RP: Cirrus Station [Episode 3] Sunny Day on Prilisa Four

As the door opened, Dream winced, almost expecting the suction of vacuum.

"There's atmosphere, there's atmosphere." She said to no one in particular, looking outside with an empty stare. "I, I've taken vaccinations. It's all right. I'm not going to die here. Ehehehehe." She laughed nervously.

And didn't walk out of the shuttle.

"Oh, gods. Terra protect me. I'm about to walk on a planet."

She tapped her foot, still talking to herself feverishly. "Like, walk on ground, on dirt. Where it's all full of invisible animals and microorganisms and there's no roof above you and only empty space, everywhere, forever, until the end of the universe."

No, she didn't walk out.

"...Well the dirt certainly wouldn't kill me..." mumbled Fitz in a very low sarcastic tone. While this was the most nature he had ever experienced in years, it was just too unexciting. No metal, no material, no electronics meant nothing to tinker with in this land of fresh non-recycled air. He began to yawn wide and covered his mouth as he began to step out slowly.

Himiko watched the image of the planet coming closer and closer. Her eyes would widen as she would never get used to how beautiful under-developed planets were. However, a pain in her heart arose as she realized that this planet could someday, given time, be just as industrialized as Nepleslia Prime..

Shaastabar stepped forth, out of the shuttle, and struck a vaudeville-caliber faux-heroic pose; one hand on his hip, the other pointing outward to the far horizon. His eyes would, in a perfect universe, have flashed dramatically.

"Never fear, brave compatriots!"
He gave his habitual, lopsided smile once more, a flash of shining teeth.
"For though we stride onto the soil of a foreign world, though we brave the heathen microbe, and the endless vault of endless sky! We shall not give up! We shall not quail!"

He raised his other arm to match the first, striking an even more ridiculous posture of heroism.
"Believe, my companions- in yourselves! In me! In me, who believes in you!"

A bow ended his speech; at its lowest point, the smile disappeared utterly. His face, when not performing, has a habitual expression of what would seem to be genteel amusement...or cynicism.

He thumbed the safety of his rifle off.

"Captain?" Keziah thumbed her comm unit on as soon as she saw Dream pause at the exit hatch. "Are you--"

The speech by the horned man cut her off, and she frowned. Who the hell was that, anyway? She had half a mind to give him a sharp kick out onto the planet. Speaking out of turn, acting like he's supposed to be in command. She ignored him as she thumbed her comm again, carefully sliding out of her seat across Cyril.

"Are you okay, Captain? Dream?"

Leaving her rifle behind, she walked down the length of the shuttle, part of her very, very happy to be feeling real gravity beneath her feet. But the other half was worried. She knew how bad it could be, being on a planet for the first time. But for 'Spacers... did they ever set down on a planet?

She found herself standing behind Dream, and gently placed her hands on the 'Spacer's armored shoulders. "Can you do this?"

Cassefin, whom had been waiting (im)patiently in the front seat, was beginning to show signs of aggravation as she waited for her security escort to exit the shuttle. When she analyzed with more scrutiny, Cassefin discovered the rather unsavory Freespacer druidess was the cause of the hold-up. The Head Administrator released a harsh, harrowing sigh and then arose from her seat, snaking her way though the small crowd until she was upon Dream in her frozen state.

And without another word or indication, Cassefin planted a slip-on shoe straight onto Dream's carapaced rump and heaved with intent of clearing up this little problem with her own special brand of persuasive leadership.

Flipping her visor down when they landed, Tweak waited for everyone to file off...but no one was moving aside from standing up. Then she heard that Dream was having trouble getting off the shuttle, so Tweak slipped through the standing security team toward the front. By the time she got there, however, Cassefin was just about to deliver her kick.

In that instant, Tweak nearly froze like Dream had: Kess had told her specifically not to draw attention. Not to draw Cassefin's attention. But at the same time, Dream was her friend...and kicking was definitely not the right way to help her...

The Administrator's foot was stopped just before it hit the agoraphobic druidess. Tweak stood beside Dream, her hand in the way of the flying foot. "Don't hurt her," said the 'spacer neko, her voice slightly distorted by the visor. In fact, the only way she had even had the courage to stop Cassefin, much less rebuke her, was because of the tinted visor hiding her face. If she had tried to say more than she did, Tweak was so nervous she wouldn't have gotten the words out straight.

