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RP: ISC Phoenix [Interlude 3] - Highly Ambient Domains

Luca

The Ultimate Badass
🎖️ Game Master
Evelyn, a dog, having undergone
Further modification
Pondered the significance of short-person behaviour
In pedal-depressed panchromatic resonance
And other highly ambient domains...

Arf, she said

Frank Zappa - Evelyn, a Modified Dog

Sargasso, The Rigs, Phoenix Service Group
Four platforms stood in the ocean, connected by large bridges, the central platform appeared to have the largest structure on top. Along the life rails, lifeboats were dotted around, as well as access to areas beneath from the outside as a means of fire escape or emergency movement. A crane was present on each platform too, with cables long enough to lift something out of the ocean. Out west, the town of Sargasso could be seen, having expanded, and now sporting a field full of bacteria cultivation.

Walking amongst these platforms were the members of the Phoenix Service Group. Established not long after the disastrous fallout of the previous major mission as a means to make the ISC Phoenix even stronger, it was staffed not by the regular members of the ISC Phoenix, but by people who were ordinary in comparison. Ordinary for the Kikyo Sector, anyway. Most of them were ex-soldiers from major military wings across the galaxy, some were mercenaries or criminals looking for a cause, and others were civilians who thought they could be more.

An air traffic tower on Platform Beta was watching a Geshrinari Light Freighter come back to hangar, and the two people inside were directing it, and it made a safe landing inside the platform's hangar. Then they noticed an anomaly coming from Sargasso and heading this way.

But they knew who it was, and other soldiers standing on the deck could see a purple speck flying towards the platform, diving close to the water and causing arcs of white spray to fling up before pulling up and wooshing past the edge of the platform. People standing near the guard rails were buffeted with a gust of wind, and up in the sky, they could see him for a moment, looking down at the platform and finding somewhere to land. They found that the shuttle pad on the other side of the platform was an appropriate place.

The person, a Luca Pavone, landed with a surprisingly soft landing for how fast they were going previously. The boons of military-grade gravity manipulation paying for themselves. He stood up and turned around to find ten PSG members, three Nepleslian men, a Nepleslian woman, two Yamataian women who were ex-Neko, a Lorath New Tur'lista woman, an ID-SOL, and two Lorath Lmanel men. Some of them were wearing the fatigues and carrying rifles, while others were wearing maintenance equipment, while the New Tur'lista was wearing neat, smartly casual office clothing. They all saluted their captain, palm facing outwards with the thumb tucked in.

"At ease, ladies and gentlemen," Luca raised a hand for calm, and they dropped their salutes and resumed a relaxed stance. "Its good to see you all. I trust everything's going well today?"

"Yes Captain," the Nepleslian woman spoke up, her name was Carver according to the name tag, and she was part of the Support service, "everything's operating normally, and none of our branches are reporting any major upsets."

He smiled. "Good. I'm going to have a look around and do some management. Carry on." Luca dismissed his troops, and the office staff turned around and walked back into Alpha Platform's topside structure, while the soldiers walked along the top deck and resumed patrol.


Luca made a mental note to check on Rebeka when he could. She was transferred to PSG's medical facilities within Platform Alpha, under tight surveillance. Perhaps it would've been worth looking into dedicated medical facilities in the future, but some Capital had to be built up first, and John had already spent as much as he could safely without leaving PSG unsustainable.

Expansion had to happen though, with how many people were volunteering for the job. Furthermore, he didn't have someone who was with the Phoenix for long enough to be a patron for the medical platform, but calling an old friend crossed his mind. First though, he stepped inside Alpha Platform and walked down to the Command and Control Centre as his first port of call.

"I wonder what everybody's up to..." Luca pondered as he briefly looked at Sargasso's map. The place had been growing quite a bit. "With how big Sargasso is now, they could be anywhere, even back at the Kestrel. Hopefully, the Rigs are good enough accommodation."

According to some cursory surveillance, John was in the Alpha Platform's lounge, Melissa was currently training the first iteration of scouting soldiers out in Mt. Sargasso, Allison was over in Platform Gamma, and Echelon was residing in Platform Delta's Archives, Storage, and Library. He didn't know where everyone else under his direct command was, and they deserved to take it easy after the events on Kennewes and Albini.

fetch.php


(The map currently contradicts how The Rigs look. Please refer to the PSG article for the current status of The Rigs.)
 
Platform Delta

Zeta was slowly walking along the bridge-way to Platform Delta. That is where Echelon was supposed to be and she wanted to ask her about something, before heading over to Luca and have a look at the first round of recruits for the PSG. It is not like she could do much there, but she wanted to see what kind of people she might end up working with.

The blonde was smoking a cigarette as she walked, dropping the ash down into the sea. She walked up to the doorway and pushed the button. The doors slid to the side and the nepleslian walked inside.

"Yo Ech," Zeta said. Said, not shouted. Echelon already knew that she was around anyway. The place had cameras after all. If there were cameras, Echelon knew where you were. "Got a minute to talk?"
 
