Docking Hub - Comorro Station - Comorro Station
Comorro Station isn't exactly a station. It doesn't remain in any one place for a significant span of time. It is, in all accuracy, a massive starship - incapable of atmospheric flight - that has been roaming the stars on a voyage that some say has lasted for more than 90-million years.
The vessel is a Yaralu, a sentient spacefaring vessel. Her true full name cannot be spoken in a single day, but is shortened for convenience to Comorro. Several epochs ago, after her final era of fertility ended, she converted the gray-green ribbed chamber of her womb into a docking hub for smaller Yaralu and non-organic vessels. She made it known to the denizens of Hiverspace that she would serve as a neutral outpost for traders and diplomats.
Use of energy and projectile weapons is prohibited aboard Comorro. Violators will be absorbed into the vessel's nutrient replenishment matrix. She is capable of monitoring almost all chambers within the station for illegal weapons, but some areas - such as the Forgotten Quarter - are lost to her neural pathways and sensory organs.
A makeshift ramp has been built about thirty feet from Zero Gravitas' airlock from a crate and a light armor plate, with no apparent purpose.
Jerry is sitting on a crate, a cigar clamped between his teeth. He seems utterly devoted to finding his lighter, or so it seems, hands patting down the pockets of his jeans.
The tradeport hatch opens, admitting one very stompy and annoyed-looking Later. She's got a somewhat crumpled paper clutched in one hand, and a smoldering cigarette perched between her lips. "...Gonna kill 'er," Kes grumbles as she stomps along, her path looking to be taking her right toward Jerry. "Kanter 'erself couldn't stop me."
Jerry is sitting on a crate, cigar clamped between teeth, searching for his lighter. Kestrel just came out of the tradeport hatch, and is marching forward, an expression as hot as the smoldering end of her cigarette. His following action likely doesn't ease the tension. He wolf-whistles at her.
Grayback steps into the docking hub from the tradeport hatch, a comb in hand as he carefully straightens out a few mussed up areas in his mane and facial fur. Once that is complete, the comb is slipped into his hip pocket while he straightens his suit and tie.
Sara follows not far behind Grayback, not that she's with him, but..it's just happy coincidence. She stops just to one side and has a look around the landing area. Over one shoulder is a small bag which she keeps close to herself for now.
Kestrel stops mid-stride, head snapping up and eyes scanning the docking hub. Jerry's not hard to spot, in any case, and the Later's attention settles on him, though all the tension's gone out of her at that point. "...Jerry?" she asks tentatively. "I thought... thoughtcha was... y'know... gone." Her expression's gone blank and that cigarette just sort of dangles loosely.
Several Lotorian techs scamper into the hub, clearing cables, workbenches, and toolboxes from an open docking berth.
"Unfortunatly, here I am." Jerry responds, dropping off the crate with a solid thunk of his entirely metaphysical weight on the deck. "Is that disappointment I hear, Kestrel? Here I thought we were friends. Apparently, absence does not make the heart fonder."
Grayback catches sight of the Lotorian techs working to clear the docking birth, and raises a bushy eyeridge. "Must be expecting company." he mutters, moving a bit closer to observe.
Sara holds her bag tighter when the Lotorians start in, and she blinks at them curiously, still keeping out of the way.
"N-n-no," Kes says, shaking her head. That paper's clutched even more tightly in her fist. Finally, with a somewhat strangled cry, she darts forward, losing her cigarette in the process, and latching onto Jerry like a frightened kitten. Or at least, that seems to be what she intends to do, anyway.
Once the Lotorians finish clearing the berth, they scurry back toward the levimodule. The doors hiss shut just before red orbs flash above the docking hub's shielded opening onto the stars. Beyond the maw of the bay, an angular vessel with a gunmetal gray hull striped red and blue makes a final approach.
Jerry is certainly put off by the sudden movement as he is glomped upon, one hand resting on the woman's head and fussing with the hair. "It's good to see you too, love." He looks over her shoulder at the approaching vessel, but does not make mention of it. "Still too skinny for your own good, but I didn't think getting tossed through space would teach you the value of a good meal. How is everyone else? They're still alive?"
Grayback looks up from the cleared berth to the approaching vessel beyond, stepping back from the berth a bit as the ship prepares to enter the bay.
Sara watches as the Lotorians finish up, and then her head tilts to get a view of the ship coming in. She doesn't offer any words yet though, just a look of curiosity.
Kestrel actually sniffles and scrubs at her eyes with the back of one hand, though she manages a short laugh somewhere in there. "I eat like a 'Kari-cursed cow, what're ya talkin' 'bout." She doesn't notice the ship. Probably cause she's, you know, got her face half-buried in Jerry's chest and all. "'Ey're 'live," she says after a moment, the agreement somewhat muffled.
The newly arrived vessel slides into the docking hub and maneuvers to settle into the recently cleared berth. The red orbs shift to a soothing green. Retrojets hiss and locking clamps thud as the vessel completes the landing.
"That's good." Jerry responds, "I need to touch base with them soon. I can only hope everyone's reaction as sweet and authentic as yours... though, I think I'd prefer it if Sheppard didn't hug me. Is something wrong though? I never known you to be the emotional.. well, yes I have." A dull chuckle, "C'mon, we got an important guest, and a crowd gatherin' around it. Would you like to check that out?"
