Blowing off Steam

Discussion in 'Open Roleplay' started by Morne du Plessis, Feb 19, 2018.

  1. Souzan Afshani

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    Souzan was flushing. Great, just great, now a Martian had torpedoed her dealings with Tycho’s hotshot and possible mayor employer.

    After the martian navy had blown a moon apart just after her boots had left it. But she gave them credit for not torpedoing them after that. She forcefully pushed those thoughts aside, this was not the time and place.

    Morne had pushed her the massage but she suddenly felt insecure. Did this guy – who was a big level OPA faction leader, everybody knew that – be impressed or even still willing to give someone any kind or serious job that was… uh… affiliating? With Martians?
    Souzan never had any intention to become "hardcore OPA”; if anything, she still wanted to keep out of any mess as good as possible but could she? And then, was that Aurelia’s fault? Did Aurelia even know who DuPlessis was?

    “Yeah great, thanks, okay, we talk, sasa.” She called after Du Plessis, checking the incoming note on her terminal before turning to Aurelia.

    “Oye! So. You’re here, huh?” She nodded with a hand, absent mindedly – like a total idiot. She had to gather herself first, still being shaken from the Phoebe incident didn’t help.

    “Uh, I think about joining the Tycho team.” She said to Aurelia. “But das not the place to have job interviews….”

    “Even less so if a distraction like you comes floating in.” She offered her bulb for a cheer and winked.

    @Morne du Plessis @Aurelia Juarez
     
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  2. Miriam Preston

    Miriam Preston Earther, Medic

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    Dr. Preston did not often fraternize with the locals. In fact, she’d thought she’d learn to find the Belter Creole endearing, but over time, it just grated on her nerves. And she’d treated a lot of them over the last five years of being stationed on Tycho. But it always seemed a little less irksome if they kept their mouths shut during an examination.

    Of course, she had her favorites as well, repeat offenders who seemed to court danger at every turn within the more high-risk sectors at Tycho. Between cosmic radiation and space fungus, Roko Vosson was one of the regulars to her medbay, flirting with her and then barking out a “Taki, Tumang!” as he wheeled out the door before his bandages were even dry. Roko always managed to put a smile on her face, despite the gravely twang. She’d hoped the rumors of his death were unfounded.

    The club was cavernous enough to hide and instead of dancing the blonde medic gravitated towards one of the many bars. She sat down on a stool, crossed her legs, the heel of one boot tapping the metal surface before her. Dr. Preston would be shipping off soon if the Spitfire Captain - or one of his or her crew - answered her transmission.

    “One Lemon Andromeda, not very strong please.”

    The bartender shrugged, not used to anyone ordering a watered down drink, but if she were to embark upon a long space journey in the coming days, Miriam could not afford to get sick. The last time she attempted intergalactic travel for a vacation the space sickness had her turning back the very first day.

    And you call yourself a doctor, she smirked to herself, swirling the little red straw around the frosty, liquid concoction.

    @Luke Jakoby @Esper
     
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  3. Esper

    Esper Captain of the Spitfire

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    Tucking the loose strands of her hair behind one ear, Esper contemplated Luke's words regarding their client and the lack of funds. She sighed heavily, slouching back against the bar, both elbows propping her up as she did so. Her eyes drifted across the myriad of faces and contorting bodies. The lankiness of third and fourth generation belters something she still found strange and unnerving, yet a little bit fascinating. When Luke asked her a question, she tilted her head and peered at him sidelong, noting his grin.

    "You'd do well to wipe that grin off your face, captain."
    She said, reaching into a pocket and producing a small black box. "It cost everything I had, but it'll work." She slides the box across the bartop toward Luke, releasing ownership over to him. He had tasked her with finding a weapons guidance system to improve their ships weapon's array. Having no formal gunner, it was a necessary implementation. "Target tracking and guidance systems. You should be able to get this wired in. It's a couple generations old, but it's Martian so you know it's good."

    She didn't bother telling him that despite using up all her funds to purchase it, she had to do a little arm twisting as well. She got a good deal. She wasn't good at haggling, but she was good at getting what she wanted.

