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Re: REKT: The Nemesis (Battlecarrier)

#301
I nod politely at Anelle as I move to the unoccupied terminal. "Thanks for your help, hopefully this can help me out."

I peruse the terminal, finding some promising-looking texts on the subjects I'm after. While I'm still looking, Saoirse decides to leave. "Yeah, that was what I was thinking to do as well," I say to her. "Good luck, and I'll see you around!"

After a bit, I finish my search, thank Anelle again, and head for my bunkroom to read in peace. Unfortunately, I don't get very much from it- the works on weapons are much too technical and I find the unfamiliar technology difficult to grasp. And I lack the proper context to actually make much sense of the works I grabbed on the cluster's history, which makes my search for important figures even more difficult. After a frustrating time of struggling to make sense of it all, I resist the urge to put a fist through the datapad in annoyance and decide to try and rest for a bit.

Fresh from another combat experience and the deaths of multiple squadmates, my sleep is not sound, and full of nightmares, as old faces and new ones haunt my sleep. Fukc my life.
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Re: REKT: The Nemesis (Battlecarrier)

#302
0111narwhalz wrote:
Fri Dec 21, 2018 8:21 pm
To Ishmael: "So how's that high-carb diet working for you, eh, fat boy?"
*sigh*

"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 undispensible (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."

Put the gloves on, and start putting pieces I can manage 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."
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Survivor of the Josh Parnell Blackout of 2015.
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Re: REKT: The Nemesis (Battlecarrier)

#303
Talvieno wrote:
Fri Dec 21, 2018 4:20 pm
Well... that little conversation snippet didn't go quite as planned.
[IC]Frank[/IC]

((Don't worry about overlooking the post, its sheer Frank-ness acts as a kind of camouflage!))

Even though this outcome was expected, Frank still can't keep a little sigh from escaping his lips.
Still, he got what he needed, now the question was, of course, how to go on from here.
The next mission would come even if he didn't want it to. Heck, perhaps there would be trouble coming up on the station they were travelling to right now!.

And even though he already felt some exhaustion kick in, he knew it wouldn't do him any good if he tried to relax...
If there were ways to avoid getting sent on missions though...

Directing his attention back to Hoffman, Frank gives him an apology for the posed troubles and a grateful nod before leaving the armory.

Stepping out the door, lights flickering again for a moment...
This ship was still a mess, they were understaffed horribly and the engineers were likely to appreciate any help they could get...
Even little things like the plumbing he did in the mess hall, helping out Brenna with the machines there...or perhaps asking Antez from engineering...

Walk down to engineering
Find Antez, ask if neccessary
If he's busy at the moment
-wait and observe until he's either done or no longer unneccessarily interrupted in his job
Greet him, ask if he has a moment of time

"Would it be possible for me to tag along? I- i'd like to make myself useful around here. People already are 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..."

If his reaction is positive, come along and follow his instructions
If asked more in-depth about the reasons
- sigh, looking uncomfortable

- "I'm not a fighter. Everyone else from the cryo-cells takes better to it, apparently even a priest of the FSM...I want to try and get to do something else. Do my part with repairs and maintenance. I have nowhere to go anyway, but i want to get away from the fights directly." mumbling under his breath, he adds: "and get away from some of those people..."
Apparently, sometimes stuff might happen.
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Re: REKT: The Nemesis (Battlecarrier)

#304
outlander wrote:
Sat Dec 22, 2018 3:55 am
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 undispensible (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.
Patronizing, but…
outlander wrote:
Sat Dec 22, 2018 3:55 am
"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."
…quick to forgive. Typical collander-head.
"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," I say with some exasperation.
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Re: REKT: The Nemesis (Battlecarrier)

#305
Exasperated from my continued failure of securing food, try and solve at least a part of the problem: like before the mission, try and discreetly snatch a bottle of ethanol as I'm leaving the lab
if I am detected and called out:


-"Wu-heh, this thing? Must've slipped into my pocket or somethin', heh!"
-Frustrated, put it back onto the nearest counter

Otherwise, if no one notices me leaving with the bottle (or cares), victoriously take a few sips after I've left the lab

So... all this waitin'... it's borin' as fukc! When we arrivin' on this stupid station anyways? Probably an hour or two, even that's too long - the hell's I'm supposed to do for two hours!? Maybe I could watch a movie... yeah, a movie 'bout beatin' squids! One o' them daw-key-mentaries! Heh, that actually sounds useful! And not boring!

