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Barracks <Red Eclipse, Comorro Station>
The barracks are split neatly down the middle of the room by a tiled hallway, with clearly marked accommodations for males on one side and females on the other. Doors at intervals lead into multispecies bunks, locker rooms, and the showers/refreshers. The walls are adorned with weapons and armor of many kinds. In the rear of the chamber is the infirmary, storage area, and a small workbench for equipment maintenance. While spartan in appearance, the barracks offer a reasonable amount of comfort and are sturdy enough to handle the rough and tumble lifestyles of the resident mercenaries and staff.
A short time has passed. Wearing a towel (on her head), Joca heads out of the females' shower room. After she's made her exit, the female mercs who were nonchalantly waiting outside the shower head in to take care of their own washing. She does, eventually, wrap the towel around her body and then finds a couch to lazily lounge on.
Kethren stretches a bit as he comes wandering in. Still has the tiger an ser with him.
Sterling likewise has made use of the shower facilities, sorely needed after the workout he got in the training room. He emerges from his quarters in a pair of grey sweatpants and a sleeveless blue shirt, his hair still damp from his shower.
Jocaira makes at least a perfunctory effort to cover up at Kethren's arrival, lounging less indolently. "Allo, Monsieur Kethren," she drawls, lazily. "Allo, Monsieur Ster-ling." The last greeting is significantly more teasing and sing-song. Still lazy, though. "So, what you sink, Monsieur Kethren? You sink Monsieur Sterling fights good?"
Kethren nods as he takes a seat again on the tiger "Seems decent enough, alright. Not that I'm any kind of authority on the matter. I'm a passable shot when need be, but that's about it on my end."
"G'day, boss," Sterling drawls, grinning wolfishly at the sight of Jocaira lounging on the couch. He nods to Kethren. "Keth," he greets. He doesn't comment on Kethren's opinion of his fighting skills.
"Well, I don't pay you to shoot, Monsieur Kethren," Joca says, somewhat dryly, although there is still mirth in her expression. "Speaking of what I pay you for, can you fit Monsieur Sterling wis se smart suit? 'e 'as passed all evaluation, gets along good wis ussers, whole kitten and caboodles."
Kethren smirks "So a marked improvement over private shrimp? I don't think there'll be a problem getting him one made, though. I had my PDA getting scans while you two were going at it, so it should fit just fine."
Sterling laughs at Joca's assessment of him. "I got a good grade on 'Plays Well With Others', eh?" He inclines his head at Kethren. "Who's Private Shrimp? An' what's a smart suit?"
Jocaira squints around the barracks until she sights someone in the distinctive red-plate Red Eclipse armor. "Sat, Monsieur Sterling. Is your uniform and protection all in se one, ne? And, well, one of my people, Madame Fishair... she convince sis -boy- to come and work wis us, as courier, 'e is small teenager and not from a time when teenager were responsible for anysing. For se longest time 'e was very stubborn, and would not give me 'is name. So I call 'im Crevette, which is meaning shreemps. You know, se leetle creature in se sea." And she makes the little flicking gesture with her hand, the way the shrimp propel themselves through the water. "Monsieur Kethren, so I do not 'ave to get up, and risk flashing you what your lady friend will not appreciate, would you go and get appropriate size for Monsieur Sterling?"
Kethren smirks as he stands up to peruse the armor storage "Yeah, I'm sure Aina would appreciate that. I'm half amazed she hasn't tried to get the full details of the Shrimp story from me. Good thing, too. I don't think she'd see eye to eye with us on this one." As he talks he waves his pda slowly along in front of the stored units, eventually pulling out a modest sized briefcase when the pda lets out a shrill beep. "Ah, here we are." And with no further discussion on the matter, heads in the direction of Sterling to hand it over.
Sterling follows Jocaira's gaze. His eyes widen a bit and his grin broadens at the sight of the merc in the armour. "Wow, y'wear that jus'..." he waves a hand in a vague motion, "...around?" He looks back at her as she describes the troublesome teen, chuckling at the explanation. "Reckon he didn't appreciate the humour in that name." He watches as Kethren selects a case and approaches. "Whole suit o' armour fits in there?"