Unknown Parts of Space

Pain. He awoke to indescribable pain in places he didn’t even know existed. His eyes flickered through his cockpit unfocused. Kuzman saw the blaring lights of the klaxons but heard no sound. An object impacted his VANDR and his last thought was that of confusion and fear. He shouldn't have felt the G-Force of the impact.


He awoke to shrouded darkness. The klaxons had quieted and his vision was black. He heard the pissy voice of Nuk'Dukam, his Raevr VANDR, shouting at him from afar. He had no sensor readings, they were flying blind. A nauseous panic washed over his entire being. He threw up what little food and bile he had left in his stomach as his consciousness faded again.


His dreams consisted of some combination of swirling hues, vibrant sounds, and blaring klaxons. In some he was falling, in others he was reliving a battle, and in a few he saw stars and constellations that shouldn’t exist.

Sargasso, Spaceport

When he awoke again, he was still firmly planted in (reality) his cockpit but the external scene was not that of space. Far from it in fact. There were blinding lights and a creature with brown hair and a mischievous sparkle in its eye standing near the back of the room. He assumed the creature was male, but this creature was alien to him. Poking at his VANDR were two other assorted creatures which appeared to be of a male variety, one of which was excitedly screeching something while the other solemnly tried to loosen pieces of the VANDR. Where did the come from? Where was he? Were those aliens trying to attack and destroy Nuk’Dukam? [[Nuk, where are we? Are these things trying to kill us? Status report!]]


[[We fell through a sizable hole in spacetime which oh so inconveniently closed behind us. We’re in a populated area, lots of scared little aliens running away from the mighty Nuk’Dukam! The one with the brown hair seems to know the two poking at me. It looks like they’re trying to take me apart, though they lack the proper tools to do so.]] Nuk’Dukam exuded sadistic glee at that last response. It was as if he was “winning” at not being dismantled. Granted, the VANDR was fairly mangled and unresponsive. But with Nuk’Dukam, he took all the victories he could, the pompous ass. After a moment, he continued, [[They don’t seem to be harmful, but a few of the other weird creatures seem rather dangerous. I’ve been keeping an eye on them. Thought you should know, I’ve started to decrypt their language. It’s exceedingly archaic and has a select few roots which can be traced to ours. Unlike you, I’m here to kick ass at languages and shoot people up, but I’m all out of weapons at the moment.]]


[[Wait, what?]]


[[Hey, what can I say? My weapon systems are offline along with pretty much every other system I have besides life support and a select few external feeds. I’m totally mangled! Otherwise I’d have kicked their asses all around their primitive structure!]]


Kuzman rolled his eyes. His VANDR was always a blow hard. [[Nuk’Dukam, can you adequately translate for me? Can you do it without being an ass?]]


[[Yes. No.]]


[[Seriously. Do you want them to destroy your ass? Hell, I might encourage them.]]


[[If you do that, your ass is grass and I’m a weedwhacker.]]



[[Sure you are. You and your big, powerful non-working weapons.]]


Kuzman got a sense of pouting from Nuk’Dukam, a very rare sentiment coming from his VANDR. Kuzman inwardly chuckled and pushed the hatch release. He did a quick look around as he imerged and received a better picture of his surroundings. The spaceport was a bit charred, whatever had transpired to get his VANDR into this structure had done a number on it. If these creatures were truly “friendly” (or at least reasonably so) he would feel a pang of regret. Otherwise, he’d go down in a blaze of glory. Or probing. He hoped for the prior as the latter seemed rather…..uncomfortable.


[[Ok Nuk’Dukam, translate for me. Correctly,]] he cleared his throat and began, [[Hello, I am Kuzman. I come in peace. This mech is my VANDR, Nuk’Dukam. We mean you no harm as long as you mean us no harm. My species is Iromakuanhe, what are you?]]


Nuk’Dukam blared “I Kuzman. I peace. This (indescribable word) VANDR, Nuk’Dukam. We no harm, you mean no harm. Species Iromakuanhe, what you?” he added “Nuk’Dukam translating.”
 
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Sargasso, The Rigs, Platform Delta
One of the PSG staff helpfully pointed Zeta towards where Echelon was. She was in the platform's library and archive, where all the soldiers would go to do research. Currently, the thing of the day was learning each other's languages, to make one less barrier in clear communication. PSG soldiers wearing casual clothing were in study groups, chattering with each other. Echelon meanwhile sat in a metal armchair with a book on how to speak Ly'thir.

She saw Zeta coming in and nodded upwards at her. "H1," she said, lowering the book and keeping her page with a thumb. "WH4T'S UP?"


Sargasso, Spaceport
David Takeyama was supposed to be overseeing deliveries that morning, and saw the strange craft crash-landed in his town's spaceport. "Oh, oh my. Uhm." He looked around, cargo drones having come to a standstill because of the interruption, some carrying large boxes. "I think I should call the Phoenix to come have a look at this," he mumbled as he got on the phone.