    "Also, you saw the transmission, yes?"
    She quips, changing subjects. "If you bring on more hires you better be able to pay me still." At last she shows a little smirk of her own, and proves she isn't entirely a kill-joy.
    @Luke Jakoby @Miriam Preston
     
  4. Rachel Lei

    Rachel Lei Free Agent of Providentia

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    Rachel laughed. He actually had the nerve to talk back to her, a Martian in a room full of Belters, many of them armed OPA at that. He had cojones, she gave him that. The other one however, said nothing, just stared at her and the tall Martian with a blank, stupid stare. He obviously wasn't wanting to get involved, he must have been the smarter of the pair. "Xiya na pelésh to, paxoníseki. Your Duster buddies up in the void almost blew us to pieces, we got off Phoebe just in time, no thanks to any of you. Dis is our party. So why you here?"

    A semi-circle was starting to form around Rachel and the two Martians at the bar. Belter neck tattoos being brandished, other belters rolling up their sleeves displaying the split circle of the OPA tattooed to their arms. The tension was rising in time with the music, however Rachel's grin spread wider, reaching behind her back to flick the safety off her hand-cannon. These were her people, there was no way a couple of Martians were going to crash their party without answering some hard questions. Some were calling out now; "Inyalowda pensa beltalowda towchu imalowda!", "Milowda gonya leva xox!"

    Rachel was drunk now, on both the alcohol and the surrounding atmosphere. She was surprised no-one from Tycho had come over to break things up, but maybe they had also noticed the intrusion of Inya's at the event and decided to let things play out. Rachel didn't think about it too long, instead taking advantage of the slowly building crowd around her.
    "Remember the Cant!" She shouted, a cheer came in response. "Du ferí da Belte!" Another cheer, this time louder. Slowly the cheering grew to a roar, and then a chant of "OPA! OPA!" Rachel was giddy, looking around from side to side at the fury and excitement her confrontation with the Dusters had caused. She locked eyes with the Martian once again, before downing the last of her pint and smashing it on the floor in front of her. "What you still doing here, Duster?"

    @Jack Harper @Jacob Dawes
     
    #24 Rachel Lei, Mar 5, 2018
    Last edited: Mar 5, 2018
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  5. Violet

    Violet Mackenzie

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    For most of the night, Violet had been keeping to herself in a relatively "quiet" corner of the nightclub. The music was still so loud that she couldn't hear herself think, and she could feel the bass thrumming in her chest. At least no one tried to talk to her. This was hardly her scene and the mass of OPA belters crammed into such a small space was more than a little uncomfortable. It wasn't really a place where she could cut loose and relax, since she was focused on keeping her head down and avoiding drawing attention to herself.

    A glass of what the bartender had told her was scotch was resting on the table in front of her, mostly untouched. The redhead didn't know what the drink actually was, but the first sip had made it quite obvious that it wasn't scotch.

    There was a tension boiling in the air and her eyes flicked over to the familiar face of Rachel through the growing crowd, as she started shouting at a cluster of what Violet could only assume were martians. The woman was clearly intoxicated and looking for a fight. Violet sighed internally, shaking her head to herself as she took a quick sip of the amber colored liquid, the impostor-scotch. The foul taste forced her to wrinkle her freckled nose with disdain.

    Part of her considered intervening and trying to cool Rachel off, but she thought better of it.

    While it was true, Violet's peculiar build could lend her towards being a rather short belter, the accent made her parental heritage a bit more difficult to obscure. It wouldn't matter to an enraged mob of Belters that Violet had only set foot on Earth's surface twice in her life -- both occasions had been horrid experiences. It wouldn't matter that she had been raised on a small cargo ship and hadn't grown up in any sort of gravity well to speak of what-so-ever. To them, she was just as much an Inya as Dieter, or those other Martians that were currently the focus of their ire.

    She recognized trouble when she saw it.

    Not wanting to get dragged into another fight, Violet pushed her half-finished drink aside and climbed out of her booth. Chants of "OPA! OPA!" filled the air, mixing together with the drumming beats of the music. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up with anxiety. The mechanic slipped through the roiling crowds of gathering belters towards the exit, taking care to not bump into anyone if she could avoid it.

    Best to get, while the getting was good.
     
  6. Luke Jakoby

    Luke Jakoby strapped to an engine, trying to steer

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    "You didn't...? You did!"

    Luke turned his head, leaning toward Esper as she spoke, straining to hear above the thumping music. She mentioned the task he had enquired about, producing the small slave system that would allow him to adjust the ships systems when running on a skeleton crew - and the young Earther could only grin more, as he reached out, held it up like it was a rare diamond, before sliding it carefully into his jacket pocket.