Ask around randomly as to where on the ship I could procure and watch movies and 'documentaries'
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Re: REKT: The Nemesis (Battlecarrier)

#306
Talvieno wrote:
Mon Dec 17, 2018 12:40 am
  Ishmael, Vynkor and Gene have all found themselves in the medbay, and after much asking around, have also obtained the attention of one Kenji Akronis, the lead Bioengineer. Kenji stands in one of the cluttered, empty hallways, eyeing them warily, fiddling with his arm as though it's uncomfortable. You almost think it might be the full tattoo job he sports.

  "You don't look like janitors," Kenji states flatly. "You look more like those, ah - those guys out of cryo, you know? I was looking for janitors, not the cryo-people. This wing needs cleaned up before the engineers will so much as look at it, ayvahda. I have mops, buckets, scrap receptacles..." His accent is hard to place; it must be Spacer Midworld somewhere.
  "Actually," Vynkor interrupts, stepping forward and speaking for the group, "We found this in the PDA catalogs." She holds out her PDA, showing off the augment screens. "I know you guys aren't exactly in tip-top condition, but do you think I could see a little more? I'm particularly interested in this phase mesh thing."
  "See a little more? A little more what?" Kenji asks. "Look around you - this is my little shop. The Nemesis was never capable of installing new implants, only maintaining." He lifts up his arm, which flips open like a swiss army knife - a dizzying array of gadgets fold out smoothly. "Got to keep our parts in working shape, ah? See? But with no tools, no materials, I can hardly maintain my own units. I have some mops for you if you'd like..."
  Somehow, mopping the floor in the medbay doesn't sound like a particularly exciting prospect.
  "Well," Gene interjects, "We were actually thinking that maybe you needed the assistance of an engineer. We could get everything up and running for you." He glances at Vynkor, who nods and affirms that she's an engineer too.
  "Good, good, all good," Kenji nods. "Engineers with mops are efficient. That's good style you have."
  Vynkor shakes her head. "No no - we want to help fix whatever we have to in order to get augments."
  "I'm interested as well," Ishmael pipes up. Helping people is indeed something he's quite all right with, even if he's not specifically looking for augments.
  Kenji looks back and forth between the three of them. "You're not joking about this, are you..."
  Three heads shake in the negative.
  For what feels like a long time, Kenji is silent. "Hmm... no mops then. Ayvahda," he mutters, pacing back and forth, his keen eyes raptly on their figures as he runs a hand through his blackened hair. One almost feels like he's examining them, wondering where implants might fit best, or perhaps who would be best-suited for them - or, perhaps even his expert eye is able to tell from a glance who has implants, and who doesn't. "You - name," he finally barks sharply, coming to a stop in front of an inmate.
  "Gene."
  "You've not held a mop before? I'll give you a cutting tool, you can handle cutting debris into manageable pieces. Good arms on you. And you - girl with the vat skin." He gestures at Vynkor. "You carry his cut trash to rubbish cart. And ... fat boy."
  Ishmael stands to attention, awaiting his orders.
  Kenji hesitates uncomfortably, perhaps intimidated by the width of Ishmael's figure. Finally, he just says, "You may... push the cart. Carefully." He turns about on his heel and starts marching down the hallway. "Follow, three: I will lead you to cart and cutter."
Bloody hell. I decide to be magnanimous for once since I woke up and I get assigned to garbage duty? I fume silently, completely forgetting my surroundings.

