RP: Cirrus Station [Episode 2] Little Problems

Noticing Cyril's look Ozz understood completely. He fell in line behind Cyril and went with his squad to their destination. As the squad stepped into the barren room, Ozz immediately tried to assess his surroundings.

Before he could finish, he noticed two things happen almost at the same time. First a series of figures followed by a large automata emreged from a hole in the floor. Second, Cyril sliding into a defensive stance. He didn't know Cyril, but he knew concern when he saw it. Ozz tightened his grip and watched the large figure emerge.

Finally and without warning, Ozz was hit....with a stench. Notcing the arrival of Peke Twenty-Two and the assault on his nose was probably more than mere coincidence, Ozz suddenly became thankful for his Sgt. If he had eaten breakfast, it would of surely came back up at this moment.

Instead, he swallowed, lifted his visor and asked Peke and Mimi with a smirk, "Well, we've established that there is a lack of weapons. How about we talk about the hole in the floor and what it has to do with us?"

Tweak nodded at Kess and quickly got into the suit, figuring it out easily enough and putting it on over the tank top and underclothes she had changed into after her shower. She had taken the bandanna cloth off her head during her shower and it was now laying on her bed...it didn't seem like she was going to remember it.

Looking at the gun a little, Tweak figured that out rather quicky too. It was strange, watching her suit up like it was second nature to her. And she handled the rifle like she had been born with one in her hands. The neko looked at Kess, slinging the rifle over her back and setting the helmet over her head.

"Can you take me to the squad?"

Kess gave Tweak a quick look-over with an analytical eye and stern expression. The Savtech still didn't look very happy with Tweak, or the fact that she was now armed. Never the less, Kess nodded once and motion to the door.

"Follow me."

---

Tweak would arrive soon enough to witness Peke giving her explanation to the group. The small Freespacer put her thumbs in the pockets of pants and stood idly, tilting her head in slight confusion.

"Nope, no guns. But that ain't the problem. Kinda funny how you guys don't know what your fixing, but hey! Never a better time to learn," Peke grinned widely and pointed to the open grate.

"Right there is the maintenance duct to the stations sewage processing plant. It converts all the waste and garbage and junk into more useful forms...but right now it's broken. That's why Ad-Meister sent me...but it turns out, it ain't that broken. Some loose bolts and grimy screws, sure, but the big problem is that it's just caked up. It's clogging the pipelines so much that the breakdown fluids that are supposed to clean the pipes ain't punching through...so Ad-Meister sent you fellas to pop the cork and make sure everything's still working right!"

Another wave of odor wafted into the room from the open duct behind Peke. It was still horrible.

Cyril's mouth dropped open slightly. Alright, so some folks may have ticked the administrator off yesterday. But this was a little heavy handed. For the Prophet's sake, didn't they have 'bots for this?

"Oh, for the love of... 'give me for speak'n out 'o turn sir, but what the FUCK?"

Peke gave Cyril an inquisitive look, perking a dainty little eyebrow up near her greasy green hair.

"Who is Fuck?"

Dream shook her head, unfazed. "Don't mind, it's just a Nepleslian way of saying." She explained. "We don't really need a whole squad here anyway, unless things turn out bad. Besides, most of the people here aren't trained techies or ecospecialists."

She sighed deeply. "Once again, Headmaster Real sends people to do a job that isn't theirs to do. I swear to the Gods, she's the least efficient individual I've ever met." (Because THAT was the problem in Dream's eyes, apparently.)

"Anyway, we'll get to it. Turn over control of the Junkers to us for some time, and we'll see what we can do."

"Huh? My junkers?" Peke looked a bit surprised, scratching her head and looking back at Goat, who instantly shrugged his own oversized shoulders in confusion.. "It's odd, Ad-Meister Casseyfine said you fellas were happy to do a little maintenance work. Especially the one with the pretty wings," Peke pointed and smiled at Serra, signifying that she was the 'pretty winged' security personnel being spoke of. "I can't lend ya any junkers for this job...they're all assigned to fixing the A34 Connection Corridor, and taking any away would be hurting our schedule!"

"Besides! You guys don't need junkers to fix this~" the little Freespacer hummed. "A few good sprays of chemical solution from the high-pressure hoses I already have down there should do the trick. Although I'd suggest you keep your suits on...that stuff can burn ya if you're not careful!"

Dream sighed again. "That's PRECISELY why we need junkers to do this. This kind of stuff should be done remotely." She glanced sideways at Serra - a meaningful glance, a "now I understand" glance.