    "Esper, I swear, if I wasn't afraid you'd snap me over this bar, I'd kiss you," He said excitedly, holding a palm to the device within his jacket, as though ensuring it was still there. "I'll make it up to you. Promise. And don't worry about the version, I can handle that... I'll bring it up to snuff."

    When the Martian mentioned the tight-beam transmissions, Luke nodded. He'd been keeping an eye on them, and believed he had seen the good doctor herself not far along the bar, dressed in that blatantly obvious lab coat. Still, it beat walking up to each blond female and asking if she was a doctor - it would definitely come off as a cheap pick-up line, and would probably get Luke punched, or worse.

    "Well, I know we need a medical officer, but I doubt Doc Preston is our gal," Luke said, shrugging. "She only wants transport, so unless the stars align, we'll probably have to keep an eye out once the job is done... speaking of, there she is."

    Standing up, Luke was about to walk over to the contact in the lab coat, when all hell broke lose. Several seats away, a group had started surrounding a - from the look of them - pair of Martians, to which the Earther grew immediately concerned for Esper. Reaching out to his crew member, Luke frowned as he leaned in close and spoke lowly in her ear.

    "Maybe it's a good idea to move along the bar to the doc? Maybe keep out of what's about to happen?" And while Luke didn't want to make it about race, he hoped it was more concern that showed through. "If you can talk to Preston, work out the details and close the contract, I'll see what I can do about this keg that's about to explode..."

    Standing straight, Luke walked toward the semi-circle, pushing his way through, keeping his hand over his jacket pocket - couldn't be too careful. When he'd managed to move into the immediate area, the pint glass smashing not far from his boots, the Earther looked to the loudest voice and immediately recognized patches and who they belonged to...

    "You're one of the Saxon crew, yeah?" Luke shouted, pointing to the Belter female who was rallying the crowd. "I know your Captain. Is this how he expects his people to operate? Picking a fight and calling on a mob to help win it?"

    Luke could see there was rage there. The chances of stopping a fight were not likely, but maybe he could talk it down from a full-out bar brawl...

    "Fairs fair, Saxon. You want the blood, you throw the punches. Don't hide behind the crowd," He continued, before shrugging. "Us OPA aren't afraid to back up our own words... so prove you've got the walk, and do this properly. Mano-e-Mano."

     
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  7. Ilona Lisowska

    Ilona Lisowska OPA Saboteur

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    llona came to when someone hammered on the cubicle door. Sitting up, she moaned incoherently only for barked words in Belter Creole to be shouted from the other side of the door. "Mleawargh" she managed to get out, hocking up a gobby and spitting to clear her mouth. Getting up too fast proved to be a bad idea, her head was spinning so much that she nearly took a tumble again.

    "Xelíxup" she mumbled before opening the door. An irate woman was standing there, Ilona held up her hands to ward off the protests. She ignored the comments screeched as the woman got to see the state of the cubicle. Ilona just kept walking to the sink where she did her best to rinse her face and get the taste out of her mouth.

    The six foot plus Belter did her best to walk with a swagger as she left the toilets as if nothing had happened. True to form she blundered right into trouble. She lazily raised her hand in acknowledgement of the same old slogans she roared herself from time to time. Ilona had stumbled right onto the side that @Luke Jakoby , @Jack Harper , and @Jacob Dawes were on. It seemed like the natural thing to do, you always backed the underdog. She winced as the glass smashed off the floor, at least it'd been empty.

    The comment in English did it. A disorientated Ilona went on autopilot. "Ya, xalte ere gova da Cant!" she barked at @Rachel Lei 's side of the group, prompting one or two puzzled looks from Belters there. She folded her arms and gave her best glowering stare, an effect ruined by the pallid Belter looking like she was about to keel over. Eurgh, her head hurt. And the accents around her seemed all wrong. "Milowda dansa?" she demanded, her arms moving in a 'come on' gesture.
     
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  8. Rachel Lei

    Rachel Lei Free Agent of Providentia

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    Rachel stared at the two martians, waiting for something to happen, her grin turning into a scowl. The crowd was closing in, pushing her towards the Martians at the bar who for now, had kept their mouths shut. Infuriating as it was, Rachel was starting to grow impatient with the inya's silence, her hands itched so she balled them into fists and squared up, settling her centre of gravity into her hips and took a step forward, but her path was immediately blocked by another inya, this one was stockier than the Martians, a similar body shape to the Cap...an Earther.