((Dammit, I had this post queued up but couldn't find the time to post. :oops:))
Talvieno wrote:
Fri Dec 21, 2018 4:20 pm
Ishmael and Vynkor start following the Lead Bioengineer, Kenji Akronis, through the dim hallways towards a set of other rooms. Gene, on the other hand, stays put - perhaps not wanting to partake in the activities. His loss.
  "Vat skin?" Vynkor mutters, glaring at Kenji's back as they walk down the corridors. He's got cool tech, sure, but he's a total asshole.
  Ishmael walks ahead of Vynkor to catch up with the doctor. "Kenji, esteemed doctor," Ishmael calls out.
  Kenji's pace doesn't slow. "Hmm? What is it?"
  Respectfully, the priest says, "I assure you that I shall help with the mop afterwards, if my duties permit. It simply makes more sense to get care of the bigger job first, and clear the mess after everything's done."
  "Eh, maybe, maybe," the man replies, shrugging. "We will see when you arrive." After a moment, he glances over his shoulder. "Ah... it seems Mr. Gene has not followed us. That is... quite too bad. ...Do you people have names? Or was Gene the only one among you?" This last is rhetorical and uttered in a sardonic tone. ((taking a liberty here)) The inmates give their names (with Ishmael insisting on being called Dr. Ishmael, as per usual) and Kenji acknowledges it. "This is for job of three people. Vat girl - Vinker - you are stronger one of two. You will handle cutter when necessary. Ishmael will push cart and lift when necessary, but only smaller pieces. Ishmael, you look agile enough... ...despite your size."

  At this moment, he turns the corner and enters a vast open area, and the two inmates follow. They are immediately accosted by a terrible, slightly sweet metallic smell. The source becomes apparent as soon as the pair rounds the corner, entering a blackened room lit only by mobile floodlights that cast eerie shadows on the walls.
  The damage to this portion of the medbay is extensive: a large round of artillery from a subcapital ship must have impacted directly against the outer wall. While devoid of human life other than the three that stand there, there is an incredible quantity of dried, blackened blood spattered and pooled all over the room. Specks of what might be human remains are scattered throughout, although it seems some crew has previously been through to collect most of it. Among this, twisted sheets and beams of metal - some from destroyed hallways, some from the partially-destroyed ceiling above - litter the floor, providing, in some cases, insurmountable obstacles. Further, fragments of furniture, shelving, chairs, laboratory and medical equipment lay scattered in charred, broken pieces all across the room, and all of this wreckage is dominated by the great sheet of clean metal integrated firmly as part of the far wall: a makeshift barrier against the empty vacuum of space.
  "Welcome to central area of Bioengineering Maintenance," Kenji says grimly, walking slowly into the area and re-surveying the decimation. "Only a week ago it was busy place, frequented by many and all who come for repairs. Was a particularly heavy day. I needed coffee. Much coffee. I was not here for the attack, but many of my workers were, and my best. This is why you need mop, ayvahda, to clean them up. But that can come another time.
  "Vinker!" he calls, hefting a large piece of equipment with a sharp circular blade. "No mop for you today. Here is cutter - is heavy - careful with cable." He puts it into her hands; it's a lot heavier than he makes it look. "Use cutter for bigger pieces. And there is cart, Ishmael," he says, pointing at not a single cart, but a train of them, like a series of ancient minecarts hooked together - but without the wheels, and levitating instead to avoid getting caught on small debris. "You fill carts with garbage. Gloves are in carts, masks are in carts. Good for continued health. When carts are full, pull them into hallway and we will get them. Continue until you are tired, and you may leave. Engineers do not work for free I know, and I will pay based on job done."
  Just at that moment, Kenji's PDA starts ringing. Cut short, he quickly pulls it out of his pocket and checks it. "Sau...rissy?" he says, sounding something out. "Ayvahda, some green is playing with the comms. I will leave you two for now and deal with this madness. If I find anyone else to assist, I will send them to you."
  And he exits, walking away and leaving the two inmates to their work.
I snap out of my silent fury and the "Lead Bioengineer" is already out of sight, as are Vynkor and Ishmael. Dammit!
Try and find my way to where Ishmael and Vynkor are. Call them on my PDA if needed. ((I'm assuming I can do that because it says Kenji's PDA rings because Saoirse tried to call him, apparently. Tal, if I can't, just ignore that action.))
If I succeed in locating them, saunter up to the duo and ask awkwardly, "Hey, need help?"
Otherwise, throw my hands up and go back to the mess hall, wondering why the fukc I bothered.
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Re: REKT: The Nemesis (Battlecarrier)

#307
0111narwhalz wrote:
Sat Dec 22, 2018 6:30 pm
"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," I say with some exasperation.
"There are many quiet, honest Pastafarians who'd never bother you at all. Pirates are the Lord's chosen, the ones who were told to spread the Lord's words far and beyond."