He knew one of the more helpful people who'd be fit for investigating this was Reeves, pulling up his communicator and speed-dialing. "Hi, Reeves, its David, could you come to the spaceport and have a look at this? Its some sort of ... Mecha thing, and a - a person with horns."
 
Sargasso, The Rigs, Echelons Data Dungeon

Zeta slowly walked up to Ech and gave her a nod. She looked around on the data-slate sand even some actual paper books. She looks at the cigarette in her hand and put it out in the palm of her metallic hand, she then tossed it into nearby bin. Cleaning the ash-spot with a hanky she looked back at the freespacer.

"Taking time to do some actual reading instead of just downloading what you need to know eh? Good to see that. I guess it might be hard to kill time for you every now and then." Zeta said.
 
Sargasso, Park

Reeves was enjoying his day off. He was sitting on a bench in Sargasso's park Scanning through some of the material that Echelon had given him for his yuletide gift. He panned through the files and stopped on an article on programming. Cradling his data-jockey in his right hand, he began to skim through the basics section to move onto the meat of what it was trying to teach. Legs tucked underneath himself, he relaxed against the arm of the bench. It was nice to get some fresh air even if the air around here wasn't always the freshest.

An alert sprang up at the corner of his vision informing him that David was trying to contact his communicator. Wondering what they could want with him he set his datajockey aside and pulled out his communicator. "Hello? Reeves here..." The silver haired technician fell silent to allow David to speak. His jaw went slack as the man on the other end of the call asked him to come to the spaceport. It wasn't the locale that interested him but the reason. Something with horns and a mech."[/b] Little gears began to spin in his mind. He stuffed his belongings into his bag wordlessly. It was at least ten seconds before he realized he hadn't given a response. "Horns hmm? Okay I'm nearby I'll be there shortly. " Reeves pushed himself up to his feet and gave his head a little shake. The person he was thinking of didn't touch mechs, but Iromakuanhe weren't exactly a familiar sight especially in a little town like Sargasso. The prospect of running into one of his old employers out here wasn't one he relished in.

He walked briskly through the park. He could already see the spaceport peeking out through the gaps in the trees. As he walked he sent a short message to Allison to let her know where he was headed in case he ran into trouble.
Code:
Reeves-> Allison
Just got a call from David from the spaceport. 
He wants me to look into a situation involving a horned individual and a mech.
 I'll keep you posted on any updates.

Sargasso, Space Port

Reeves made his way to the port in good time considering how short his legs were. Upon arrival he followed his ears to the cargo shipping area. Judging by the general atmosphere in that area it was likely the source of the disturbance that David had told him about. He had to ask a couple people for confirmation first before heading into the room. Reeves gave David a little wave when he arrived. He approached the large mecha and its pilot cautiously. A silent sigh of relief escaped his lips when he caught sight of the peculiar beings. This wasn't someone he knew. "What exactly happened here?" he asked slowly He turned to the stranger and smiled. "How did you come to arrive here?" The Iroma he had known was a linguist so he had very little opportunity to learn their language. "Um... [[Hello Friend?]]" his accent was horrible but hopefully the horned man would understand that he was friendly.
 
Sargasso, Spaceport

Kuzman blinked, he hadn't expected one of these strange little creatures to "know" the language enough to communicate. He looked at the weird creature and responded [[Hello. What quadrant of space is this? And what sort of beings are you? I have never seen anything close to the likes of you. There seem to be quite a plethora of different species here.]]

While the person in front of him did indeed have a rough accent, it was no worse than when he buddies got drunk and started slurring. He was genuinely surprised that his language had traveled this far. Especially since he had no clue how far "this far" truly was.
 
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Seiren had changed in the six or so months since the last mission. His hair was longer, but tied up in a ponytail. His tassels remained, but they too got longer. He might have gotten taller, but it was hard to tell since he wore form-fitting clothing more now than loose apparel. A sleeveless shirt made of a dense fabric adorned his torso, with arm length gloves and metal wrist braces to make up for the lack of sleeves. His pants were likely a treated leather-type material, Shiny but coarse.

But more than that, his smile was weaker.

As Seiren stepped into the command room where Luca was, Slate under his arm, that slightly fallen smile greeted his hero.

"Hey. Long time no see," he said, putting the Slate onto the table. "I've. . . done a lot of thinking. And studying. And looking into um. . . preventative measures."

He tapped the Slate, forcing it to connect to a projector built into the control center. Seiren hadn't made eye contact once with Luca. A volumetric display showing the Crimson Kestrel with some modifications appeared.

"I call it Plan B."
 
The Rigs, Alpha Platform, Control and Command Room
Luca looked behind him, hearing Seiren's gentle voice. "I haven't seen you in weeks." Luca said, turning the rest of himself around and plodding over to the table Seiren had put the Slate down on. He watched the Crimson Kestrel get projected onto it, fitted with the new weapon.

