mouth as if about to order a drink. And then he notices that he has drawn the attention of - well, it might be a vending machine, or perhaps a hovercar, or the ram scoop of a sun shuttle. He swivels his snout around so that he can get a look at Altor. His mouth clamps shut, whiskers twitching.

Griss watches Ribas watching Altor for a moment, and sips at his water. The Grimlahdi is sitting off to the side, and seems a bit like he's still getting used to the pla

Altor offers a bit of a wave towards Ribas. "Evenin'." he says when he notices the Llivori looking his way.

"What...are you?" the Llivori inquires of the big mechanical watching thing. "Some new toy of Comorro's?"

Jazzak walks in from the tradeport and looks around, noting a robot plus other beeings. He moves over to the bar, and takes a seat, wrapping his tail around the legs of the stool.

A very officious, very short, very hairy man trundles in from the Tradeport, a gloved hand reaching to delicately lift the goggles from his face as he makes a quick glare around the tavern. Shaking his head, the man mutters under his breath as he makes his way toward the bar.

Trundling in after the very short, very officious and hairy fellow, and perhaps even stalking him, Anshera trails after the goggles sporting man. The fey girl stares quite intently at her 'prey', little fists clenching gently. Rarr.

Griss sits and watches the two or three latest people to come through the door, and sips a glass of water. The Grimlahdi blinks his eyes every so often.

"Who, me? No.. just appeared on this old space whale a couple weeks ago. Another refugee of the mess the universe back home became." Altor says. "Mycerian-Class Automaton, Defense Configuration #1414, codename 'Altor', at yer service."

Jazzak looks over at the bartender and orders himself a drink, sipping lightly from it as it arrives, his banded eyes flicking about the tavern again.

Ribas Salek blinks. "Defense configuration? Good with weapons, then? Spaceworthy?"

The short, dark figure of Hal'gus halts rather abruptly as he takes note of Altor and Ribas, craning his head ever-so-slowly to stare at the larger of the two with an awed expression. "What'n the chasm is 'at jibjabbin' gizmo?!" he manages to burst after about several moments of silence, pointing an accusatory finger before he rushes to close the distance. He glances over to Ribas once he arrives, jerking a thumb toward Altor. "'at yer doodad, Biggerun?"

Oh no! The little Hal'gus is getting away! After him! Chaaaarge! Arms outstretched and her grabby fingers stretched outwards, Anshera runs after the Halaghi. Rarr!

"My...doodad?" Ribas grunts, scratching the side of his snout with a clawed finger. "No. It appears to be an independent creature with at least well-mimicked intelligence. I haven't seen anything like it before, although I have heard outversers talk about some similar 'metal demon' known as Fear-yons." He glances around the tavern, then back at Altor. "I've got a shipment needs to go from here to a ship on the outskirts of Hekayt Prime. If you're looking for work, I'm hiring for the job." His voice goes a little louder. "A few jobs. One time. Pay's not bad."

Griss stares at Hal'Gus for a moment after the little man's blustering entrance. Then the Grimlahdi turns one eye to look at Aldor. He flicks his tongue. He pushes back his chair, stands up, and walks over in that direction, using his tail to pull the chair back into place as he passes.

Altor nods to Ribas. "I'm looking for it, you betcha. I've got the weapons to make anybody's day an instant nightmare. You need someone to run interference, I'm your bot."

Akamatsu looks over at Ribas with a look of interest and walks over asking "How much does the job pay and could you use me?"

Ribas Salek bobs his snout at Altor, then he regards Akamatsu. "What skills do you have? Looks like you have functional arms and a strong back. Cargo still needs lifting, if you have no other abilities of note."

"Biggerun Burok?" idly queries Hal'gus, stroking his beard as he begins to count off with his fingers. "Boomstickin', pipefittin', dirigible floatineerin', thunkificatin', goatsneakin'...pockchasin'," notes the Halaghi. He glances back toward the strange creature (Anshera) approaching him and stares at her for a moment, before turning back to Ribas.

Anshera draws her lips back with a tooth bearing smile as Hal stares at her, the little girl scootching forward until she's standing behind the Halaghi. Up, up onto her toes she goes, one hand reaching for the short fellow's goggles, "What's this job you speak of, darling?" She inquires of Ribas idly in the process of none-too-concealed goggles theft.

Akamatsu looks at Ribas and says "Well I'm good with swords and unarmed combat mostly not sure if that would be considered noteworthy."

