RP: ISC Phoenix [Post Mission 2] - All the While

Enzo smirked at Shayla and tipped his whiskey bottle up with a nice, round 'kaloonk' sound. After emitting a very satisfied-sounding sigh, the conman told Nostrovia, "Looks like yous off the hooks f' now, eye pee gee."

He let out a little giggle after he said this and refocused on Shayla with a hungry glint in his eye. From his perch, Enzo could look down into said cleavage with impunity-- and did so greedily. His sharp eyes, honed from years of peeping through holes in walls or spotting good marks in a crowd; were more than adequate from his height to take in the measure of grease and crumbs. He didn't mind the mess. He never did.

"Looks like I gots a better offer over here." Enzo said, though it seemed more like he was talking to the cleavage than anyone present. "Maybe yous lets me plays wit' em, too, yeah? It's like I always says: 'Gotta taste the meat before the king, so's he knows it ain't poisoned an' whatnots.'"

Makari attempted to slap Shayla's hands away from his food and dissuade her with glares but he could tell he was being completely ignored. He wasn't a fan of Nekos to begin with, but food stealing aside, this one seemed to be an exception. This was the first food he had chowed down on since they got to Yamatai that was worth a damn. "Murder free, boss? It's not a good dinner party without a good ol' murder for desert. But if you insist...." chuckled Makari though a mouthful of burger. "So as much as I like our little reprieve I would looooove to get the hell off this planet and back to less civilized places. So assassin lady, what do you want us to do next?" He joined in on the shenanigans not particularly mindful of her answer. To be honest, he didn't care. Makari was simply happy for the small reprieve before the coming storm.

Relieved that Enzo was no longer paying attention to her, Nostrovia took another bite of her burger. "In a few words, you're off the hook for now," she replied to Makari, "Haven't you heard? We're an alliance now."

Luca sat down at the table and grabbed a burger, putting it down on his plate, followed by a tongs full of fries. This sounded like more rabbit-holey stuff that was a byproduct of the way time worked in the Phoenix - things important to Luca and his crew happened first, then the rest of the world happened when they weren't looking. "Explain..."

"The International Relations Conference has created the Alliance of Signatory States, or ASS."
"You said ass, heh," Luca snickered as he forked some of the nondescript meats onto his plate as sides.

Nostrovia's nostrils wrinkled, but she continued: "The Alliance of Signatory States comprises the Yamataians, the Nepleslians and the Lorath, all working towards further good and mutual goals, that sort of thing. As such, we are also required to pool intelligence if it affects the Galactic community as a whole."

She pointed at Luca, "And you and your team are a public file amongst all three nations. We have to manage you to a limited extent." Luca had sunk his teeth into a burger, but stopped halfway to look at Nostrovia, nose tickling the burger bun as he blinked at her. "On the bright side, you have more support wherever you go."

Luca bit into the rest of his burger and chewed on it as he considered the implications of this. The lump of burger mash went down his throat and he answered: "And the downside is all three of you are watching me together. I should start charging subscription fees."

"Scrutiny. You'll have more of it, but we're always fine with you taking on pirates and aggressive Mishhuvurthyar forces. That number you did on that warehouse a couple of years ago was a pitch perfect performance." Luca raised his eyebrow. "With an entire team at your back, I expect better," she smirked.

"Funny. I am in violation of so many laws right now," Luca chuckled. There were Freespacers, Nekovalkyrja, Rebeka, all the Lazarus goings-on, the enormous amount of weapons, use of restricted technology, trashing a hotel, blowing up a cafe (or being around a cafe blowing up, he insisted) - and jaywalking. "I mean, I'm probably banned in Albini."

"As long as you keep working for the common interest, there are things we can waive..." Nostrovia replied as she looked around the room, having finished her burger. One deserting Nekovalkyrja, one mutant Nekovalkyrja, a volatile Freespacer hacker who enjoyed Bubblestar Galaxites, and whatever that being with the midget was. Pretty much everyone in this room could be pinned for something, even Seiren for being so damn cute and making something that smelt like diabetes from the kitchen.

"For now. I intend to make no moves for the moment and I have been told to give you notice if such an event does occur. Finally,"

Luca lowered his burger and tilted his head.

"The Handler's Reach case is the ASS' responsibility for now, as it concerns all three of the States," Nostrovia said. "We'll do the heavy lifting, we'll ensure all you have to do is pull the trigger at the deserving party. For now, you will have to hand Argyle to our care." She looked over to the Freespacer, still in the massage chair and not stirred by the smell of dinner. "We will give him a new identity and protect him from whoever was trying to kill him."