Grayback watches and waits as the ship finishes landing, his eyes riveted to the hatch.
Sara too stands, watching and waiting in awe as the ship docs. Her bag is forgotten for now as she takes a few steps forward.
Sara stands near the tradeport along with Grayback. Near the Zero Gravitas is Kes and Jerry and just docking is a gunmetal grey ship with red and blue striping.
"Shep gives good hugs though," Kes mumbles, then looks up at Jerry and grins. "Yeah, prob'ly oughta let go'a ya now, 'ey?" She does, and looks over toward the gathering crowd, starting that way. Of course, she stoops to pick up her lost cigarette, still smoldering on the floor of the docking bay.
The hatch of the emissary vessel opens and a smooth metal ramp extends to thump against the organic surface of the docking bay.
Silvereye steps into the docking hub from the tradeport, adjusting the fit of his jacket. His attention quickly goes to the newly arrived ship, and, on an assumption, he tentatively heads towards it.
"I wasn't complaining." Jerry notes, following in her wake. "It's like they have never seen a ship before. Though, perhaps this one is special. Has their been an announcement for a VIP to arrive? Oh, maybe a blue-skinned erotic beauty from some obscure world, filled with mysticism. Did you know, most barbarian cultures favored less clothing then excess. Unless they were born in a climate where such behavior will get you killed. I certainly hope that whoever is coming out of this exciting little vessel is from a subtropical world. I could use a flash of off-hue breast to ease the transition. The Heykati? They just do not do it for me, I am afraid."
From the emissary vessel emerges a six-legged arachnoid creature, glossy black chitinous shell shot through with streaks of silver, with glittering black compound eyes. Slowly, it descends the ramp, sharp tips of its legs making tap-tap-tap sounds as they go.
Grayback widens his eyes a bit as Okaskatitch disembarks from the newly arrived vessel. "So... he has arrived." he mutters, his tail twitching a bit as he watches the alien ambassador.
Silvereye moves towards Grayback once he spots the other Demarian. "I don't think I've ever seen a B'hiri before." He remarks upon arriving. "Lotorians and Heyakti, yes...So that's Okaskatitch."
The airlock hatch on the Silver Streak cycles, allowing a few of the residents of the refugee vessel to disembark, spreading out this direction and that on their various personal errands. Among them comes Quicksilver, ears rotating to examine the goings on. Once free of the little knot of refugees, the silver Demarian sets a course for the crowd watching the B'hiri ambassador arrive.
Sara just watches in awe, her steps taking her toward the two Demarians, "Neither have I.." she says in awe, "...I wonder what language they speak, what technology they have.."
Kestrel blinks and looks down at herself. "...You callin' me a barbarian?" she asks hesitantly, looking sidewise to Jerry. "...Huh. Guess mebbie I am." She purses her lips then, thoughtful. "Mmmm. Somethin' 'bout some 'mbassader 'r other... oh, whoa." She fairly gapes at the B'hiri. Good thing she hadn't put the cigarette back in her mouth yet, or she'd only have lost it again. "'Kari's sword, what's -'at-?"
"No idea, but not what I would like. It's a bloody giant spider. Impressive, to be sure, but it still does not explain why it is he has such a gathering. Must be a VIP." Jerry says, watching the creature stalk down from it's ramp. He looks back to Kestrel, to answer her question. "You are a little barbaric, but it's charming instead of obnoxious, I assure you."
The B'hiri gets to the bottom of the ramp and tick-tap-ticks in a slow semicircle to regard those who have gathered for its arrival. "I am Okaskatitch, emissary of the B'hiri. These appear to be auspicious times aboard Comorro. Many new faces. Strange, as well." The glittering compound eyes settle on Grayback. "Yet some are not so new. Just...weathered?"
Grayback raises an eyeridge, proceeding on a hunch. "Since the last time we once saw each other... quite weathered." he says.
Artemis' airlock hisses and opens up, and out steps Madeline. She yawns and stretches some and looks around. Her eyes are drawn quickly to the giant spider; she makes a face, then makes a retreat to the tradeport.
Silvereye lets Grayback take the point on this one, remaining slighty behind him as he speaks with the emissary. He can't help but smile a bit.
Quicksilver turns his head to see what or who the B'Hiri is looking at as he nears the cluster of onlookers, pausing mid-step as ears and whiskers flatten....held a beat, before they come back forward and he mutters in a rumbling baritone growl, "So few saved....he *would* be one of them." He proceeds nearer to the cluster, crossing arms over his armored chest.
Sara leans in toward Grayback, "You know..him...her...it?" she asks curiously.
"...I ain't -never- seen a spider 'at big, even on teekay," Kes breathes, watching the B'hiri warily as it skitters past. Now she finally does take a drag off her cigarette -- gross. She looks toward Grayback, her expression thoughtful.
Okaskatitch moves closer to Grayback, reflecting the Demarian's visage myriad times in its compound eyes. "I last saw you nearly two months ago. Most intriguing."
"Well, Dorothy, we are no longer 'on' Tomin Kora. Or even in the same time period, or galaxy. So, sure, giant spiders interested in chatting up Demarians... not so hard to swallow. I wonder if that is what they hunt. That would be a poor start for an emissary, but from what I understand, Comorro generally dislikes us anyway so perhaps he'll get a little medal for thinning the flock."
