[ISC Enkidu Interlude] Compartmentalized

There were, in total, eight crew rooms on Enkidu, each equipped with two beds, two desks, and two cabinets. Two of the rooms had already been claimed by one occupant each, but the rest were free; Myr's cabin was at the end of the hallway, in theory so she could keep an eye on everyone else but in reality she just liked being close to the laundry rooms.
The journey to the coordinates Myr had supplied was long enough for everyone to get settled, including Dante once the journey was underway.

Re: [Interlude] Compartmentalized

Dante, comfortably perched in the pilot's chair, began the regular start-ups of the ship. Activating the capacitors, warming up the engines, requesting leave to the hangar bay's control roo--...

Wait a second, we're in a clearing. He disregarded that last routine.

...and checking other necessary systems. Though, if the Enkidu just had a full bridge complement, he'd of already been leaving the atmosphere by now. Instead, the ship was just getting off it's landing gear, and with a turn to adjust itself for ascent, it fired away from it's small point in the guarded clearing. As the Courier 2A ascended into the atmosphere he received a hailing signal from the patrolling fleets over Nepleslia. Like he had done many times before, he forwarded the ships license to the fleet, and received the green light to enter and exit orbit over the planet.

As the Enkidu entered orbit, Dante quickly repositioned the ship, forwarding the coordinates into it's computer. His console binged, confirming that their destination had been entered into the computer. With that done, the small man activated the FTL drives and set the ship to auto-pilot on course.

"Alright!" Dante clapped his hands together, turning to he small duffel bag on his left. Since he successfully steered the ship into orbit, he had time to set up a few things at his station before going to claim a room. Out of his bag came a Phalanx Phillip figure, along with his lecherous sidekick's figure. He set them comfortably on his console, and then bent back down to pull out two more figures, of Shiganori and Miyagi, setting them next to the ones he had pulled out previously. With the setting of his figures done, he hopped out of the chair and zipped up his bag, then threw it over his shoulder.

Time to claim a room. thought the Vickensmall, striding off out of the bridge to do just that.

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Exhack said:

"You seem to know what I a-" Algol was about to reply when she went off, leaving him slightly vexed.

Damn.

He snapped the fingers of his right hand, and grinned to himself. If it was to be a challenge, all the better for him, as he was the kind of man who savored any fine thing that had to be plucked for himself. Things that were given so casually were not worth his time. This rationale that he developed, was naturally one in opposition to the good senses of the universe.

He was so totally distracted that he didn't think that she might be a complete spacecase.

"Hold on a sec'... I didn't even explain myself and you stormed off!" So with that, Algol Marida followed after her, with everything he'd ever owned on his shoulders or in the travel bag at his side.

Click to expand...

Specs turned about in the elevator, letting out a "Hm?" as she waited for the other to join her. "...Oh right. Disadvantage." She let out a semi-awkward chuckle. "The Captain ordered something so I did it. It's a 'spacer thing, or maybe it's a me thing." She shrugged.

Just as the man was settled inside the elevator, Specs reached out and pushed the button to head up into the rest of the ship. "Anyway, what sort of disadvantage now?" A finger was reaching towards the bandaged arm again as the elevator doors closed and the lift came to life.

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The bandit prince paused for an instant, letting the raw and unbridled annoyance to soak through his feet and into the ground. Was this girl really this way? Or was it some sort of clever act?

"You seem to be aware of what I am, but I cannot say the same." He pulled the bandages covering his face down, and allowed them to fall down around his shoulders and neck. Only his left eye, which had been lost many weeks ago was still covered. He grabbed a hold of her wrist, and stared intently. If she knew about his people... something might have happened to his home.

Algol let out a quiet 'hmph'. "What do you know of the Dream Stewards, sera?"

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Specs blinked, before tilting her head a bit confusedly. "Dream Stewards..." she said as if in deep thought. "I don't know. Hang on." If the Iroma wanted to know something about whatever Dream Stewards were, then it wasn't exactly Specs' place to stop him. So, she dived into the Polysentience and began searching. Her eyes were cast off to the side, though twitched a bit as she navigated through the vast quantities of information.

"Hmm..." the Freespacer spoke after but a few moments. "Dream Stewards. Oh, another name for the horned people to the galactic North. The... er... that one long word. Ee-row-... maw-... koo-wan-heh?"