"Rrright," Luca nodded before taking another bite. "Just keep me in the loop about this Handler's Reach business if you discover anything new. You know, I know, Aiesu knows, the ASS knows," he looked around the room himself and shook his head at Nostrovia, "that's already way too many people."

As if on cue, a door could be heard opening in the quarters, and someone could be heard not walking, but slithering to the elevator. Beside them were some footsteps. Luca's and Nostrovia's heads swivelled towards the source of the noise. "...we have to that again some time," Allison, dressed in white pyjamas and wet hair wrapped in a towel could be heard saying to a female Separa'shan, dressed in the hotel's uniform as best as they could, iridescent scales glittering and getting the attention of everyone.

"Yeah, that was delicious," she winked back at the redhead as the elevator doors opened, tongue flicking at her before she went into the elevator. "You take care and save the world, you crazy bitch!" she cheered.

"Byeee!" Allison waved as her exotic masseuse left the penthouse. She then turned around and realised that the others were all there in the penthouse lounge. Her face went beet red as she looked at everyone assembled, including some new faces. "Oh! er," she stammered, feeling woefully underdressed. "Hi everyone, a-are we having a party?"

Luca kept his expression dour at her, and didn't say a word, taking another bite of his hamburger. He did not know what that girl got up to on her holiday time, but he not want to know either.
"Professionals..." Nostrovia grinned at Luca. "I don't envy you sometimes."
He sighed through his nose, chewed and swallowed again. "Professional animals." Allison squirmed, he was onto her.

-

The rest of the evening went smoothly otherwise, with Seiren's Dessert following the burger meal, things rolled down to a merry evening and the resulting sugar rush and coma helped punctuate the evening and send everyone to sleep. Echelon, however, didn't need sleep and marathonned the first season of Bubblestar Galaxites with Tani. Soruk could hear all sorts of noise, sturm and drang from the penthouse as he did violin practice and went to bed when ready.

Nostrovia, however, as promised, took the Freespacer and left Luca a note for further details. He found it taped to his forehead when he woke up on the couch, face down into the pillow. The postscript of the note indicated that they had to get out of the penthouse by Noon or be kicked out by some very angry maids who knew kung fu.

"Bloody hell," Luca said as he looked at the clock on the wall. It was 11:12 AM. "Oh bloody hell!" Luca scrambled for everything and found that neither Nostrovia or Argyle could be seen. He was fine with that, but he wondered what'd happened last night. At least he didn't lose his sideburns like last time. "Alright everyone we're going we have to-"

Allison, Zeta and Echelon had already organised everyone and their belongings, they were wide awake, fed, watered, orderly and ready to go whenever. "We were waiting on you," Echelon said. "Come on, let's go to the airport before the maids come along and charge us extra for the booze."
"Yeah Boss, you really went all out last night," Zeta sighed.

Luca deflated and sighed before gathering his stuff and falling in line with the others. Transport had already been booked and before they knew it they were at the...

Kyoto Spaceport, Departure Lounge
They were all leaning back in some plastic chairs with stiff padding with the sound of footsteps and trivial speech all around them. Floors polished to a mirror sheen and windows going out into the afternoon sun as space shuttles independent and chartered came and went, cargo crews moving around, more people moving. This was the last step for leaving the hive that was Yamatai and heading to greener pastures fertilised with blood and bone.

Luca arrived about an hour later with Zeta. The scar on his eye was gone, his skin was clean, he smelt kind of like hemosynth. He was anew. The procedure only took a forty minutes thanks to Zeta's preparation beforehand. Twenty five minutes to transfer bodies and fifteen to get a hang of the new one, doing basic motor rehab.

Jimmy never reckoned that reloading a pistol the usual way was part of the rehab, but he allowed it just to see in action. Everything felt just a little different, and Luca felt like he was made of jelly right now: He was no longer a Yamataian NH-22C. He was now an NH-31M Minkan Male with a Nepleslian brain.

"John should be here in a couple of minutes," Allison said as she checked her analogue chronometer, calibrated to Yamataian time, "I got him organised this morning, he's been worried sick since none of us called in."

"Very good," Luca said as he sat in the departure lounge, cup of tea in one hand and his thoughts in the other. It'd been a weird day out yesterday. "Say, what were you doing last night with that-"

"I thought you didn't wanna know!" she teased him, jabbing him in the shoulder playfully.
"Crazy crazy Allison!" Luca cooed back.