    Rachel blinked, staring at the man for a moment in partial confusion and frustration. "You don't know what you're pashang talking about Eart'er, this doesn't concern you." Her vision was getting unsteady, the adrenalin pumping through her veins was starting to subside, the crowd quietening down as they realised that perhaps there wasn't going to be a inya beat-up and that these people might in fact just talk things like like civilised people. Rachel stared at the man for a few moments, her gaze full of fire and hate. She hadn't been this angry in a long time, but almost dying? That does weird things to people, their methods of coping come to the surface in weird and unexpected ways. Turns out Rachels method of coping with trauma was getting into fights, you learn something new about yourself every day. The chanting was dying down, but still the Earther stared back at her, not breaking eye contact. The Martians, frustratingly, still leaned on the bar sipping their drinks and smoking their cigarettes, like this was all some zoo exhibit. A belter was standing with them now, the tall blonde junkie that had shot up Phoebe station when she was high on amphetamines the moment the airlock was breached, confusingly she was shouting OPA slogans...back at the OPA behind Rachel. The Martians seemed to find this exceptionally amusing as well, looking at the belter, to Rachel, to the Earther and back. Pashang cowards...She thought.

    She surprised herself with the speed, grace and impulsiveness of her movements, within a microsecond her fist was speeding towards the Earthers face. A microsecond later, another arm reached out of nowhere and caught it mid air, throwing her off balance as all her momentum was rebounded back into her shoulder, but before she could hit the deck, another arm caught her. "XO you are dismissed, get the fuck outta here. Now." The last word was a growl with enough fury to send a reactor into meltdown. Her Captain had spoken.
     
    #28 Rachel Lei, Mar 5, 2018
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 5, 2018
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  9. Cpt_Buttersworth

    Cpt_Buttersworth Moderating the shipping lanes

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    Captain Buttersworth stood there for a minute, watching as his XO ascended to stairs leading to the exit, and disappeared through the large metal door at the top. Shaking his head he looked back to the man who stood not far from him and raised his hands in the Belter sign for apology. "She's a wildcard Luke, but she's a hell of a soldier when she wants to be."

    Something crunched under Captain Buttersworth's boot. Looking down he saw the smashed remains of a pint glass, the shattered logo of "New Providence Ale" still partially discernible. He let out a sigh and bent down to pick up the shard with the largest part of the logo visible. A large sailing ship, like those that used to ply the seas of Earth before steam and fossil fuels became common, rising a on a great wave, its sails adorned with the skull and crossbones of a pirate vessel. "But thats the risk you take when you employe a ship full of pirates, and make one of them your XO. Can I buy you a drink?"

    The two Earthers made their way to a bar, far away from the Martians. Buttersworth motioned for two beverages and then leaned on the plastic surface, feeling the vibrations of the music move up into his arm. "It's been a long time Lukas, how've you been? Still flying the Spitfire I see."
     
    #29 Cpt_Buttersworth, Mar 5, 2018
    Last edited: Mar 6, 2018
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  10. Luke Jakoby

    Luke Jakoby strapped to an engine, trying to steer

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    "You don't know what you're pashang talking about Eart'er, this doesn't concern you."

    Luke shrugged.

    "I'm OPA. I think my opinion has some merit."

    Luke stood his ground, he didn't flinch. You didn't become a great pilot by turning away when things got dicey. Bar brawls, though, probably not as good a result, especially considering fighting wasn't exactly the Earther's strength... still, the effect seemed to be working, as the Belters began to slowly lower their chanting and demands.

    The arrival of the blond Belter, who appeared vacant in the eyes and more than a little unsteady, had probably helped as well. The Cant was a pretty sore topic, and a very good demonstration of how things could escalate quickly without proper information. Luke hadn't considered mentioning it, really, but figured that combined with his attempts, perhaps it had turned the situat--

    Nope.

    Suddenly a fist was flying toward Luke's face, the Saxon crewer coming in full-force, her anger redirected. Clearly she wanted a fight, but the Earther had no idea why, instead solely trying to deflect mass hysteria away from sending Martians indiscriminately out of airlocks. Not for the sake of the two guys at the bar, but because of Esper, who could very likely be caught up in the rage and hate being thrown at Martians presently.

    Keeping his stare on the woman punching, Luke prepared himself for a broken nose, as much as he could within that split second. To say he hadn't been prepared to be punched wasn't true. But, that didn't mean he liked it happening...

