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Ezmy was relieved to have traded the crowd of whining rescues for the usual junkyard entourage of the [i]Cathartes’[/i] crew. They weren’t [i]that[/i] much better, but she’d found a begrudging comfort in their company over the months, especially compared to the people they usually did business with. Watching Cornell guile respect out of Feds and Zeons made putting up with all the creeps and freaks on his payroll worth it. There’d be no escaping war—that the [i]Cathartes[/i] existed at all was proof of that—but meeting its horrors with self-serving indifference was a pretty close second, in her opinion.

They came to what was left of the scrapheap. Ezmy hopped up onto a pile of flattened debris and watched as Disker went to work doing…Thinker things. To her it just seemed like he was obsessing over ash-marks and slag, but she’d come to understand that there was usually more going on behind those eyes than might appear. 

[color=FFE6CE]"…Because whoever jumped our guests are certainly packing tech that shouldn't be in service right now."[/color]

Wow, or maybe not?

[color=ec008c]"You mean the [i]pirates[/i] are using [i]illegal[/i] weapons?"[/color] she asked dryly. [color=ec008c]"Killer detective work there, Disker."[/color]

Beside them, Marlowe dragged a Fed over to ask him some questions. She found herself scowling again, already—it never took long when Marlowe was nearby. The younger Voltus had an effect on her, like the effect a cheese grater might have on the side of someone’s face. She could practically [i]feel[/i] the headache coming on as soon as he opened his mouth. Sometimes he didn’t even need to talk, just his presence was an irritant.

When the Fed shut up, Marlowe looked to the rest of them. Ezmy rolled her eyes. 

[color=ec008c]"I don’t get it,"[/color] she said. [color=ec008c]"If we’re worried about the pirates coming back, we should just suit up and get out there. The [i]trash[/i] isn’t gonna tell us anything that seeing them won’t."[/color]
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