Echelon, meanwhile was looking at some Bubblestar Galaxites crossover fan fiction on her phone and snickering along with it. "You know it takes so much longer to read it the normal way rather than just streaming it into my brain back on the Kestrel - how do you manage it?" she asked Tani. "It takes so - long."

~~Departure Lounge~~

"It is fun and relaxing to read... Plus instant data streaming ruins the ending, cause you know the whole story at once. there aren't an ups or downs." She shrugged and scratched her leg. "Umm when we get a chance, I need to find out who i can talk to... umm to order some parts from my gear." Tani frowned. She wasn't sure if there was a way for her to get parts for her mindy.

As she sat there waiting she had been playing a stupid game on her communicator and waisting the time away, it was almost worst then the wait before a combat drop.

Lounge

Shayla was back in her proper uniform today. Apparently she'd thought it might help her get through security on her way out. Unfortunately, her medals and minor celebrity status weren't enough to distract from the strange fur and hide bags she was carrying. Not to mention the four foot long chunk of Yamataium she'd attempted to casually stroll through with. Eventually she was able to rejoin the rest of the group, grumbling about the treatment she'd received, although she'd managed to make it through with luggage and weapon intact. "They had to get their supervisor, and her supervisor too, but they finally let me through. I'll say one thing about my 'handlers' here...at least they busted their asses on my paperwork." She grinned at the thought, looming over those seated, idly rubbing the flat side of her giant weapon as she spoke. "Got me an extremely honorable discharge, with an extremely impressive severance package. They even registered my junk and this bad boy here with all sorts of credentials: Yamataian military artifact, alien military artifact, Nepleslian family heirloom, historically important medical relic, and they even classified it as some kinda 'security blanket' to help me cope with alla that PTSD and mental crap they figure I'm goin' through." She barked a laugh at the thought.

"Our ride almost here? We gotta go to, like, someplace with trees and animals. Or at least some dead ones we can eat."

The duo of Seiren and Rebeka were quick to gather their things after the notice in the morning. Seiren, for all his constant sugar intake, found it remarkably easy to wake up - but hard to function once he was awake. Rebeka had only just become used to the idea that she was supposed to close her eyes when she waited for him to finish sleeping, laid next to him the whole night in silence. She seemed entirely unphased by the idea of night or day cycles and ended up pulling the pint-sized inventor along with her.

Nevertheless, they joined Luca at the airport soon enough. The smaller of the two had his bags, plus one notable addition, which he presented to his companion upon arrival. Luca waved to the two as they came by, then proceeded to watch the sights.

"I almost forgot-" he noted, holding out a small, cool box to Rebeka, "I made this when you weren't looking, but I figured you should have it before we leave."

Carefully she bent down to take the box, fingertips peeling the lid off -- peeking over the edge. It was shaped like a water-droplette: a large clear blob on a wooden slat that jiggled softly, glistening as it lensed the grain of the wood through its surface. She gave the thing a long hard stare, ears rising and lowering in thought almost like those of a cat.

"Does he have a name?"

"Oh, uh, it's not a person. It's a food. A kind of Yamataian mochi. Picked up the trick a while ago."

"Its very pretty" she said. This was perhaps the first time she'd used any words about any kind of aesthetic in his presence.

"It's also sweet and eatable. Eatible. Eatoble. . . one of those."

"Edible." she corrected him with a soft smile. "Should I save this for later?"

Seiren shook his head. "No, it won't be nearly as good later. You should have it now, while it's still cool."

"Do you have a spoon? You told me off for eating with my hands."

"Always have utensils on me!" he declared digging into a pocket and retrieving one of those multi-tools that had nothing but cooking utensils (used for camping, generally).

"Thankyou." she said. Delicately, the cusp sunk into the mochi, cutting into its surface. She eyed the way it wobbled as she swung her wrist ever so slightly -- doing this for a while before remembering this was food. She soon stood with the spoon's handle dangling over her lower lip, eyes softening as those long ears began to sink.

"Itsh ghoot..." she spoke about the spoon, garbling her words.

"Isn't it, though?" the inventor said with a beaming smile. He seemed proud of this one.

She took another spoonful and gave a solumn nod followed by a contented sigh. As alien as she was, even the sounds of contentment were familiar.

"Thankyuuh."

"No problem! I figure this could be our little way of celebrating a mission's ending."

"...If I do more, I can have another?" she peaked.

"I don't want this to wear out its welcome."

"Wouldn't it be like a ritual? Like holidays or habits. Not walking under ladders. Fasting."

