14 replies to this topic

[Vortigern]

((I haven't thought of a name for this chapter yet.))

Icarus came slowly down onto the dirty sand of Persephone, guided by Mac's expert hand. The ship touched the ground with only a slight jolt, and Mac grinned widely.

"Good to be back, eh?" he said, glancing across at his captain and co-pilot, Marcus Wolff, proprietor of the good ship Icarus.

"Not really. I hate this place," replied Wolff. "Still, we get paid by people who live here, so it must have some upsides." The duo unstrapped themselves from the seats and headed down into the kitchen where the rest of the crew was gathered. "Well, we've landed," declared Wolff.

"You don' say," muttered Ryan Thomas, the ship's primary gunslinger, with a wry smile.

"That's it for me, then," said Dan Powel to the crew in general. He was an explosives expert and a good enough shot with a rifle, but he had recently come to the conclusion that the life of a pirate was not for him. "I'm going to miss this old bird."

"We'll be sorry to see you go, Dan," put in Mac. "We couldn't have pulled off half of what we have without your help." Powel smiled.

"It's always nice to be appreciated." Powel stood up, slinging his pack over his shoulder. "Well, I'd best get off to my new home. The legitimate life awaits, my friends." Wolff clasped Powel's hand firmly in a friendly gesture of good will. He said nothing, though, just nodded. Mac flicked a switch on the wall and the ramp descended, opening the way for Powel's exit.

"Right then, to business," began Wolff. "Thomas, you and Mac are with me. I've got an old friend to visit."

* * * * * * * *

"How do you know all these people?" wondered Titus as the venturers returned.

"In this line of work you keep your good contacts," replied the captain. "So, I bet you're curious to know what we'll be up to next, eh?" Without waiting for an answer, Wolff continued. "We're on a simple salvage mission, or so I've been led to believe. A ship in the employ of the Arean Trade Federation has simply vanished. The computers have calculated that our target must have come out of warp somewhere vaguely near a moon called Cato. It's about two days warp ride from here. We'll see if we can pick up a couple of new players before we head out. Rumour has it this was quite a big ship, and Powel was a valuable gun. We'll stay here for a few hours before we set off."

"I'll go pick up a few spares for the engine room, then," said Titus, heading straight out into the sultry heat of the Persephone afternoon.

"Chez, you and me and Lark can go pick up supplies," said Mac. "It'll be good to get you doing something useful again." Chez rolled his eyes; he was used to the comments, what with being the only really moral person on board the ship. It wasn't that the others were bad men, just that they all shared a dim view of the law. Chez had a more popularly held position on the legislature of the systems.

((So, southside and Segway, you can show up now if you like. I'm sure we'll be amenable to your visitation.))

[southsidediablo]

(OCC: Alright, got ya. Maybe I should rewatch Firefly eh? =P And I'm gonna guess someone is outside the ship?)

John walked through the crowds of the marketplace, moving from dealer to dealer. He stopped at one to gander at the firearms, but he couldn't bear to look at the prices. Overpriced pieces of junk if you ask me. He quietly muttered to himself, as he kept browsing. Turning around, he spotted a new ship, and wanting to get off this rock, and maybe earn some cash, he made his way through the crowds towards the ship.

Finally arriving at the ship, he looked it over, trying to look uninterested but could tell he wasn't doing a very good job at it. He approached the person standing outside the ship and asked, "Fine lookin ship. You wouldn't happen to need another gun for hire aboard would ya?"

[Rafv Nin IV]

((I've actually never seen Firefly. I'm trying to get one of my friends to burn me a copy. And it's not that Lark's a bad guy--he's just a thief, murderer, traitor, embezzler, and the most narcissitic asshole you'll ever meet ))

"Mac! Since when would a dingy spacerat like you be able to buy the stuff I need?" Lark sneered arrogantly, "Whose idea was it to land in the middle of this infestation of illegitimate counterfeits, anyway? I'll see you people later: if we're going to have a proper lab and infirmary, I'll need to buy half a hospital!"

Lark strode quickly around a few stalls, shaking off the rest of the crew. Digging in the pockets of his overcoat, he tapped a man on the shoulder, gesturing to a small gold ingot. Whispering in the man's ear, Lark told him, "I need to use your mobile communicator. You'll probably want to buy a new one afterward, so you can just pretend it was stolen. Oh, and this perfectly legal. I just need to fetch myself a ride to the wealthier side of town. It's just that the ATL and ATH don't care for me much, if you take my meaning."

After a swift exchange, Lark rang up a ride to the nearest branch of the Arean Trade Bank. Upon arrival, Lark ignored the grand architecture and gilded collumns; he'd seen better. He withdrew a small fortune, and wired a fair chunk more to the Persephone Central Hospital. Lark had, with the use of the mobile, already arranged the transport of several necessary medical devices and machines into the cargo bay of Icarus. He exited the bank.