Cassefin Montreal. It was hard for Dream to wrap her mind around this amount of spiteful pettiness, inefficiency, and personal use of power.

Well, it was an instructive experience, at least: She knew that hierarchical systems were pure, objective evil from reading the Art of Never Again, but she had never witnessed it firsthand.

Now she was.
The thought was oddly comforting, knowing that there was a place and a country, not too far away, where such things could never happen. Where everyone was equal, and good, and free.

She rubbed her temples. "I have a disassembled junker droid on my Traveller shuttle... we'll use that. Serra and..." she eyed the marine crowd. "...two volunteers, possibly with some experience in robotics, drone operation, or who just want to help out, please come with me. We're going to get the spare droid in the hangar bay, reassemble it and get back here."

A short pause. "Because I'm pretty sure that no one here likes the idea of going down there personally to clean an industrial duct using corrosive chemicals, especially considering that it's not your job." She noted, with a sympathetic smile.

"...oh, yeah, I almost forgot." Dream added, talking to Peke. "Peke, this room is empty and unused, right? Wouldn't anyone mind if I took over the place and put up a shrine to the gods here? This station needs one, after all."

Keziah had remained silent, playing the part of the dutiful, stoic soldier as best she could, even when the pint-sized 'Spacer crawled out from between the bulkheads, smelling worse than anything, ever. She recoiled, at first, but recovered and sealed her helmet, breathing easily once her suit filtered out the rank air.

Then, volunteers. Rainbow wanted volunteers. Great. That same stoic soldier that saved her from Peke spurred up inside her chest, in her head, snapping to attention and shouting "Sir yes sir!" like she had been drilled to. Volunteers had the worst jobs, but there was nothing an officer liked better than someone they could toss into the flames.

Not that Keziah said anything at that moment. But, then again, it'd be better than doing nothing at all.

"Sir," she spoke up, "my specialty is in computer systems, but I know a few things about robotics." Well, technically, since I'm part robotic. A tiny grin at the thought played across her face, making her instantly happy for the opaque face-plate.

Volunteers. Wonderful. As the ancient saying of jollies down the ages went; 'never be first, never be last and never volunteer for anything.' And this whole thing smacked of the administrator playing out a petty grudge, and to the detriment of the people who were simply unfortunate enough to be nearby the troublemakers.

Well, if their 2IC, and Kaz as well it seemed, were willing to give it a go Cyril might as well give in his two bits as well. He wouldn't be any help with the bots, his training ran to engine and structural maintain ace. And as tempting as it was to let the troublemakers down into the treatment plant as their just deserts, that would only lead to a nasty cycle of escalation. Well, assuming that he had the troublemakers at their full measure, which was by no means the case. But still, perhaps he could offer up something.

He glanced at the junkers for a moment and the turned to the Sergeant and Dream. Saluting them snappily and addressing a point more or less equidistant between the two Cyril took the first step to making his idea a reality.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

Serra was rendered speechless, completely and utterly speechless. Was everyone on this station that was under Montreal's thumb out to try and humiliate her personally? It is with little doubt, that Cassifin, the self touted super genius, would know that is it a matter of personal pride for each and every Elysian, patriarch and plebeian alike, to maintain their wings in as perfect and pristine a form as possible. Willingly ordering her into a sewage pipe, where the odds were guaranteed that she and her wings would get dirty was more of a grievous insult then everything that Lucius had said or did to her just a scant moment before.

She was mentally debating the odds of her managing to punt Peke before her massive simian of a machine would respond in kind, when out of divine timing, Dream decided that she would go and do something she was actually trained and skilled at. Building a robot.

"I would be honored to help you, Dream." Serra said, turning her gaze from the humanoid football that was Peke, to the much preferred Dream. "Anything to get away from this stench." She said, covering her contempt with an equally disliked topic at hand.

Tweak arrived on time to hear the assignment, and Dream's counter-assignment.

Engineering. She knew a lot about mechanical and electronic devices, and it sounded fun. "I would like to volunteer for the construction project as well, if that is alright," Tweak said, raising her hand to catch Dream's attention before someone else could snag that fourth spot.

Dream clapped her hands once. "Oh, just in time!" She said, turning 'round to face the newly arrived Tweak. "Tweak, Serra, Kezy, let's get to the shuttle hangar-"
She stopped in her tracks, giving Cyril an odd look. "...Permission to speak freely? Since when do people need permission in order to speak freely?" She wondered, more to herself than anything else. "Tell me." Then, to Cyril.