Grayback looks back to Sara, nodding. "Oh yes... we've met." he says, before looking back to Okaskatitch. "Yes.. from your perspective, it has indeed only been a short time. For me... it has been over 10 years since our time aboard the Harrower, and the defeat of the Hivers." he says, brushing his muzzle a bit. "A bit more gray since then." he says with a bit of a grin.
Sara smiles and offers a nod to Grayback, blinking when he explains the time difference, "Is that...because time moves different here from where we came from?" she asks curiously.
"It would be a very long story, to relate how we got from there back to here." Silvereye adds to Grayback's account. "But it's always welcome to find familiar links."
Thayndor Zahir steps down from the Raider's ramp, adjusting his coat and shooting his cuffs.
Quicksilver perks his ears towards the exchange between B'Hiri and Demarian, tail lashing a moment behind him before he gives a sharp snort as if dismissing a distasteful scent from his nostrils. That done, he strides closer amongst the crowd, moving towards the opposite side of Silvereye from where Grayback stands, planting himself there. "Very long indeed. We rarely travel less than 300 years a story," he observes with a slight curl of amusement on his muzzle, tail waving lazily. The B'hiri shifts its attention to Silvereye. Tap-tick-tick-tap. "Ah, you must be the new Minister of Outverser Affairs. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
Kestrel looks up at Jerry and wrinkles her nose. "I -know-," she says, a touch irritably. "Butcha gotta admit we had some pretty 'Kari-cursed big spiders." She blinks blankly. "I don' git how 'ey know each others." A hand is rubbed through her hair, her expression puzzled as she looks back to the Ambassador.
Grayback lets Silvereye take over at this point, looking back to Quicksilver, his expression neutral, but he looks at him for several long moments before looking back to Okaskatitch.
"We did have some big ass spiders," Jerry says with a smile. "Hmm, perhaps that is a question best left for them to answer. In the land we live in, assumptions are... dangerous."
Silvereye inclines his head slightly towards Okaskatitch as the emissary addresses him. "I am Silvereye Paintedheart." He offers his name. "It is an honor to meet you and one of your people."
Sara just stands by, falling silent for now.
Quicksilver draws himself up to his full height, tail making lazy figure eights behind him as he watches Grayback as Grayback watches him. Whiskers twitch, before he suggests in a low rumble. "New world, new start, Grayback? The universe seems amusingly incapable of killing either of us. It would seem a shame to expend time assisting its attempts, don't you think?"
"The honor is mine," Okaskatitch replies. "If I can be of any assistance, you have but to ask." The B'hiri then rotates - tap-tap-tick - to regard others gathered in the chamber. "We are many of us strangers at this meeting. It is my hope, however, that --" The comment breaks off as the B'hiri skitters and twirls, trying to maintain composure as the Yaralu shudders under the impact of some kind of blast. Comorro banks hard to port.
Over a loudspeaker, the station's avatar broadcasts: "Secure all stations. Medlidikke."
Grayback looks back to Quicksilver. "Indeed... such is my feeling as well. Perhaps..." he says before he is cut off by the blast. "What in the name of Altheor!? What are Medlidikke!?" he shouts as the station starts to take evasive action.
Jerry slides hard right, uninspectedly jarred. Though, somewhat subconciously, he reaches out to steady Kestrel. Much like a mother will throw her arm over her child's chest when they come to a hard stop. "What the bloody hell!"
Amanda comes rushing in from the tradeport with her somewhat trademark lateness, trying to find a spot to see and here whle remaining unobtrusive just as the station rocks and she falls flat on her face
"'Kari curse it all, 'at's 'em guys we ran from," Kes calls up to Jerry. The Later shifts her weight seemingly without thought, her balance not suffering at all as the ship shifts, though she does latch onto the Sivadian's arm with one hand. She looks over to Grayback then. "Pirates!" she calls helpfully.
Silvereye staggers, holding his arms out to catch himself in case he falls. "That's a damned good question..." He growls to Grayback. "Who would attack Comorro?" He attention then goes to Quicksilver, though a quick glance is spared towards Kestrel in appreciation at her clarification. "Lock it all down...If they try to board through the docking hub we need to be ready."
"Hekayti pirates," the B'hiri offers by way of clarification. "The worst kind I know of. No parlay. No negotiations. I fear they may have followed my ship to locate Comorro."
There are reasons Quicksilver's Demarian designed armor has claw-holes in the boots. This is one of them, as the shock to the station brings gleaming talons to emerge through the Demarian's boots, screeching slightly on the metal as they try to keep him stable. He rotates an ear towards Kestrel's clarification as well, tail flickering sharply before he grunts, "Right...." Eyes shift to Grayback, then Silvereye, "Who needs weapons? I've got more than a few on the Streak....shall we arm up to repel boarders?"
"Great... just great... and I thought this was going to be a good day." Grayback growls, his ears folding back and his tail going into a fast twitch as the adrenaline kicks in. Looking back to Quicksilver, he nods. "If Comorro would make an exception in this case, then I say we had best be prepared. She can't fault us for acting to preserve her... or ourselves."