She turned to look at Dream...who wasn't giving any response to anyone. So Tweak bent down and picked up Dream like a kid who had hurt herself, and carried the frozen Freespacer off the shuttle.

"Dream, it's Tweak...don't worry about anything. If you put down your visor and seal your helmet, nothing will get in, and it'll be just like spacewalking, alright?" whispered the neko over the comm channel. She held Dream after getting off, waiting until her friend had regained herself and some courage before setting Dream down.

Deacon remained absolutely still and quiet as the shuttle left the station, and even as it descended to the planet he just kept staring straight ahead. He was unlike Dream in that he actually felt MORE comfortable on a planet, where his natural instincts would be allowed to showcase themselves. What caused him to focus so hard on what was right in front of him, was the fact that he was silently praying to the elements that they would lend their strength and wisdom, that he might help The Administrator, and the rest of his team, back to the station safely.

This did, of course, mean that the Kohanian stared at Serra for the entire duration of the trip, something that may have made a normal person a little uneasy.

When they arrived, however, Deacon didn't move at all. Everyone else was standing up and moving for the exit, Deacon just slowly lifted the rifle from his lap and stared down the sight of it, waiting. If they wanted to rush off the shuttle into the unknown, that was their decision, but he would hang back a few seconds and assess the situation, letting his nose and ears do their job.

Of course, if The Administrator was correct in her threat to Tinker, his use of his olfactory senses might give him some alien disease. Hopefully that wouldn't happen.

When the situation with the Freespacer was remedied, the large hyena would slowly stand to his digitigrade feet, and look towards the door, sealing the visor over his features. Rolling his shoulders and neck, already the malformation of his spine bringing spiking pain between the shoulder blades, he just hoped they would all be returning to the station with the same number of body parts that they were leaving with.

Serra, who was seated and waiting for people to clear the shuttle, groaned sharply when she watched Cassifin act like her usual bitchy self and nearly kicked Dream out. Clearly, this was a sociological related problem, since as with all the other times she has seen the head administrator act, she acted like a spoiled rich cloistered child, and not a proper adult.

As she got up and followed the others off the shuttle, thus filing past the aggravating woman, Serra, her helmet tucked under an arm, leveled a gaze to her while passing.

"Ma'am administrator, I am an accredited consoler, maybe we could have a talk sometime about you're unsavory behavior to your staff, yes?" Despite the question, she didn't even wait for an answer before she placed her helmet on and exited the shuttle.

Cyril picked up Keziah's rifle and followed her. He could appreciate that she was trying to reassure Dream. Partially because she was blocking the door, he suspected, but mostly out of actual concern. Still, they were going into a potential combat area. His DI back in basic had hammered the importance of keeping your weapon close at had into Cyril's skull until his eyes were vibrating.

He handed Keziah her rifle wordlessly just as Montreal was getting ready to boot dream down the ramp. Bitch that she was, Cyril wasn't really surprised at that. The continual contempt she showed for anyone not wearing a lab coat (or a CSS Elite captain's pips) was really getting on Cyril's nerves.

What was really surprising was Tweak (easy to tell from her size) intercepting the kick. He had marked Tweak off as the meek quiet type. Sure she was good in a fight. The whole debacle with the Shambler earlier in the week would have likely gone really bad places is she hadn't snagged a length of cable and managed to tie the damn thing's legs. He had to bump his estimation of her up a notch or two. Whatever else you might say about her, she stuck out for her mates.

He passed Montreal with an icily formal "Ma'am" before heading down the boarding ramp after Dream, Tweak and incidentally Serra. He paused for a moment at the top, grimicing a little at all the orange foliage. He couldn't smell much of anything through his helmet, but he was willing to bet that there wouldn't be a wiff of machinery around once the shuttle completely cooled down from reentry.

"It's not so bad, innit ma'am? It helps to just think of it as a giant satellite covered in dirt and way to many plants." He said to Dream, taking up a position near the bottom of the loading ramp. All this nature was a little unnerving for him, and he wanted to stay as close as possible to the comfortingly artificial bulk of the shuttle.