"Yes, sort of! It could be like, our way of promoting good luck or something."

"Or if you're just proud of me," she said without a second thought, words quick and quiet as she went for another spoonful.

"Or that too," Seiren continued to beam, his face becoming slightly reddened.

"What's that look for?" A familiar voice. Another short figure entered the circle, panting quietly. "Sorry I'm late."

"Hm?" Luca said, looking away from an advertisement.

"I got followed by some fatso lolicon with a camera who kept trying to give me money. It wasn't nice. Sad thing is if I were grownup, this wouldn't have happened."

"Did you take the money and kick him in the shorthairs?" Luca asked.

"I screamed actually. The police came over. It was a really big scene... But then said he'd done nothing wrong when I tried explaining it."

Luca sighed, "Yeah that's what I don't like about the cops here,"

"They prefer the locals to foreigners."

"And they like to watch," Luca nodded knowingly.

"W...Watch?" her voice held a slight tremble. She now seemed especially cautious of her surroundings.

"Only if you're a big shot celebrity like me, you're safer," he groaned. "Sooner I get off this planet the sooner I'll be able to breathe easier I reckon."

"How are you holding up?"

"I scratched my chin and missed." Luca lamented as he looked at his same, yet unfamiliar fingers. "Head aches a little from the body transfer," he flexed each of his fingers and felt how smooth his un-sideburnt skin was. He hadn't had a shave this close since Delsauria. Not that it was going to last.

"The one thing I can never get used to is new teeth. They always feel wrong. We put a little bit of extra work into making sure you wouldn't have that problem"

"My old friend handled this, not Lazarus," Luca nodded.

"Huh.. I'm surprised. We've got an invoice from you though. Confusing."

"Do I?" he asked.

"Its probably just a cockup on our end. I'll have to look into it."

Luca shrugged, not thinking much of it as he ran his teeth through his mouth. "My teeth feel the same, that's a plus," he made an effort to lick the tips of his upper incisors and smiled. "They even got the jag right!" Luca smiled.

Upon closer inspection, on the left upper incisor, it seemed to be filed down correctly, lining up with the other teeth. His right tooth was just a little bit longer, creating a miniscule gap between the right incisor and the tooth next to it.

"Its usually a good way to see if your copier did a decent job. Isbala, do you get hassled by the locals at all?"

"Huh? Well, not since I've been hanging around with Rebeka, no. But last time I was here, there were some creepy guys. . ." Seiren noted.

"Oh?" she leant closer, settling her fingertips upon his shoulders. Rebeka soon gave Aiesu a rather perculiar look and Aiesu began peeling her fingers away.

"I mean, I got away from them because subway, but they were really, really leery. And something about a little sister. Can't remember for the life of me what they said." Seiren shrugged, noting that Aiesu's hand was off soon as it came on.

"I don't really think Yamatai is the kind of world for me. Its so skeevy... Though that has its upsides" she said, a slight instability in her voice as she thought of something particularly unlovely. "Oh, speaking of which..."

Aiesu fished into her leather briefcase, pulling out a uniform matching her own, wrapped in plastic. Her grin was ear to ear of jagged knife-like teeth.

"Here Seiren. I got one in your size."

Luca looked over to Seiren to ask him when he woke up this morning to get everything prepared, but found the uniform in Aiesu's hands. He quickly turned his attention back to the front. He was surrounded by weirdos.

Oh well, John was going to be here in a couple of minutes...

An upbeat electronic jive began to reverberate in the distance, set to the looping chorus of a woman talking about something 'in my heart'. It was coming from the parking lot for executive vehicles, set alongside the airport courtyard, but the disgrace of an aircar that broadcast such a noise was not exactly a perfect match for the others... Angular, hot pink, and duct taped together in a way that would only really look fitting inside of a dumpster, the occupant left both the engine running and the door open, sprawled across not one but three spaces.

Something resembling a scarecrow made from a yellow bomber jacket and a couple of old car parts made it's way over to the phoenix crew's group. Alrough the feminine, ivory faceplate regarded them with the glossy bugged eyes of someone who had contracted fatal stage 9 animes, the thing was the epitome of un-Yamataian. Evidently, it was under the idea that simply zipping up one's jacket hid the way her arms warped above the elbow like hosepipes, or the pneumatic clunking of their metallic hoof-like feet. Perhaps it was pure etiquette that stopped people asking if they were a robot, just encase they happened to be a full-body borg with an extremely bad fashion sense?...