"Swords?" the Llivori captain wriggles his ears a bit. "Well, safer than shooting a gun aboard a ship at close quarters. Run pays a total of 45,000 Hekayti creds on delivery. How much that means for you depends on how many others join for the job. Everyone gets a cut."

"You're heading away from thiss station?" Griss hisses softly, walking up to Ribas' table. "I'm interessted, if I can see more of this region of sspace." The grimlahdi shoves his hands into coat pockets, and flicks his tongue. "I have a few useful skills. I was a communications offisser, onsse."

"Pay's pay... so long as I can get a tank of gas I'll be satisfied." Altor says.

Akamatsu takes a quick drink from his jug and says "I'm in how soon we leave?"

With the girl getting uncomfortably close, Hal'gus glowers and slides several feet away to stand near Altor as he narrows his eyes at the thief. His thunkstick is plucked from his belt, the small man giving it a couple meaningful twirls before he looks back to Ribas. "Acceptifiable."

"Yes, quite. T'is all rather acceptable terms of service or what-have-you." Anshera intones towards Ribas, a light gesture given in his direction. Oh ho! But we can't forget about Hal'gus, as the fey girl isn't /quite/ done challenging him in this peculiar manner. Sporting a big, grinning smile, she proceeds to close in on Gussy again.

"We leave now," Ribas says, eyeing the strange female creature before his gaze returns to Altor. "Corridors on the ship won't suit you. How well can you handle hull-gripping?"

Akamatsu puts his jug back on his belt and says "Well let's go then!"

Hal'gus gives a nod, content on ignoring Anshera for now as he slips past and tucks his thunkstick back into his belt, making his way out of the tavern.

Altor grins at this. "I can ship-surf with the best, but I wouldn't worry about me keeping up. I've got my own.. uh.. transportation methods."

"All right," the Llivori replies. "Guess I'll handle the flying." His attention returns to the odd girl. "Unless *you* know how to fly a freighter."

Griss simply inclines his head in a slight nod, and stands waiting to follow.

"One does not know how to pilot a freighter, no." Anshera replies to Ribas, gaze rising to meet his as Gus slips off.

"Okay," grunts the freighter captain. "Universe needs box-schleppers. You're in cargo. Try not to open anything. Or touch anything. Or *drink* anything. That stuff's meant for big Hekayti athletes looking to boost their performance. Little thing like you, it's liable to make crazy or even kill."

A short while later, the Opodi's Nostril drops out of faster-than-light on the outskirts of Hekayti space. Ribas and Griss are in the cluttered cockpit, while Anshera is in the cargo hold with Akamatsu and Hal'gus, guarding about a dozen crates of illicit narcotics. Altor is on the freighter's upper hull. A small Hekayti skiff fires its thrusters to maneuver toward the Nostril.

Altor glances over to catch the skiff headed this way. "Time for me to get into position." he says over the comms, and lets go of the freighters hull, floating away a few meters.

Altor's arms begin to fold up and together, forming a forward fuselage and cockpit as his head disappears within. His legs fold back together into a pair of engines, and his wings unfold, leaving a large starfighter in his place.

"Signal the clients," Ribas tells Griss. "Code is: Trophy Season."

Griss glances over his shoulder at Ribas, then turns back to hunch over the keyboard and concentrat on the Llivori computer. He turns to look at Ribas, then nods his head, and begins tapping the controls with his clawed hands. "Messsage sssent." He states after a moment.

Anshera perches on a crate, quite obviously watching Gus again. Evidently she's doing her job at the same time, guaranteeing that at least the crate she's atop is safe, while the most of her attention is on the Halaghi and pondering her next move.

The Hekayti skiff moves into position alongside the Nostril, lightly bumping against the hull before the airlock couplings latch together."

Into the shipboard transmitter, Ribas says, "Akamatsu, go to the airlock and greet the clients. Don't worry if you don't speak Hekayan. Just show them to the cargo hold. And keep an eye on them. They take the twelve green crates. Nothing else."

Akamatsu goes to the airlock and tries to greet the Heyakans by putting out his hand to shake with the one that seems to be the head of the group.