"There will be no boarders," the avatar of Comorro states flatly over the loudspeaker, as the station banks to starboard. Through the maw of the docking bay, several swarming Medlidikke vessels are visible, closing within attack range of the Yaralu again. "Keep your weapons stowed."
Sara tries to brace herself with the sudden shifting of the station and with a little squeel she tries to grab onto the first thing within reach, most likely Grayback.
Jerry looks to Kestrel, hesitating for just a second. "Get your gun, I'm going to see if I can warn the refugee camp about what has happened..." Comorro's calm assurance draws a frown, looking out into space to see what exactly the sentient spaceship has planned.
Kestrel grins and nods at Jerry. "If'n C'morra'll let us fight for 'er, m'all for it," she practically growls, albeit gleefully. "Ain't hadda good scrap inna... aww." She frowns and looks back toward Zero Gravitas.
Silvereye looks up as Comorro speaks. "We have our orders." He states flatly. "And we adhere to them unless something goes drastically wrong. All the same all ships need to be grounded, we shouldn't lose anyone to panic." As the ship banks he staggers again in order to keep his balance.
Grayback struggles a bit to maintain his balance as Sara grabs on. "That answers that." he says, looking out towards the ships beyond the maw of the docking bay. "AGreed.. no one should launch. Otherwise they're just going to be cannon fodder." K-CHUNG! K-CHUNG! K-CHUNG! Three blasts of something powerful, emanating from the hull of the Yaralu, precede the appearance of something wiggly and web-like - a massive net of tangly material - that encompasses the Medlidikke vessels. As soon as the material makes contact with the pirate hulls, blue energy pulsates along the strands of net. The pirate vessels are all rendered inert. Comorro angles around to close on the neutralized targets. "Time to feed," the Yaralu broadcasts."
Sara's eyes go toward the docking bay doors, "What...what the hell is that?" she asks. And with the netting and the blasts she just watches in awe, hands still holding tightly to Grayback, "Feed?" she asks as the station starts to come around.
Quicksilver rotates an ear up to the loudspeaker, exchanging a glance with his fellow Demarians as he bobs his snout, "So it would seem....I suppose the Yaralu has weathered more than a few such attacks before." He staggers, tail swinging to right his balance as the blasts emanate from the Yaralu's hull, eyes rotating about the bay to look for any injured. His gaze lands on Amanda, and he flicks his tail to tap Silvereye's arm, pointing that way, "Come on, let's see if we can help her up..."
Grayback echoes Sara's sentiment. "Feed? That's... a rather efficient method of disposing of one's enemies I suspect.." he says, before raising an eyeridge and looking towards Okaskatitch. "Or good friends passed on..." he mutters softly. Amanda picks herself up off the floor as she tries to get a sense of what's going on about her "Forgive my paranoia, but I've unfortunately spent my life dealing with...mother of god"this time she maintains her balance
Silvereye wrinkles his nose at the disabled ship. "Not sure I want to watch the feeding process..." The Demarian is all too willing to go with Quicksilver to see if Amanda is ok.
"...Oh sweet, she's gonna -eat- 'em," Kes says, looking out the docking bay. "SERVES YA RIGHT!" she calls, shaking a fist in the direction of the now-inert pirate ships. "'Kari-cursed sons'a bitches! Now yer a snack fer a space station! Ha!"
"It would appear the immediate crisis has passed," Okaskatitch observes. "As I was saying, it is my hope that we will not remain strangers long. We have much to learn from each other, I suspect."
Jerry seems far less pleased at the thought of watching Comorro consume the Medlikkike, frowning thoughtfully. Kestrel's enthuiasm draws a slap on the woman's shoulder. "I would take this opportunity to see what exactly she means by feed on. I... don't think I want to watch."
Quicksilver extends a paw to offer Amanda something to hold onto, bracing himself with a paw against a crate as he observes, "I don't think you'll find many Demarians remaining with no measure of paranoia, miss. Need a paw?"
"If you wish, I can broadcast a holographic representation of the feeding process to the docking hub," Comorro volunteers.
Grayback nods to Okaskatitch. "Of that I have no doubt whatsoever." he says with a nod, before looking up to Comorro's announcement. "I have to admit a morbid curiousity..." he says, before looking back to the B'hiri once again. Maybe to do his rounds, or maybe to just sit outside on guard duty, Chief Castus exits the Tharsis in his duty gear, with an apparently big wad of dip under his lower lip.
Sara blinks at the offer made by the station, "Um...that might actually be interesting..." she agrees with the Demarian beside her, whom she finally lets go of.
"The feeding process is essentially similar to the disposal of trash in a chemical bin," Okaskatitch offers helpfully. "A secondary bay opens. The vessels are pulled in. Armatures within the bay tear the vessels into more manageable chunks. Organic matter is absorbed through a chemical process. So, the skin of the bulkheads around you will eventually contain remnants of the Medlidikke pirates themselves. The synthetic materials are shunted off to the Forgotten Quarter."
Kestrel nods emphatically. "I wanna seeeeeee," she calls, all too enthusiastically. She looks back at Jerry then, a belated response to the swat. "What? She -eats- 'em. Ya can't tell me 'at ain't six kinds'a neat." She gapes at the B'hiri's explanation, then whistles low between her teeth. "Daaaaaaamn. Now I -really- wanna see."