"'e is fussy little bitch," Joca grouses, quietly, and rolls her eyes in Kethren's direction. "What an anchor I took on. I just wanted to get 'im off of your planet for you and se next sing I know Madame Fishair 'as talked 'im into staying. Monsieur Mickee, too. And she almost talked to sat Aukami woman who was not smart enough to walk srough se -big- door outside and banged 'er 'ead on se small one. I 'ad to tell 'er, look, I am no running charity 'ere. At least Monsieur Mickee can work. Mostly." She does rise, after making a gesture to Kethren to turn around, but doesn't terribly wait on him to do so before going to the storage cubbies and picking out her own case. "Whole suit of armor fits in 'ere. Some wear undersings, some wear nussing at all." Carefully, she sets her case down at her feet and snaps it open. Inside is... a pair of red plate boots.
With a slow smirk, she steps in, lowering her heels with a very deliberate motion. There is a faint hiss of hydraulics and a whirr of gears as the leg plates unfold from the inside of the case, clasping her calves, then thighs, then the rest of the armor works its way up the rest of her body. She abandons the towel as the armor reaches her torso and the plates that make up the case unfurl to snap into place on her back. The rest of it scrolls down her arms, all the way to her fingertips, finally clasping around her neck. The visor lowers with a final snap-hiss, and there is a faint flicker of something massively jawed in the reflective visor before the greenish optics hum into view.
[Item System] Jocaira shows you her Red Eclipse Captain's Armor: Red Eclipse Captain's Armor - Heavy Smartsuit Armor
Manufactured By: KethrenIt is a custom version of the Red Eclipse Mercenaries Smartsuit - red and white body armor, which completely encases the wearer from boots to helmet. It's primarily blood red, with white spots embellishing the sides of the chest and on top of the shoulders. Two parallel finely-inset white pin stripes scroll upwards from the boots, tracing up and along the sides of the limbs and body and meeting along the borders of the armored plates. Additional tracings adorn and emphasize where natural muscle lines and curvatures would be, marked in a paint that shifts in a gradient between white and red depending upon the angle of view. The helmet covers the wearer's head entirely, matching the color scheme except for two blue-green optics where the eyes should be, presumably some sort of HUD. Behind the 'eyes', and just barely visible from certain angles, is a faint image of a holoprojected skull, with grinning gold teeth and crossed bones beneath it. The helmet is retractable, and there are a variety of built-in compartments capable of dispensing ammunition, first aid supplies, and other small items. When not in use, the armor folds into a briefcase-sized storage mode. Damage:
Kethren has the good grace to turn around until the armor finishes snapping in place. "Yeah, sorry you got stuck with the guy. Still, I figure he's got a better chance growing up to be... competent? Here than he would in the alleys in Eriacre."
Sterling watches the armour unfold around Jocaira, his expression rapt. Once the whole suit is in place, he lets out a wolf-whistle. "Hot bloody damn. I love the future."
Jocaira's answering laughter, while distorted into digital mirth by the suit's vocalizer, is still pretty clearly amused. "I know," she says. "As do I." There is another soft hiss, and another flicker of toothy maw on the visor, as she lowers it. "You want to try?" Kethren gets another slight eyeroll, clearly at the subject and not at him in particular. "Ehn, per'aps. At se very least 'e is out of -your- 'air. Now all I 'ave need to do is get 'im useful, or get 'im out of mine."
Kethren nods "Oh, yeah. Future's great. Never could've met Aina on Earth. Or Floriana. Or get a jetpack. Anyway, good luck with getting the little guy useful."
Sterling opens the case Kethren gave him and steps into the boots inside the same way Joca did. He watches the armour form around him, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. Once it's complete he throws back his now-helmeted head, flexing his arms and clenching his fists, and gives a whoop of joy. "Ain't /nobody/ gonna fuck with me in this thing!"
