RP: ISC Phoenix [Interlude 4] - A Hard Day's Night

Arin strode towards the group in her new handmade leg bracers. She originally intended to use these for carrying larger loads during missions, but at the moment that larger load in this gravity is herself so that puts her current weight capacity at... Normal.

"Vince, I'm going to need a way to transport all of this back on ship, preferably not lifting it together."

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"Just do what you do captain, leave this to us!" She fired off a salute and a grin, not really telling Luca that she fully intended to lift the stuff back to the ship.

"Watch your language, shießekopf!" One Abwehran trader yelled in response, shaking two fists at Enzo, as if to one-up him.

"Nice legs. Very machine-like," Luca commented as he took a gander at Arin's new leg braces and watching her walk the high-gravity area with impunity, not understanding that they were made for lifting. He then turned to Enzo "As for the fridge, dad should be able to cover it," Luca pondered after examining the options presented to him, "We need one by any means possible for these long trips."

As for a means to lift the fridge and all of the extra food, as well as anything that didn't fit into a pocket or belt pouch, it seemed like a service was nearby with high-gravity withstanding trolleys of plain description, but they looked reliable enough, and there were more than enough nearby to transport materials.

"Ja? We offer transport services for high paying customers," An Abwehran with two clipboards whilst writing on them with two pens casually offered his services to move the cargo around, "We shall transport your cargo to your ship, Mr..." He waited for a name.
"Pavone," Luca said, "Luca Pavone."

"I've heard of that name," A female voice from behind the dock worker spoke out loud.
It was odd to see an Abwehran female walk by, with only two arms and two legs, similar to a human. The male dockworker stood at attention.
"Frau," He stammered as he moved away, leaving the Mercenary and the small crew he'd taken with him face to face with the woman.

"I've heard of your deeds," She said as she pointed a finger to him, "You're a famous bounty hunter, a one man army leading a crew of the finest, correct?"
"That's the one, I take it you need my services or something like that?" He leaned against a cargo transporter with some unknown cargo on it.
"Not quite, I'm here to deliver a message," She frowned a little, assuming a similar stance to the mercenary, "It's from an alien much like yourself: 'Things will be Interesting in the future. Trust nobody, but the Lone Wolf.'" She then sighed somewhat, "Does this mean anything to you?"

Luca frowned, blinking a little and dropping the relaxed attitude some, "Yes, it does," He was put on edge a little, "Who sent you this?"
"I am unsure. Called herself the 'Watcher'. Goodbye for now, and good hunting."
She turned around and left just as mysteriously as she came.

The nervous dock worker shuffled back into view, "Sorry sir, she's my manager, and she doesn't normally speak to alien customers," He put his clipboards back into writing, "Where would you like your cargo?"
The four bulky 500 KG containers of food were nearby. The fridge would most likely weigh a tonne in normal gravity.

"I hates to in-erupt this little tea party," Enzo began, effectively interrupting the tea party, "But I gots no intents of sticking arount on this station withs some kindsa watchin' lady anna wolf. Not that I thinks there's anything to be afraids of, but I gots no need for gettin' in a fight on this station, yeah?"

With a nod to Zeta for giving him the idea, Enzo decided to light one of his smelly cigarettes before making his point. "I knows ya ain't payin' me to cower, but I've gots this urge to find a 'gets-the-hells-outta-here free' card. What do we gots left to do? Pick up a body for Enigma, deliver to food and then we gets to hit the black, yeah?"

Zeta came to one of the conteiners at the time and tries if one of them isn't hollow by a chance. People would be surprised how stupid assassins and would-be bounty hunters can be. Better be sure then weep later with a hole in your forehead.

"Looks safe. No boogey-men in those." she said than with a smile. "Can't be sure about explosived though. Well anyway, if it is food, it should be enough for a while. I bet Crane will be happy about this." She than turned to Luca. "About our 'maybe-one-day rogue' AI I would pick some very easy to destroy body for it. I don'T trust that thing. But it woul cute if it were in some kind of small rover riding around the ship. Easy to take and throw out of airlock too."