He remembered seeing Melissa wrap up a book on sound engineering for him during Yuletide, and Luca lit up when he put the dots together. "Guess that book Melissa got you helped, eh?" He noted as he looked at the modifications on the Kestrel. "Some sort of frontal sound cannon? Guess it works better than opening the hangar and getting the Big Bird's positron gun out." He motioned to where the hangar was on the front of the ship. "We definitely need an intermediate defence solution for when we're in atmos, but it won't work in space."

Looking through the hologram and at Seiren though, Luca knew he was hurting still after Rebeka. Still looked sleepless, and his hair had gotten longer, smile becoming less vibrant. Luca's face creased in fatherly concern. "You okay, Seiren?" he asked.


Sargasso, Space Port
David knew Reeves was the right man for the job - and he was surprised they were speaking the Alien's language. He cast his eye across the crowd and saw people with blow torches and angle grinders in their hands. Recognising them, David said: "Norman, Victor, Rafferty, Terrence, put the tools away, will you?"

Norman, Victor, Rafferty, and Terrence put the tools away as asked, hiding them behind their backs and exchanging sheepish glances. David, meanwhile, was grabbing his communicator and recording what was going on - he so had to report about this on the community news this week.
 
Reeves steeled himself for the stranger's response. His language skills were very rusty and Saalsari was especially bad. He glanced over his shoulder at the looming crowd. Oh lovely, everyone was watching them. Here he was stumbling through a conversation like an antisocial child and the space port workers were .... wait... was David recording this? What a nightmare. When the Iroma began to speak to him he raised both hands up and made a halting gesture trying to get him to slow down a little so he could pick up on the words he did know. And what he did know gave him enough to go off of.

'Hello, What ------- of space is this? What kind of ------ are you? I have not seen anything near to the ---- of you. There seem to be quite ------ of different ------- here'
He had come in late so he was unaware of the translating skills of the man's mecha. Even if he had he might have tried his best to communicate this way to make them feel less alone. Reeve's eyebrows lifted as he tried to figure out what he should say.

The tech took a deep breath. ["Please wait"] he rummaged around in his bag and pulled out his little data jockey. He tapped at the screen while he set his bag on the ground. Quietly he navigated to a star chart file, and removed all the labels from it aside from the ones demarkating the borders of the Neplesia, labeling their current planet and star, and the location of the Astral Cluster. He zipped around to Neplesia Prime and tried to figure out how he should explain this. ["Let me show you..."] Reeves turned around and held the screen in his hand in such a way that the Iroma could see. ["You are in Neplesia Prime, A... planet in the..."] He didn't know the word for Colonial expanse in Saalsari. "Nepleslian Colonial Expanse" He sighed and zoomed out slightly to reveal the solar system and finally the entire star chart. He panned slightly North and brought up the grid for the map. He continued zooming and panning until the little blob that was the Astral cluster appeared to the far galactic north of where they were. ["You are far from home"] The short Nepleslian gave the chalky white man behind him an apologetic look. ["I am really sorry."] Judging by the fact that they didn't seem to know where they were they probably hadn't intended to appear here. He passed over his data jockey for the other to have a closer look at the star map. It would probably take a little while for the surprise to sink in.

["I am Reeves, Who are you?"] He asked pressing for more information gently. He kept his phrases simple to avoid any significant translation mistakes. Reeves fidgeted with his braid while he waited tugging at the frayed wires he used to tie it off.
 
Nepleslia Prime, Wilderness North of Sargasso

With all that had happened recently Tamamo had taken to secluding herself, notably to an extent far more extreme than the already reclusive individual of the ISC Phoenix had previously. To this end Tamamo was nearly fifty kilometers north of Sargasso, laying in a patch of scrub camouflaged by a ghillie suit constructed out of pico-jelly to mimic and fully blend into the native plant life, visually she was indistinguishable from her surroundings. Laying in this sunny patch of wilderness Tamamo was startled from her communication and relaxation by a wave of infrasound coming from the south. Pushing herself up into a kneeling position she cocked her head trying to get the most of the sound through the layers of her outfit knowing that she'd have to investigate. Isolated as she chose to be, she knew that she couldn't ignore the potential of heavy combat occurring in Sargasso or around the rigs.

Standing Tamamo signaled the pico-jelly with a brief digital command, the ghillie suit collapsing in on itself, loosing definition as it flattened and redistributed slowly taking the form of a pair of cargo pants and a grey hooded sweater. Lifting herself out of the patch of scrub, Tamamo pointed herself southward and rapidly accelerated, hurtling over the landscape wondering what she'd arrive late to this time.

Sargasso, Featherwell

It was half an hour later that Tamamo found herself standing on one of the buildings in Featherwell, likely to the annoyance of some of the local workers, as she gazed across the water toward the Rigs... That were not on fire, or surrounded by the telltale signs of combat. After a moment's pause Tamamo sent a wireless query toward the Rigs on the ISC Phoenix's chosen band:

Tamamo said:
Is something going on? Any explosions or notable events?