"Ugh, now I really do not." Jerry responds, stalking off to the refugee enclave.
Thayndor Zahir swallows hard at the blasts, and the brief conflict, but remains on his feet with a minimum of apparent difficulty. After long moments spent contemplating Okaskatitch -- pallor, as he does so, creeps across his face and then recedes -- Thayndor stiffly approaches the group around the B'hiri ambassador.
"Quite an efficient means of disposing of enemies indeed." Grayback says with a nod, turning back to Okaskatitch. "Perhaps this time around, we'll have more time to get to know you and your species better."
Amanda takes Quicksilver's offered paw "I was just wondering whether the um...meal could have been taking orders from someone else with designs on interrupting the Ambassador's visit today
"I hope so," the B'hiri replies to Grayback. "Soon, you will have to meet my offspring. They live because of the efforts of you and your friends to save our world from the Il'Ri'Kamm xenocide."
"Impossible to guess about Hiverspace politics." Silvereye comments to Amanda as he heads back. "We don't know anything about it."
Lucius appears to want to avoid the large crowd around the ambassador. For one reason or another, he doesn't approach it and lifts his PDA from a pouch on his vest to check something. A large, brown wad of spittle is ejected from his mouth. "Il'Ri'Kamm?" Sara asks, tilting her head to one side as she looks up at the ambassador B'hiri.
"I don' think 'em Medlidikke take orders from anyones, point'a fact," Kes offers helpfully to Amanda, shaking her head. "'Ey jest tear stuff up cause 'ey like tearin' it up, least 'at's what I been told. We hadda run from 'em when we first came 'ere, see? Lucky fer us Zero Gee's a damn fast ship." Her gaze again slides over toward the B'hiri and the Demarians.
Quicksilver holds Amanda's hand gently till the station stabilizes, rotating one ear towards the explanations from the B'hiri, before releasing her hand and offering his arm in proper fashion to escort, "Come, you should see the B'hiri ambassador. It isn't very often one gets the opportunity. They were almost exterminated by malevolent non-corporeal entities....we have much in common."
"In truth.. uh.. Ambassador, we've met them, but at this point in time, you wouldn't remember it." Grayback says. "We were only glad to help. Their plans for you and for the rest of us needed to be stopped."
Thayndor Zahir nods to Kestrel as he approaches the group, content to keep his mouth shut and watch the diplomacy unfold. "They won't mind," he asks Kestrel quietly out of the corner of his mouth, "if I watch, will they?"
After slipping the PDA away back into the easily accessable pouch, Lucius moves on down towards the Iuppiter, buzzing the intercom as he stops by the ramp.
"Tell me, Grayback, if this is true: The boy we saved," the B'hiri inquires, "the one *I* freed from the clutches of the Hivers - is it true that he caused the catastrophe that led to your arrival in this time and place?"
Kestrel shrugs at Thayndor. "Hope not, cause I was gonna stand 'ere an' watch, too. 'En 'gain, if'n 'ey -did- mind, I might jest hide an' listen anyhows." She stifles a giggle at that revelation. "M'sneaky 'at way." She shakes her head. "Still ain't sure how 'ese people all know each other... Ain't much fer time travel an' such, y'know."
Silvereye falls in next to Grayback but lets the two catch up. He follows the converstion, turning to Grayback for his answer.
Grayback nods. "Unfortunately, it is true Ambassador. However he and the Kamir are currently working to repair the damage that was done. I am not privy to many details beyond that."
Quicksilver clears his throat slightly, offering, "Perhaps I might offer a single paragraph summary?" He lets the question linger a moment.
Tap-tick-tick-tap. The B'hiri rotates to regard Quicksilver.
Sara just watches silently between all the people speaking.
Amanda shrugs to Silvereye as she takes quicksilver's arm "old habits die hard and I'm sure we'll rectify the not knowing anything in short or" she blinks at Qs's offer, a bemused smile as she gives him her attention
Naoi enters from the tradeport hatch, her lone eye swivelling as she studies the docking hub. No fire, no screaming citizens, no chaos. She seems... surprised. "Draconic indeed, that did not take long at all... though, I suppose once you have existed as long as this landboat has, you must learn a few things." She blinks over her shoulder at Madeline, then shrugs. "Effeciency."
Madeline follows in behind Naoi and looks around, too. "Indubitably," she agrees with a nod. "Shall we head back?"
"It should be stressed, however, that we do not expect any such 'repairs' to be completed in our lifetimes or our children's lifetimes, if it's possible at all." Silvereye appends to Grayback's account.
Quicksilver lashes his tail a moment, whiskers flatenning and then fanning, "A few years after the events where you first met Grayback, our universe was invaded by an alien race, and a station loaded with us named Sanctuary, including most of the Demarians you may encounter here, were forced to flee as refugees, and our station was thrown to this universe. That is still a little ways in the future at this current time and place. We managed to return to our own universe, but found ourselves roughly 300 years into our future. A few years after that the catastrophe you mentioned occured, tearing the universe open and once again a station-load of refugees, this time Hancock, were thrown through space and time, to a spot between your first encounter with us and the invasion that Sanctuary fled from. The catastrophe opened damage in additional universes as well, so you will find here refugees from Sanctuary, from 300 years in her future, and from a thousand years beyond that, as well as a group from a place called Fastheld, whose time we cannot yet connect with our own to my knowledge." A pause, and he adds, "It's worth mentioning, as I am sure the news of the catastrophe pains you, that his name appears in our history several times as a hero. And it is my impression this last catastrophe was not intentional."