"Hey, you gotta be Captn' Luca Pavone, ain't-cha?" A gritty synthetic chirp with too much reverb, like the voice of a wind-up doll. An 'active warhead' missile tag dangled manically from the strange woman's silver hair, jangling in time with the dementedly enthusiastic speech pattern. "You ain't, like, hearda me, but I'm a demoguy. You know, demolitions and stuff. Words down tha grapevine said you wuz lookin for one, and eh... I've got the goods, I 'ave."

Impatiently, they produced a cheap knock-off yamatai PDA, and flashed a hologram of a messy little ciriculium vitie for someone called 'Lodemucker Five-Four'. The profile of a true waistoid and socail parasite for sure, having been fired from three fast food jobs during the sole month they had spent on the planet. But they were a freespacer specifically created for mining, and well, that counted for something, right?...

Luca looked at the strange Freespacer standing in front of them. As he was sitting down, he was eye level with their chest, which had 'NICE CANS' painted on it. He looked up and down at them, and he was distinctly reminded of Echelon's body back on the Kestrel. He remembered that John managed the general organisation of the Phoenix, and the advertisements. And Luca was in the market for a demo. Tani fit the role too, but there weren't many problems that couldn't be solved with even more explosives on the Phoenix.

"I believe so!" he said as she looked at the employment history. He didn't admonish the robot for having a resume that included fry cookery and mining. "You are a long way from home and Polysentience though, how do you get by here, fry cookery aside?"

Echelon looked up from her crackfic reading to look at the newly introduced Lodemucker, eyebrow raised, "I'll get back to you on that," she told Tani as she looked up at the Freespacer. "H3Y, WH4T D14L3CT 0F M4CH1N3 AR3 Y0U SP34K1NG?" she asked in her native, ear grating tongue. Lodemucker could probably identify it as the Children of the Comet Lighthouse dialect, one of the more respectable houses in Freespacer heraldry.

Until they were all destroyed and killed by Yamatai in that great incident. Allison looked up and whistled at Lodemucker's cans. "Hey Luca," she asked, looking back at her boss, "how come we get such interesting people coming to us?"

"I... got drunk and sent a mass email to everybody in the universe asking them to?" Luca replied sheepishly as he realised how stupid that was in retrospect.

The gawky automaton arced their head sideways in consideration of Luca's questions, the whirr of servo-motors quite evident whenever they moved. The four little antenna where a human's ears would be moved a little too, as if trying to find the correct frequency of the right answers.

"Universe is big and ol', yeah? Freespacers is big an ol', yeah? Sometimes best way to keep being alive, is to become another kind of alive?" Another arc of the head, and a slightly aggravated grunt, as if not even sure what they were talking about themselves. "Things were getting ugly 'cause some chums wanted to bust up yamatai bumholes, and some didn't. Started modifying the 'spacer system, producing soldiers, independents... I guess at the end of the day, they wuz just doin' anarchy wrong. Things wuz gettin' mega hairy, so I split, and did some super garbage ridin'."

A sort of blank look of realization, followed by a nervous look at Luca, which quickly converted into an awkward grin and a thumb pointed towards their own chest.

"Actually, yeah, put 'dat on tha list 'a skills, yeah?... Cross mega space with no ship I did, proper hard nomad. Punchin' rocks and punchin' metal is good, but not as good as gettin' where you goin'. Muck is pro survivalist!" Hands in pockets, they closed their eyes and teetered on their heels. The look of someone used to being rejected, but honestly trying to sell themselves on their own grimey merits. "Polysentience is good and all, but don't do such much when ya gotta lurn to talk to meatheads and the like. An automata is made of expensive bis, and crimey stuff is hard when ya partners are knowin' dat, hear? Learned how'ta punch good, and wasn't such a problem then, see?..."

Echelon's speech pattern was regarded with a little bit of hesitation after that, as her weird drawling mush of slang trailed off.

"1... 3RM... W4SN'T US1NG 5P4C3R... MUCK 0WN 5P3C14L T0N3 F0R T4LK1NG T0 M34T5." It wasn't really any faster than her trade, but at least the grammar was better. In the ragdoll's squawky voice, the rapid breaks and stalls made it sound a bit like pulsating ECM to organic ears, rather than a single crackling tone. "@WN 74LK1N' |_4NGU4G3 15 57@N3-51NG3R." The last part had slow, flat basal tones, almost sounding pronounceable to human tongues; The other freespacer would know is as Stonesinger, a common miner variant of the very basic and ubiquitous type two speech pattern, less designed for eloquence and more designed for fitting on as little as 16 kilobites of ram. At least it was the one thing that this 'Mucky' person apparently did speak well, but speaking it to another spacer who both looked and sounded a hundred times more classy was never going to be easy.