Waiting for a response, Tamamo settled into a crouch atop the Featherwell structure, wondering what the crew had gotten up to this time, and whether she should have remained out in the wilds. She supposed that she should check in with the others, as much as she could, and might like to, it wasn't polite to avoid everyone else she supposed. Perhaps it would be best to reintegrate with the crew for a while.
 
The Rigs, Delta Platform, Library
"SUR3 D03S." Echelon nodded at Zeta, showing her the book she was reading. "TH3R3'S S0M3 S0RT 0F STUDY GR0UP G01NG 0N H3R3 F0R L4NGU4G3S," She pointed out, "3VERY0N3'S SH4R1NG."

Indeed, Zeta could hear the rough and ready Trade, the lilting Yamatai-Go, and the inky tongue of Ly'thir in the air, native speakers and non-native speakers schooling each other on how to speak. Zeta could even hear some oddball dialects of Trade in the air, the weird languages from long, long ago - passed down through family lineages and spoken with like-tongued neighbours rather than textbooks.

"Hey, Miss Five," one of the soldiers, a tan-skinned Nepleslian with a false eye asked, waving over to the Phoenix member, "do you speak any languages other than Trade?"


Sargasso, Spaceport
David was still recording what was going on with his communicator, trying to figure out what language Reeves was speaking at the same time. It definitely didn't sound like anything he'd heard before.


The Rigs, Platform Alpha, Control and Command Room
Luca could hear Tamamo's message come in clear. "I think something crash landed in the Spaceport." He replied as someone passed a document under his nose, and left it on the desk in front of him. "Reeves is there, I don't know what's going on though..." Luca sniffed the air, looking up from Seiren and at the woman who'd passed her the file. Only Lorath could smell that way. "Oh, its you, I've been meaning to do a check up."

-

They'd arrived several weeks ago. Low key at some ridiculously dark hour of the night, they had departed the chopper each with jetlag, slumping and forcing their groggy bodies to move in their LSDF uniforms. They were soon hurried away from the helicopter and the thick downfall of rain into platform alpha: the air still, warm and the lights dim enough not to offend the eyes. They spent a short time in the lounge, a smattering of Lorath, jackets down with coffee.

And then the sight of Luca Pavone himself, the grandaddy of this whole affair. They took a while to absorb his presence - eyes crossing before they began speaking, cultivating the conditions they would be working in as heavy equipment was wheeled in by staff and drones.

While in uniform, it was obvious from the way they worked - lounging around with devices and discussing readings: A coffee table heaped with documents and equipment in the medical facility - a wall behind the remains of Rebeka filled with special equipment. They had gone to the trouble of altering Aiesu's initial setup: The physical body now totally disconnected inside a vacuum sealed plastic casket filled with fluid and the maesus: the orb of her mind submerged in clear orange fluid. More than once, Aiesu had argued her lungs into bleeding with them over issues - giving away formerly classified explanations over solemn coffee in strange hours of the night. Knees together, hands cradling white mugs. Like some kind of reverse interrogation.

Three interesting people had come to light from the group:
  • Kou'en - A tall, olive skinned New Tur'listan with short white hair and an interest in pumping iron: Her expression stoic and steely: A clear leader and mother figure to the others. She was particularly secretive about a large thick silver-case, almost always cuffed to her left arm on chain as she worked. What was in the case, was anybody's guess but it was obviously important.
  • Kaen - A short pale figure, a young looking man with dark hair of the same caste. Mostly noted for his tendency to grin when delivering bad news in a particularly apologetic tone. They worked worrying hours and never seemed to sleep, always apologizing with their skittish nervous disposition.
  • La'al - A tall, pretty l'manel, softly spoken with great enthusiasm and darling features. While medically qualified, she wasn't an engineer as such serving as an assistant and more importantly a translator and mediator between PSG's burgeoning medical team and the LSDF research group. More than anything, she was like the frontman of a band.
-

"Mr. Palvone? There is progress, though I'm not sure if what we're achieving will restore the subject..." Lalah sighed, a clipboard held tightly to her chest. She seemed genuinely upset and judging on the way she barked and screamed at Aiesu hours before, she had some sort of emotional involvement with the project. The l'manel in question, petite and pale sat in the corner nursing coffee: the group hooked on the stuff.

La'al though, just smiled with those warm apologetic eyes, eager to try and make things right the same way a child would.

"There might be something we can do, but its going to take a while. Would you allow our continued presence here? We ah... We are aware of the problem of goblins, so to speak..." she said, horns shifting as she glanced back at Aiesu ever so briefly.


Sargasso, Featherwell
An industrial worker whose job it was to keep an eye on was on bacterial levels in the Big Tray wasn't too far from Tamamo. They were having a smoko and eating lunch on the roof's building. Some seating had been put there after a Sargasso Citizen's Initiative to give those who work industrially a better quality of lunchtime eating places by putting picnic tables on the sturdy roofs of their workplaces. To say the least, the view was alright from here.

The people of Sargasso were vaguely aware of weird folk from the Rigs in the sea coming into town to do business, and the worker looked up and asked the strange fox woman a simple question in a broad Prime accent: "How'd you get up here?"
 