    But the hit never came.

    With a flurry of activity, words and a direct command, the fight was ended. The Saxon crewer - who turned out to be the XO, no less - was sent packing, and the Captain stood in front of Luke, offering an apology and an invitation to drink.

    "She's a wildcard Luke, but she's a hell of a soldier when she wants to be. But thats the risk you take when you employe a ship full of pirates, and make one of them your XO. Can I buy you a drink?"

    Luke nodded, glancing to the pair of Martians at the bar. They seemed very disinterested in the event, and the Earther hoped he hadn't stuck his neck out for nothing. Well, no he hadn't, the whole point had been to protect his crew from being pulled into the storm. Luke stood beside the new arrival, giving a smile.

    "It's been a long time Lukas, how've you been? Still flying the Spitfire I see."

    "It has, at least six or so months," Luke said, nodding. He accepted the drink that was placed in front of him, offering a cheers to his fellow Earther. "And yeah, the Spitfire's still going strong. Had a close call near Earth a little while back, but managed to avoid becoming dust and particles in the void by avoiding some pirates. Weren't yours, were they?"

    Taking a mouthful from the drink, Luke could feel his body shaking as the adrenaline began to slow down, his left hand in particular giving him trouble as he made a fist. It would pass soon, and always happened when tense situations started away from his ship - because behind those controls in a pinch, Luke was ice. But without that viewport protecting his face, he wasn't as comfortable.

    "Thanks for stepping in, I didn't fancy a busted face today," Luke said dryly, smirking as he sipped the drink again. "Oh, and I saw the Saxon on the way in, Bart... what happened? The damage looks nasty."

     
    #30 Luke Jakoby, Mar 6, 2018
    Last edited: Mar 6, 2018
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  11. Miriam Preston

    Miriam Preston Earther, Medic

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    The noise of a commotion broke Dr. Preston out of her musings, causing her arm to jerk and a few splashes of Lemon Andromeda to land on that pristine white coat. As she turned her head to see what was happening, she absent-mindedly dabbed at the stain with a handful of napkins, far too many to be seen frugal. This right here was one of the reasons she wanted to get off Tycho. Even though it wasn’t as dangerous as Ceres, she felt that it was just a matter of time before the station was plagued by something - unrest, rebellion, a strike, you name it. Day to day at Tycho felt like not just walking a taut wire, but as though that wire was inside of her, an overly wound guitar string, with management twisting and twisting until it was in danger of snapping.

    Miriam hoped she would not have to be stitching up cuts and patching bruises well into the night.

    Placing her drink back down upon the bar, she stood and watched. Her grasp of Belter was rudimentary at best. The crash of a glass breaking signaled escalation that made her stomach sink.
    A young man sidestepped the flying shards and Dr. Preston thought - with nothing more than a fragile intuition - that he may have been Captain Jakoby. But if he was, his growing involvement in the fracas gave her pause. She needed the cargo haul to go smoothly. Was he trying to decrease the tension or was the spacer jockey getting caught up in the adrenaline of the moment?

    A woman stood by his side, seemingly not impressed, but her expression was more difficult to read.

    Miriam took a couple of steps forward, but giving a wide berth to the shouts and shattering glass, especially after a punch nearly landed on the man’s face, stopped short by another Captain. The group of them retreated back to the bar where they became lost in conversation. Dr. Preston nodded at the dark-haired woman, the exact color of her locks difficult to make out in the dim light. She sipped the sweetly sour drink again, letting the alcohol soothe her own frazzled nerves and pushed it away again as though to say “no more.”

    @Esper @Luke Jakoby @Rachel Lei @Jack Harper @Jacob Dawes @Cpt_Buttersworth

     
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  12. Esper

    Esper Captain of the Spitfire

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    With only a slight nod, Esper watched as Luke did what Luke was apt to do; put his nose into business that wasn't really his. She could hear the shouting over the music, and knew what it was about. Turning her head away and leaning forward, she let her hair fall loose around her face, concealing it a bit as she stood and stepped away. It wasn't fear that drove her to these actions, but just a general distaste for people and having to interact with them.

    Esper didn't hate any particular person. A person could be smart, useful, and compelling. But a mob? People en masse were stupid and counter productive. In her mind, she would just rather have no part in such a thing. Perhaps that's why she sought out her new role aboard the small ship. Comfort wasn't always found in posh, over abundance.

