[center][h1][color=#4dffa6]Dr. Dorothy[/color] & [color=f9ad81]His Foyness[/color][/h1][/center] 
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[center][i][color=red]Fu... sion... HA![/color][/i][/center][hr][hr]
	Dorothy was biting her tongue to keep herself from screaming at Foy. She reserved that sort of thing for her fights with Atticus, one of her closest frenemies. The choice in front of them was obvious. They could risk making a bit of a din and startling their quarry or they could find some other way to get to the surface. The idea of going forward to the next one and coming back did have its appeal, but it would cost them precious time. 

	[color=#4dffa6]"Instead of pushing directly up, can you slide the cover over without too much noise?"[/color] Dorothy asked. [color=#4dffa6]"Otherwise, dealer's choice on if we go up here and cause a racket, or if we waste a little time going through a different opening and coming back."[/color]

	[color=f9ad81]"Indubitably, madame![/color] Foy exclaimed, be it a bit subdued. He holstered his other weapon, flashing a debonair grin as he twisted the tip of his exceptional handlebar moustache. [color=f9ad81]"This aperture should give us access to someplace more cosmopolitan. One should assume our quarry did not decide to sit upon it and wait for our arrival."[/color] Another try might even be the prudent thing; Foy merely wanted to let the good doctor in on the options available to their situation, from a tracker's point of view. 

	With that, Foy made another, more serious try at moving the manhole cover, taking Dorothy's advice as well as using a bit more physical force than the had done with his initial, cursory attempt. 

	[color=#4dffa6]"Any luck?"[/color] Dorothy asked, glancing up towards the cover and occasionally around the rest of the storm drain tunnels. She didn't like the thought of someone sneaking up on them. They had had enough trouble already that day. Hell, she couldn't help but feel they had had more than their fair share for the last few days. 

	The mostly dapper gentleman looked down at Dorothy, a light sneer forming beneath his amazingly formed handlebar moustache. The negative facial expression was not intended for his companion, though - clear but brief inspection found him staring straight up at the bottom of a city dumpster, near as he could tell. He looked up at the grime and ick which awaited him, thanks to the horrifyingly soiled underside of the sanitation box which partially blocked their exit from the storm drain tunnels, and sighed. [color=f9ad81]"Madame, I would ordinarily extend the more direct gentleman's insistence of "Ladies First", but somehow I believe that the rules of etiquette would be better served with my initial egress."[/color] His words were quiet but clear. 

	Lacking more expedient option and possessed of a desire to finish this unpleasantness once and for all so as to get to the revelry that evening, Foy set a determined look on his face and began to push himself through the unsavory portal. He didn't count on the amount of runoff and rancid garbage liquid that seeped onto his clothing, nor the loathsome happening of his tailored dress shirt catching and ripping upon the dumpster's wheel casing.   

	Dorothy would've been willing to go first if Foy asked her to and she was a bit surprised that he didn't. From what she knew about the man, although it was relatively little, was that he treasured his clothing dearly. And while Dorothy appreciated cleanliness, clothing was just clothing to her. [color=#4dffa6]"Thank you,"[/color] Dorothy said, feeling that Foy expected some sort of praise or at least notice that he was going to go up first. She then began to scale her way up as well, following after the tracker and trying not to think about the smell of the dumpster. 

	Upon exiting the reeking and steaming manhole, Foy looked upon his once spotless charcoal suit with disgust. Nothing a good hydrogen cleaning couldn't resolve, a fresh shirt certainly, but in the meantime he had to be seen among the masses in befouled garb. Painfully undignified. For his efforts, he did get the opportunity to hear a word or two of appreciation from Dorothy. Foy wiped his hands on his pants and removed his very fine jacket, handing it down to the still subterranean doctor, presumably to cover herself. He spoke aloud what passed for a respectable response. [color=f9ad81]"Heavens no, Doctor. There is no gratitude requisite for my actions thusly; it is only proper and polite for a gentleman to ford such an [i]unsavory[/i] path prior to the more feminine constitution's exposure."[/color] 

	Looking around, Foy attempted to pick their trail back up, out in the more open air. 

	Dorothy took the jacket from Foy, once again impressed that he was sacrificing his clothing. Perhaps she had been too quick to make a judgment about the man, but she was impulsive at heart. She came up with decisions and opinions on whims and tended to stick to them. Putting the jacket over herself as cover, Dorothy crawled up and out, getting a little dirty in the process but the jacket provided a fair deal of protection. Once she managed to rise to her feet, she looked for Foy for an indication as to where to go next. 