Jocaira has herself a bit of a good laugh, now -not- all digitized, because her visor is down. "Instructions are available on any of se consoles 'ere, you can read up. It 'as compartments for weapon, for se first aid, and usser compartment for what you need. You can move cursor inside se... what is. 'ead up display inside se 'elmet by moving your eyes, and blink to choose, or you can poke se little pad bits on se inside of your gloves, whatevair is easier."
Kethren nods as he takes a seat on Nuala again "And of course, should you ever decide to get a neural interface, that gives you even more control options."
Sterling fools with the HUD and the controls. "Controllin' with yer eyes... that's pretty wild." He chuckles. "Might accidentally nuke somebody if I'm not careful, eh?" He finds the control to lower the visor and beams over at Kethren. "Who d'you get t'do that for ya," he asks, "the neural thing?" He frowns. "It don't show, does it? It's like a brain implant or somethin'. An' is it expensive?"
Jocaira bends to pick up the towel, and wraps it expertly around herself as the armor starts to fold itself away from her body. "Eeehn? Non, I do no put ordinance in suit. What is sis 'nuke'?" She shrugs, nudging the case over to where she was lounging and returns there to continue lounging. "Ehn, neural implant is computair in your 'ead. It 'as, I don't know, little plug or somesing, I do not 'ave one... I do no do much wis computair, so I do no need it in my 'ead."
Kethren nods "It's a handy little thing, really. I mainly got mine due to the amount of business contracts I have to look over. It saves me a lot of time manually accessing the files. But, since I do have it, I'm not against using it to take control of smartsuit and jetpack functions, for instance. Anyway, to answer the other questions, it only shows if you get a wired model. Most people are probably fine with a wireless though. Also needs less maintenance. And uh, I got Aina to put it in. It's handy having a cybernetic surgeon for a girlfriend. Not sure how much she charges, but I don't think they're insanely expensive."
"Aw." Sterling stops marvelling at his new armour long enough to appreciate the view of Jocaira returning to her couch. "No built-in weapons? Yer wastin' an opportunity, I reckon. A nuke is about the biggest baddest weapons on Earth, from the time I come from anyhow. Kicks the shit out of everything fer miles. Leaves a nasty radioactive mess behind though." He nods at Kethren's explanation. "Works good, though, wireless? Y'don't have problems with interference or nothin'?"
Jocaira takes some time to process Sterling's statement. "...why," she finally says, "Would we want to put weapon in suit sat destroy everysing for miles? Wouldn't sat destroy -us- too?"
Kethren nods to Sterling "Works well enough. It has its limitations of course, but I would reccomend you consult Aina for better answers on these matters. Or any qualified cyberneticist, really."
Sterling smiles at Jocaira. "Well, yeah, that's why y' launch at somebody far away. On th' next continent, preferably. I was jokin', mostly. 'Nukin' ' something is kinda a slang term for wreckin' it utterly. Or makin' it for lunch." He tilts his head and looks away for a moment. "Anybody else hungry?" He deactivates his armour and steps out of the boots. "I'll do that," he tells Kethren.
Jocaira shrugs, apparently well accustomed to having no idea what people are talking about. "Eehn, I could eat," she says, and gets up. It seems she's planning on heading for the mess hall without putting on any pants. Well, it's not like she's the only one. It seems a quantity of the mercs are more than content to wander around in towels or underwear or whatever.
Kethren shrugs "Could do with a bite to eat, alright."
Sterling closes the case on the boots and picks it up. "We store these here," he nods toward the lockers Kethren originally got the case from, "or in our quarters or what?"
"You can keep in your bunk lockair. No one is going to take it, but it is easier to tell which one is yours so you do no 'ave to check all of se case plates for your name," Joca says, on her way into the front offices. "Once you get your settings se way you like it you will probably want to be more, 'ow do you say, possessive? Heh."
Jocaira heads into Lobby.