    With a vague sort of tracking on what was going on behind her, Esper let Luke take care of himself as she made her way toward the doctor. The white lab coat was quaint. It made finding Miriam easy, though, and for that Esper was glad. She didn't want to have to interact with strangers in the first place, but at least this particular stranger had money.

    As Esper drew near, she watched Miriam push away the drink she had been nursing. Coming along side the woman, Esper spoke "I've always liked my doctors sober." Her voice is loud enough to be heard over the music, but monotone and dry. Was she joking?

    "I'm Esper. You're looking to contract transportation aboard the Spitfire, yes?" She then asks.

    @Luke Jakoby @Miriam Preston
     
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  13. Aurelia Juarez

    Aurelia Juarez Hammer and Nails

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    Aurelia gave Souzan a wink, "best sorta distraction."

    It wasn't long after that that she overheard @Rachel Lei and a few others strike it up with that Cant bullshit. And then @Ilona Lisowska and a few other Belters. It started to remind her of just why she had wanted to fight, her own fists curled into a ball and the Marine was very much becoming a pitbull. A small snarl escaped her, but she took to drink instead, chasing down the Craked Core with a double shot of Whiskey, straight. She took a deep breath and exhaled, @Souzan Afshani was now her distraction from an ever increasing hostile atmosphere.

    Earthers she didn't mind so much, they were mostly wallflowers but these belters? "But uh, I'll leave you to your business with this gentlemen here." Aurelia gestured in the direction of @Morne du Plessis and tugged at her jacket, "I'm gonna take a step outside get a breather."
     
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  14. Souzan Afshani

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    Somewhere through the Rocketfuel induced fog Souzan realized that some reacted less than peasant at the presence of a Martian. She was uttring "Hey" at nothing and nobody in particular, trying to steady her vision.

    When She saw aurelia straighten her jacket she was trying put an arm around the Martian's shoulders. "Oy, we jus' got here." she was painting figure eights in the air with her near empty glass. "Us nee to burn second stage firest okay, so we can reach escape velocity. Maybe the we can get into.... orbit" she was circling the glass.

    "and I need to tell you abou' this pashang close call I had, having a moon shot away right under my feet."
    Something in the back of her brain was trying to tell her that this was messed up and not the place or the audience but well.

    @Aurelia Juarez
     
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  15. Cpt_Buttersworth

    Cpt_Buttersworth Moderating the shipping lanes

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    Buttersworth laughed drily and took a large swig of his drink, before turning around and facing the rest of the party, his back leaning on the bar. "Well matey, it's a long story...one I was hoping wouldn't end up with me back on this tin can, much less with a beaten up ship. lets see..." Another swig, this time longer.

    "This has actually been one of the longer times we've been away from new Providence...I'm hoping to get back there once the Saxon is able. After leaving port, we called into Politian Station first, dropped off some of our produce as per normal. Absolutely nothing abnormal to report, we left without anything fancy happening and burned hard for Io, where the majority of our cargo was destined. Ended up getting the shit kicked out of me by some belters. Still no idea why, though needless to say I was very, very drunk."

    Buttersworth finished his beverage, turned around and waved down the bartender for another. For a moment he leaned back and started at Luke awkwardly for a moment until the other Captain got the idea and politely declined a second beverage, he had barely made it half way through his first. A moment later Buttersworth had resumed his original position, a foamy beer cradled in the man's calloused hands. "After that we plotted a course home, then we received the news." Luke's eyebrows raised in question, but he said nothing. "Fred Johnson had been assassinated, remember that? Seems like a while ago now. Honestly I'm surprised this place is still here. So in the hope that the old man had somehow not died yet, we answered his distress call and burned hard for Tycho."

    The Captain laughed and shook his head, a distant look in his eyes for a moment, before realising he was staring at a couple of belter girls for too long, and shook himself back to reality. "We ended up in a punch out with three bandits...er...renegade OPA ships with torpedoes and PDC's bolted on the side...wait I shouldn't have to explain that to you...where was I? Yes, everyone was getting out of dodge, those ships we managed to take out were creating a massive debris field around the station, and we barely made it to dock."