Dream had either clearly snapped, or was quite near to. She was hanging on to Tweak like a paranoid koala, quivering.

"A... a satellite, right. A satellite, ehehehe. The- the sky. It's big. So big. Ohmygodsicanseeforever. Ehe. Ehehehe. An open satellite. Open, to the endless endlessness of space-"

So, apparently, their "captain" was pretty much useless for now.
Most of the squad seemed to have psychological problems, but they seemed to handle them pretty well.

"...Terra, I don't care if you're just a made-up anthropomorphism of an abstract, universal concept. Tell me that e-e-everything is ok. Pl-please." She began to... pray? "I'm-I'm your priestess. It's all right, right, right? If you- If you get lost while you're ferrying my soul to Gaia, then, g-goddess or not, I'm gonna beat the crap outta you. I-I have been a Warmonger seven lives ago, my s-soul still packs a mean left hook ya k-know."

Not much of that she said made much sense. Or any, really. But at least, by fast-talking to herself (and, apparently, by a mix of praying, intimidating and bullying her own gods), it seemed like she was slowly calming down.

She took a deep breath of clean, planetside air, coughed it out (too much humidity, not nearly enough carbon monoxide), and climbed down Tweak, setting her feet back on the ground. "...Thankya." She muttered under her breath to her friend.

But she didn't let go of her left hand. In fact, as soon as she had her feet back on the ground, she instinctively thrust out her hand to grab a hold of Cyril's arm, holding on to if as if she were afraid of being sucked up into space any moment.

"L-l-let's g-go on." She stammered.

As Cassefin's foot was blocked by Tweak's quick actions, the Head Administrator was thrown off balance for but a moment. Cassefin stammered as she wobbled for a moment, before landing hard back on his feet.

Although speechless and in shock at first at Tweaks audacity, Cassefin's expressive face turned new shades of red as each member of her escort exited the shuttle. This continued until she was literally shaking in anger; with a growl, she burst out of the shuttle door and stomped her way onto the landing pad.

Aside from her own shuttle, there was one other vessel on the landing pad and a large metal crate bearing the Cirrus Research Station symbol, near the large glass doorway leading into the spaceport itself. Other than those objects, the pad was silent and barren. Peculiar for a planetary spaceport. Of course, Cassefin didn't seem to notice as she stomped ahead of her entourage a few steps towards the metal crate. She stopped and loosened her shoulders, turning her head side to side. Even with her back turned to them, the Cirrus Station Security team members could easily tell that she was perplexed by something. They would soon find out what that something was as, without warning, Cassefin's voice exploded through the heavy foliage and empty landing pad, waving her clenched fists into the air in an almost comical manner as she screamed at nobody in particular.

"Where the HELL is my loading team?! I CANNOT believe this! Is EVERYONE on this stinking rock STUPID!? I told them, SPECIFICALLY, to have a Wolverine lifting team to place MY crate on MY blasted shuttle the MOMENT I landed! WHERE IS MY WOLVERINE?!" Cassefin raged on, stomping her foot down with each new word. "WHERE! IS! MY! WOLVERINE! AAARRRGGGHHH!!!"

All that yelling seemed to take the very wind from Cassefin for a few moments as she crouched over, palms on the knees of her brown slacks and head down and panted heavily. Regaining her (limited) composure, the Head Administrator took a deep breath and turned her attention to the closed glass doors leading into the lobby of the Prilisa Four's spaceport.

"Alright. Fine," Cassefin said in an eerily calm voice. "Captain, you and your men follow please follow me. I'm going to find the Dockmaster. And murder him."

Cassefin began her way towards the entrance, anticipating her escort to follow as she started contemplating some very painful ideas for the poor, poor Dockmaster.

Taking her rifle wordlessly, she walked off the shuttle just behind Tweak and Dream, holding her weapon easily in her arms. It almost felt natural now, the rifle, and she let her mind think and focus on that as she slid past the group, walking off a short ways from the shuttle. She breathed in deeply, enjoying the mix of cooling metal and natural foliage. It was good to be back on a planet, if just for a little bit.