"Enzo, Zeta, I have to agree," Luca frowned as he watched the dock worker start loading the food pallets into the transporter, and cart them towards his ship after giving him the details, "If someone already knows who I am here, I'm in no hurry to find out who else does."
"Herr Captain, your fridge is ready for transport," The dock worker explained as he made a slash across his clipboard, indicating that he'd finished up the bureaucracy. Luca skipped on ahead on Arin's order and notified the ship that the food was on its way.

Between Arin's amazing lifting legs, Vincent's brute strength and the dock worker's occupation coming into effect, it took a few minutes each, but the pallets were pushed from the low gravity area, through the high gravity area and into the Big Bird. Some of the stronger crew members than proceeded to load the cargo into the Kitchen.

The fridge, however, was proving a little more difficult, since it weighed a tonne, even with space age materials and components. A few other dock workers came along and helped out, eventually putting the heavy package on.
The package was only halfway towards the Big Bird before fatigue begun to set in, pushing a one tonne object that weighed three, maybe four tonnes due to gravity.

"I still think leg braces are for cripples," Vincent puffed as he produced a hankerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow, then tried to heave again, with no success.
Luca and the rest of the crew were watching from inside the Phoenix.
"I think our boarding party needs a hand with the fridge," Sebastian flatly observed as he cracked his right hand's iron knuckles, "How high is the gravity out there?"
"Three, four times, I think," Luca observed.

"Creatures adapted to environments with 1 gravitational force worth of pull such as yourselves will have severe trouble pushing this object, even with exceptional strength or mechanical aid," Elcheon provided a mathematician's answer to the problem, "I suggest using more of the natives, for they are adapted to high gravity environments."
"They've got a couple wit' 'em," Melissa pointed out, "Even they're having trouble!"

Uriel took a deep breath as the work came to a brief halt and participants and spectators alike discussed possible options. He was among the workers, his tightly corded Elysian muscles grouping him with the stronger half of the team. All in all this had been a rewarding experience. The Abwehrans were similar to the Nepleslians and Yamataians in many respects more than he, but their native language was a bit of a jump. He caught almost none of it, and was a little upset at the thought, but pushed past it. There was work to be done!

Overhearing the conversation on how to address the fridge problem, Patriarch Hisshana piped up with, "They may be having trouble, but that doesn't make the suggestion of requesting the aid of more a lesser idea; in fact, it's best. They are best suited, and it is only our ill-prepared bodies that are slowing them down." Perhaps the most he'd said in... a long time, but debating logic was common among the Patriarchs, so to hear such a simple-minded argument practically begged a correction.

Zeta too a little pause to her forehead of sweat. She throw her jacket in ship earliler so it won't get all sweaty from heavy lifting. Zeta was no sissy but heavy lifgting in almos 4G was above her powers. She took another *** out of her pocket and lighted it. Waiting what will others come up with.

When Echelon said her sentence Zeta swiftly replied. "I would suggest that a stupid wanker AI in freakin power armor could help us with heavy lifting. Aren't PAs able to lift a lot huh?"" Her voice sounded quite angry.

"I can help," Echelon moved over and added her strength to the push, and the fridge, with time and everyone's combined effort was loaded into normal gravity, and became a whole lot easier.
It was then easy to move it around on little wheels towards the kitchen. Everyone who assisted in loading was heavily fatigued afterwards, though.

"We're loaded," Luca commanded as soon as the fridge was in place, "Let's get out of here before we attract any more attention."
"Yes!" John commented as he started punching in numbers to get his departure clearance, "I'm sick of this high gravity, ship doesn't like it. Bad for the engines."
"All systems green, let's move," Allison radioed in on intercom, "Drift is only 7 days away from our position if the calculations are correct."
"Don't worry," John said as he closed the loading ramp and let the engines fire up, retracting the landing gear:

"I'll get us there in one piece."
The ship was then off on its flight path again.

A couple of hours later, Crane came towards the bridge with a wide smile on his face and a spring in his step, "We're gonna eat like kings tonight. We've bought some great food and drinks, everyone should be stoked."

He looked over to the large refrigeration unit, which opened like a coffin, and was at least a two metres wide, four metres long and half a metre deep, meaning a lot could be stored in there.
"All I need to do now is just load what can't be stored in the dry containers into the huge fridge we picked up."