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[center][h1][color=f26522]Captain Crowe[/color] & [color=teal]William Harper[/color][/h1][/center]
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	The oft loud and strict (to Harper's opinion) Captain Crowe appeared to be pursuing a more gentle, personal conversation. Or she was angling for personal information. Whichever it was, he had nothing else to hide from the woman and he appreciated the chance to have a stroll, take in the sights of Newhope. The fact that she had requested his presence because of an intruder's presence was not overlooked either, even if it also served her interests. What was a crew if not a group of professionals acting in common interest? 

	So he answered her. [color=008080]"The crew, ma'am?[/color] he confirmed, continuing to act the part of an officer. He came very close to asking her permission to speak freely, before realizing that's what the entirety of her crew seemed to do [i]all the time[/i]. This new life choice might take some getting used to. Or he would have to develop a different persona. [color=008080]"Alright. I question the motives of the Alliance personnel. Jahosafat is strange, but his arrival on our ship was unusual. It could color my opinion, like his association with the barber, Foy."[/color] Which reminded him, [color=008080]"That man Foy is a mercenary. I don't like him very much, but his type is usually as reliable as his contract."[/color] His eyes narrowed a bit, [color=008080]"In addition to being very perceptive, he knows too much. Contract him [i]now[/i], or kill him and dump his body in the Black. Let reentry friction dispose of him. He will otherwise be a problem."[/color] 

	[color=f26522]"Interesting take on the barber,"[/color] Anisa commented as she turned down another path and headed further down the docks. It wasn't so much that the idea of killing Foy was interesting. She had thought it herself. He could pose a large problem if he didn't come under contract with them, so death was always an option. The fact Harper didn't seem to have an issue offing the man in theory made her raise a brow though, that was what was interesting to her. She hadn't expected that from her newest pilot but then again she didn't know him well enough to know what to expect from. The idea of contracting Foy though didn't rub her the right way. She didn't like contracts, she preferred loyalty but that had to be earned. 

	[color=008080]"I don't know your doctor well. Our misunderstanding aside, she seems decent."[/color] Naturally, he wasn't going to talk down his new Executive Officer in front of the woman who just promoted her. Even if he had a difficulty, which he really didn't, it was not the time. [color=008080]"I question the commitment of your pilot, however. She seems distracted."[/color] It was an understatement, considering what they had all been through. [color=008080]"I have not spoken much with your Shepherd."[/color] Though it was a mystery to him why she kept a man of the cloth aboard. [color=008080]"So I have not formed an opinion on him yet. As for your mechanic, Gideon? I don't recall saying a word to him. He seems to blend into the background."[/color] 

	[color=f26522]"Daphne has been sheltered. I am not sure how much longer she will last as far as being part of the crew. She is on the wrong side of twenty and still acts like a teenager. Will see what happens when Dorothy gets back to the ship,"[/color] she said but she didn't bother commenting on Atticus. He was an squired taste but she knew he was loyal to the crew so she didn't worry about him. [color=f26522]"Gideon will not be going with us on the next leg. He has already been discharged and chosen to go on another path so looks like other than a new ship we need to be on the look out for a new mechanic."[/color]

	[color=008080]"Honor amongst thieves."[/color] commented Harper. A simple discharge of a person necessary to what was essentially a criminal enterprise, when they knew great detail about their coworkers, implied a level of trust uncommon to Harper's experience. [color=008080]"If we're desperate for a mechanic, I can fill in until a more permanent solution is found. That would mean placing Daphne back on the first chair until a suitable replacement is found for engineering."[/color] It was true, Harper was a proficient mechanic. His formal schooling was precisely that, Mechanical Engineering (and other things). He knew systems, engines of different types, mechanics, computers, and specifically the union of programming and machines to build and repair wonderful pieces of technology. Harper had long suspected that, given time and parts, he could MacGyver together a fully functional ship, program it fully, and pilot the damned thing wherever it needed to go at speeds the original vehicle wasn't rated to fly. 