Sargasso, Featherwell

The response was hardly what she had expected, not only had the source of the disturbance been at the starport of all places, but they merely had Reeves on site. While they were on Nepleslian soil and everyone could fight fairly well, it was a small wonder that no one else had been dispatched to secure the area, especially since Reeves while talented was to her knowledge not the most capable when it came to combat. Sending a brief thanks in return for Luca's information Tamamo finally turned her attention to the worker whose lunch she seemed to have interrupted, after a moments consideration she merely brought a finger up before responding, "Shh, it's a secret."

The words spoken, Tamamo hopped off the side of the building falling down to street level where upon she set off to follow the road down the coast with the intention of making her way to the spaceport to stop in with Reeves, and visit the Kestrel. For the moment though a leisurely walk down the coast, there was no hurry to be anywhere after all. Just another idyllic day in Sargasso.
 
The Rigs, Delta Platform, Library

Noppera wondered just how she had gotten roped into linguistics class duty. Maybe it was the ISS patch on the shoulder of her rolled up sleeves or the fact that both she and the "Jeanne Lock" she pretended to be had proficiency in both Trade and Yamataigo. She had gotten on as a subject matter expert in guerrilla warfare and one of the most often overlooked parts of that was interacting with the local community: a local community that might speak Yamataigo.

Noppera spent most of her time on Delta platform anyways, in the Disguises and Trickery Department (which she sometimes called "DaT' D" for her, and only her, amusement), so it was inevitable her immediate superiors would send her to the archives for the language courses. Even when she had protested the idea and wanted to stay in her own dark and quiet corner. Especially when she'd protested.

This is just going to be a barrel of fun, she thought to herself wearily as she stepped into the library.

She took in the fact that she was one of the few PSG members present in any part of the standard uniform. It seemed that her superior had been so eager to kick her out the door and into the social experience that they had forgotten to mention it was a casual dress code. A few sets of eyes lingered on her before quickly returning to their work with their partners or to bury their noses in textbooks. And then of course there were the two most important people in the room.

Echelon, the Freespacer that she knew best as her boss's boss from being in charge of the intelligence section of the PSG.

And Zeta Five, who Noppera had yet to meet personally, and only knew through studying what was available on the Phoenix's crew.

Noppera approached dressed in a multi-net 3-patterned PSG duty jumpsuit with the sleeves rolled up for the warm weather, and wearing her duty-belt and thigh holster weighed down with her 10mm. She rendered the palm-out salute that had been drilled into her when she'd first joined the PSG not long ago when she was sure she wasn't interrupting some vital duty or another between the two Phoenix crew members.

Noppera looked to Echelon, "Ma'am, Jeanne Lock with Disguises and Trickery. I was sent this way in case you needed me for the lessons." A pause, "Do you?"

Expounding on her qualifications was probably going to be redundant. The Freespacer could pull up all the fabricated qualifications and certificates she could need and see her language qualifications. Noppera didn't feel like wasting her breath.
 
Sargasso, Spaceport

Kuzman realized after the fact that he was probably babbling, but too late. Nuk'Dukam was quietly chuckling at him.

He paused as the creature pulled out a tablet-like device and poked and prodded it. Eventually a map popped up and the person told him that he was in some place called the "Nepleslian Colonial Expanse" at every zoom and map move, Kuzman paled slightly more. As if in tandem, Kuzman muttered [[I'm far from home...]] as he heard the person in front of him say roughly the same thing.

[[Hello Reeves, I am Kuzman Nadev, Framerunner for the Astral Vanguard of the Iromakuanhe, my race, I'd prefer to say "a pleasure to meet you", but under these conditions....]] he paused so that Reeves could grasp all that was said. He continued, [[My frame, Nuk'Dukam, has translated some of language and the more that is spoken, the better he'll become until I can speak it. I'm afraid I'm going to be stuck here for a time. My frame is....irreparable.]] He let out a large sigh before continuing. [[Is there any place I could go to re-purpose my frame? I'll work for the time and cost.]]
 
Sargasso, Spaceport
Reeves felt a pang of sympathy for the 'alien'. The poor man was almost completely alone in a strange land. He was incapable of perceiving any sort of paling to the already pallid face before him, but the expression he wore was indication enough. The phrase he uttered when he realized this echoed his own. He might not be able to go back for a long time. Reeves gave the stranger a small smile, and took the Data Jockey back. He tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket and out of the way for now.