Jocaira has left.
Kethren heads into Lobby.
Kethren has left.
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.
Kethren gets in a good stretch as he stands up, and heads on back to the lobby.
Sterling nods, ducking into his quarters long enough to deposit the case on the floor, then follows Joca and Kethren back out into the lobby area. "I'd suggest we go out t'eat, except I wouldn't wanna make Joca get dressed."
"Pah, who needs to go out? We 'ave plenty of food right 'ere," Joca says, yoinking what looks like some cold poultry out of the fridge and tossing some kind of veggie fries in the reheater. Apparently the chicken is not given such honor, and she plunks the bowl onto a table while chewing away at a drumstick.
Kethren chuckles as he peers into the fridge for foodstuffs "Well, quite. I eat out too much, anyway." After a bit of rifling he emerges with a modest platter of leftover meats and cheeses, along with some condiments and bread. Sandwhiches made of leftovers are the meal of champions.
"One of these days I'm gonna go someplace an' order a huge pizza," Sterling vows, likewise heading to the refrigerator. "With meat," he adds, "alla meat." When Kethren clears aside he steps up, frowning into the fridge. "There is a distinct lack of beef-like things in here -- aha." With more than a little clinking and clattering, he retrieves a covered bowl, kicking the fridge door shut just as the reheater buzzes to indicate Joca's fries are done. "What're these, then?" he asks, taking the plate of fries out and replacing them with his bowl, then mashing a button and turning to the table where the others are gathered. He sniffs at the plate and slides it onto the table, plucking a fry from it and sticking it in his mouth.
"Ummmm... fried tuber. Is spicy. I do no remember se name," Joca says, making 'wanty fingers' at the bowl. Clearly she was expecting him to bring them over, and is not disappointed. Can't expect her to go traipsing around in a towel, right? Nobody else really seems to notice, especially not the shortish (for a Hek) guy who's also just wearing a towel. He's eating cereal.
Kethren rather deliberately assembles a modest sandwhich from some of the found leftovers. And then assembles a much smaller sammich for his ferrety friend. "Well, the fridge may be low on beefy foodstuffs, but there's plenty of a similar nature to be found. Also, the leghorn are always tasty."
Sterling chews thoughtfully on the fry. He shoves the plate of fries over to her. "Huh, these /are/ spicy." He reaches across the table and grabs a few more, biting the end off of one as he turns to answer the buzz of the reheater. "Where'd ya get 'em?" he asks, shoving the rest of the fries in his mouth if only to free his hands to collect his bowl. The smell of zik meat permeates the area as he opens the the top and sets it aside. He claims a large spoon from a drawer and drops into a chair near Jocaira. "Yeah, spicy," he says, plunging the spoon into what appears to be a thick meat and vegetable stew and taking a mouthful. "I like beef more'n chicken," he mumbles as he chews.
"Me too," Joca says, likely explaining why there's not a lot of meat in the fridge, and then her brow furrows as she thinks. "Iiii dunno, I ordair from computair. I look up maybe in se morning."
Kethren nods "Don't blame you, beef is darn tasty. And I know I've had something pretty darned beefy out here. So don't lose hope on that front." Floriana decides to chomp away at her own little sammich rather'n join the conversation.
Sterling grunts in acknowledgement, glancing up at Jocaira for a moment before resuming his assault on the bowl of stew. "Now I got my shiny new armour," he says during a pause, "when do I get t'take it for a spin?" He points at Joca with the spoon. "Didn't you say there was a bloke needed rescuin' out there someplace?"
Jocaira looks up from the bird meat she's presently savaging. "Whuff? Did I? You mean se one on se news, or from when I could no find Monsieur Pennebakair?"
Kethren yawns a bit "Hrm... I think I better get going. Too much work to be done. Er, want me to leave the rest of the sandwhich fixings out for you guys?"