Thayndor Zahir chuckles drily at Kestrel. "Silvereye explained to me that he met this ... B'hiri, is it? ... many years ago. And hoped he might meet the same one again." He indicates the insectoid with a nod of his head. "It appears his hope may have come true."
Thayndor Zahir clears his throat quietly at the mention of Fastheld, glancing at Quicksilver.
Grayback nods to Quicksilvers account. "During that time, the Hivers returned once again. In fact, you... sacrificed yourself to bring us the new of the return while we were still on Sanctuary, preparing us for what awaited us when we returned." he says, adjusting his tie a bit. "We honored you as best we could and.. uh.. you were rather tasty." he says, raising an eyeridge at himself.
"...How?" Kes asks, rubbing a hand through her hair puzzledly. "I don' see how. 'Ey're talkin' 'bout a huge ol' loop in time an' I don'... 'Kari curse it, s'givin' me a damn headache jest thinkin' 'bout it." She looks up at Thayndor then. "I thought you all bein' here was cause'a some gateway eye thinger 'r somethin'."
"Most curious," Okaskatitch replies to Quicksilver. "Thank you for the summary." Then, at Grayback's epilogue, the B'hiri goes stock still, black-cluster eyes locked. "Some things are best not known."
Grayback nods. "If you only knew the half of it..." he says, leaving the rest to imagination.
"But we do defeat them. Again," Quicksilver puts in.
Silvereye has to agree with the B'hiri on this one, nodding slowly. "Though we are likely to have a different future now, given all that has happened."
"I suppose so.." Naoi begans, trailing off as she picks out the name of her homeland, eyebrows rising even further at the suggestion of Grayback eating Okaskatitch. Or perhaps it is actully the spider itself that gives her such a scare, her lone eye wide as she stares at the emissary.
"My thoughts exactly," Maddie says with a smirk upon seeing Naoi's expression. She hooks an arm around one of Naoi's and ties to lead her out.
Grayback nods. "We indeed face an unknown future. I suspect our presence here will alter the flow of history as we know it." Grayback says.
Thayndor Zahir watches the conversation's back-and-forth the same way an orangutan would watch a tennis match: Intently, but obviously with little to no comprehension.
Amanda purses her lips thoughtfully "I wish I understood the implications of it all better. If the events that caused us to be do not occur, do we simply fade from existence mind and body?"
"Psh. Dunno 'bout you, but I don' intend ta fade from 'zistence," Kes grumbles, then snorts. "Not 'at easy." She shakes her head. "Don' even think yer smartest scientists know how havin' all'a us 'ere's gonna screw up hist'ry. Hells, might be not even th'Saints 'emselves know."
Naoi is dragged back a step or two, then yanks her arm free. "They're talking about Fastheld!" She starts to push forward, jostling rudely if a gentle bump is not enough.
Newt steps out of the Fox, looks around... and stops taking a moment to stare at the B'hiri. "Wow! Cool..."
"Are they?" Maddie asks, letting go of Naoi with a shrug. "Well, stay if you want, but I'm going back."
"I admit to a certain morbid curiosity as to whether I shall eventually meet myself in passing. I've always wondered what it was like being twins," Quicksilver offers, lifting an eye ridge as his tail lashes lightly behind him.
"Though, there is one aspect of the old future I would like to discuss." Silvereye replies to the B'hiri. "Though I don't know how successful it will be." The B'hiri regards Newt and then approaches the smaller figure. Tap-tick-tick-tick-tap-tap. Glittering black compound eyes reflect lots and lots of little Newts. "I am listening, Minister." The rounded head tilts slightly, mandibles clicking together. "Interesting child."
Grayback looks curiously to Silvereye, and waits to see what he intends to discuss.
"When Sanctuary leaves most of my people will be eradicated by Kretonians." Silvereye begins for Okaskatitch. "Some will be saved, we believe, by B'hiri, who take them to a world in Hiverspace called Pansheera. That is the only name we know the world by, and we are desperately seeking one."
Naoi is soon completly immersed in the crowd, ending near Thayndor and Kestrel. Reponsibility and duty is lost in hope, it would appear, turning to the familiar face of the Zahir. "Are they talking about Fastheld?"
Madeline shrugs and heads back.
Newt straightens as the B'hiri approaches. His eyes darting somewhat from compound eye to compond eye he manages to stammer out a "Hi."
Quicksilver glances to Grayback, questioning in quiet tone so as not to disrupt the main conversation, "Was Jest with you in the Harrower events?" Whiskers flatten, then fan again as his gaze turns to Silvereye, ears rotating in opposite directions to survey the crowd before refocusing upon Silvereye.
"Hi," the B'hiri click-clacks at Newt. Then, it rotates on spindly legs to face Silvereye. "I am unfamiliar with the name. However, I am curious: Why do these Kretonians want to eradicate your people?"
"Mm," Thayndor says, shaking his head to Naoi. "They were, briefly. Now it's ..." he waves his hands, fingers splayed, in an indescribably chaotic, slow-moving circle. "Hard to follow."