The stranger seemed to take a cue from his earlier trouble understanding him and spoke a bit slower this time. His pale brows knitted together as he listened to Kuzman's introduction. ["I understand Kuzman, This can not be easy for you."] His attention shifted to the damaged frame taking up a great deal of space just behind the Iroma. He gave Nuk'Dukam a little nod of appreciation when he heard that the frame was capable of translating From Saalsari to Trade and back again. ["Nothing's irreparable..."] He commented softly. Though perhaps re-purposing would be the correct term to use when things were this damaged after all. He craned his head up at the frame before speaking again. " I'll share some of my linguistic data with you later." The tiny Nepleslian fidgeted nervously trying to decide where to refer the stranger to have work done. The problem was he kept on coming up with people he worked with, Seiren, Allison, himself... they all had the means to help Kuzman with his trouble. They were a couple men short on the crew as well because of the trouble they had this past year. They could use another person familiar with frames and power armour right? ["I ... uhhh,work for a ship that might be able to help. Can Nuk'Dukam move at all ?"] He asked wondering if they would need something to come pick up the frame from the space port.
 
Sargasso, Spaceport

Kuzman didn't answer Reeves for a few minutes. He needed time to take his entire unfortunate situation in. He was in a foreign land. So foreign in fact that he thought of this place as a fantasy. He had been told as a child of places like this, but in them the people were evil little gremlins. Reeves seemed far from it. He could tell the man who he assumed was a Nepleslian was a timid man, but from his posture and attire, a mechanic of sorts. If there were more like him on the ship, maybe there was a chance of restoring some part of Nuk'Dukam. Maybe even returning home.

His eyes snapped open. [[Nuk'Dukam, answer the man. Can you move?]]

[[Of course I can move! What do you think I am? A WIMP?]]

[[Then why haven't you?]]

[[Because the style of movement isn't dignified for a certified badass frame like me! I crawl for no one!]]

He turned his attention back to Reeves and slowed down his speech, [[Nuk'Dukam can get himself out of this building, but not much more than that. He has to crawl, which hurts his inflated ego. I know I'm already imposing, but do you have a vehicle to transport him?]] Kuzman looked sheepish after the question. He already felt he was imposing enough on Reeves to begin with, but he had a suspicion that it was no coincidence that Reeves showed up when he did. Someone had to be pulling strings somewhere on this planet.
 
The Rigs, Alpha Platform, Control and Command Room

"Some sort of frontal sound cannon? Guess it works better than opening the hangar and getting the Big Bird's positron gun out." He motioned to where the hangar was on the front of the ship. "We definitely need an intermediate defence solution for when we're in atmos, but it won't work in space."

Looking through the hologram and at Seiren though, Luca knew he was hurting still after Rebeka. Still looked sleepless, and his hair had gotten longer, smile becoming less vibrant. Luca's face creased in fatherly concern. "You okay, Seiren?" he asked.

"No, no. You don't get it," Seiren said, frustration seeping into his tone. "It's a plasma based sound conductor, mounted on the bottom of the ship so it can be used for orbital strikes. It's not a defensive weapon, it's an offensive one. So we're never a fish out of water ever again. And I'm fine, just. . . Been working on these schematics and a few others that'll step up our game."

And then the dragon walked in. Seiren saw La'al, but at first didn't think anything of her and turned back to the floating blueprints to turn them to another. Alarm bells rang in his head. He turned to face her again, his mind stumbling as he tried to think. And think.

"Do I. . ." he began, leaning in closer to the dragon. ". . . know you? You look familiar. . ."
 
Sargasso, Coastal Road

When most people went for a walk along a beach with a ghost, it was usually in the fall, after the loss of a loved one, and a beautiful moonlit night in some temperate affluent coastal town with hand hewn stone buildings and the distant sound of merry making. There was often a sense of resolution, contentment, or despair after all walking with a ghost was an important event.

For Tamamo however, it was just another day an augmented reality overlay making an otherwise tedious walk pleasant. Her daylight ghost was after all good for conversion.

"I wonder how long things will last around here. Sure things are fine for now and the Captain likes having me around, but things are changing and I wonder if the man in charge is going to need to watch his image more than he has in the past. He can't keep around unsettling oddities forever, can he?" The silent discussion had been going on and off for the past couple of weeks following an unexpected house call, and Tamamo had yet to come up with a satisfactory answer.

"We'll deal with that when we get to it." Koa was quick to avoid needless speculation, "You know better than I do that spending our time agonizing isn't going to make the answer any more clear. I know you can't just be happy and relax, especially after over a year of ceaseless work, and you still don't know how to take it easy. But, it's too far when you're fretting about meaningless unknowns."

"That's easy for you to say. You're still actively doing things when I'm not distracting you with these conferences. Even though I know things are going well, I'm not fond of sitting idle with no active means of working toward making us safe."

"I know, but that will change soon enough, and then we won't need to continue forward with this awkward set up." Koa's words put the conversation to death for the moment, her tall white clad form walking silently, and otherwise invisibly along side Tamamo giving what comfort she could in presence if not actively through logic.

They both knew that the feeling to comfort the other, and just spend a moment of quiet happiness together was building, but both also knew that such a time would have to wait. Koa needed to return to their project, and Tamamo knew that she'd likely get caught up in whatever awaited her at the starport.

With a forlorn goodbye, Koa's larger form shimmered and vanished the distant connection severed once more. Tamamo truly alone once again, something she had never wanted to experience again. Sighing wistfully she looked toward the starport and hoped that things would at least be tolerable if only for the near future.
 