"Nono," Sterling says. "That 'Mik' fella. The bat-fella was in here couple weeks ago talkin' t'Micky about 'im. Though I do wonder what happened t'Pennebaker." He looks to Kethren. "Somebody'll eat 'em, I'm sure."
"Ohhh, but yes, Monsieur Mik," Joca says, taking a particularly firm bite out of a piece of chicken. "But yes, I mention 'im, er, yesterday, I sink. On se boat. We still 'ave to FIND, first. Is se 'ard part."
Kethren nods as he gets up, sammich in hand "Well, g'nite folks. Give a yell if I'm needed. For now though, I'm going to see if I can't find Aina. So long!"
Sterling nods, digging into his stew again. "Y'know anybody good at findin' folks?" he asks around a mouthful of stew. "'Cos those Multi-whatever people, they need some serious ass-kickin'." He grabs a handful of spicy fries, waving at Kethren with his spoon. "See ya, Keth."
"If I did, would 'ave found already. I 'ave spared little expen--- oh, er, sorry, Monsieur Kethren, distracted. Travel safely then, ne?" Joca finishes off the last piece of chicken and starts picking at the fries, although seems less interested in them now.
The spoon scrapes the sides of the bowl as Sterling tries to get every last meaty dollop of stew. "Yeh, I guess y'woulda." He lets the spoon drop into the empty bowl and sits back, watching Jocaira pick at the fries.
Jocaira nods a bit, and then snaps a fry in half before picking up the bowl and bringing it back to the fridge. "Pah. Not as 'ungry as I thought," she grumbles, before shrugging. "Ahn, what is sere to do, ne? Time will tell."
Sterling gazes over his shoulder at her. "Sorry, love," he says.
Xanya arrives from Virtual Reality Tactics Room.
Xanya has arrived.
Sterling and Joca are in the mess hall, Sterling seated at a table, Joca standing near the fridge.
Jocaira shakes her head. "Is fine. It 'appens. We are not in peaceful line of work, alsough sis 'ad nussing to do wis work, ne?" She puts whatever plate she was holding away, and heads back to the table. It's late, and there aren't a lot of people around. Most of the people around are in pajamas, shorts, or in Joca's case, a towel. "Is all right."
"I never was much good at detective work meself," Sterling says, nudging the spoon in the empty bowl with a finger so that it spins around the bowl's edge, making a metallic-ceramic ringing sound. "I had people t'do that stuff for me, back 'ome. We had a hell of a time trackin' down th'Rax." He scowls into the bowl, then looks up at Joca. "But they're all dead now, eh?" He smiles, albeit a bit reluctantly. "This is The Future."
Xanya walks into the lobby and looks around. Not seeing many people she wonders if they might be closed already.
Since most of the mercenaries live onsite, the place isn't really 'closed,' ever, per se. There is however a point at which legitimate business no longer takes place, and this is... probably the case at this time. Joca sighs, quietly. "Is all right. We'll... find sem. And yes, sis is se future, and at least our old enemies by now are dead. Enough time to make new ones, ne?" She looks up at the movement in the lobby. "Ahn, 'allo, Madame Xanya, you 'ave come back. You want somesing to eat? Drink?"
Sterling notices movement in the lobby and leans to one side to peer around Joca at Xanya. "G'day," he calls. "That's th'trouble," he says to Joca. "Always time t'make new enemies." He gets up and picks up the bowl and spoon, and carries them to the counter, where he sets them down.
Xanya nods smiling to joca. "Sure, a drink sounds fine with me. how are you two doing?"
"Just 'aving a little snack before bed," Joca replies, mustering up a smile. "Eeehn, you said you 'ad questions, before, Madame Xanya? What kind of question?"
Sterling opens the refrigerator. "What's yer pleasure?" he asks Xanya. "There's at least three kindsa beer in 'ere, an' somethin' ... green, and... who the hell put bottled water in here?" He pulls his head out of the fridge and gives Joca a puzzled look. "Maybe it's not water." He looks back at Xanya. "Maybe it's better y'shouldn't know."