Tweak's reaction was surprising, on one hand. But she was a 'Spacer, and the way she carried Dream off was almost motherly, if somewhat comical for the two most diminutive women on the squad to be clinging to each other.

She hissed through her teeth, quietly, listening to Dream and knowing that what she really needed was to be put back inside the shuttle. She could operate the comm system and coordinate people that way, like she had before with the Shambler. Put her in the cockpit so she could get used to the view of a planet. Maybe leave the door open so she could smell it, too, but still have a familiar roof over her head.

But she didn't say anything. She had broken enough regs by trying to comfort her. No need to break even more.

The psychotic, rage-filled screaming of Montreal didn't do anything to disrupt Keziah's seemingly serene poise, but she slowly turned on her heel to follow, letting military instinct override reason.

Lorcan was rather silent the trip down. He took in his sights when they landed and was one of the last few off. At Dream's frightened refusal to get off the ship he was half tempted to carry her off. Of course Tweak beat him to it and he watched in slight concern as Dream completely freaked and sputtered almost nonsense to calm herself down. He sighed and started towards their traumatized leader. His mind was on other things. Only hearing someone start throwing a tantrum brought his attention full circle. He looked up to find Montreal bitching and moaning and being quite distasteful about a loading squad.

He sighed to himself and rolled his eyes, glad his visor was in place. He reached Tweak and Dream and without a second thought reached down and scooped Dream up and seated her on his shoulder. He put a hand on one of her feet. "Dream... Calm down, you're perfectly alright...I'll keep you safe until we're inside okay? Just a little ways more and then tada! No harm done..." The entire time he trailed Montreal, keeping up but not stepping on her heels.

Dusty woke up shortly after the shuttle had landed when he heard people start moving around. He Quickely looked around to make sure nobody had noticed that he had fallen asleep. Blinking somewhat sleepily he stiffled a yawn as he undid the fastenings and pulled himself from his chair.

He then stood up and did a quick stretch to loosen up. Dusty reached down and gingerly picked up his rifle from where he had laid it against the seat, and cradled it in the crook of his arm as he walked out into the aisle.

He silently watched the scene at the front of the shuttle explode and watched as Cassefin turned several shades of red as she stormed from the shuttle. Following the group out the door he only paused slightly to make sure he didn't hit his head on the top of the shuttle.

Dusty stepped out into the fresh air and took a deep breath, as he looked around at the strange colored foilage. He turned and looked at Cassefin's latest burst when she started screaming, about the work crew not being there. At hearing this he stopped and looked around the space port and noticed the lack of people. This didn't quite add up to him, every spaceport he had seen had generaly had activity they weren't this quite.

Fear shot threw him as he moved after Cassefin. Cycling a round into the chamber he lifted his rifle to his sholder, and started actively scanning the area.

Throwing tantrums. Flirting with her subordinates. Using techs as security guards just because they were military. Bullying and browbeating everyone who didn't have a bunch of letters behind their names. Not for the first time, Cyril wondered just how the hell Montreal got a job as administrator.

As he was shaking his head at Montreal and her continual embarrassment of herself and her station, he felt Dream being pulled off his arm. He turned to see Lorcan scooping her up onto his shoulder. Bloody dirtsiders, thinking that just because they could adapt to living on a station in a little bit, spacers could adapt to the surface just as fast. It's not like they hadn't spent their entire lives associating open sky with vacuum. Of course that could be overcome with just a few words of encouragement.

"Oi, Stumpy! Maybe Miss Dream wants to have a say in this herself, eh?" He asked, catching up with Lorcan and thumping him with his tail.

Tweak patiently listened to Dream as her friend worked out the fear that had frozen her. Whether the druidess was talking to Tweak or not, someone should listen, she thought. When Dream finally got down Tweak smiled at the taller woman. She was fine with being Dream's security blanket for the time being.

Then her hand flew up as Lorcan took Dream onto his shoulders while the druidess was still gripping Tweak's wrist. That wasn't what got Tweak scared, though: Like Dusty, she had thought the spaceport status a little disconcerting, but for a different reason: It was a fairly large open space with trees and buildings nearby that hadn't been cleared yet. She was timid, but Tweak still had the programming of a being made for war, and this was definitely not a comforting position.

