|
Tradeport <Comorro Station>
Built within one of the larger fissures of her digestive system, this common tradeport has rib-like structures with gray-green webs of matter stretched between them to protect Comorro's winding intestinal conduits from damage. Luminescent symbiotes, floating orbs of green and yellow, provide illumination for the cartilagenous nodes that serve as shops and merchant stalls.
The docking hub can be found at the starboard end of the bazaar, while a levimodule at the port end carries visitors to other levels of the Yaralu vessel.
Xanya puts down the last of the moss and counts to see if they have it all. "oke... that should be all." She says whiping her forhead.
Funnily enough, Micky shows up once the work is over.
Sterling dusts off his hands, nodding to Xanya. "Here's hopin' it'll be o'use t'Comorro."
Jocaira plunks down on a nearby abandoned packing crate and also dusts of her hands. "So you sink, sere was plants on se rock... you sink maybe sere is usser life, like? You need air for plants, right?" Clearly the wheels are turning. Some kind of wheels, anyways. She does not razz Micky upon his reappearance and actually doesn't look like there is a temptation to do so.
The disembodied voice of Comorro speaks: "This material should be adequate. A good start, I think, for repairs and resupply. Thank you."
Xanya smiles hearing the voice of comorro. "your most welcome comorro. if you need any more let us know. we will get some for you." She says and looks back to joca smiling as the mission was a succes.
"Doubt it. At least not there," says Micky before he continues, "The asteroids do weird stuff to sensors, I think. Probably some folks hidin' out here other than us."
Sterling grins over at Jocaira. "Like somethin' we could hunt or gather t'eat?" he enthuses. "Mebbe even somethin' t'replace our--" He looks up sharply as he hears Comorro's voice. "Pleased t'be o'service," he drawls toward the ceiling. "Don't be shy about askin' us fer more."
Jocaira throws an informal salute upwards. "Anytime, Madame Comorreaux, generous 'ostess. Sank you for keeping us alive, ne? And yes, absolument, you let us know if you need more, se Madame Xanya 'ere knows 'ow to pick se best of se fuzzy red plant." She cants her head curiously towards Micky. "...usser ships, you sink? Do no tease, Mickee. If sere are enemies out 'ere we need to find sem, board sem, get supply and informacion." There is a slight shift in her posture and a momentary *click click* as the merc boss's teeth chatter briefly together.
The disembodied voice of Comorro speaks: "Enemies are unlikely. Allies, perhaps. We are where we arrived from our universe. The rebels in this war are presumably hiding in the asteroid field. They may reveal themselves at some point."
Xanya smiles still but can't help letting out a big yawn. "I hope your right comorro. personaly I'd hate to get into a fight right now. not having proper protection for myself." She says. "I knew I shouldn't have left home without it." She mubles a bit. "When I get home I'll equip all my ships with basic survival stuff." She says again mostly to herself.
"The psycho-kitty was reasonable the other day. They got some cloaked, mini-ship deal that they are setting up to go. They're going to scout. We can't scout because if we get found, we give away our location which'd be a bad thing until Comorro is healthier. She also said she'd help put weapons on the Count, but, yeah, I ain't joking. This is the type of place where smugglers, rebels, and pirates hang out in space. I'm not saying our enemies are out there in particular, but I wouldn't be surprised if there were somebody out there," says Micky to the boss lady. "I doubt you're goin' to find some asteroid loaded with beef jerky or nothing."
"Allies'd be good," Sterling comments. "The butterfly fella said some o'his folks' ships'd be comin' round soon." He glances over to Xanya, nodding. "Mebbe they're already 'ere, hidin' out, like y'said, in the asteroids."
"Golly gosh and gee -really-, Mickee? I sought sat was where beef jerky came from, se great jerk asteroid belts," Joca replies to Micky, maturely sticking her tongue out. "Aahn, yes. Madame Comorreaux, my people spoke wis Monsieur Papillon, se butterfly person ambassador, and we 'ave secured some fightairs from 'is fleet; sey are going to come and provide external defenses and supporting." Armored fingers drum on her armored thigh with a clatter. "And well, se rebels are who we are allied wis, and as for smugglers and pirate? We know 'ow to deal wis sis. As long as Madame Chat is feeling cooperative, se data from scouting will be very 'elpful. Madame Xanya, you can 'elp also wis outfitting available ships wis weapons, yes? It is what you do for se business?"