The airlock hatch hisses, thunks, and slides open to reveal a pair of eight-foot-tall Hekayti, their bald blue-skinned heads spiky with bone ridges. Their hooves clomp on the deckplates as they move into the cramped airlock of the Llivori freighter. The leader eyes the small human hand poking toward him. He says something to his partner in Hekayan. His partner guffaws loudly, thumping a fist against his chest in amusement. Finally, the leader regards Akamatsu with something that might be construed as condescencion and says, in broken Terran Standard: "Boxes. Fast-fast."

Hal'gus stands vigilant, though more literally sitting back against the crate he's guarding with the bill of his cap pulled down over his face and his rifle leaning against his shoulder. A heavy brow raises somewhat as he follows Akamatsu out of the corner of his eye. "Hmpf. Biggerun. No-one jobified' 'im as firstalker. Problificatin', mayhap."

Altor settles in near the docked ships, doing a slow steady circuit around them as the deal goes down, his sensors keeping an eye out for any potential interlopers.

Akamatsu leads the Hekayans toward the boxes they are allowed to take making sure his hand is on his hilt without being to obvious incase it is needed.

"You do speak rather oddly." Anshera drawls down to Hal'gus, the fey child leaning over the side of her crate a bit to get a better view of him. After a moment she breaks view of the Halaghi, to instead peer towards the oncoing Hekayti.

Griss stays at the communication console. As long as there's nothing else that needs his attention, the Grimlahdi passes time by scanning for any nearby comm signals, trying to listen in for anything out of the ordinary.

"Careful," the leader grunts at his companion in Hekayan as they wander into the cargo hold after Akamatsu. "He might scratch you with that toy blade of his." Then his eyes fix on the extremely hairy-looking Hal'gus. "So much weakness." His companion nods in agreement, then moves to take the crate upon which Anshera is sitting.

Ribas Salek taps a couple of buttons on the nav console. With a soft pop, one of those buttons comes unlocked from the main board, skitters along the sloped surface, and then falls with a click on the deckplate to the Llivori's left. He peers grumpily at the renegade button.

Altor tunes his comm system into a Hekayti broadcast station so he can jam to some tunes while he does his patrol.

Akamatsu steps to the side and lets the Hekayans go to the boxes watching closely still keeping his hand on his hilt.

Hal'gus gives a snort as he glances toward the Hekayti's legs. "Not nearly as sissyfittin' as goatbuggers," he snickers in response, shaking his head as he adjust his rifle once more.

Ribas Salek leans over with a huffing sigh to pick up the fallen button. He doesn't immediately restore it to the proper spot on the board. Instead, his eyes settle on a blinking amber square that reads: LIFE POD MAINTENANCE REQUIRED. He thumbs the shipboard transmitter button: "Akamatsu, go to the aft life pod. Get inside. Open and close the hatch *three* times. Then slap the circuit panel *four* times while stomping your left foot in tandem." He switches off the transmitter and looks at the ceiling. "Ought to get rid of that light."

Instead of hopping down off the crate she perches on, Anshera opts to head up towards the Hekayti's shoulders if she can. To supervise. Yes...

Altor starts adding in a few aerobatic maneuvers into his circle arund the ships with some barrel rolls, dips, ducks, and a couple of fly-bys of the Nostril's bridge.

Griss glances over at Ribas flicking his tongue a bit curiously. But the Grimlahdi evidently knows a bit about discretion, because he doesn't comment and returns his attention to the comscreen.

Akamatsu heads out for the life pod and opens and closes the hatch three times then slaps the circuit panel four times while stomping on the tandem and waits to see what will happen.

The Hekayti does not seem interested in letting the girl clamber up on him. His eyes go wide and he steps back, snarling. The leader looks from Hal'gus to the girl, amusement fading from his face. "Off the box. Off my friend."

Ribas Salek watches the maintenance light flicker, go off, and then...well, then the LIFE POD LAUNCH SEQUENCE INITIATED bulb glows red. The Llivori's eyes widen.

The pod holding Akamatsu lurches from its creche in the bottom of the Nostril's hull and starts spiraling away.

"Spidersniffin' Biggeruns," huffs Hal'gus, nonetheless complying by rising to his feet and walking off to the side as he watches the exchange. He glances toward the girl climbing on the other Hekayti and tilts his head. "No Hally-pally o' mine, fisticuff'er if you want," he answers.

"Quite a crude manner of speech indeed." Anshera murmurs to herself, glancing to Gus as she retreats back onto the crate. Well, there seems to be a crate near enough by... so she leaps!

Akamasu holds his lunch and sake as if he were in a room standing still as he spirals away.