She glared at Lorcan behind her visor. The fool was lifting their captain -- and HER FRIEND -- up into the air, a clean shot! Tweak didn't say anything but instead made sure the man wasn't holding very tightly to Dream before twisting her hand to grip Dream's wrist while Dream still had her grip on Tweak's wrist, and tugging hard enough to pull Dream back down. Catching the druidess and making sure she was okay (aside from some possible motion sickness from going up and down so quickly...), the neko turned to Lorcan, her posture displaying her displeasure.

"Idiot!" she hissed at Lorcan over the comm. "Are you TRYING to get her killed? This is an uncleared area, we don't know where anyone is! And you just popped her up like a target!" Then Tweak turned to Dream, waiting for her friend to recover before following Cassefin.

It was beginning to seem like a new rule needed made when everyone returned to Cirrus in addition to the waking rule. Rule 2 of Living with Tweak: Don't endanger Dream. Tweak won't be timid when that happens.

Keziah looked over her shoulder at what was happening, and stopped mid-step to see Dream get pulled up and down like a little toy. This is insane. She snapped her visor shut, and breathed in deeply.

"Tweak's right," she said over the comm. "Cyril and her should take Dream under cover. Into the spaceport behind the rest of us." She pointed to Lorcan. "You, take up perimeter guard with..." Her eyes scanned over the squad, and settled on the man-beast thing. It looked capable. Her HUD flashed its name. "Deacon."

Her guts had turned to water momentarily, but she kept the quiver out of her voice. Nobody was stepping up to take charge, so someone had to. Especially with Dream indisposed. "Stay in cover and keep an eye on the shuttle."

Shaastabar dropped his posture momentarily- as if to tie a nonexistent shoelace. When he rose again, the comforting weight of a few inches of ceramalloy and laser waveguide settled against his wrist.

The rifle was bulky, uncomfortable, and borderline mystifying. The scalpel was considerably better.
Trying too hard, rambling, unfocused.
He gripped the meager weapon nearly tight enough to bruise, even through the gauntlet.

He flinched, half-handsome face twisting. The situation reeked of past unpleasantness; limbs reached for grenades that weren't there, poised for shots that didn't arrive.
A moment; he settled, stood straighter, flashed a textbook charm-grin. The posture was that of innumerable (and fictional) military heroes; ramrod spine, cheeky smile, hands held at the ready, loose and whip-poised.

He turned to Montreal and snapped off a salute with a touch of jaunty and a dash of parade-ground.

"If I may, ma'am...I believe the others are correct in their assessment. The situation is anomalous, and possibly constitutes a danger to your person. I would recommend you allow the security personnel present to attend to matters until such time as we can verify an all-clear."

The content was, of course, bunkum and soft-soap. The delivery, however, seemed sufficiently scientific and military to satisfy. Muut lowered his hand and took up his 'good soldier' pose once more, eyes flickering surreptitiously to each corner of the pad.

Lorn stopped mid stride as he felt Dream slipping off, instinctively steadying the 'Spacer even though Tweak had her hand wrapped around Dream's. He was sorely tempted to put on an attitude and give the tiny, weird person a proper smacking about, when Cyril's comment distracted him. Doing an about-face he got real close. "Don't call me names Wolf Boy or you'll be the next Stumpy..." And he meant it more as a jest than a threat, but it could be taken as one. He straightened up and then was about to take after Montreal again when Kez interjected and gave him something else to do. He turned his head in her direction and then pulled his gun free. "Sure..." Accepting the implied order from Kez and stalking off towards one side of the space port.

How he was going to manage to find a place to hide and watch was beyond him but it sure beat women with brainless tempers and little men with bold moves. He had to give Kez credit for keeping him off a nasty and potentially fatal chain of actions, he made a note to himself to thank her later. As for the moment he found a good spot beneath what looked to be a giant fern of some kind and crouched below it, rifle in hand and boredom setting in swiftly. All wasn't in vain however for all he really had to do was press down on the bottom right of his chest plate and music filled his ears, not loud enough to keep him from hearing someone talk to him, but certainly enough to keep him from going insane.