Xanya nods to james. "plenty of space to hide in the asteroid field. If you ask me. Hell They could have already spotted us as we collected the moss." Xanya replies. "And yes I can help with adding weapons to ships if needed. anything to keep myself bussy." She says to joca and can't help but yawn again.
"Ya'll were soundin' too hopeful," explains Micky.
Sterling throws a highly skeptical look over at Micky. "'Reasonable'?" He snorts. "B'lieve that when I see it. But Xanya's right: whoever's out there may've already seen us, mebbe even tracked us back 'ere." He glances upward again. "No sign o'the rift that brought us here, I s'pose, C'morro? Speakin' o'bein hopeful..."
The disembodied voice of Comorro speaks: "Regrettably, the rift does not appear to have been two-way. We must find another route back to the Ancient Expanse. After I make the initial repairs, we must gather food for the refugees aboard, and starship fuel for the engines so that we can adequately scout. This will, of course, put us at some risk of discovery and engagement with our enemies on Nyasna."
Jocaira idly rubs the back of her head. "'ey, she got a Timmie on board maybe 'e gave 'er a good rubbing. Always gets -me- out of a mood, anyways," she muses, and then her eyes drift out of focus briefly as she clearly ponders this. A moment or two passes, and she blinks back into the present. "Madame Xanya, why do you not go and get a rest? You want to be awake and good if you are going to be making a work on ships." She cants her head slightly as Comorro speaks. "Is se good plan. We get repaired, we get restocked, we get refueled... and if we play se cards right, arm up enough ships so sat if we -do- find enemy away from se rest, separate it out, board... we get even more supplies, and enemy captives to make a question on." With a tiny cascade of pops, she rotates her wrist thoughtfully as she speaks.
"Near to had a heart attack," Micky sidenotes to Sterling. "But, yeah, reasonable."
Xanya smiles and nods ot joca. "sleep sounds like a good idea. I could use some rest indeed." She says and stretches her self once more. "well it's been fun. thanks everyone for helping me out collecting the moss for comorro. Till we meat again." She says and slowly heads back to the docking hub and her ship.
"Well, it was a long shot," Sterling comments in response to Comorro. "Sounds like there'll be a lot for us t'do comin' up." He nods in satisfaction, then closes his eyes and listens while Jocaira describes the prospect of boarding and capturing an enemy vessel. At the mention of questioning captives, his lips curl into a dreamy sort of smile. He casts Xanya a half-lidded glance, lifting a hand in farewell to her. "Good on ya," he drawls lazily.
Jocaira gives James an equally dreamy smile, and leans in his general direction. "Hnn... would be good. Was good to get out today. Will be good to get scout reports, good to get fresh supplies. Good for a leetle engagement, I should sink. To get se blood flowing, get a frustration out. Bring a morale up."
Micky steps wide of Jocaira and James. He produces the flask from his armor and goes to find himself a seat outside what once was a bar.
"Sure was," Sterling agrees. "An' I can't wait t'get goin' on th'rest." His gaze tracks Micky briefly as the other merc steps aside, then returns to Jocaira.
Jocaira's ocean-colored eyes also follow the meandering Micky, unfogged with neither drink nor drugs. "Yeah..." Her lips curl up at the corners, flashing a slight glint from that gold-backed canine tooth. "...what's se mattair, Mickee? You sink sere is a trap or somesing?"
Micky props his feet up as best he can in what's left of the patio furniture. While he drinks, he starts to fiddle with the PDA on the arm of his suit. "What? There's always a trap. I don't like being in one of the two places in this 'verse that the badguys know we've been in. I don't like not havin' the weapon systems to fight the badguys if they come at us. I don't like not having a place to retreat to. I don't like much of anything at all about this situation."