	Anisa shook her head. [color=f26522]"No, first chair has to be earned. She hasn't earned it. Frankly neither have you but at least you are actually working instead of wandering off and giving attitude."[/color] Daphne had always given Anisa attitude and constantly needed to be reminded that it wasn't her ship, it was Anisa's yet lately it seemed to be getting worse and worse. It was is if Daphne was losing maturity instead of gaining it as the weeks went by. She had hoped that by placing Harper in first chair it would have made Daphne see she wasn't irreplaceable and taught her some humility. Now she was just pulling stunts. It had to end and Anisa would be damned if she placed someone with that mentality in charge of their new ship. [color=f26522]"She going to gorham earn it if she ever wants to fly for me again."[/color]

	Though as much as he loved tinkering and building, and he truly did, he loved piloting incrementally more. [color=008080]"She's young yet."[/color] mentioned Harper offhandedly about the more junior Pender sister. [color=008080]"Border planet bush pilot? Skill without discipline?"[/color] he guessed, confident he was at least close to the mark. [color=008080]"Time and responsibility can fix that. Begging pardon for my presumption, ma'am."[/color]  

	[color=f26522]"No, this is deeper. Dorothy has discipline. Daphne just doesn't care who she fucks over,"[/color] Anisa quipped as they rounded the final turn and she stopped. Standing with her footing shoulder length apart she crossed her arms over her chest and her irksome mood seemed to fade away. [color=f26522]"Now, that is a gorham beautiful sight,"[/color] she said motioning out in the distance. A field of ships lay there up for purchase but in the back and off to the right was where her eyes went. It was a Dragonfly. 

	Harper was following Anisa's line of sight as her gaze swept over the shipyard. It took him a moment to see exactly what the Captain saw, but when he did it shattered his hold on the sentence he was trying to speak. [color=008080]"I don't know the young lady, but it's possible she might surpri..."[/color] Then he saw it. Two models later than the Firefly Class vessels, gaining a similar reputation for reliability and performance that had already blown its Sandfly Class predecessor out of the skies. [color=008080]...Shèngmǔ Mǎ-lì-yǎ, Shén de Mǔqīn...[/color][sub]1[/sub][color=008080] Captain, that's a Dragonfly."[/color] Sleek, lower to the ground but with far more interior space, simplified, open layout, and just as fast. [i]With[/i] more modern amenities. Harper knew about this class of spacecraft; it would never take the place of the old Firefly models, that was for certain. But it was fast carving its own noteworthy place in the Black through those who could tell a quality ship from a shiny flying deathtrap. [color=008080]"Ma'am,"[/color] he said wistfully, [color=008080]"That's a ship I could call home."[/color] 

	[color=f26522]"Shiny,"[/color] she said with a quick nod of her head. Anisa looked at the ship, a small smirk forming on her lips as she smacked Harper on the shoulder. [color=f26522]"Cause that's our new home,"[/color] she said before she started to walk towards it. An old man came rounding the corner from behind another ship and stopped in his tracks as he spotted Anisa. 

	"Ahh, been waitin' on ya. Got it?" he asked, eying her. Anisa didn't say anything, just tossing him a small pouch she pulled from her side. The man caught it, opening it up, and glancing inside it. He looked up and nodded. "Yer a woman of yer word, too bad I ain't..." he started to say. Before he could complete the sentence Anisa had drawn her side arm and was pointing it right at his head. "A girl bbbut I is a man of me word, it's all yers," he stammered out as he watched her starting to squeeze the trigger without even a word. 

	[color=f26522]"Harper, go get us set up inside for take off,"[/color] she said as she kept an eye on the old man. She had a few more things to take care of, such as signatures before she lowered her gun. 

	Such subtleties of Rim Planet negotiation were beyond the immediate experience of Harper. He was raised on Osiris, trained by the Fleet, and learned hard lessons in a godforsaken penal colony in The Halo. Depending upon which set of rules he had to live by, Anisa was either being too forceful or too lenient. There appeared to be no set of hard and fast rules out this far, with strength of personality and reputation being the only real measure of a person's worth. Well, and cold, hard money in hand. 

	As much as he would have loved to dwell upon the lesson in shipyard etiquette, Harper had something more personally pressing to handle, the fact that his new Captain ordered him to the task important but notwithstanding. Harper stated a muted, [color=008080]"Yes, Ma'am."[/color], hoping to keep any kid-in-candystore excitement from his voice. He began to jog toward the Dragonfly purposefully, eager to get diagnostics run and her engines fired up, but stopped no more than a few paces away. A question lay poised on his tongue, and while he debated the necessity of asking it [i]now[/i], curiosity got the better of him. 

	[color=008080]"Captain?"[/color] he called back, [color=008080]"Does she have a name yet?"[/color] 

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1 	=	Holy Mary, Mother of God
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