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"Oh, Saints dammit. You're a Freespacer." Algol exclaimed with a dour sign, bringing the bandaged palm of his clawed arm to his forehead. He should have considered that option, but it had escaped him... perhaps because she wasn't exactly dressed like any of the Freespacers he had 'booked' passage with. Not that they had any particular dress code, but he didn't remember short undergarments being standard fare for a ship.

He groaned, thinking that maybe the only reason that he'd had his lapse in judgement was because of the garment itself. He'd been reduced to a daydreaming fool... by sleepwear.

On the other hand, he was half-starved and sleepless. It could be excused! "Well..." The Bandit Prince released his grip on her arm and leaned away nonchalantly. "...I reacted poorly because I'd forgotten."

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"What was that supposed to mean?" Specs looked intently at Algol, a pout on her lips. "'Dammit. You're a Freespacer.' I am right here."

With a 'hmph,' she turned away from the Iroma and faced the wall. First, she had been curious about him, but now she couldn't wait to get away. Specs had just wanted to know more about him, and now he was being a jerk just because she was a 'Spacer.

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Algol squinted his remaining eye, and rubbed the middle of his forehead with his index finger. He was still very poor with the Nepleslian language, so what was meant to be a relieve exclamation came out quite badly. Sure, he wouldn't normally care, but since he owed a sort of debt to her race, his attitude was fairly poor. Besides... I doubt this one would be the type to bed someone she hates...

After a few moments, he sighed, and moved place his arm on her shoulder, hesitating at the last second and resting it against the nearby wall. He might as well explain himself, even if it was something incredibly stupid in his mind. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Being recognized so easily, I thought that my homeworld had been seized by foreigners." He tapped his clawed fingers against the bulkhead nervously, hoping she'd buy his rationale. "I did not... I could not dislike you for your origins. I owe your people a debt in bringing me to this place."

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After a moment of silence, Specs turned back around. "Okay. I rather know the feeling of when foreigners do something to your people." A sigh escaped her lips.

"Anyway," she resumed her talking, shaking her head to get the depressing thoughts out, "I don't believe anyone has made contact with the Dream Stewards beyond the Freespacers."

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"O- oh..." The Iroma's expression shifted to one of relief, placing his hands against his haunches. Certainly, he had no love of his government, but the situation was one that allowed to existence of outlaw groups such as his bandit clan. If a more repressive or heavy-handed empire were to step in, he might not be able to go home.

"Well, it is a relief." Algol said with a grin, rubbing the Lapis Lazuli band on his index intently. He peered over at Specs, taking in the details of her slightly underdressed body in with a quick glance and let a small yawn out to cover his tracks. "Was there a reason why you were curious about my left arm?"

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Chrysanthe wasn't really excitedabout idea of staying in the same clothing for few days. Or whataver time is takes for theam to finish salvaging and coming back. At least she has her armor and pistol with her. "Whatever you say skipper," she replied to captains comment. She then focused back to the Elysian.

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"Hm? Ah. I was just wondering about it. It looks weird and its all bandaged-y," Specs replied, giving a bit of a nod. "Doesn't help that I haven't actually seen a Dream Steward before."

She raised her arms above her head and arched her back as she stretched, herself yawning as well. Darn things were contagious. It was then that the elevator stopped and the door opened. That was an oddly long elevator ride.

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"Raised in... Funky City." Izual took that comment, and immediately drew several conclusions as to what might have happened to her wings, all of them dealing with the chaos and brutality he had already witnessed in a supposedly more-civilized-than-before Funky City. "That is a testament to impressive resolve in itself, Chrysanthe. Though, what there is to know about Elysians... is that most of us are lost. You've missed little in not being raised among your own kind. Empyrean is beautiful, but the Exarchs are corrupt at worst, misguided at best, and the Senators are wrapped so tightly around their fingers."

Izual stopped abruptly, smiling awkwardly. "But... you did not ask me to opine. I shall save my sermons for another day. It is my honor to meet you... might I ask you to show me to the mess and pantry?"

After all, one of the few marketable skills Izual had chosen to advertise to Myr was his talent with food. He hardly chose to divulge all the seedy secrets he had picked up fighting in four wars against Yamatai.

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"Sure, follow me. I was going to there anyway. I think I might as well make something while we have time," Chrys smiled and waved with her hand to elevator. Both already lef, one elevator was stolen by Specs and that horned guy and second by that mini-pilot. While they waited for elevator Chrys looked at Elysian in fro nof her. He was shorter than her but other than that he was quite handsome. Lon golden hair and perfect face. Next to him Chrys looked like an ugly guy.