Sterling looks over at Micky and heaves a sigh. "Micky, we c'n only do what we c'n do, yeah? We got a start t'day. We're gonna keep workin' at it. 'S all we c'n do. Ain't none of us like it. We all wanna go home, probably C'morro most of all. An' --" He stops suddenly as another thought occurs to him. "Anybody seen Penny-whatzis?" He glances to Jocaira. "It's his bloody fault we're in this mess. This voyage t'Aukam was his idea."
"Hnnn... Mickee, relax. Se Madame I am sure will want to take 'er leave as soon as she is well enough to do so. We are working on getting weapons and exterior defense and offense, and se scouts I am sure will look for viable retreat place. It is good to be aware, I know sis, but darling is right. We can only control so many sings," Joca tries to reassure, but it seems that long hours, rations, and no R&R have set whatever comforting tone she has left to a very thin and frayed string. She cocks a pale eyebrow. "...Monsieur Pennebakair? I 'ave no seen 'im since se crash. I sink sey bring 'im do se 'ospital, maybe? Aftair we got 'im stable?"
"You asked," Micky points out from his place outside the bar. He resumes drinking and PDA fiddling, giving that his full attention.
Sterling shrugs. "I ain't seen hide nor hair of 'im since we arrived. His armoured fingers rub ruefully at his stomach. "Ain't it about dinnertime?" he asks, gazing down the tradeport toward the REM offices.
Jocaira thinks about this for the brief length of time it takes for one hunger to rise above the assorted others. "Hnnn. Yes, I sink it is about time for food. Let's see what we can scrape up out of what's left, ne? And pray for somesing fresh soon."
Sterling starts moving toward the REM offices. "Sure'n we c'n make somethin' ... palatable. 'S better than those damn energy-hydroponic bars, no matter what. Even bloody veggie burgers're better'n those." He and Jocaira are hanging about near a few crates piled up in the tradeport.
Jocaira gets up and also starts heading towards the REM offices. "Hrrrn. I know. I knoow. I want bettair food. Fresh food. You know it is bad when sat moss started looking good, ne? Just because it didn't come out of plastic pouch or -can-. Bleeh." She goes for a lean, armor or no.
Once more the ultra tiny ship comes floating in from one corner or another, some light jazz emenating from the oft-projected external speaker.
"I ain't that far gone," Sterling tells Joca, grinning, "but maybe it won't be long 'til I am." He pauses to let her catch up to him.
Jocaira pauses in her lazy stroll towards the HQ, tilting her head to the side. "Darling are you 'earing music?"
Having apparently noticed the people who're actually up an about, the tiny ship zips on towards em in a much less lethargic manner.
Sterling leers sidelong at Joca. "Nah, I don't --" He frowns, peering about. "Mebbe," he says, indecisively.
Jocaira cocks her head at a sharper angle, focusing so intently that if her ears could swivel, they probably would be. Finally, she locks on, eyes darting from side to side as she brings the tiny ship into focus. "Aha! It is se tiny man in se tiny ship. Pfffbblt." The raspberry is for James, it seems. She waves, but not with too much enthusiasm as she's probably trying not to knock him out of the air or buffet him with unwanted air currents.
As the Moth limps along, it slows to a hover, about head level of the pair. "Evening, large people!"
Jocaira chortles. "Allo, tiny person! 'ow are you faring today?"
The ship bobs around a bit where it is "Eh, as well as can be expected I suppose."
Jocaira's brow furrows. "I suppose? Well, I am sure you can get enough food... well I 'ope you can get enough food. People are letting you in on se rations, yes? I mean you cannot possible eat much. Somesing bosering you at all? Somebody bosering you? You are so little who would do sis."
A slight chuckle comes out of the speaker "No, no. Food supply is fine... well, there's enough anywy. Just frustrated, really. Right when I was working on setting up shop, we find ourselves stuck in another universe."
Sterling squints for several moments before focusing on the small ship. "G'day there," he calls. "What kinda shop?"