    Luke looked like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. The Pirate Captain was a known drunk, sure, but he was not one to tell tall tales, especially when it came to the reputation of his ship. "Bear with me Luke, we aren't even at the good part yet. Y'sure you don't want a drink? Ugh fine. Okay so, we helped a lovely group of individuals steal a ship and escape, we escorted them to Ceres to pick up some contraband and get back home, but low and behold the fucking MCRN puts a blockade on the entire goddamn station. The entire station! We were trapped along with the other 8 million or so poor souls." The Captain drunk deeply from his pint glass, a moustache of foam covering his already thick moustache. Wiping it off his jacket sleeve, he belched loudly, and continued regaling Luke with his tale.

    "Eventually the Martians packed up and left, not before the crew of the Albatross...that we managed to help escape got shot to hell in a riot, so after patching them up we lit the drive and burnt for New Providence...about an hour into the burn we got a tight beam from Tycho, Fred's loyalists had reestablished control over the station, thankfully. They were calling us back due to our role in the uprising, with a promise of great wealth, they wouldn't tell us why, just that we would be filled in on arrival." He finished the second glass, slid it across the bar towards the barkeep and motioned for a third, "Actually barkeep, just keep filling 'em up and sliding 'em over. It's going to be a long night and I was promised an endless supply."

    Turning back to Luke, he dove into another pint and continued the story. "So imagine you were me, when a fucking OPA conclave is called, and we're stuck in the bloody centre of it. That twat Du Plessis wanted us to assault a private research station! On Phoebe! I told him to go fuck himself and left, but Rachel, bless her hot head, wanted payback. She must have seen a lot of friends gunned down on Ceres or Tycho earlier and was itching for a fight. So I let her and a few of the crew go with her. A few weeks later the New Providence sensor network picks up her distress signal...I" another sip, another belch, "swoop in with the Saxon to pick her up and there are several warships closing on the station, and a dropship on the surface, a dropship that managed to blow off my starboard thruster assembly."

    The man then bent over, groaning uncomfortably, his hands on his knees. Luke asked his he was okay, and in response Buttersworth raises a hand to quiet him and remains bent over for a couple of minutes. Rising back up to a standing position, the Captain belched again, this time taking several seconds. "Bloody hell, that took way to long to come out. Ah yes, so now the Saxon is cartwheeling down to the surface of the moon and slams into it at a couple of hundred kilometres an hour, thats all the scrapes and holes you saw. We carved a several-hundred-metre gash into the face of the bloody moon, rescued those idiots who got Rachel fired up, and flew them back here. And this is their thank you. A bloody party! Hah! Rachel has yet to tell me of her compensation, but Tycho's gonna get a surprise when they see the bill for the Saxon's repairs!" The Captain roared with laughter for moment and collected himself. "So thats my story, honestly I can't wait to see the end of this damn tin can, its been the centre of too much bullshit for too long. Next stop is probably Eros to see what the hell is doing on there, before slingshotting around it and heading back to New Providence." The man finished his pint and slammed it down on the bar, noticeably intoxicated now. He reached another and then turned back to Luke, his words slightly slurred. "So thats my story so far kid, any questions?"
     
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  16. Miriam Preston

    Miriam Preston Earther, Medic

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    The Captain’s friend moved towards Miriam - second in command maybe?

    Great, let’s get this thing rolling. Dr. Preston gave a half smile at the comment on her sobriety.

    “I think I spilled more on my coat than I drank,” she remarked, preemptively pointing out the lemon-hued stain.

    “Yes I contacted Captain Jakoby to transport some medical waste. Just standard stuff really, but Gurov Chemicals pays about the highest price we can find to recycle and reuse it.” Before the woman could respond she added, “Don’t worry. Nothing in the containers are linked to the epidemic on Eros.” She did not need to deal with a skittish crew on top of the fatigue of space travel. The Dr. glanced back at the Captain still engaged in conversation. The man to whom he spoke seemed either injured or inebriated, and Miriam cocked an eyebrow at him trying to figure out which. Finally she turned back to the Spitfire crew member.

    Miriam Preston. Pleased to meet you. And you are?”

    @Esper @Luke Jakoby @Cpt_Buttersworth
     
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  17. Luke Jakoby

    Luke Jakoby strapped to an engine, trying to steer

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    Luke quite enjoyed hearing of other Captain's travels, of some of the adventures they went through, some of the scraps they survived, and generally how things were going with fellow spacers. Truth be told, the Earther didn't really associate with any of the three established factions, not insofar as wanting to dedicate to any one cause or ideal; granted, he had spent his earlier years on Earth, but for most of his teenage and adult life, Luke had been traveling from station to station, hauling cargo and other things.