"Anythin' else ya got an eye for, captin'?" It's eyes darted back to Luca, pretty clearly trying to avoid an intellectual subject. Arms behind back, they switched tactics and turned an invasive sort of charm on, including a toothy sort of smile and glimmering bugged eyes which glowed internally with a noxious green sort of shade. "I can do lots, muchly loyal, just gotta be pointin' me at da thing ya wanna see smushed, yeah? It would be making me the most of happy to call ya boss, boss..."

Soruk was rather uncomfortable in the departure lounge, not because of the poor seating arrangements, but more due to the fact of the noise and openness of it all. It was better to say he just didn't like airports at all. The night before had gone well, despite the noise of his 'companions' upstairs, he had at least become acquainted to his new tool. The gartagen could manage playing a few short tunes without botching a note, though he wasn't ready to play for anyone quite yet, if ever.

The security had been just as annoying to get through as it had coming in. It seemed Gartagen Blademasters could get no peace from petty security guards. They thought themselves kings and queens in their little world, but would find themselves falling far from their 'throne' should they take a step too far. Soruk shook his head slowly, it wouldn't be a good idea to demonstrate how out-classed they were, might cause a diplomatic incident.

He had sat away from the group, in the darkest corner he could find with his hood drawn over his face, merely watching the scene unfold with mild amusement and annoyance. The newcomer was loud, louder than most. The gartagen wondered why so many loud people existed in the world, and so few quiet people. It put him in the minority, which he was used to. His clan was very small compared to most, where they lacked numbers, they made up with skill.

He shrugged a little to himself, he'd have to find somewhere on this... 'Kestrel' to call his own, away from all the loud people. The Blademaster would also have to find a place to set up a forge, a member of the Clan of Blades wouldn't be caught dead without one.

He would also have to have a word with Luca, the Gartagen needed information, and the Captain seemed like the best person to ask at this point. He couldn't get caught up in this... 'Phoenix' team and lose sight of his true goal...

Amidst the low roar of a busy airport, Cassandra walked - sliding between bodies jammed up tighter than fish in a can, dancing between tourists and business executives flying through the gates in a hurry before they were stranded, watching men and women look up at her physique and scurry out of the way, like she had any real importance... or if she were really paying attention.

It'd been an interesting run in Yamatai - a much higher class of clientele (well, more so than usual), as well as a performance in the vein of traditional Yamatai theatre (with, of course, the usual non-traditional... well, probably not, given the much ballyhooed freedom of Yamataians... nudity and things involving nudity injected, as was the new tradition with her company). And her first Nekovalkyrja, too. (She could still imagine the pink hair swirling about the bed and the noise she made- in fact, she'd imagine it right now, if it didn't mean absentmindedly crashing into someone's luggage... again...)

And as a result, her company decided to give everyone involved a nice, long vacation. Which, given the new owners, probably meant some mafia war somewhere. At least it didn't touch the performers in the company. Heck, Cass was tempted to hop a plane to a beach somewhere, maybe get a little sun.

But work called. In this case, somewhat literally.

She'd been idly checking various job postings - the usual 'steal incriminating data from this server, steal back stolen corporate data files from this man, engage haywire mining robots on this moon', and so on, and so forth, when her visor buzzed a little, a web of data and arrows and words all swirling together-

It wasn't every day that you got to meet your employer (okay, POTENTIAL employer) in the flesh - meetings tended to be with holograms of varying qualities, or a super-simple chat room. On her visor, the job offer - well, offers, really - scrolled down, alongside a picture and a record of said employer. Luca Pavone, ex-soldier, a grin that was more like a grimace. A motor mouth and a sense of justice - well, at least she'd have someone to talk to - and even better, he wouldn't be sending her to wreck innocent civilian colonies.

Though, this misspelled email begging a very, very, VERY long list of strangers, enough to slow her quantum computer and all its mighty microprocessors to a crawl whenever she looked at the "sent to" list, to join his crew is a tad worrying. Just a tad.

Well, you're here, now, and it would be much better to put a dent in that family debt instead of trying to forget all about it on a beach, somewhere. (Well, maybe she'd have time for the beach, depending on how quick this job was.) Swerving past a harried salaryman wheeling a luggage bag that was thicker than him, she followed the visor's helpful directions, all brightly colored arrows and soothing contralto (based on the Madame d'vodfoph'nk, possibly the first villainess in the history of Opera Cass couldn't bring herself to hate... or resist dancing to) voice giving directions.