Jocaira perks up. Even innumerable miles away from home, the idea of something -new-, the idea of shopping, grabs her attention. "Yes, yes, what kind of shop?" Then there is a pause, as she is clearly trying to figure out what kind of things a shop the size of a matchbox could sell.
Another chuckle comes from the speaker "Well, shop's perhaps not the right word. More trying to establish my services for hire... I found there was a uh... distinct lack of explosions in my previous line of work."
Sterling beams at the mention of explosives. He steeples his armour-clad fingers in front of his chest. "Do tell us about your skill with explosives."
Jocaira beams also, in tandem with the other mercenary. "Yes, yes, do tell us!" She hops from foot to foot, and makes a gesture of 'this way!' as she heads over to the HQ. "Come on, we can sit, 'ave some food, talk about blowing sings up."
The music goes down in volume as the ship bobs a little more vigorously "Lead the way!"
Sterling begins walking slowly down the tradeport, so as not to outpace the small ship, heading for the REM offices nearby. He pushes open the glass door and holds it open for both his boss and the tiny ship.
Lobby <Red Eclipse, Comorro Station>
You enter a small waiting area first, complete with a couple of couches and some magazine-laden small tables. A holo-screen on the central table cycles through the latest news-briefs, focusing mainly upon the assorted tumultuous dangers of Hiverspace. There is a clear polycarbonate wall between the waiting area and the actual room, so one can see what is within without being able to hear it.
Through a set of double doors is a much larger room; the front left-hand side is the training/workout area, also behind a clear polycarbonate wall so that potential candidates and clients alike can observe the available mercenaries in their natural habitat. Music is usually playing at a boisterous volume, the playlist consisting of bass-thumping, parent-offending, wall-rattling tunes from many eras and planets.
Beyond the training area is a door marked "Captain's Office," and a mess hall/break area separated from the rest of the room by a chest-high wall. On the right hand side of the room is the reception desk; just beyond that, smoked polycarbonate cubicle walls designate a private area for interviews and consultations. In the far wall, a door leads into the barracks.
Jocaira makes a beeline for the mess hall, whereupon she goes rummaging through whatever's left of the rations. There's a lot of displeased muttering. "Well, we 'ave some sings sat are brown and go on rice and we can make warm. And some kind of flat beer. And bread in a can. It is not bad, especially se brown one wis little dry grapes in."
The Moth floats on in after Joca, making to land on the nearest table to her rummaging.
Sterling follows on after Jocaira. "I'm fer those veggie burgers," he says. "Maybe near-meat's not so bad." He doesn't sound convinced, but maneuvers himself to the refrigerator and paws around for the box of patties he scanned earlier. "If there's any still left..."
Micky has, somehow or other, showed up in the office himself. He takes over desk duty, fiddling with a PDA strapped to his arm as he eats crackers. He's got cheeze in a pouch that he's dipping the crackers in. Hot sauce is involved.
Jocaira prods at the assorted pouches of things and, after some squinting at the instructions on the nondescript boxes, tosses them in the reheater. "...you know, Bren's a whiny idiot, but 'e was a really good cook..." She continues poking around the kitchen until she finds a not too dented bottle cap. "Ey leetle fellow you got like a mess kit or somesing like wis fork or spoon? I do not 'ave any tiny silverwares."
Kilroy chuckles as he steps out of the freshly landed ship of tinyness, carrying a suitably liliputian container. "Course. It'd be somewhat overly optimistic to assume that any random group of tall people would have appropriate flatware."
Sterling locates a few burger patties in the bottom of the box, slaps them on a plate, and sets the plate to one side while Joca's food is in the reheater. "The one thing we don't have is hamburger buns," he laments, collecting a couple bottles of something drinkable from the fridge.
Jocaira ponders this for a bit. "...we can not put se burger on se brown bread wis dry grapes in. Sat would be gross. Maybe cut into pieces and put on se rice wis se... brown stuff? I sink it's some kind of mushroom. Who eats mushrooms?"