"Need a hand?" Luca said as he watched various stellar items whiz past in FTL. The occasional nebula, a few stars, and bits of space dust.
"Nah, Echelon and I should be able to handle it."
"Elcheon?" Luca asked somewhat confused, but smiling, "I thought she was a passenger."
"I think she likes me," He blushed a little whilst pushing his fingers together.

He then moved away and started opening the frozen containers, and loading the frozen food into the fridge, whilst letting what he needed for tonight's dinner defrost on the counters for later.
"I do not require sustenance," Echelon piped in as she helped the chef move the handfuls of food.

"But why are you helping me?" The chef asked.
"Your 'crew' is fascinating," She replied, "How do you serve these men and women?"
Crane scratched his head, "I don't know, I was originally a chef back at Yamatai, never thought I'd be a mess cook for the craziest mercenaries in the galaxy two years later."

With that, Echelon kept quiet, and they continued to load their gear.
The other crew members were milling about quietly too, the atmosphere was oddly serene. Sebastian smiled at this.

"Bah, I am spent," said Zeta and sat down when they finished loading. She just relaxed and caught her breath. But only for a while she didn't want to miss lift off. She really wanted to learn how to fly, and it will take long time, but she can start looking how it looks already. Plus John is real pro.

She walked into cockpit and watched him doin pre-flight controls and then fyling away. For some it might look boring, but for Zeta it was same like starting a car and wait a few second to hear if the engine has the proper sound before speeding away. She understood. Plus it doesn't matter if you are driving of flying. You need to play it safe. One mistake and you and you passengers can rest in pieces.

"Nice going John," she said when they were safely on route. "Where did you learn to fly? Army?" She asked then.

Robert slipped into the room behind John and Zeta. "Whats going on?" he asked in a relaxed voice. He sat down on the closest open seat to the door. "I haven't been doing much around here and that gets boring. So I thought I'd come down here and listen to the soothing sounds of the cockpit conversations."

Uriel was grateful for the reprieve aboard the ship. He took a few moments to flex his wings. All felt well, if a bit sore. Nothing had torn, so he was relieved. After wiping the sweat from his brow, he also headed for the cockpit. His place, however, was out of the way and quiet. He listened, hoping perhaps for a conversation that would yield something educational or practical.

It was cold.

Approximately twenty four hours had passed in watchful, chilly silence. At first it had been uncomfortable, but gradually the small being had grown used to the temperature, and after that it had only been a question of staving off boredom. She had read the labels on the cans of pears several times over the past day, and now she was picking holes in the side of the cardboard. Stowing away and pretending to be food had been such a wonderful idea to begin with. It had deteriorated since then into a mind-numbing silence and darkness that made her wonder if it had been worth the trouble it had caused her to place herself in this position. Maybe she should have chosen dry stores instead?

And then there was movement, and she was no longer in zero gravity. That stirred her a little bit, got her woken up and alert. Then there was some jostling, a bit of bumping, and other general box-associated hazards. Afterwards, nothing. The gravity lifted. She felt the familiar odd pull of a ship jumping to fold.

Eventually, the box got opened.

The light made her blink but she adjusted quickly enough to make out the silhouette, and then the full form, of a man in a chef’s hat looming over the box she had been stowed in. She weighed the options. On the one hand, it was just a ship’s cook and he wouldn’t be armed. On the other hand, she had been found out a lot earlier than she had intended.

So someone needed a cooking accident.

Standing up, the small nekovalkyrja reached for the handle of the knife across her back, but stopped. There was more than one person in this room. A cooking accident couldn’t account for two deaths. She eased off.

“Pardon me,” she stated, “I’m Naoko. Please allow me to be your passenger, and I won't be much trouble for you.”

"It's hereditary," John swivelled around in his chair to face the small crowd that'd gathered near his seat, "My dad was a transporter, originally starting out with courier work, and I was born some time when he was doing truck jobs on Nepleslia," He held out his hands, "Big eighteen-wheel deals to get all sorts of stuff from A to B without spending money on a shuttle or plane over land. Risky stuff, but he took me with him on shorter trips to show what happens to how stuff gets transported."