"It's military doctrine." Serra stated. "In the armed forces, one is not allowed to voice, unless given permission. It's like school but far more rules intensive."

Serra crossed her arms. "I was yelled at by Lucius a moment ago due to me trying to hand out food to the others when he said breakfast was being skipped." After a second to take a whiff of the air, Serra's complexion turned a slight greenish tint. "I will thank him for stopping me this time."

For half a second, Cyril thought that Dream had asked him to explain the just why soldiers had to ask to be able to speak out of turn. But then the point rendered itself moot when the Elysian explained it for him. Well, that left only one thing to do. Going against the lessons learned unofficially in boot camp (Don't Stand Out), he began to lay out his idea.

"Well ma'am, I figure if'n the work gets done, don't really ma'er 'oo did it, right? Well, I can't speak for the others, but I spent me adult life maintain'n ships 'n stations, an' most o' me childhood too. An' I'm pretty good a' get'n meself into tight spots." His tail took in the small mob of junkers with a sweep. "Wager I get anywhere those thing can"

"Anyho, what I'm say'n is, 'haps if we were to send some folks to this 'A34 Connection Corridor', Miss Peke might see her way through to send'n 'nough bots to get this cleaned wit'out any o' us wallowin' waist deep in filth an' caustic chemicals."

Dream frowned a bit, thinking. Then, her forehead relaxed. "I... I think that's a good idea. Is that alright with you Peke?" She asked, turning around to him. "Let automata do automata's jobs, and organics do organics' jobs sounds like a good idea for once."

"Depends," Peke chortled. "Can any of you breath and move in space without a suit? The CSS Suit doesn't have enough oxygen itself to hold itself together long enough for the repairs we're doing...which are in open space. Kinda the reason why we're fixing it."

Kess jumped in after Peke finished. "And we aren't assigned to assist with the repairs at the A34 as well. If we don't do this job, it won't get done, and we'll get in trouble for it."

"Oh, great. CSS suits aren't really suits and then what else?" Dream ranted. "Next thing we'll find out that the food isn't real food and the water isn't real water and this place isn't actually a space station? What's WRONG with this place? What kind of lame space station doesn't issue extravehicular activity suits which are actually useful for outer hull repairs?"

She sighed deeply yet again, scratching her forehead. "I mean, as part of the tech exchange agreement we have with the Neps, they should have the specifics of our Voidwalker suits! Even the most basic models have an oxygen supply of twelve hours and... no, wait. wait. I got it. Cassefin designed our space suits, right?"

A short pause. Dream looked... depressed. Like, REALLY depressed. Which was really strange, so different from her usual energetic self.

"Gods damn it. Serra, Tweak, Kazy, let's go to the hangar and assemble the junker. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get to the other million things that are wrong on this godforsaken station."

Cyril noticed the dent in Dream's normally irrepressible demeanor. It was understandable. He himself was utterly boggled by the latest revelation. Now granted, it was entirely possible that Miss Peke had simply not thought to mention that there were other EVA suits avalable. But, seeing as the tiny woman came from an exclusively star fairing civilization, Cyril had his doubts.

This meant, apparently, that every single person living and working in any part of the station that might suffer a decompression event were, to put it bluntly, fucked. Even assuming that there were life suits avalable in the areas, you'd still need suited people to go in for Rescue and Recovery. As it stood, they'd have to rely on bots, which in his experience were a mixed bag.

Hell, even just a stock of off the shelf 'Dusk' class skinsuits would be handy. But, apparently, her Royal Highness the Administrator just couldn't bare having anything she hadn't designed on her station, and to hell with safety. Cyril shook his head.

"B-e-a-uitful."

Wait. Wait.

No space-work?

None?

That didn't make sense. Just like it didn't make sense to Rainbow, who actually looked sad and rebuffed, like she had actually been defeated on some point. Not even the marines' cynicism had done that to her. But this simple little thing had stopped her.

No rant. No screaming, shouting rave against the stupidity of the station--as warranted as it was. Just a scary, quiet acceptance.

Not that Keziah didn't mind the silence, but, for once, she was in absolute agreement with their 'Spacer XO.

No space? No getting outside?

She felt a tiny twitch at the edge of her eye. A sweep of heat against her neck.

Space had been one of the reasons she had signed up. To fly in open space with naught but a few centimeters of reinforced and sealed armor plating between her and oblivion. There was beauty to it, a dare-devil's charm. All gone.

Keziah sighed, quietly, then snapped back to attention when Rainbow spoke. "Sir," she said, ready to go with the odd little group.