Kilroy shrugs as he takes a seat by his ship "Dunno, never much cared for em myself."
"Eh, the rice thing sounds like it's doable." Sterling shrugs as he takes his turn at the reheater. "Some people like mushrooms. I c'n take 'em or leave 'em." He sets the bottles on the table a safe distance from Kilroy's ship and withdraws the patties from the reheater a few moments later.
Jocaira puts the bowl of re-fluffied rice on the counter, and spoons a little bit into the bottle cap, along with some sauce and a lump of what is probably a rehydrated greenhouse portobello, which is meatlike and generally quite tasty, but not if you're whinging on about wanting to eat something with a soul. She mutters over it for a bit and squints at it before bringing it to the table. "Sere you go, Leetle Monsieur," she says, before serving herself a bowl with equal amounts of mutters and squints. "Bleeh." But she eats it. She eats it like it's food and she's hungry. "If I wanted to eat scroungings I would 'ave stayed back in se eighteen centurie, eh?"
Kilroy takes the bottlecap with a smile and puts it down so he can break out proper utensils. "Thanky... er, what's your name? I'm Kilroy."
Sterling slices the burger patties into chunks and dumps them and some of the mushrooms into a bowl, then covers them with a large quantity of rice. He drops into a chair, grumpily clunks his bowl of rice, meat, and fungus onto the table, and shovels a few forkfuls into his mouth before noticing anything else in his immediate vicinity.
"Whatever, you piece of crap," Micky tells his PDA before he puts it away. He adjusts his boots on the desk before changing his mind again. He gets up and wanders towards the main galley area.
"Jocaira d'Agneau," Joca replies, with a gesture of her fork. "Capitan of Red Eclipse Mercenaire, or... well for now Capitan of what is -left- of us, ne? Fortunately for se rest of my crew sey were off on assignment when we fell into rift. Se man approaching is our reluctant quartermastair Mickee, and my James, who is very good wis guns and knives. We are 'umans from well, all manner of place and time. All 'ave in common sat we are grunt mercs who don't play well wis usser folk." That last bit has a wink attached to it. She's also very obviously trying very hard to -not- do some kind of 'squee tiny little man on the table' thing.
Kilroy nods as he starts slicing one of the rice grains "Sounds like the rifting hasn't been good for your work situation either."
Sterling offers Kilroy a smile when Jocaira mentions him, and grins as she mentions how the mercs don't play well with others. He peers at the Nemoni slicing up a single grain of rice for a moment, then resumes his own meal.
It takes Micky a minute of squinting to figure out just what is going on. He looks around before he squints back at the little guy on the table. "Man, we need warning tape or something to keep a plate from bein' laid down on dude."
Jocaira thoughtfully chews on the handle of her fork for a moment, and then gets up from the table. After some clinky rummaging in the cabinet, she returns with a small stack of shot glasses. This is thus arranged around Kilroy's eating space. "Sere we go. Even if someone puts a plate on it will be stopped by se glasses and make a leetle pavillion for Monsieur Keelroy." Clearly, she is pleased by her genius, and grins for a bit before settling in to eat. "So Mickee you going to be ready if se scouts find smugglers? I sink if sey are not Papillon people sey would be our best source for supply and intel. And maybe more ships, ehn?"
Kilroy chuckles at the shot glass pavillion "Yeah, that'll certainly do the job."
Sterling spears a hunk of mushroom on his fork, then glances up to watch Joca build a shotglass barrier for Kilroy. "Mebbe the smugglers'll have somethin' interestin' t'eat," he considers aloud.
"I'm always ready," is Micky's stock answer. After that, though, he scratches at the stubble on his chin before he answers, "Other than food and intel, what do you want and how much are we willing to do or give up for it? I'll tell ya'll right now that a change of pace in the diet is low on my shopping list of priorities."
Jocaira chews on a particularly rebellious piece of mushroom. "I want whatevair we can get. If we can board and take a whole ship, why not take a whole ship, even if it is just a leetle one? If we take a ship sat will give us captives and supplies. Captives will give us informacion. Supplies will give us... whatever supplies are. Munitions, food, fuel. Maybe even some of whatever sey use for money around 'ere. Er... what do you mean 'ow much we are willing to do? 'ave you nevair boarded a ship?"