She just shaked her head. Not like being pretty was to any use to her. When one fo the elevators finally came she walked inside and pushed the right button when Elysian went in too. During that there was of course time for converstion. "Well being raised in Funky City has it all. You experience some bad things," she said and potner behind her backs to missing wings. "But you also experience good things. It will aslo give you some good lessons about life. You have to learn them or you will suffer. Funky city is sometimes like jungle. You have to be strogner or more cunning to win. And I sure do hope I am one of those things. At least I am still alive. But to tell the true, I am interested in Elysia. There is not much knowledge about it here in Funky city. So if you had time to tell me about it, I would be delighted to hear it."

Re: [Interlude] Compartmentalized

Dante walked into his newly picked room, he had decided on room number one, since it seemed that no one had come to claim a room as of yet. He walked over to the bed on the right side of his newly chosen quarters and set down his duffel bag and then unzipped it. He started pulling out clothes and setting them away in his closet or dresser. When he had finished he looked to the door, wondering why no one had come yet.

Seeing as he may have gotten a room to himself, Dante pulled off his jacket, revealing the white shirt underneath, and tossed it to the side of the bed. He sat down on the floor, and then pulled off each of his boots, his odorless metal feet clacking as they hit the floor.

Time for a nap, I guess! Dante thought, standing up and stretching his arms, and then bending his knees. When he came back, however, he jumped up five feet into the air with assistance from his cybernetic legs, and landed flat on his back on the bed. The Vickensmall rubbed his stomach and closed his eyes, drifting off into a short nap.

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"Ah." Algol held out his arm for her, reaching for the knot that tied his bandages down and unraveling it with a a few pulls and a long draw of his arm. Beneath it was a limb that might be described as an arm and hand, having the general shape of a comparable human limb. But instead of the brown skin that matched his arm, this limb was a bit paler and covered in grayish plates, as if it were a clawed gauntlet rather than a normal arm. Discoloration persisted and worsened between the shoulder and hand, to the point where the soft portions of the fingers were as gray as the armor over them.

"This limb is mine, and quite alive. Your people might refer to these sorts of components as 'living weapons' or 'biological machines'." He brought the limb up and made a lazy swipe at the nearby wall, placing superficial scratches on the Durandium paneling. "It can be inconvenient, but there are advantages."

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Specs stared at the arm in a bit of awe, the fact that Algol had called it a 'biological machine' made it all the more interesting, especially since biological and machine are two words that aren't usually used to describe the same thing. Then, the fact that the arm was even able to affect Durandium at all was also intriguing. In her ogling, the Freespacer had neglected to bring her own arms down from over head briefly.

All it really took was the word machine to really get Specs interested as she went about inspecting the arm, taking it into her hands and beginning to fiddle with the claws and prod at the armor plating.

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Shiori made a beeline toward the rooms once Myr dismissed the group, wanting to get first pick on one. She moved past the chattier crew members ruthlessly, then spent a few moments surveying her options before she made her decision. Without much difference between the rooms, she settled on one of the fore rooms, nearest the elevators that would take her back down to engineering, where she expected to spend much of her time.

And once she'd dumped what few things she had to her name into the room, enough to stake a claim on it, that's exactly where she headed. Shiori wanted to know just how well the ship was outfitted, and particularly what she'd need to buy to resume her illicit experiments in making things go boom. The Geshrin stepped into the elevator and took it down to the the first deck, then made her way into the engineering bay.

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"... h-hey! I can feel... that!" Algol stated the obvious in his loud, coarse manner. Not that it particularly hurt, but he'd gotten use to only feeling a bit of pressure whenever it touched something. That this girl had managed to prod some of the shallower and more sensitive nerve clusters by accident seemed like a dangerous notion. He was tempted to pull back, but she might lose interest if he did so, wasting all the awkward apologies and curious prodding he'd endured up to this point.

Maybe it would be worth it. Maybe.

The bandit prince pretended that he wasn't the least bothered, and put on the sweetest, most patient smile he could muster after all his years as a deceitful vagabond. "Why are are so interested in my arm?"

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Specs looked up with a bit of a confused look on her face. She had completely missed the complaints, but had picked up on the question. "Didn't I already tell you? It looks funny! So I wanted to look. Besides, you said it was a machine.

Hmmm, how does it work anyway? It's like cybernetics, but it's all squishy, minus these armor thingies, and all alive-like. How can it really be a machine if there aren't all the wires and gears and lovely metal plating? Though, I suppose yours does have plating, but it's not metal...."