    In that time, Luke - and the Spitfire - had garnered a little reputation as being good at what they did, handling some pirates of their own, and having to run from others. No one could win them all. Still, that reputation paled in comparison to the man seated beside him, of which Luke was fortunate to know on a friendly basis; and while they weren't likely to be tight-beam buddies, there was certainly a familiarity that was shared between Captains...

    So it was with a blank stare, a few blinks, and a deep gulp of beer that Luke finally spoke when Bart had finished.

    "So, uh, yeah," Luke managed, frowning as he considered the series of events, barely able to wrap his head around what had happened to the Saxon. "If you were anyone else, Bart, I'd laugh and say it was the drink talking... but damn, how the hell are you and the Saxon even here?"

    Maybe there was some truth to that Buttersworth luck, after all.

    "Luckily the Spitfire wasn't near most of those engagements, but from what I've heard they were terrible. Obviously, but being there to witness some of that first hand? I don't envy you, or the Saxon crew, having to deal with the aftermath of all that," Luke took another few gulps of beer, adjusting on the seat so he could rest a forearm on the bar. "Hell, just crash landing on the moon sounds terrifying... and speaking of Fred, do you know anything concrete? I've only heard whispers."

    The Earther didn't even know what to say. How did you follow from that? Tell the other Captain how you had a picnic run from Earth recently, and popped out the PDCs to scare off a small bandit craft, before continuing unhindered?

    "Well, I hope you and the crew are okay," Luke said, shaking his head. "Sounds like you've used up most of your luck these past few months, maybe consider laying low for a while, just to fill it up again?"

    With a chuckle, Luke finished off the drink. He wanted another, but knew a job was approaching, and he had to pilot real soon.

    "Oh, did you get the IDs of the Belters that attacked you? Wouldn't mind keeping an eye out, just in case... we've got a run coming up, so best to avoid the bandit types."

     
  18. Esper

    Esper Captain of the Spitfire

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    Drumming her fingers on the bar counter, Esper raised her eyebrows ever so slightly as Miriam inquired as to who Esper was. Was her introduction not adequate enough? Her lips showed a smirk that slowly formed as she answered.

    "Esper." She repeats, then adds "Co-pilot of the Spitfire, which you've contacted to provide transport." She then uses a thumb to indicate Luke over her shoulder, as he still conversed with someone else at the bar. "You spoke with Luke, but I'm here to get things set up."

    Esper leveled her eyes on Miriam, assessing the woman with some hinted interest. "What are you hoping to move? And where to? I'm sure we can provide you with safe and secure transportation. Our cargo bay should be more than sufficient."

    @Miriam Preston @Luke Jakoby
     
  19. Morne du Plessis

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    Raziel
    Character Biography:
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    This was all he needed. Loud mouthes chanting OPA on a Tycho bar. The last thing anyone within the organisation needed was stories of organisation resistance movements operating from the station. Enough people had known that Fred had links, but there was no point putting UN spies out the airlock I'd they just told anyone close by what they were doing.

    He tapped a few keys and sent a message to security. Within a few minutes a few plain clothes Tycho guards would be around the room watching for anyone saying too much about the OPA.

    Damned kids. Du Plessis might have done something about it himself but he had other ideas.

    "Another."

    Damn the spirits they made out in the belt were raw and fiery, but they did the job.
     
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  20. Miriam Preston

    Miriam Preston Earther, Medic

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    It was completely normal that the co-pilot was interested in Tycho’s cargo, but just how many details should Dr. Preston give? She often tiptoed the line between education and over-explanation. It had nothing to do with being secretive. Most of the time, she didn’t want to bore anyone.

    Likewise, Esper was likely wanting to know just how hazardous the medical waste was. A pretty natural request that Miriam would oblige.

    Out of her wide pocket, the one on the left right below the yellowish stain, she drew her phone and pulled up list of what Gurov wanted so the Co-pilot could add it to their manifest. “Mostly infectious waste and radioactive isotopes. Some sharps. All properly enclosed and sealed according to Tycho’s Collection and Containment Procedures, which follow the Earth guidelines for such waste. Should I send this to you? The cargo is at Loading Bay 834.”

    Glancing at the Captain deep in conversation and then back at Esper, to which Miriam gave a tight smile that signaled she was about to complain, she instead asked, “When is the soonest we can ship out?"

    @Esper @Luke Jakoby @Cpt_Buttersworth
     

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