Kilroy continues eating his meal whilst listening with vague interest to the chatter.
"Reckoned we were gonna take what we wanted," Sterling comments idly, scraping the inside of his bowl with his fork as he tries to collect the last few pesky grains of rice that remain.
There's a pause. Micky scratches his head and then cants it to the side. He asks very slowly,
"So...our first move is to...attack, without provocation, whatever ship that we happen to find...that's not part of the butterfly fleet?" He starts again, "Just, smugglers, as a rule, ain't much for the government types. While, yeah, they may sell us out to the badguy government if it is to their advantage, I don't think a hostile take over upon first contact sets the right tone. If ya'll just wanna flail about, pissin' off whoever we happen to blindly bump into, whatever. I thought ya'll were askin' me based on my unasked for lateral move to quartermaster."
"Aaahn, I see you want to know what kind of ships we are going to target. Well, sis makes sense," Joca says, continuing to work her way through the bowl. Occasionally she pokes it and says some nasty things in its general direction. Won't take any disrespect from no mushrooms, nosiree. "Also don't complain at what I call you; you are already doing se job. You make good supply chain, and you tell me when I am making out of line decision. So you don't just want to go get who we can go get, I undairstand. So per'aps good compromise would be to only target ships identified as 'ostile or dangerous by se butterfly forces?"
Kilroy continues eating the meal which he's a substantial way through.
"Well, we /did/ stumble into a /war/," says Sterling. He gets up to put his dishes on the counter in the kitchen. "'S a bit early t'be burnin' bridges, though."
"Ok. That works. Hopefully, they stop lollygagging and get here soonish," says Micky before he and his arm based datapad head towards the exit.
Jocaira raises an eyebrow and watches Micky and his arm based datapad make an exit. "...sanks for stopping by?" she says, quizzically, and then shrugs. "Ah well I guess somebody 'as to be se moral compass. Sorry, Monsieur Kilroy, I am from an older time and tend to be less, 'ow do you say... political correct? Patient? Merciful? Psh who knows. I am cranky and sharp and I 'ave a lot of vices."
Kilroy chuckles at Joca "Quite alright."
Sterling chuckles at Jocaira's self-assessment. He walks up behind her and rests his hands on her shoulders. "I need a shower," he tells her. "After spendin' time in that hazmat suit I don't wanna get in bed without one. See you in a bit, yeah?" He turns a smile on the Nemoni. "Good t'meetcha, Kilroy," he drawls. "Mebbe sometime soon we c'n talk in detail 'bout those explosives o'yours." He waves a hand at the departing Micky. "See ya, Micky."
"Moral compass my drunk ass. We're already on the weaker side of this war. We don't want to bring down more trouble on our heads by lashin' out blindly at whatever passes by just 'cause we ain't had cake recently," Micky offers up as a parting shot. "Before we attack folks, we need to know which, if any, side they're on, and we need to know how many friends they got compared to our one wayward ambassador with his empty promises of fighters."
Jocaira tilts her head back when James puts his hands on her shoulders. Her grin goes daffy. "You need 'elp wis sat showair, mon loup?" Enough of her comes back from la-la land to add, "You can keep your ship on top of our cabinets if you want, Monsieur Keelroy." She just gives Micky a glinty grin. "'ey, what can I say, it's in my blood. I don't 'ave cake, I want to go knock someone in se 'ead and take some cake."
Kilroy nods to Joca as he stands up again and starts walking towards his ship "Thanks for a spot to park for the night. Been a pain finding good corners lately.... Have fun in that shower" He smirks a bit as he walks back into the Limping Moth.
"Sure'n I'd be pleased t'accept yer assistance." Sterling grins wolfishly down at Jocaira. "An' there's nobody I'd rather go steal cake with, either." He steps away from her chair and makes his lazy way toward the barracks area.