Re: REKT: The Nemesis (Battlecarrier)
Posted: Sat Dec 29, 2018 2:59 pm
by Talvieno
Update time!
Excited, Saoirse grabs her PDA and heads over to the terminal on the left, while Caleb takes the one on the right. "Thanks for your help!" Caleb says to the librarian. "Hopefully this can help me out."
"Yeah, thanks a lot, this is really neat!" Saoirse echoes.
Anelle smiles brightly and gives an understanding nod. "I will leave you to it," she says, and walks away.
The pair work in silence for a while, setting up their PDAs to link properly. Finally, Saoirse speaks. "Well, I'm gonna study a bit then," she says, getting up and starting down the hallway. "Bye Caleb!"
"Yeah, that's what I was going to do as well," he answers, nodding. "Good luck, and I'll see you around!" He gives a wave, but unless Saoirse has eyes in the back of her head, the gesture is lost on her. Shrugging, he disconnects and heads back to his bunkroom, while Saoirse heads elsewhere - both to study and read. Caleb would also like to get some shuteye if possible.
~~~
Some study, others work.
Vynkor dons her mask and gloves and gets started on their task. She's not really sure how to start a conversation, though she'd like to. It comes across as... well, it is, rather, a bit rude. "So, how's that high-carb diet working for you, fat boy?" she asks, trying to imitate Kenji's accent.
Unamused, Ishmael sighs and puts on the gloves. "There is no need to adopt Kenji's mannerisms, child. It doesn't make you look strong, or smart. Doesn't even make you look cool. All it does is making you more likely to get stabbed in the back or abandoned on the battlefield by your comrades. Unless you are somehow indispensable (and trust me, nobody truly is, not under the Lord's all-seeing eye), nobody is going to care for another asshole walking the plank." There is a brief pause as he hefts a chunk of twisted metal piping into the cart. "Call me Dr. Ishmael. As for the diet...I hope we'll find something pasta-like on the station we are going to. Then I'll gladly share some with you, and anyone who wishes to take part in the feast."
Vynkor rolls her eyes. "You know, people of your faith made some of my best customers. I suppose it's no surprise that so many turned to piracy, but they had this weird knack for getting the shit beaten out of their ships and somehow making it back alive. The repair jobs were good for business. Just couldn't shut up about their tentacular deity, though."
And thus begins a lengthy conversation about theology. Vynkor is understandably skeptical, and the subject veers off into economics, but Ishmael ends up making a point solidly enough that Vynkor begins to open up her mind a little. Ishmael goes on, "The Lord taught us many a wondrous thing.....' I, an Invisible Giant Floating Glob of Sauce-Covered Noodles and Round Meat, have no need for your money or resources, BUT, your fellow humans do. I appreciate your love and praise and such, but lots of people right around your immediate vicinity need your love and worldy resources a whole lot more...' - The Book of Solipsy, lines 62 to 63 - even in my late age, I do remember them vividly! - is a small nugget of hard economic truth. And there are many others, too. But I shall not tire you with it unless you really do want to hear more."
Taken aback by how this actually sounds less like a scam and more like something actually reasonable, Vynkor nods, and is just about to say something to that effect when both inmates are interrupted by a third, louder inmate. There is always a bigger louder fish.
"BOB WANT WORK!" Bob screeches, storming into the room. "GIVE BOB WORK! NOW!"
"GAH!" Vynkor shouts, startled, and nearly messes up her wrist when the cutter catches. She considers shouting at him, but instead just orders, "Pick the scrap up and put it in the carts. Gloves and masks are over there too, unless you want to get metal in your eyes."
Bob obediently obeys and starts heaving enormous chunks into the cart - far more than either Vynkor or Ishmael could've managed to lift by themselves. The cart quickly begins to fill.
Sometimes there are much quieter fish, too. It isn't long before Gene finally shows back up. He got distracted with fuming about being on garbage patrol, and lost his way following them. Fortunately, Bob's shout was pretty sufficient to help clue him in as to where they were, and his PDA showed them on its map anyway. "So, uh, hey guys," he says in an awkward manner, apparently his modus operandi. "Need help?"
It's a funny statement, given the fact that he's on crutches at the moment, but hey, the more the merrier!
~~~
Some time later, Saoirse finds herself down in her bunk (which she and Bob cleaned up prior to the Huhoba mission), unaware that Caleb has bunked up only down the hallway. Caleb is trying quite hard to learn a variety of subjects on which material is not very forthcoming. It's... frustrating, to say the least. At long last, he puts aside his PDA and just decides to get some shuteye, while Saoirse records a tearful message for her family.
"Hey mom and dad! Er... it's me. I'm not sure when this message will reach you, if I can get it to you - today is... 01-08, 3152. I'm sorry it's been so long since you heard from me, but... I'm not dead! After they sent me to Tartarus I was put in the REKT program... but then was volunteered for testing cryo tech... I know it sounds made up, but it's true! I was in a cryopod for four years and I missed all of that time... They only woke me up two days ago because they needed more REKT people because we're in a spot of trouble. But I'm fine, and I even made one or two friends here already I think..."