Hailing an air taxi, Lark hitched a ride back to the flea market and paid the driver thrice his fee. The diagnostic equipment and other supplies stood by the ship in large cargo containers. He opened one and determined that the materials met his satisfaction, and signaled for them to be placed in the hold and secured against the stress of liftoff. Lark would move them to the sick bay by himself; he did not trust these incompetent fools who earned their way with their muscles, and not their minds. Noticing that the rest of the crew had yet to return, Lark struck up a conversation with Wolff, the only one of the crew that had yet proved himself enlightened and intelligent.

Edited by Ravnin IV, 13 January 2009 - 01:43 AM.

[Copaman]

((YAY! for me being bored and feeling like playing a jackass Irishman. I think I might start stopping in every once in a while; keeps me from getting bored ))

Ryan had stayed behind with the ship. As the stranger walked up to the ship, he instinctively reached for a pistol. Upon hearing the stranger's remark, Ryan made short work of the conversation.

"'An who the fuck are you to be askin' around 'ere? I'm resident gunslinger for this 'ere pup, and I'm sayin' ye'd bett'r beat it afores I'm obliged to put a shell in yer chest. Maybe if yer lucky, the cap'n will return soon enough an' you can ask him. Now get! Come back in a few hours. You're attracting attention; tha's a bad thing, lad."

He turned back to look at the ship, not caring if the man walked away or not. Ryan secretly pondered whether he had been too harsh on the man, and then put it out of his mind. He was too good with a gun to really care.

[southsidediablo]

What a dick John thought as he strolled away from the ship. He could have started a fight with the man at the ship, but he was right, attention was no good here. He'd only go over to one of the closer shops to keep an eye on the ship. Maybe he'd go back in a bit to see if he would have any luck, since most of the other ships in port were already full.

[Vortigern]

"Who was that you were just effing and blinding at?" asked Wolff, striding down the ramp into the afternoon sun.

"Said 'e wiz a gunslinger," replied Thomas matter-of-factly.

"So why did you send him away?" wondered Wolff. "We just lost Powel, remember? You're good, Ryan, but you're not perfect. Having another gun at your back is no bad thing. If he comes back send him in to see me. Or if anyone else who could be handy shows up. A bigger crew would really help here, and nobody on this godforsaken rock gives a shit about legality, so we're fine on that front." Wolff sat down on the edge of the ramp, where he was shortly joined by Lark, the new physician.

"Afternoon, Captain," said the doctor. "I've bought in several years' medical supplies for Icarus. I'm having them brought over. I'm also thinking I'll take up one of the old storage rooms next to the infirmary as a little lab. It doesn't seem to be being used for anything else at the minute."

"Fine by me, Lark," agreed Wolff. He affected an old-timey, piratical accent. "Just don't go blowing holes in my ship." The two shared a conspiratorial grin at the in-joke, their joint appreciation for ancient films seeing them good.

((Hooray for Pirates references! Anyway, we'll hopefully take off on Sunday. I'm moving back up to Sheffield for next term on Saturday, so we'll wait until then. Hopefully Segway'll be back by then and can turn up and beg a lift. See you soon, lords and ladies.))

[southsidediablo]

John noticed a few more people appear at the ramp of the ship, took a last swig of his drink and walked over. "So, that the captain?"

[Copaman]

((Ch. 2: New Crew, New Cargo))

"Aye. Says he wants to see you... somethin' about I'm not a perfect shot 'r somethin'... I think we're set but 's really up t' him. Y' can go in, I won' hurt you too much," finished Ryan.

He took his hand off the grip of the pistol and followed the man into the ship, leading him to the captain's quarters and knocking on the door. "Cap'n, the lad is 'ere for you. Says he's a fighter."

[Vortigern]

"Excellent," said Wolff, giving the newcomer a look up and down. "Name, lad?"

"John Doe, Captain." Wolff chuckled.

"Nice and inconspicuous, I like it. I'm Marcus Wolff." Wolff leaned forward, offering a hand to be shaken. Doe was clean and firm in return, which Wolff always saw as a good sign. "You're a gunslinger, then?" John Doe nodded. "I have to ask. Do you have a criminal record?"

"Not in this part of the world. My parents brought me up as a smuggler and a raider, but that was under a different name and in a different system." Wolff raised an eyebrow. Normally newcomers weren't that open. "I figured honesty was the best way forward. Nobody who comes to Persephone in a smuggler boat like this would mind a bit of experience on my part." Wolff grinned.

"You know your ships. Alright, Lark here-" Wolff indicated the doctor, perched on the edge of the table where he had been sat chatting. "-will take you down to the infirmary and give you a once-over, check you're up to what we do. But you look fine to me. See you later, John Doe."