Xanya nods to joca. "I do indeed. I am hoping to start the construction of a spacestation in orbit of Baile soon. and since I have no idea how others will react to it I was wondering about some initial protection options. or... perhaps some help in getting some security set up." He asks joca and then turns to Sterling. "ahm... lets be a bit crazy, I'll try that green stuff."
"Ahn, but of -course-, we can make arrangement for additional security for you. We also protect Sanctuarie Station, so I 'ave plenty of people who can work in sat environment. Er... do you need security before or -after- is built? Be kind of tricky for before, I sink. Who are you worried about reacting?" Joca says, canting her head to the side. She shrugs at the questions about what drinks are in the fridge. "I do not know, sere are a few people who don't drink. Might be watair."
Sterling stares at Xanya in some surprise. "Orright," he replies, his Australian accent mangling his words in typical fashion. He takes out a tall, thin cylinder filled with a green liquid and walks across the mess hall to hand it to her. "It's your doctor bill." He cocks his head to the side. "Space station, eh? Around Baile?" He laughs. "Y'buildin' it outta trees?"
Xanya giggles a bit at sterlings joke. "no no. not out of trees. it's a station In orbit I'm not going to risk lives with experimental materials. even thought it might work. At least the main structure will not be. I didn't think about some of the internal areas. Anyway. "She says and takes the glass and looks to joca." Well. your probbably right and it might be difficult to have security before or during construction. But as soon as it's build it would be nice. who do I want to protect it from? Well it's a construction yard and there will be a showroom containing actual ships. Plus, I will try to get a refuel and repair shop there as well. so basicly I want it to be protected from anyone who thinks they might be able to get free materials or a free ship. If you know what I mean. I'm not expecting anyone to attack the station. but then again, you never know, right?"
"Oh, is sat all? Psh sure sat would be very simple to do. And since you are wis Danu you get se discount for being se ally, but of course. I will draw up some diffairent packages for you, 'ow many shifts you want, 'ow armed you want sem, and so on," Joca says, hiding a bit of a yawn behind her hand. "In se morning, per'aps. I do no 'ave any sense for numbairs right now."
"Some people'll take anything that ain't nailed down or on fire," Sterling asserts. He glances to Jocaira. "Don't yawn; yer makin' me wanna yawn," he complains, making a face in an attempt to fight back a yawn, but failing.
Xanya listens to joca's questions and thinks a bit. "Well since I prefere to have the station opened 24/7 I am thinking of.... I don't know 3 or 4 shifts per day? and how armed? well I prefere if there main weapons wil be of the non lethal kind, like stunguns or dart riffles. But for extreme cases, Like a hostile take over or heavely armed groups invading the station. I will except the use of lethal weapons. But I prefere the non lethal kind."
Jocaira nods. She is apparently taking mental notes as there's nowhere for her to hide a notepad in her towel. "Hokay," she says, making a face at James when he tries to tell her not to yawn. "We can cover an all day shift rota sis is fine. Also you can make judgment call on quartair or no quartair, sis is also fine. I do 'ave professionals who are trained in... nonlethal combats." There's another face, this time, apparently, at the concept of nonlethal enforcement. "Tell me 'ow many people you will want and I will get proposal togeser for you."
"G'night, ladies," Sterling says, heading out of the mess hall toward the barracks. He grins at Jocaira. "Gonna dream o' beatin' bad guys t'bits in me shiny new armour tonight."
Xanya thinks a bit. "ahm... mind if I get back to you on that? it might be only 6 but I could end up deciding about more. it depends on the size of the station. oh and I'm also willing to get your recomendations on the security aspects, since i have no experiance with it."
"But yes, I would like to know 'ow big your station is going to be before I tell you what will be se most effective," Joca says, stifling another yawn before rising. "But now is late, and is not time for logistic talk. I will get some sings togeser and get back to you, ne? Goodnight, Monsieur James, Madame Xanya."
Xanya stands up and nods. "thats fine. Good night you two." She says and leaves as well.