Well, there he was - matched the current records perfectly, down to the scar and the 3D replica the visor had made - talking to some sort of Freespacer (it was a Freespacer, right? They all seemed to have somethig big and mechanical sticking out of them, from what she'd seen of them). And now he was looking like he'd accidentally shattered someone's vase. Another dance between the hurrying crowds of the airport, and she's next to the Freespacer - not butting into whatever conversation was going on, but not so hidden that she'd be ignored.

Outside, visible through one of the wide windows that lets passengers take glances of freighters and shuttles piling off in what I can only imagine are impressive blue and white starbursts of fire and contrails, was the Lady of The Night. Unfortunately for Enzo, the spare hemosynth he'd scraped from the bottom of his ship for expedient resell was being taken away in a pair of silver canisters while a datapad-bearing customs official took the time to point out various flaws that'd been missed when the ship was a corporate vessel. Now in the hands of the customs officer who handled tourists, the various flaws in the ships construction were being noted and 'fix-it tickets' were issued. The wingspan was uneven, the deflectors were set to a too-high setting for simple space debris, the engines were over-clocked, the generator was poorly cooled, the thrust nozzles had been inappropriately narrowed, and so on, and so forth. These issues had to be addressed before the Lady next visited Yamatai or her owner would expect a hefty fine.

Enzo could be seen with his arms flailing about as he explained just how necessary each aspect of the inspection was for his work. It was uncanny just how he had an excuse for each and every problem the G-Neko had with his ship. Whether or not the excuses were any good was simple unknowable due to the distance and glass between Enzo and his crewmates, but the wild gesticulations the conman was making were fit for a man in a plaid suit jacket with an unmoving pattern. Eventually, the datapad-wielding customs Neko just transferred the data to his ship's computer and printed a tiny slip for good measure. As if it were some kind of pre-arranged trade, Enzo wordlessly pressed his e-cigarette and a rolled up net from the hotel tennis court (IE, secondary large-shuttle-light-freighter landing zone) into the woman's waiting arms.

Then, without another word, Enzo walking up the lowered cargo ramp in a flutter of tattered brown coat and it closed right up behind him.

The bright green eyes of the Freespacer made Luca blink momentarily before he leaned back to assess the rest of her. After some further examination, he looked over to Echelon for her opinion. "Y34H, ST0N3S1NG3RS W0N'T L3T Y0U D0WN," Echelon said, using 32 kilobytes of RAM instead of Lodemucker's 16, "TH3Y'R3 H4RDY, 4ND BL0W SH1T UP. 1 H4D 4 F3W ST0N3S1NG3R FR13NDS 1N MY P4ST L1F3."

"Gotcha," Luca replied, nodding at her and then towards Lodemucker, spotting the new arrival behind them, "Just wait with us for pickup then - we've got a bigger ship that we'll be getting onto and heading back to Base on to plan our next moves." Luca projected his voice a little so the woman standing behind the Freespacer could get an ear of it over the airport din. There was a free seat next to Echelon, who kept appraising them with a smile.

Just the fact that Luca was able to figure out what Echelon was saying in her native tongue was mystifying by Freespacer standards, even though it sounded like vibrating, gyrating 11 kilohertz letters. He then leaned to one side to look at the woman standing behind them. "Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked, wondering whether or not to produce a pen so he could sign something.

Cassandra flicked her hair back and put on her best showgirl smile. "Hello! Luca Pavone, I presume?" The data was right there on her visor - well, not anymore, now that she took it off her face and slipped it into a pocket on her dress that seems to disappear as soon as her hand withdrew. Best not to look distracted. "I received your e-mail-" well, who didn't "-and I'm hoping there's still a position available?" ...Come to think of it, what did the position really entail? And did it even say anything about getting paid?

Well, never too late to check. He didn't seem like the sort of captain who'd Shanghai people - not in the middle of a crowded airport, anyway. And not with someone who sent out an email to... trillions of people and counting. Besides, maybe the journey itself would be pay enough - at least she wouldn't be paying for transport.

Maybe.

She fished about in her apparently seemless dress and pulled out a palm computer of some sort, which spat out a holographic copy of the letter above her hand.