She goes on for a bit about their situation, and the people she's met. She talks about Bob, and how she's starting to feel fond of him, and about Caleb, and Ishmael, but carefully avoids mentioning what happened to Gearhead and Lemons. Just in case she can find a way to get the message out, she doesn't want to worry her folks. Then, after singing a short bit of a song (and crying in the middle of it), she finishes up the message.
"I love you," she says, her voice full of emotion. "See you soon... I hope." And she ends the video recording.
Saoirse has never been away from her family for very long, and it's left a large, painful hole in her heart. With no way to fill or patch it, she lies down on the bunk in her room and tries to cover over it with sleep... and when the sleep finally comes, it is fitful.
She awakens some time later, and, after remembering where she is, she gets up and leaves, heading towards the armory. She would like some modifications made to an item before she purchases it, and she'd like to go through official channels to have it done.
~~~
Other people would not like to go through official channels. Among these is none other than...
"...The great BROM KEEGAN!" an unmistakable voice booms. "Expert marksman, professional assassin, revered hero, leader and teacher! Being that I'm in a bit of a hurry, I'll spare you my full list of titles..." He explains quickly that he has a debt to repay to a friend, and is in need of the young woman's assistance. "These are the teeth from a colossal beast I slew on my last adventure! I need some holes bored through them so that I may create a necklace. If you would be so kind as to drill the holes for me, you will be owed a favor from the legendary Brom Keegan! Ask what you wish of me, and I will come through for you!"
Naturally, the woman has never heard of Brom Keegan in particular, but the fact that he's one of the guys from Cryo is enough for her. She's fairly certain he'll be able to come through on his word. After a moment, the holes are drilled through the drakedog teeth quite cleanly. "All I ask," she says, "is that you make sure we get back home. That's all I really want."
A simple request? Not for any mere mortal, but for the Great Brom Keegan, it is a certainty! He tells the young maiden that as surely as he is the Great Brom Keegan, it shall be done.
~~~
"Sorry to trouble you," Frank says, and leaves the armory.
The lights in the hallway flicker as he leaves, wondering where to go. It drives the point home that the ship is still a total disaster. Even things like lighting and plumbing need help. It's hardly any surprise when, after thinking for a moment, Frank leaves and heads towards engineering, asking around for Antez.
When Frank finally finds him, he's in another engineering accessway - a long hexagonal tunnel of structural beams and perforated steel, dimly lit with sparse lamps. Far below, a great mass of machinery lurks, only partially visible through the floor's perforation. It makes a rhythmic clanging and a steady hum that thoroughly saturates the quiet tunnel. If one looks out sharply enough, they could occasionally see people walking around down there. This accessway, though, seems to be intended to help maintain pipes and wiring near the ceiling.
"Hello? Antez?" Frank asks cautiously from a distance, not wanting to disturb the man and his work (if it's indeed Antez - hard to tell in the dim lighting). He has a side panel peeled away and is working on some of the cabling, as are a few other people near him.
"Oh, hey," Antez says with wide smile, walking over and vigorously wiping his hands off on his clothes. "Frank, right? See you made it back in one piece. Never doubted you though. Good job on the help with getting us to space." He claps Frank on the back. "What are you down here for?"
Frank wastes no time. "Would it be possible for me to tag along? I - I'd like to make myself useful around here. People are already overworked and stressed... and I want to know more about the systems and machines here, so I can do more than just doing odds and ends..."
In a flash, Antez's genial demeanor fades a bit. "Ehhh, right... well, I know you have potential, but really, I've got everything under control." The two look over his shoulder as a pipe bursts behind him, spewing hot steam into the room. Shouting, his fellow engineers rush to lock it down. "Uhhh... well, mostly, anyway," he finishes sheepishly.
Frank sighs, looking uncomfortable. "Look, Antez... I'm not a fighter. Everyone else from the cryo-cells takes better to it - apparently even a priest. I just seem better suited for other things. I want to do my part with repairs and maintenance. I have nowhere to go anyway, but I want to get away from the fights directly. ...And some of those people."
"Hrm." Antez seems torn. It's a few moments before he responds. "Well... I don't know," he finally says. "I guess you could learn a bit? Right now we're just trying to repair leaks in some of the piping."
"Leaks?" Frank asks, prompting for more info.
The young engineer nods, and the two start walking back towards the others. "Yeah, you'd be surprised how much stress combat puts on a ship, especially of this size. These things aren't rigid bodies, you know. They get hit with a powerful enough blast, they'll bend and stress in minor ways. Usually it's not enough to notice, but if it's bad enough, things start to leak, or even rupture."
At the man's pause, the janitor nods to say he's still following along. It's too dark for Antez to notice.
"Think of it like... an earthquake," he goes on, picking up a tool and getting to work. "Except - well, a ship is a lot more brittle than soil. It shakes at first, and then it starts to tear at the seams, and if it gets bad enough, it just... splinters." He drops a damaged piece of piping down into a bin of other broken parts, and picks up a fresh tube. As he installs it, he finishes, "Regardless of how bad it is, it's our job to fix them."