"Your dad was a great trucker," Sebastian pointed out, "He was a bit more than that too. Ever wonder why we lived next door to each other on Ralt?"
"Let me guess," John nodded knowingly, thinking that he was on to something, "He worked with you on some badass dare like me and your son are doing right now?"
"Isn't it lovely when history repeats itself?" Luca rolled his eyes whilst slouching in his seat, knowing that his dear old dad had gotten him into trouble just weeks ago. ((See Episode 5 & 5.5))

"Don't worry, everything between me and Cain is buried," Sebastian assured the two.
"Good, now where was I?" He paused, "Oh, right. So when I started heading to school when we moved to Ralt, Yamatai, my dad pumped a lot of funds into my education so I could get the best flying courses available. Only because of my disability."

Before anyone could get a word in, he put his fingers to the frames of his thick, square sunglasses, and peeled them off slowly. He blinked a little, but kept a neutral face. Harks of surprise and shock waved all around the present crew.

"Look at my eyes carefully," He was able to keep his eyes open, but then he had to squint, grunting somewhat, "The pupils, specifically."
Closer inspection revealed that his pupils were in a very strange blotchy shape rather than circular, and they didn't appear to react to light. There was also some Anisocoria, with his left pupil being larger than the right.
There was a scar from when he was hit with an axe by an octogenarian barbarian ((See Episode 5.5!)) and had to wear bandages for a few days, but it didn't affect his eyesight. That aside, his irises were a lovely shade of turquoise.

"My eyes do not adjust to light properly," He explained as he was now squinting, blinking and looking away, "It's easily mitigated with this customised piece of eyewear, but I'm blind without them."

The light was then too blinding for him to handle, and he had to close his eyes.
"They thought I was a defective and urged to convert to a Yamataian body before training," He put the glasses back on, and resumed normal sight, "My dad intimidated them until they caved in, bribed them too."

He then leaned back with his hands behind his back, frowning a bit, "I got teased for it fairly often, and had my glasses broken more times than I care to count," He then smiled a little, "Joke was on them when it turned out that I was the best fuckin' shuttle pilot AND engineer in the class!" He then burst out laughing, "That - was the icing on the cake - when the Nepleslian 'defective' - sweeps up all the awards on stage!"

He then calmed down, paused and put his hands on his chest, "That's my story. As for when I met Luca, we went to the same secondary, high school and college."
"What did you do in college anyway?" Melissa asked the captain, who was visibly trying to shirk the question.

"It was interesting, that's all!" He replied, beet faced. Truth was, he'd been trying to expunge it from public knowledge as best as he could, since he did barely anything - except for learning how to grapple, box, and physically endure whatever life threw at him. Otherwise he was voted least likely to succeed, and spent most of his time watching movies and getting roped into hair-brained schemes.

MEANWHILE...
Crane turned around to get another handful of food to stuff into the fridge when he leaned in and saw Naoko standing up. He almost went white as a ghost, nearly dropping his load, but not yelling at all.
Echelon was more or less neutral.

"Er," He stammered as he turned around and put his handful of food onto the bench to store later, "Okay."
"Who is this?" Echelon asked as the armour-possessing Freespacer program looked at the 8 inch tall doll, which was apparently able to speak quite politely.

"I dunno... I think we should keep this a secret from the Captain for now," Crane said as he pushed his fingers together, "He's feeling a bit jumpy at the moment, someone sent him a message that 'things will be interesting', he might think you're it," He then paused, "What are you anyway?"

Echelon looked at Crane, then paused for a moment to access some old information, "This is an NH-12. The NH-12 Nekovalkyrja is out of production," She recited this mathematician's answer to Crane's question. "According to Yamataian public domain records, this is a derivative of the NH-17 model, shaped to be only 8 inches tall, otherwise they're identical to the NH-17. They are colloquially called 'Penny Eaters' as a term of endearment."

He then looked around and found a teatowel, and gave it to the doll sized Nekovalkyrja, "You must be freezing," He sighed a little, feeling pity for the small thing. This wasn't the first time he found something unexpected in a fridge or freezer, at least this time it wasn't scary, "Want to sit by the oven? I'm preheating it for dinner."

Naoko took a few moments to assess the people addressing her. One of them was certain Yamataian, or some prior make of person, but the other one was wearing what she recognized as a Demon; some backwater power armor created to try and compete with the Mindy. Although there were minor variations, that was probably it. She immediately decided that she didn’t like it.