((OK, you're aboard. Now wait a few days for Segway and Mike to show up on board, and then we'll take off. Mike, if you want to write your own joining-the-crew post feel free, I probably won't have time and when I do I've got a lot of backgroundy stuff to do for Arsencia, so this is second priority. I think I can trust you to get Wolff's character pretty much right. ))

[mike_]

((OOC: Picture this, except with a military-issue long-rifle strung over his shoulder. And more futuristic ))

Oz roll-stepped quietly up the ramp. His old military uniform had gone grey, and was patched by no God could know how many different types of fabric. Over this he had a many-braided shawl he'd gotten from an off-world whore once upon a time. An ancient faux leather hat adorned his shaggy brown head, and a charred cancer stick was clenched in his surprisingly-shiny teeth.

Seeing noone outside the awkward-looking ship, Oz looked the bird over. It was obviously a mutt job - neither of the wing pieces were of the same brand or make, and the cockpit didn't exactly conform to the rest of the ship. A - presumably defensive - heavy gun of rather ambiguous origin was sturdily welded to the bulkhead.

Noticing the lowered ramp, Oz briskly paced over towards it, stopping off to the side of it - out of anyone inside's sight, in case they weren't friendly. Rapping on the bottom of the ship (which for him was a sort of ceiling), he then whistled Bob White, waiting for someone to come out.

A few seconds later a tall man that exhibited an air of leadership descended the ramp, followed by a strangely-unidentifiable individual and a red-haired, annoyed-looking man with one eye slightly higher than the other. He was poorly hiding a pistol in it's holster at his hip.

The hawk-like fellow spotted Oz and nodded his head in greeting. "What's the name?"

The fire-headed gunslinger murmured hazily, "And what t' 'ell be yeh doin' 'round our ship?"

The first to speak laughed dryly, then said, "Yeah, that too."

Oz looked them both over, then replied, "Name's Ozzie. Oz. Whichever. Lookin' for a job. 's many pieces 's not on this bird as ought 'a be, figured you'd have a place for me." He then took the homemade cigarette out of his mouth and tapped it lightly against one of the hydraulic pistons that lowered the ramp, knocking off some burnt remains. He then placed it back between his teeth, letting the fresh smoke swirl about his face.

The leading man's eyes complexion brightened slightly, "Really? Well, I'm sure we can find somewhere to stick you..." The comment "..like meh ass.." floated over from the Irishman, but he continued undeterred, "my name's Wolff. Captain of this ship. Ryan, can you please go inside? Another gun wouldn't hurt, as I'm sure you of all people would know."

The gunman snorted, muttered "Aye, aye, ah know," and staggered back up the lamp and out of sight. Indecipherable retorts sounded in the distance, but both men ignored them.

Oz, after a dramatic pause, quietly stated, "Rifleman. Merc'. Chef. 's one hell of a 'tenant yeh've got yerself."

"I heard that, jackass!" Rumbled from somewhere inside thes ship.

Again ignoring it, Wolff nodded to himself, thinking. Eyes downcast, after a few moments his face then shot up, "Quite the repertoire. Ever had trouble with the authorities - of any kind?"

"You got a dick?"

"Alright. Go on in, down the hall and to the right. You'll find the infirmary, where you can get a checkup. Just don't want to have a seafood outbreak, y' know?"

Oz nodded, padded up the steps, and into the innards of the ship. Quite a colourful crew, here, he thought.

((VORT: Nicely done, I'll accept that. Although we only actually have one gun on the outside of the ship. It's a smuggler's craft, not a battleship. Even the single gun it does have was welded on by Wolff at some point in the past, it's not standard for the class. Also, isn't that picture Clint Eastwood from A Fistful Of Dollars? I'm pretty sure it is, and I know my spaghetti westerns. ))

((OOC EDIT: Indeed it is! I didn't have him in mind when creating the character, but now I do yeah, I'll edit that bit.

Edited by mike_, 17 January 2009 - 02:08 AM.

[Vortigern]

In deep space, Wolff felt he had time to explain in more detail the mission that he and his crew were being sent on. It was a pleasant surprise not to be sent into the midst of well-armed foes, and Wolff was really feeling lucky at the moment. John and Ozzie were settling in well with the crew and all was going well. Even the terribly-cooked food was starting to taste better.

"We really should have specified we needed a cook," muttered Mac as they sat around the table, leaving Icarus to fly itself through the emptiness that was the warp.

"I'm inclined to agree," offered Lark, who had in fact prepared this meal. "I'm sorry my culinary abilities aren't up to much." General chitchat followed for a while before Wolff cleared his throat. He loved the authority he had on board this ship, that a mere cough was enough to guarantee him silence.

"I thought I'd introduce you to the specifics of this salvage," he eventually began. "There was more to it than originally met the eye, but it shouldn't be anything to worry about."

"Last time you said that I nearly died," said Mac. "Prepare for the worst, lads."