Altor picks up the departing pod, and noses on over to follow it. "What the hell?" he mutters, sensing there's someone inside. "Did someone get cold feet or what?" he sends over the comms.

The Hekayti ducks below the leaping arc of the strange little outverser, then grabs the crate as ordered. His boss tilts his head at the sound of the firing escape pod thunking free of the ship. "Trouble?" he inquires.

Ribas Salek smacks a palm against his forehead. "Open and close *four* times. Slap the circuit panel *three* times. I flipped them around. Nice." He eyes the sensors, watching Altor move into position after the pod. "Griss, have Altor recover our wayward crewman." His frown deepens as the sensors start pinging anew. A freighter drops out of faster-than-light in a flash of cerulean, crossing into the path between Altor and the pod, providing a very likely target for imminent collision for the sentient mechanoid.

Griss squints at the console, then glances over sideways at Ribas and the red warning light. He leans a bit closer to the communications screen, and switches to the same channel as Altor. "Unsssure." He hisses flatly. "Sseeems to be a malfunction with the esscape pod? Can you interssept?" As another ship appears on the scanner he hisses, and attemopts to warn Altor. "Incoming."

Incoming, indeed. Altor picks up the arriving freighter and the imminent collision. Such an occurance is summed up in two words from the mechanoid: "OH SHIT!" His retro-thrusters fire and he pulls up hard in an attempt to avoid becoming a new fixture on the side of the arriving freighter.

"Snuff yer goatfoolery ya cicle-lickin' squatchsnugger!" shouts Hal'gus toward Anshera, shaking his head as a mitted hand rubs his forehead. "Like bein' a youngminder at th' smallthinkery. I miss wrongstoppin'" he sighs.

The chatter in his ear causes him to grit his teeth, giving his ear a tap. "Gus. What's with all the thingamajigger jabberwocky?!"

"What in the blazes is a youngminder, darling?" Anshera inquires as she makes a decent enough landing on the crate she apparantly was aiming for. A light huff as she brushes off her kimono, then turns to face towards Hal'gus.

Altor safely drops below the hull of the freighter. As he's doing so, he might notice the name on the side: AINDE. More sensor pinging. This time, a flash of blue light signals the arrival of a much larger vessel: A Koltkamir battlecruiser, festooned with spiky modifications and streaked with red and black paint. The warship opens fire on the Ainde, heedless of the two freighters, the sentient mech, and the escape pod.

"Altor." Griss hisses into the commlink. "Statusss?" His claws click over the control console for a moment, bringing the large battlecruiser onto his screen. "Unknown warssship. They're not targeting usss, yet... but be careful out there."

Hekayan chatter in the ear of the lead client ends with him glowering at Hal'gus and Anshera. "Bring what you can. We go. NOW." He moves to take another of the crates, then follows his companion toward the airlock.

"Status is I just narrowly avoided becoming a splatter of parts against the side of some freighter named 'AINDE'." Altor calls back, and continues on down to try and recover the wayward Akamatsu before a random laser blast catches the pod. "It's like a damn warzone out here!"

"Koltkamir ship," Ribas observes, fangs clacking. "Medlidikke." His eyes narrow. "Bokren's."

Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, Hal'gus glances toward the crates. Giving a shrug, he walks over to secure one and begin dragging it off after the other Hekayti with a grunt. "Wasn't told about all this noisitude," he grumbles as he absconds with the goods.

Anshera slips off the side of her crate, and in a bout of what would at first appear to be usefulness, begins to push at a crate. The illusion is quite soon broken, as it becomes readily apparent that the little fey isn't very strong. Slow going, here!

While the Hekayti work on transferring the cargo from the Nostril to their skiff, Altor is rushing to rescue the escape pod while the Ainde tries to elude destruction beneath the blazing cannons of the Koltkamir battlecruiser. The Ainde jukes hard to starboard, arcing around so that it can take shelter (temporarily) while racing below the spiked belly of the Medlidikke warship. As it passes back into cannon range, though, something affixed to the upper hull starts glowing on the Ainde - a shimmering blue that registers on sensors as a pulsating singularity core and quickly changes into a space-time rift. A blue-green scar, jagged and long. The Ainde swings back around, facing into the onslaught of the Koltkamir ship's cannons, and then vanishes with a flash into the rift.

"What the hell was that!?" Altor sends as he gets near the pod, arming his towing cable which he fires towards it in an attempt to lock on. "That freighter just up and vanished!"