It irked her being called a ‘Penny Eater’ – more because she didn’t recognize the term than because she found it offensive.

In any case, it did not look like they were going to report her, and that was a relief. Could a monomolecular blade of the general length she carried penetrate deeply enough through the armor to matter? Probably not.

“Arigato,” she said as she accepted the teatowel and swept it around her shoulders, pulling it close. Without warning, she coiled and sprang from the box, manipulating her trajectory mid-air so that when she touched down, she not only did it gracefully, but also exactly beside the oven upon the countertop – a little more than a meter and a half away.

She adjusted the ragged shift covering her body, and promptly settled down cross-legged, facing the two of them.

“May I ask; What ship is this, where is it headed, and to whom does it belong?”

"That was some story," said Zeta. She was really tired. "Thanks for sharing it, but I am spent. I have to get some shuteye." She said and waved her hand in goodbye.

Before hitting the sack she wanted to grab just a something to eat. She didn't like sleeping with completely empty stomach. She walked into kitchen saying. "Hello Crane, do you have something small to fill up stomach quickly?" she asked. A little figure on the counter caught her eye but she was too tired to notice it breathing ot moving. "I didn't know you were into collecting dolls?"

Seiren was, to say the least, bored. He had spent the entire day lazing about in the ship and finishing the retool of his handcannon. Perhaps retool wasn't the right word, but he certainly felt it fit for the addition of a homemade stock. He knew that the gravity on the Abwheran planet was absurdly high and would render him immobile for all foot-based travel. Earlier on in the day, however, he had spent time in the kitchen making up a fresh batch of candies. They had been set out to cool while the inventor ran off to his "workshop" and he had forgotten about them since. He was almost about to go down and fetch them, worried that they would be consumed by the other crewmembers before he actually got a piece, when he had remembered that a 'Do not eat' post-it was on the pan of hard candy. In a bout of laziness, he decided against going down to the kitchen and instead began fixing up his second pistol to his left-hand track.

"I am Not a doll," said the doll, looking up from her visual dissection of the cook, "Please close the do-."

It took a couple of seconds for her to register the appearance, and when she did, she gave a small start. She had never seen anyone looking quite like that before. It was all Naoko could do to keep from staring in shock. The mechanical arm, and...

"Aii! What happened to your hair?"

Zeta was tired. Really tired. Doll talking ot her was nothing she couldn't really handle being as tired as she was. Zeta looked at doll and said, "it is called faux hawk, you shoud learn cause it is darned most great hairdo in whole universe." Other thant that she didn't say anything to doll. Until it struck too late her because of tiredness. The doll takled to her. Zeta looked at her all confused. "Hey you talked!" was all she could get out of herselves.

And that was when a lumbering man-mountain, red in the face and sweating with exertion, stamped into the galley. He looked at Zeta, nodded without noticing the new passenger, then turned towards Crane.

"Can we get an ETA on dinner, Crane? I'm hungry, and you don't want to see me when I'm hungry after a high-grav mission." Vincent then turned towards the kitchen counter and started making food, still oblivious to the visitor. "I carbo-load like a motherfucker." Then the mercenary made his rocks-grinding-toerther laughing sound, and continued. "I remember this one time, I was out in the Wallet with a scout/intercept vessel, interdicting a smuggler..."

And that Was when the ID-Sol finally settled his eyes on the teeny-tiny little Nelovalkyrja on the counter. One big meaty hand moved towards the Hand Cannon worn on his lower back as he continued speaking. "And there was this one asteroid the ship we were tracing landed on. We got out and tried to get aboard when DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!" As he began shouting, the merc punctuated each "DIE" by smashing the butt of his hand cannon on the tabletop in the general viscinity of the tiny stowaway.

Zeta was tired. But reflexes were reflexes. Wen giant ID-Sol picked up his gun she reacted. Doll was still doll to her, but picking up gun, meant something dangerous. She moved quickly and took Vincents hand with both her hand, to put it out of way, aiming it into groudn that way. "Vince, are you crazy! Getting a gun on some doll!" she shouted on hulk in front her, puttin all strength in both her mechanical nad muscular arm.