"This ship, Sappho, it was called, was on a routine mission in the exterior. Just outside the verifiable bands of the fringe worlds, and into unclaimed space. Apparently there have been a lot of missions heading that way recently, it's a government thing. Searching for more planets to colonise, probably." Wolff shrugged. What the ship had been doing was of little importance. "The interesting thing is that, three days in, the ship suddenly stops broadcasting. Absolute radio silence for six days now. The local world sent off a probe to examine it. It came back showing no signs of life. A regular old final frontier Marie Celeste," added Wolff, more for his own benefit than for the crew's. Chances were none of them would ever even have heard of the Marie Celeste, except maybe Lark. He was exceptionally well-read.

"Any idea what happened to the crew?" wondered Chez.

"None at all. But we can safely assume that the ship is now devoid of human life and ripe for the plucking. It's drifting slowly further and further away from Cato, the moon of the local world."

"What's that world called?" enquired Mac.

"Can't remember. Cato's the most important point. That's also where we're to make the transfer of what we find to the ATF boat. We give them the goods, they give us the cash. Straight-up deal."

"Why do they want us to do the salvage when they could just do it themselves?"

"Their entire organisation is red-flagged. The ship's security systems are still active, and if any of them are registered coming aboard the government will have license to issue a mandate declaring the ATF as an organised crime syndicate. They're right on the verge of that now, but if it goes they'll all get injunctioned. Any more than two known members in any one place means that they can all be arrested. Which is where we, as virtual unknowns, come in." There was silence for a moment as the crew considered the possible implications of this for the ATF.

"Wait," said Mac, after a moment. "Did you say the ship's security systems were still active?" Wolff looked slightly reluctant to admit the truth of that, but did so regardless. Honesty was the best policy. "So we're going to get caught on tape stripping bare a space-hulk?"

"Not if we do it right," replied Wolff. "I've worked out a route for you and me through the ship that will avoid surveillance from which we can get to the control bank and shut it all down."

"Or we coul' jus' shoot ou' all the cameras," suggested Thomas. Wolff inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"Either way's fine by me. Let's just do it right."

((OK, time-skippage. For the sake of your next posts, assume we're locking on next to the target. Airlocks, spacesuits, arms, the works. We're being careful here. Let's get this rolling again.))

[Rafv Nin IV]

Jamie Alorkand jested a bit, hoping Wolff would understand. "The Mary Celeste sounds splendid, but I would prefer to avoid a repetition of Alien. The food's disgusting enough already--this abandoned ship better not spill Thomas's intestines all over my supper.

"In my experience, crews die for a reason. I claim anything but the first man in."

----------------------------------------

It took several days, but Lark soon stared out a window port at a silent hulk in the blackness as Mac docked with the ship. Sighing, he tested the life-signal communicators on each of the spacesuits that would allow him to monitor the bodily status of the other members of Icarus's crew. The intellectual struggled with his own suit, but John Doe helped him secure himself. Strapping a few first-aid essentials onto the outside, he waited for Wolff to give the signal to move.

[southsidediablo]

After John helped Lark with his suit, he went and got the guns he'd be carrying aboard. After securing them to his suit, along with extra ammo, John sat down and waited for the word to move.

[mike_]

Oz did likewise; gearing up in a dusty external-ship repair suit, he secured a pair of exceptionally-heavy bore revolvers onto his belt and prepared to jump through the vacuum and into the flying-dark ship.

[Vortigern]

Wolff spacesuited up, checking every seal individually. Caution was imperative in a situation like this. The airlocks clicked into place, holding the two vessels firmly together.

"All clear," came Mac's voice over the intercom. "We're hooked up and ready to board, lads. I'm on my way down." Wolff pushed a clip into his rifle, locked a round into his pistol and began to mentally prepare himself. This was a routine honed by years of practice going to places he shouldn't be. He took several deep breaths while sitting down, then stood, still breathing deeply and slowly, and slung his rifle out into his hand. The motion was fluid and fast, exactly what was needed in a crisis situation. Mac came down into the locker room, as it had been nicknamed, and picked out a suit.

"Give me a minute and I'll join you. Now go inspire your men or something." Wolff grinned and left without a word.

At the airlock portal, Wolff took the lead.

"Everyone comes after me. Be careful, don't get spotted. Take out any cameras you can see and we'll find the hard drive while we're there and take that with us. As far as we can tell it's not sending the information anywhere, just storing it. So as long as we find it first, we'll be free and clear." The airlock clicked open, allowing air and passengers to take to the new ship. "Visors down, lads."

((OK, I'm going to let you lot explore the ship. Basically it's just another cargo ship, we need to get around and find stuff. I honestly have no idea what's on board, for the most and less important part, so imagine away. It's the future! By the way, nobody gets up to the bridge before me, that's the only rule. ))