The Rigs, Delta Platform, Library
Echelon's red eye flicked over to Jeanne (AKA: Noppera), examining the soldier for a moment. Just another soldier, though her file said she did quite well on the tests, and perhaps she was fast-tracking to become an Agent. She showed all the aptitude for it. "C4N'T HURT. B3S1D3S, Y0UR TR41N1NG SH0W3D US YOU W3R3 B1L1NGU4L. 3XC3LL3NT TR41T - BUT WHY S3TTL3 F0R 3XC3LL3NT?"

There was a Ly'thir study group nearby, one half of the table occupied by Lorath of varying castes, the others of Nepleslians and Yamataians stumbling over words in Ly'thir. The Lorath men and women were all around their forties and fifties, compared to the Nepleslians around their twenties and thirties and the Yamataians who were capable of naughties. There were a couple of empty chairs if she wanted to get in on it.

Conversely, she could perhaps go assist the Yamatai-Go or Trade tables. Some of the poor Lorath didn't even know how to say the seven great Nepleslian curse words properly without stumbling, while a Nepleslian was struggling to get the nasal inflection of Yamatai-go right, and ended up saying some very different things.


The Rigs, Alpha Platform, Control and Command Room
Looking between Lalah and Seiren, Luca wondered what could be familiar about a Lmanel woman. Unless, of course, it was someone he'd met on a jaunt to the Consortium with Aiesu. There just wasn't enough information at hand for Luca to piece the dragon-woman's origins or true nature. He concluded that he probably saw someone like her in an advertisement or one of those dreams he kept telling Luca about.

They were such detailed and vivid dreams too - but Luca never quite got the fuss about them. All the Captain saw in his were ghosts passed, and could have been. "If we have the possibility of getting some progress with her," he avoided the R-word in front of Seiren, "you might as well stay here and do it rather than sitting on both our hands." He looked over his shoulder to Aiesu. "As for gremlins, just smile, nod, use your discretion, and use a spritzy bottle or something."

Lalah blinked at the Captain for the choice of words, leading Luca to mime what a spritzy bottle was, making 'pshh pshh' noises as he squeezed an imaginary trigger in Aiesu's direction - the sort used to discipline cats by spraying water at them. The smaller lmanel huffed, crossing her arms and flashing her teeth at Luca. However, the Meruu-aspected woman was eyeing Seiren, trying herself to piece together where she'd seen him - if she'd seen him at all.

The thought had her running a fingernail along the ribbed form of her short antler like horns, rasping audiably as she tried to focus. "I don't suppose you've ever been to Lor, have you?"

It wasn't clear which of the two boys she meant. Luca raised an eybrow. He had been somewhere in Lor last year, but he didn't see anyone who looked like the woman before him, nor had he encountered anyone on official business who resembled Lalah. He had no clue if Seiren had.


Sargasso, Spaceport
The spectators in the Spaceport were beginning to back off as it become increasingly clear that Reeves was speaking alien to the newcomer. They had no idea what they were talking about, nor could they infer the foggiest thing. David, meanwhile, was still filming what was going on.

Reeves recalled that it'd be possible to get one or two of the Cargo Drones hovering and watching what was going on to carry the VANDR to the Rigs' Support platform. David could perhaps part with one or two for a bit. Another appealing option involved getting PSG to send a Light Freighter to pick up the VANDR for direct transport. Reeves had the clout to do whatever suited him.


Sargasso, A Lovely Walk
Meanwhile, walking down the road to the Spaceport was the blue member of the Phoenix team. The tidal flats were on high tide, so the layer of grimy, silty sand and soil which would usually be present had a foot of water. This usually spelled disaster for anyone who got caught in the muck during low tide. Moving along, she pattered through Shakersley, the good Doctor Shakes' clinic off to her right, two doctors having a cigarette together on break as they looked at datapads with their next surgery.

A little further down the road was the mighty Ferros Block, the premier housing complex in Sargasso, and where most of the population was centred. With more and more people coming to Sargasso, the population density was beginning to spread out some more as people begun refurbishing and occupying the previously derelict housing estates. Tamamo could hear and smell the scents of construction throughout Ironsides and further northeast into Middleton: Stone dust, brick work, concrete, sweat, and machinery.

Off to her left, WaterWorld's premier estates were still good for wear despite everything the Big Bust and their subsequent abandonment hurled at them. They were built to sustain themselves. Looking through the food kiosks, bait shops, surf, and high-class diners in Beachview's bayside portion, Tamamo could see the large hexagonal structure that was Sargasso's Spaceport. When she first saw all this as the Phoenix touched down about a year ago, it wasn't nearly as vibrant - all downtrodden and condemned, but now it'd come back to life. Weirder still, she was seeing more than Nepleslians around town - occasionally she'd spot Yamataians, even Lorath pottering about their daily business.

Tamamo was intimately aware of the cause for Sargasso's revival, because she worked for them.
 
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