As soon as Luca told her to wait around, Muck made a squeaking noise like one of those Kawaii pet things being stood on, gyratingly freaked out on the spot, and then stopped just short of jumping into his lap when it suddenly occurred to her that bench pressing 205 kilograms might not be on his list of things to do today... That didn't stop those apparently self-sentient rubberized arms from immediately grasping the more robust robotic woman at his side, however, wrapping around her neck in what could only be described as a combo friendly hug/severe massage machine malfunction. Personal space, freespacer style.

"TH15 15 G0NN4 B3 UB3R-FUN-5H1ZZNU5, D4RL1NG!" Now causing the plastic chair to audibly creak in complaint, the metallic cartoon character shamelessly sprawled out and made herself comfortable. Since they had been given that yes or no answer, the tough guy act seemed to dissolve in an instant, and they immediately took advantage of the fact that they had found another spacer they could be chummy around. You know, somebody they didn't have to be afraid of causing serious internal damage to. "L45T T1M3 1 533N4 5P4C3R, W45 50M3 H4CK-J0B G4RB4G3 TR4WL4 D4T W4NT3D T0 5QU15H M3 CH455I5 UP F0R B1TZ! D4T 41N'TCH4 Y0UR R34L CH45515, 15 1T? T0 5P34K C0D3 L1K3 D4T, Y0U G0TT4 B3 B0NN4-F1D3! H1ST0RY 4ND 4LL!"

It wasn't quite like they were ignoring the peach-haired woman, but there was definitely something up with the way that they perceived them. Those glossy spherical eyes just wouldn't stay put whenever it glanced across their form...

Perhaps, it was perfectly possible that a garish junkoid doll simply didn't know the first thing about how to talk to such a woman? It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that they might suppose such a lithe and clean-cut form was an obvious hologram, either...

Shayla just sported a wide grin as the walking junkheap with braids introduced...herself. Yes, she'd go with that. Things would at least be interesting if she kept hanging around Luca. Although it had been nice to sit back, relax and enjoy civilization for a change, it had also become incredibly boring. Her sensitive ears twitched and she winced at the odd, squawking communication, but it wasn't too bad. "Figures she'd be a friend of yours. Maybe you can lend her one of those pretty dresses." She barked a laugh, patting Echelon on top of the head with one giant mitt.

The other applicant drew even more of her attention...the giant Neko openly looking her over from head to toe with a gleam in her eyes. She leaned down towards Luca, cupping one big hand as she stage whispered her thoughts to him, easily loud enough for everyone to hear. "Psst...I think you should hire her!" Shayla followed up her recommendation with a hearty slap on the back, and a knowing wink, before she returned to smiling at Cassandra.

Seiren watch the trio of women with mild interest.

"Huuuh, so we've picked up an ID-Neko, a 'spacer, and some third person?" He asked Luca, flicking one of his tassels that was blocking his eye. "I can see the spacer becoming handy and all, and miss LargeHuge here. . . but what're her talents?"

He gestured to Cassandra. As his attention waned, he pulled out a pile of scrap bound in a handkerchief and began fiddling with it, pulling parts together in an incomprehensible jumble out of an even more incomprehensible jumble..

"Let's find out, bub," Luca replied to Seiren before he looked back to Cassandra, "well, you're late to the demoman audition, but I am still in the market for a pilot." Luca said as he motioned for the Freespacer to take a seat somewhere. There was a free space next to Echelon.

Echelon looked back at the crackfic that she was reading and the Mimicom body's eyebrow raised. According to what she was reading, a cat really was fine too in these semi-delirious fangirl writings. Allison was looking over her shoulder next to Tani and grinning ear to ear.

Luca seemed interested in the colourful-haired woman and humoured them. "I've got a half assembled Hoplite sitting in the hangar that needs an engine and guns put in it. Its gonna be a weekend project maybe - unless you've got your own kit, Ms...?" he waited for an answer. He looked at the time again. Maybe John was being held up by traffic. This was a busy aerospace port and it was a Saturday afternoon. People had places to not-so-boldly go where just about everyone has been.

It was Seiren's turn to get a pat on the head. "Don't worry kid. I bet you'll have talents just as noticeable when you grow up." Shayla chuckled, grinning at Rebeka after she tousled that oddly tasseled hair.

Zeta said by Luca the whole time, silently listening to others. Her eyes measure the freespacer and the new girl with inquisitive looks. The old carrier of her, made her calculate what these two were up to and if they were any danger to Luca. Zeta sat rather casually. One of her hand was set protectively on Luca's thigh, while her other was not too far from her revolver. It was not like she expected trouble, but it was always better to be ready for it.

"John is pretty late," Zeta said to Luca with a frown. She fished out her communicator and send a message to the wayward pilot.