"Can you tell me a little more about the specifications of the pipes?" Frank prompts. "Like... how to replace them, what I would need to use? I'm also interested in electrical wiring and... well, really anything that needs repaired."
And Frank follows him around, learning whatever he can. Antez turns out to be pretty helpful, even if a reluctant teacher. Frank turns out to be an excellent student, flying through everything. It all just fits into place in his mind, almost as if he knew it all along.
~~~
Buck is less preoccupied with learning and more exasperated at the lack of "real food" and booze. The scientists there aren't much help, Buck decides. He's not even going to bother dignifying them with a response. Instead, he looks about a bit for a bottle of ethanol - it's not booze, but... well, it's something. After a good deal of moseying about, wandering and snooping, he spies a bottle that might've gone unnoticed by someone less perceptive and scoops it up - or, tries to. In his haste to be "quick and sneaky" about it, he clumsily knocks an entire rack of bottles, tubes, and equipment onto the floor. A lot of it breaks - but by the divine grace of the FSM, nothing explodes.
"Hey, what the fukc!" someone shouts. "That guy just -"
"Wuh - heh, hey, this thing?" Buck mutters in surprise at the bottle in his pocket, as though he'd never seen it before. "Whoa, I guess it must've... slipped into my pocket or somethin'! Heh! No idea how that happened!"
"Keep it and go," someone else mutters. "You could've asked, you know." The labcoated scientist starts busying himself picking up equipment from the floor. He doesn't know it, but Buck had asked previously. It didn't go so well.
Out in the hallway, Buck takes a few swigs. All the waiting around really sucks. It's horribly boring and he'd just like to arrive on the station and get it over with. He guesses they're probably an hour or two away from docking (it's more like an entire day), and has no clue what to do for the next two hours.
Watching a movie is always a good idea, though. Maybe he'll frame it as a "documentary" so people respect him more. And thus, Buck wanders down the hallway, asking everyone he meets where he can watch a movie. Eventually he gets directed back towards the computer labs, further behind the supply offices.
~~~
"What do you mean it's not a telescope?" Saoirse says, perturbed. "Look at my PDA - it says right there - 'Remote micro imaging telescope'!"
Dennis Hoffman shakes his head and adjusts his cap. "For sure, for sure it does, lass, but that's not what it means. It's not a thing you could go lookin' at planets with. It's short-range - for close proximity."
"But it says remote telescope!"
Hoffman sighs. "It just means that you don't need t'press the thing up against something, aye? It still won't go more'n a few meters."
"I'll pay extra for a version that will."
Nodding in understanding, Hoffman raises a quieting hand in Saoirse's direction. "Just hold on there a wee bit, let me call Meredith down in the hangar. She may be able to piece something together for you. All right?"
Saoirse nods. Hoffman steps into his office and starts talking to someone over the comms - probably Meredith. There's a lot of shouting coming from the other end. Although the words are indistinct, she doesn't seem like a person that Saoirse would get along with particularly well.
Hoffman is explaining the situation. "Right, she wants a telescope. ...yeah. ...Mhm, I know. ... Aye, I know, Meredith." More loud shouting. "Mara, I mean. Sorry. Just a slip, lass. ... Yes, a telescope on a MUSE. ... Mhm. ... No? But couldn't we... ... Ah, I see. Well that might work, if ... All right. I'll tell the girl. Thank you, Mara." The old man exits his office and comes back. "That was Mara," he explains. "She doesn't like being called Meredith. I always forget that."
"So?" Saoirse asks impatiently. "Will I get my MUSE or not? I need to know what to do with the rest of my creds."
He nods. "Aye, I know. Mara says she's lacking the tools she needs to make quick changes of that sort, so it will cost you a bit extra - 500 extra creds. You'd be able to dismount the MUSE though and use it off-mission if you felt so inclined, but it'd be a few weeks before it's ready. She wants payment in advance to be sure you won't try to back out of it." Hoffman gives a tired smile at this, and explains, "She's been taken advantage of more than her share of times. You'll have to forgive the girl."
Saoirse nods. "Am I getting it though."
At that, Hoffman actually laughs. "Lass, you remind me of ... ah... well, someone." He quiets suddenly again, sobering. After a brief, awkward silence, he feels compelled to elaborate a little further. "I grew up on one of New Dublin's stations, if you believe it. Your accent, Saoirse - Couldn't miss it. Knew it the moment you walked in here the first time, really. Haven't been back home since... well, before they shipped me off." The man smiles sadly, removes his cap and wipes the top of his head. "Just reminds me of home. Especially the music you did before," he adds, referencing the bagpipe-playing Saoirse did prior to Huhoba Qitsit.
It has occurred to you that his accent sounded fairly similar, but it's a big galaxy, so you never made any assumptions.
"You just have to decide if you want to pay the extra 500 now and wait," he explains, answering her question. "Then 1000 more, standard fees, when they get it finished. Is that okay to you?"