Kestrel does perk up at the mention of Pansheera. She laughs, in fact. "Pansheera! 'Kari's sword. Pansheera was with th'-enemy- in my time. Ha. Fought with th'Kari-cursed Nall, 'ey did." Sne shakes her head. "Nexus C'ncordance, psh. Scalebacked sons'a..." She trails off into a grumble.
Grayback looks back to Quicksilver, and nods. "She was.. on the Courser." he says, before looking to Okaskatitch. "The reason is that Kip was kidnapped from Val Shohob. During our attempt to rescue him, my ship's Otherspace drive malfunctioned and took us to the space of the warlike Kretonians. They attempted to learn the secret of the drive from us, but we escaped. As we were to find out later, the malfunction resulted in a destabiliation of both Kreton's sun, and Val Shohob's sun. Both... exploded." he says, a few painful memories surfacing. "The Kretonians eventually stole the plans to an Otherspace drive, and with it, invaded the known worlds. Sanctuary was built to escape it, and it came here, 2 years from now."
Naoi grinds her teeth together at Thayndor's answer, but there is little else she can do, turning and watching the interactions focused around the B'hiri.
Quicksilver bobs his snout to Grayback's answer. "She's here. The Artemis. Thinner. I worry." Shifting attention to the discussion of the others, he listens with interest as Grayback speaks of the reason for the conflict, before putting in, "A rebellion led by the Nall eventually wiped the Kretonians out, during Sanctuary's absence."
Silvereye nods slowly to the other Demarians. "They explain it well." He turns back to Okaskatitch. "I didn't expect that you would, it's a Demarian name. But I felt obligated to ask."
"The Harrower is capable of transdimensional travel," Okaskatitch states, tap-tick-tap-tapping his way toward the Demarians. "Perhaps we could eliminate the need for Sanctuary by preventing that kidnapping. We could stop your vessel from destroying those stars. Perhaps by focusing our efforts on preventing that catalyzing event, we might restore your universe to some semblance of order."
Grayback raises an eyeridge. "I'd forgotten about that aspect of the ship.." he says, his voice full of awe. "We could erase the entire war.. the years of devastation..." he says, lost in thought for a few moments.
"They're talking now about ... going back in time?" Thayndor asks. He blinks. "I thought mucking about in time and space was the reason we entered this mess in the first place," he adds, a bit louder, with the befuddled mistrust of a helpless Luddite.
"...Eh," Kes says, pretty obviously losing interest at a rapid rate. She looks up at Thayndor. "Dunno 'bout you, but m'gettin' sorta bored 'ere. An' yeah, it were. 'Kari-cursed Kamirs messin' with time an' space got us 'ere, an' ain't more muckin' gonna fix 'er, ya ask me." The Later shoves her hand in her pockets and slouches a bit, glancing back toward Zero Gravitas, as if trying to decide whether or not to go that way.
"Material absorption complete," Comorro announces over the loudspeaker.
Amanda hms "Not sure it would be wise to try to intentionally alter history. We likely have more than enough unintended consequences as it is and likely to compound them each time we try and alter something
"Long is the road of good intentions, and treacherous is it's shadowed forks." Naoi says, but it is more for Thayndor's benefit then some general appeal to the 'community'. "I had thought..." Her shoulders droop, "Of course they would not waste breath about Fastheld. What is a kingdom to such a place and idealism?"
Tamila makes her way out of the Zero Gravitas with a rucksack thrown over one shoulder. She spots the large group, but being anti-social as she is, she heads towards the tradeport hatch instead of joining. But she does raise a brow at Comorro's announcement.
"The number of possible outcomes is more than a little mind-boggling," Quicksilver muses, whiskers flattening and tail thrashing a little more as he considers the possibility. Ears flatten, then perk, as he muses, "Would it cause further trouble for the ones attempting to repair the rifts, if we altered past events?"
Silvereye frowns lightly as he considers Okaskatitch's plan. His tail sways lightly behind him. He looks over his shoulder at Naoi's words, and nods slowly. "A possibility, but we can't know for sure. We can't chart out all that would happen, nor do we know if we can even reach that universe anymore."
"I am willing to explore the possibilities," the B'hiri replies. Tap-tick-tick-tap-tap-tick. It rotates and approaches the ramp of the emissary vessel. "Think on it." He climbs the ramp and disappears into the gray-hulled vessel. The ramp slides up and the hatch thuds shut. The vessel remains in its berth, however.
Newt grins, making his way over to the ship "That was nifty."
Kestrel glances back at Naoi. "Dunno. I think it'd be more 'mportant if'n we knew where it was at all," she points out with a shrug. "Reckon you all wanna git home same as th'rest'a us." The Later rolls her eyes and puts a hand to her forehead. "Oh, fer th'love'a Kanter, LEAVE TH'KARI-CURSED PAST ALONE wouldja?" she calls toward the other group then, waving a hand vaguely and stomping off toward Zero Gravitas. "Like we ain't already in 'nough'a a mess as it is!"
"We have no way of knowing the circumstances of the Kamir's bringing us here." Grayback says. "However, I feel the possibility can't be ignored. One black mark on history erased may lead to an era of peace and prosperity we could not imagine. On the other hand, I do concede that it is an.. incredible task to comprehend it."