Akamatsu yells probably in vain "Get me out of here please before I do hurl."

Vard Bokren's captured Koltkamir warship begins firing its retrojets in a desperate attempt to slow while countering with maneuvering thrusters in an effort to avert the rift that now ripples and glows in its path. Too slow, though. The lumbering battlecruiser plunges sidelong into the rift. From the perspective of local onlookers, it is as if the massive ship became gelatinous and then spilled through a funnel into an unseen jar. The freighter and skiff are left alone with the rift while Altor latches onto the escape pod.

Ribas Salek stares in disbelief at the sensors, then gets off his seat and waddles over to the starboard cockpit window. He wipes some of the smudgy soot clear, peering out at the rift. "That's...what the..." He blinks, then swivels his snout around to look at Griss. "Get them aboard. We cannot stay."

Griss prods at the viewscreen a bit skeptically. He flicks out his tongue and licks one of his eyes, as if he's not sure if he's seeing things. "Issss... that ssomething that happenss often?" He asks in disbelief.

Hurrrr! Anshera shoves and shoves at her crate!

Altor heads back towards the Nostril, the pod in tow. "Where do you want this thing put?" he sends back, keeping a sensor on the rift as he gets closer.

A transmission, originating from the other side of the rift, can be heard at the comm station: "Imperial Kretonian Fleet - Sivad - demanding identification. Stand down for..." Crackle of static. Then: "Royal Naval Service - Sivad - politely requesting identification, wot-wot." Crackle of static. Then: "Guardian Fleet Outpost - Sivad Sector - you WILL stand down or be des..." Crackle of static. The rift then fades to nothingness.

Hal'gus merely grumbles as he shuttles as many crates as he can manage to and fro, "Coulda been relaxifyin' at the bamboozlery 'stead o' loshin' 'round with these Biggeruns." As he returns to the Nostril on a particular run, he glares toward Anshera. "Quit gogglin' 'bout an shuffle that stuffbox! Ain't worthin' a halfslab like that!"

The Hekayti underling returns empty-handed and grumbles as he sees Anshera still struggling with her crate. He shakes his head, leans over, and grabs the box. "Useful as ANY female," he observes before stomping back toward the airlock.

Akamatsu keeps holding his lunch down as he regains orientation after doing nothing but spinning around for a few minutes.

Griss's tail lashes underneath his coat. "Sssivad?" He hisses in surprise, then darts his head close to the commscreen. "Ssssivad. Sssivad. Come in. Thisss iss..." He lashes his tail again as the comm returns only static. "Lossst them... what wasss that?"

Ribas Salek shakes his head. "Who is Sivad? Friend of yours?"

"Ah!" Anshera inhales sharply, looking from Gus to the Hekayti and back. It seems her hackles are raised a little bit between those two, her lips pulling back to display her displeasure.

"Talk about phoning home..." Altor says. "But that sounded freakin' weird. Kretonians? Some guy who sounded like his shirt was starched straight as a board? Guys threatening to kick ass? It's like three different Sivads in one..."

"It'ssss.... not a friend. A planet." Griss flicks his tongue nervously. "But even old enemiessss.... that might mean that theresss a way back after all."

Ribas Salek bobs his snout. "Tell Altor to put that pod back where it belongs. We go back to Comorro."

His work done, Hal'gus wanders over to the corner of the landing bay and plops down, rifle against his shoulder once more as he settles in for the trip back.

Altor shifts forms as he gets near the Nostril, taking the pod in hand and guiding it back into the launch tube until it clicks back into place. Then grabs onto the hull of the ship for the return trip.

Once Akamatsu gets out of that accursed pod he goes back to the cargo hold and takes a few large drinks from his jug.

Once the cargo is completely transferred, the Hekayti detach their skiff from the Nostril and pull away. They transmit to comms that the payment has been transferred to Ribas Salek's account. Anshera stompstompstomps over to Hal'gus, the little girl scowling at him, "You speak quite savagely, pet." She chuffs at the Halaghi, lips twitching as she eyes the hairy fellow.

"They sssay that they payment has been transsfferred." Griss relays to Ribas. "And the esscape pod has been ssecured."

Ribas Salek nods. "Good." He takes one last look at the sensors to make sure the rift is gone. Then he brings the Nostril around for the return trip to Comorro. "No more strangeness tonight, I hope."