Keep putting pieces into the cart, then pause in thought.

"The Hiltorei were his favourite children. Made to his image. But they betrayed and deceived; and instead of spreading light and love and His wisdom, they enslaved and oppressed others. Their hubris was their downfall, though."

Mull over all the pain for a second.

"I am ever glad to meet a person who supported us, though. Without all the good folks who repair our ships, and make rum and beer and salted fish, we'd be greately reduced in stature. I truly believe that the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, has reserved a place for all the kind souls who never explicitly acknowledged Him, but led their lives simply and honestly and following most of His teachings."
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Survivor of the Josh Parnell Blackout of 2015.
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Re: REKT: The Nemesis (Battlecarrier)

#308
[IC]Vynkor[/IC]
Ishmael (Outlander) wrote:
Tue Dec 25, 2018 1:05 am
I am ever glad to meet a person who supported us, though. Without all the good folks who repair our ships, and make rum and beer and salted fish, we'd be greately reduced in stature. I truly believe that the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, has reserved a place for all the kind souls who never explicitly acknowledged Him, but led their lives simply and honestly and following most of His teachings.
"I wasn't aware that the FSM taught economics."
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Re: REKT: The Nemesis (Battlecarrier)

#309
0111narwhalz wrote:
Wed Dec 26, 2018 12:50 am
[IC]Vynkor[/IC]
"I wasn't aware that the FSM taught economics."
"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."

Continue placing pieces of twisted metal into the carts
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Survivor of the Josh Parnell Blackout of 2015.
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Re: REKT: The Nemesis (Battlecarrier)

#311
Locate and attach a small bit to one of the drills, and take it to one of the nearby workers (preferably one who does not appear to be too busy)
"Salutations! Before you stands the great Brom Keegan! 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. I have a debt to repay to a friend of mine, and I could use your help."

Pull out the drake dog teeth.

"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.
Normally I'd do something like this myself, but I'm a little excited after the last mission, and I'm afraid I'd have difficulty keeping my hands steady.
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!"
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Breaker of fortune cookies
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Re: REKT: The Nemesis (Battlecarrier)

#312
Ishmael (outlander) wrote:
Thu Dec 27, 2018 3:13 am
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.
Actually, that sounds pretty reas—
Bob (Cha0zz) wrote:
Thu Dec 27, 2018 9:55 am
BOB WANT WORK!
NOW!
"Gah!" I flinch, and the saw catches, shocking my wrist. Waste heat, that hurt. I shake my hand and glare at Bob. "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."
((I think we might be holding things up at this point, so I'm cool with ending the conversation now if you are.))
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Re: REKT: The Nemesis (Battlecarrier)

#314
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?"
Last edited by Talvieno on Sun Dec 30, 2018 1:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Reason: forgot two people somehow
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Re: REKT: The Nemesis (Battlecarrier)

#315
Taken aback a bit by this revelation, I say
"Er, er, yes, that's fine by me. I can pay all of it up front, as well, I have to pay it anyway."
(( and OOC I prefer that, so I can't forget to pay for it later :ghost: ))
I transfer the needed creds using my PDA.
Then I ponder for a bit, not quite sure of how to proceed the conversation... then decide to proceed it in Irish (unless Hofmann prefers English for whatever reason)
"I didn't completely place the accent at first - from somewhere in Ulsteradh, by any chance? Seems to have the tinge of Scottish they have there...
I lived in Falainey in New Galway. Well, until we moved to Poesis for dad's work. Brain drain, you know..."
I proceed to have a bit of small talk (insofar I have the ability to do small talk) about home, and also offer to play some bagpipes for Hofmann whenever he would feel like hearing some.
Warning: do not ask about physics unless you really want to know about physics.
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