"And then there's the effect of the Sanctuarians on the three invasions that followed, when we returned to our universe," Quicksilver puts in after Grayback, more thinking aloud than anything else. "We have to add that into our consideration. The expertise and connections we brought forward had an effect on events in that century out of proportion to our numbers."
Tamila and her rucksack keep going towards the tradeport hatch. She ducks through the door as it opens, not paying attention to the crowds or the ambassidor.
Silvereye shrugs at quicksilver. "We don't even know if linearity even exists anymore, or whether universes have just been atomized. It's too risky."
"Risky, perhaps, but still worth consideration." Grayback says. "Also, recall that at least one of those invasions was the result of the Kretonians meddling with the Lem'ming. If the Kretonian invasion does not occur, neither does that one. They simply wanted left alone."
"We remain an afterthought," Thayndor agrees to Naoi, sharing her disappointment.
"You are too kind," Naoi responds to Kestrel, but it sounds forced. "I should return and inform those in the bar that everything is well... or..." She looks to the Artemis, hestitating still.
"Yeah, join the club!" Kes calls back over her shoulder to Thayndor. "If'n ya ain't with 'em, ya don't git listened to, period." She stabs a finger toward the group, then pauses midstep. "Say, you two wanna drink 'r somethin'? Might be more fun 'en lurkin' onna ship."
Thayndor Zahir shrugs. "I wouldn't pass up the offer," he says to Kestrel. "Where shall we go?"
Quicksilver glances to Thayndor and then Kestrel, before offering, "It isn't so much a lack of respect as a lack of knowledge, Thayndor. We know so little of how you world is connected to ours, if at all, as to have no idea how anything would affect you." A gaze shifts to Kestrel, "We're Demarian. We hear everything."
Silvereye nods slowly in agreement with Quicksilver and turns at the others. "Why do you think it wouldn't affect you?" He asks calmly of Kestrel. "The problems have a common source, and it is unfortunately in our time. Forgive us we focus on it."
"I do not drink... but I will attend." Naoi says, expression troubled, tension displayed mostly around her remaining eye. She does look to Silvereye. "You will do what you must, I hold little resentment. Only disappointment that still no option is open to us. Or that you would seriously consider this, instead of focusing on tangible rewards from hard effort. It is a coward's decision. I just hope that it is the right one, if you happen to choose to pursue it."
"I'm not sure anything /will/ affect us," Thayndor replies. "It remains uncertain to me as well if my arrival here is a function of what happened to your world. But I am here now, in your related string of universes, and would prefer it if you refrain from doing again the same type of thing that made your part of spacetime, if I may talk about it in these terms, so untenable."
Kestrel laughs and turns back to Quicksilver. "I outhear a good number'a D'marians, chief," she replies. "An' when I hear somebody yellin' at me, I sure as th'sweet sweet guns'a Newm don' ignore it without a damn good reason." She rolls her eyes then. "Now 'at I said in front'a everyone 'atcha ain't payin' 'tention, course ya gotta. By the Saints, yer talkin' 'bout muckin' with things what we ain't even figured out a thousand years past yer time." She shakes her head. "An' it -does- affect me. I don' feel like fadin' outta 'zistence cause you lot insist on messin' with things what shouldn't be messed with." With that, she changes direction, stomping this time toward the tradeport. "I need a 'Kari-cursed Deathwhistle."
Newt's just standing there, looking up at the B'hiri ship.
Amanda sighs 'I'm interested in the here and now and how i might help in making our present and our future better" she looks to Silvereye I'll leave the past to others if you don't mind
"I would think that our presence here already could risk altering the future as we know it." Grayback says. "Considering that we haven't poofed from existence, then it seems likely that the Kamir have....'protected' us somehow. The B'hiri have knowledge of that which we do not, and I'm willing to discuss the possibilities with him. The benefits outweigh the risks in my mind."
Silvereye arches a brow at Kestrel. "Why do you think that you're special?" He asks. "I don't understand your outrage here. You would have to assume that any decision we make would be purely for our benefit. I'm a Sanctuary Demarian. If the Kretonian invasion never occurs I die a young death working for a Sandwalker in his mines. Give us some credit, please. No one is being ignored, no one is being overlooked. We're simply discussing an *option* that may or may not be used and certainly wouldn't be embarked on solely with our counsel.
"It's also entirely possible that altering the past will not affect any of us," Quicksilver muses, whiskers flattening and then fanning again. "It's all very theoretical....we may no longer be actually connected to our own timelines and thus unaffected. Forgive us if we seem overconfident. As Silvereye says, we want to know our options. Our race is growing somewhat weary of being destroyed over and over again."
Naoi is following Kestrel, her own pace more sedate and her comments less... pointed. Of course, she turns back to Quicksilver. "-Your- race." Then, again she turns on her heels, and moves ahead with not a glance back.
"Yer Kamirs sure as Svajone's wanderins didn't protect us," Kes calls back over her shoulder caustically. "I'd bet real money 'ey didn't even know we was along fer th'ride. Psh. Oh, an' right. Cause th'rest'a us don' matter one whit. Jest you D'marians an' yer sad sad past. Got it," she snarls. The rest is dismissed with a flippant wave of her hand as the Later heads into the tradeport.